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Hi! My name is Arty, and I’m nineteen. Every year, or rather twice a year, I visit my grandparents. They live in a remote village, which takes almost 12 hours to reach by bus from my city. Luckily, the bus runs at night, so I can get some sleep.

I miss the internet terribly (in the village, you can’t even make a call from a mobile phone!), and I was already imagining how many new hot gay videos had appeared online. I’ve always felt that I’m gay; I’ve been attracted to guys and aroused by them, but I’ve never had sex with a guy. But deep down, I really wanted to.

It was about seven-thirty in the evening, and I was heading to the bus stop to go back to the city. It seemed that today I was the only one planning to leave this godforsaken place. In the fifteen minutes I waited for the bus, no cars passed by the stop.

And then, right before my eyes, a huge truck appeared, and the driver leaned out of the cab. Quite handsome.

“Hey, could you tell me how to get to Redfort?”

Of course, I’m not a navigator to give exact coordinates and calculate the whole route, but I have a rough idea. After all, every time I traveled to the village, I looked out the window and saw a sign pointing to the city I was looking for.

“You need to get on the highway. About five kilometers ahead, turn left. Then you can follow the signs,” I said.

“And where are you headed? Maybe I could give you a ride, and you can show me the way?”

And then a brilliant idea popped into my head. If I could get to Redfort, I could transfer to a train. It’s much more comfortable than traveling in an old bus.

“Can I go with you to Redfort?” I asked the truck driver.

“Sure, hop in,” he opened the door, and I climbed in.

The truck driver introduced himself as Mike and mentioned that his navigator was broken, which is why he couldn’t find the way himself. Mike looked to be around 35-40 years old. He was dark-haired, taller than me by a head, with green eyes and stubble. He was wearing a blue T-shirt and black shorts, which were on his muscular legs. I was already aroused.

We drove, listened to music, and Mike talked about himself and tried to ask me questions. But I was somewhat reserved. I always find it difficult to engage in conversations that go nowhere. I prefer to retreat into my thoughts and reflect.

The journey from the village to Redfort took about six hours. Since it was evening and Mike was starting to fall asleep at the wheel, he suggested we stop at a motel and spend the night there until morning. Mike decided to cover all the costs for the stay, so I agreed.

We had a snack at a roadside café (oh, that kebab was delicious! Or maybe I was just that hungry?), and we arrived at the roadside motel. It was a small two-story building. We got a room on the second floor. It had two beds with nightstands, a TV, and a small bathroom with a shower. I was very surprised that in such a roadside motel everything was quite modern.

Mike went to take a shower, and I undressed and climbed into bed.

“Arty, could you get me a towel?” I heard from the shower. “It’s on my bed.”

“Sure!”

I opened the bathroom door and saw Mike naked. The sight drove me crazy. No matter how much I wanted to look at the man’s groin, my gaze was drawn precisely there. I can say that even in a “flaccid” state, his cock was was big. From Mike’s physique, you could tell he either went to the gym or lifted weights very often… I handed him the towel and returned to bed.

Neither Mike nor I could sleep. Lying in the dark, we simply talked about various topics. Mikhail recounted different incidents that had happened to him on the road, then we discussed politics, moved back to the topic of relocations, and eventually got to the topic of sex.

“Arty, do you have a girlfriend?”

“I do,” I lied.

Yeah, sure, five girlfriends! If only you knew that I want a guy but am afraid.

“I don’t have one anymore. We broke up because I’m always on the road. And she ended up getting herself a lover.”

“Well, don’t worry, you’ll find someone new, better than the old one,” I tried to comfort him.

“Yeah, but when will that happen, and men’s needs don’t go away.”

That hit the nail on the head; my needs were also making themselves known.

“And have you ever had relationships with anyone on the road?” I asked.

“It’s happened, not to hide it,” he replied with a smile, “a couple of times even with a guy.”

And that’s when I felt a jolt. What? With a guy!? Did I hear that correctly?

“With a guy?”

“Yes.”

“And how was it?”

“Even better than with a girl.”

A silence fell. Oh my God, I’ve always lacked the courage, but here I gathered my nerve and asked:

“Would you like to with me?”

“You probably think I brought you here on purpose. No, relax. I’m not a maniac, I’m bisexual. Sleep easy, I won’t touch you” He joked in a maniacal voice.

“I think I’m gay”

“What? “

He sat up on his bed.

“I’ve always liked guys” I said, sitting on the bed and looking him in the eyes.

“Are you serious? ” He asked with disbelief.

“Quite serious”

I said and moved over to his bed.

” I’ve always wanted to try sex with a man, but I’ve always been scared. “

Mike looked down. He probably thought that this guy next to him was completely out of his mind.

“Will you be my teacher? ” I asked playfully with a smile.

Instead of answering, Mikhail took my hand and placed it on his underwear. There was already a hot erection.

“Are you sure? There’s no turning back”

Now it was my turn to take Mike’s hand and place it on my underwear, where I also had been hard for a while.

“Have you ever had sex with a man? ” He asked.

“Not once, I haven’t had sex at all, to be honest, but I want to. “

“What do you want? “

What kind of questions is he asking? I’m already blushing all over. Isn’t it obvious? I want him to take me right here, to put his dick in my mouth, and then invade my ass and cum all over me. But instead, I answered softly into his ear:

“I want to pleasure you. “

Mike kissed me on the neck and pushed me onto the pillow. We lay on our sides, touching each other with our hands and kissing each other on the lips. It was a magical, unforgettable feeling.

Mike wrapped his arms around my waist, pressed his whole body against me, and I felt small but very protected. I had always wondered what I was missing. And here it was, the answer – exactly this feeling, these strong, warm, passionate embraces from a man.

I didn’t wait and moved down to his underwear. He was wearing gray boxers, and the large head of his penis was already sticking out.  I was a little scared since I had never touched a guy’s dick before; it had only ever been in my fantasies. Through the underwear,
I started kissing his dick, and then I pulled the boxers down.

In front of me was a large, thick dick with a huge head. I didn’t have a ruler handy to measure it, but I could say that under its own weight, it lay on Mike’s stomach, almost reaching his belly button. Without hesitation, I took the head into my mouth and squeezed my lips tightly around it. Mike gasped. The dick was so pleasant, filling my entire mouth. I grabbed the dick with my hand at the base and realized that I couldn’t wrap my fingers fully around it.

I started moving my head and hand simultaneously. Mike began caressing my hair and even setting the rhythm. I understood he wanted it faster. I sped up a little but then stopped and moved back up toward him.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“I want to feel you inside my ass,” I replied playfully.

Mike suggested we change positions. The trucker pulled out lube and a condom from his bag (hmm, he’s prepared for everything!), sat on the edge of the bed, and I climbed up on it.

…

To be continued

You are an attractive but aging gay man with an enviable physique and a “daddy” appearance that turns heads. You work out regularly and know you are empirically a sexy man sought after by hungry eyes, but you long for younger days when the assumption was that you needed your cock hunger to be fulfilled. You miss the days of a competent, experienced man taking control and dominating you with his fingers, cock and fist.

The weight of your years and the desires that still burn within you can be felt as you enter a dimly lit leather bar you used to frequent. The scent of polished leather and the murmurs of hushed voices and laughter greet you, and you can’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia and desire. Your small, black-and-blue leather vest and matching form-fitting neoprene pants still fit, and you know you look good, if older than the last time you wore them out. You order a drink at the bar, adjusting your fat jockstrap waistband in an attempt to make it more visible. As you wait for your drink, your eyes scan the room, taking in the familiar sight of men in various states of undress, some wearing only leather harnesses or jockstraps. Your gaze lingers on a particularly handsome man in his late twenties, his toned body glistening with sweat as he dances with another man.

He catches your eye and begins staring at you throughout the rest of the song. After it ends, he walks directly over, You’re flattered but flustered from the attention. “Damn daddy,” he says, looking you up and down appreciatively. “Can I buy you a drink?” You feel a warm flush rise to your cheeks at the man’s compliment. “I’d like that,” you reply, your voice husky with desire. The bartender hands you your drink, and you take a sip, feeling the alcohol warm your belly.

“You caught me,” you say. “You’re quite a good-looking young man and I really like the way you move.” You reach out and touch the buckle on the black leather band encircling his right bicep. “Nice gear, too.” He smiles, his teeth gleaming in the low light. “Thanks, daddy. I’ve always had a thing for older guys, and you’re really rocking that jockstrap.” He winks at you, taking a sip of his drink. “Do you come here often?” You can’t help but laugh, feeling a bit self-conscious. “I used to, a long time ago.”

“I hear things used to get pretty wild,” he says, lightly cupping your lower back with a casual but intentional physical contact. He lowers his voice. “Did guys really used to fist in the back room?” You take a moment to consider the question, your mind drifting back to the wilder days of your youth. “Yes, they did,” you finally reply. “It was a different time back then, even though it doesn’t seem that long ago to me.” The young man’s eyes widen in excitement. “That’s so hot,” he says. “I’ve always wanted to try it, but I’ve never had the chance.”

“It can be a really intense physical and emotional connection,” you say, taking his hand and considering its size. “You do have nice hands, well-kept and a nice shape.” You  add pressure to close his fingers into a loose fist. “A challenge, but not an insurmountable one.” He looks at you with curiosity and a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “You really think I could do it?” He asks, flexing his fingers slightly under your touch. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his desire palpable.

“It’s all about trust and communication,” you say, your cock stiffening inside your jockstrap patch. “I think you’d be a real natural.” The young man’s eyes light up at your words, and he takes a deep breath. “Okay, I trust you,” he says, his voice steady despite the obvious nervousness in his eyes. “I want to try it.”

“Let’s see what the night holds,” you say. “You want to take me out on the dance floor? I might be older, but I can move.” The young man grins and takes your hand, leading you out onto the dance floor. The music thumps around you as you move together, your bodies swaying in time with the beat. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, the warmth of his hand in yours. His eyes never leave yours, and you can see the desire burning within them. As you dance, you feel his hand drift down to your ass, giving it a playful squeeze.

You can’t help but smile, feeling a thrill of excitement run through you. You know what this means and you’re ready for it. You move your hips in time with the music, grinding against the young man as you feel his hardness through his jeans. You reach back and grab his ass, pulling him closer to you, feeling his breath hot on your neck.

“Damn daddy, you feel great,” he says. “I want to make you feel great too. I bet you feel great from the inside, too.” You can feel his words reverberate through your body, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. You consider his words for a moment before responding. “I’d like that very much,” you say, your voice husky with desire. “But let’s take it slow, okay?” The young man nods eagerly, his eyes bright with excitement. “Of course, daddy,” he says.

“Let’s get out of here and get to my place so you can start opening up this ass,” you say. “I need you eating me out and getting my pussy loose.” As you finish your sentence, the young man’s eyes widen with excitement. “Fuck yes, daddy,” he says, his voice low and full of desire. “Let’s go.”

You lead him out of the bar, feeling the cool air outside wash over you as you step onto the sidewalk. The young man hails a cab, and you both climb inside, giving the driver your address.

Upon arriving, you both tumble out of the car with excitement, playing grabass on the way to the door and sharing a passionate kiss before you unlock it and start pulling your clothes off in the foyer. “Join me in the shower?” you say. “You can help me make sure I’m squeaky clean.”

The young man nods, quickly shedding his clothes to reveal his toned, athletic build. You can’t help but appreciate the sight of him, admiring the way his muscles ripple as he moves. You lead him to the bathroom, turning on the shower and adjusting the temperature. As you step under the warm spray, you feel the tension in your body begin to melt away.

“What’s that hanging from the shower head?” he says. “Oh um, that’s my Streemmaster,” you say. “It diverts the shower flow into a concentrated ass blaster.” You gesture toward the generously sized tip you added to increase the depth of  the water’s reach. “Wow daddy, that’s intense,” he says. “Does that fill you up like a water balloon?”

You laugh. “Not quite, but it certainly gets the job done. Care to join me?” you ask, motioning to the shower. He steps in, his body close to yours. The water cascades down your bodies, mixing with the sweat and desires of the night. You reach for the diverter, adjusting the insertable length so the water streams into your ass. The force of the water massages your hole, causing you to moan in pleasure.

The young man takes hold of the water wand, reaching around with his free hand to caress your swelling, warmed abdomen. Your dick gets harder from his touch and the increasing pressure of the water on your prostate. You close your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you as the young man expertly handles the showerhead. The water pressure, combined with his gentle caresses, has you feeling more relaxed and aroused than ever before. You can feel your ass opening up, the water massaging your hole and readying you for what’s to come.

“Shoot it back out daddy,” he says. “Open up those hot ass lips and squirt on my face.” He kneels behind you in preparation. You take a deep breath, feeling the warm water built up inside of you as you reach back to part your cheeks. The young man’s eyes widen with excitement as he sees your pink, puckered hole, freshly opened and ready for his attention. You let go in hot spurts, pissing from your ass. He wipes the clear water warmed by your internal temperature from his face, then dives in between your ass cheeks to plant his tongue tip into your sphincter, beginning to eat your ass energetically and expertly.

The feeling of his tongue on your hole is electric, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. You moan loudly, pushing back against him as he continues to eagerly eat you out. His hands move to your hips, holding you steady as he explores your ass with his tongue. You can feel yourself relaxing even more under his touch, your body eager for what’s to come.

“‘Mmmpf fuck,” he mumbles, half submerged in your ass. “Delicious! So clean and it’s like you’re already naturally lubed up. You do have a fucking hot pussy daddy.” He slides an index finger inside smoothly, adding his middle finger shortly as if proving his point about your slickness and elasticity. You take a deep breath and relax, allowing him to slip his digits deeper inside. His tongue continues to work its magic, swirling around your hole and teasing the sensitive skin around it. You moan in pleasure, feeling yourself becoming more and more relaxed under his touch.

“Oh yeah fuck daddy,” he says. “We gotta get you on the bed and get your legs up in the air so I can explore further. You want all of these fingers inside you daddy?” You thrill with excitement. “Hell yeah boy,” you says. “I want you to fuck me with your hand. I want to feel myself wrapped around your wrist,” you say. “Make me your bitch.” You both step out of the shower, toweling off while continuing to kiss and caress each other. You pull your jockstrap back on and encourage your new friend to wear his armband and nothing else. You both head into the bedroom.

You lay down on the bed, your legs spread wide in anticipation. The young man joins you, his eyes dark with desire as he takes in the sight of your exposed hole. He kneels between your legs, his hands gentle as they explore your body. He caresses your thighs, your stomach, your chest, before settling on your ass. He starts to massage your cheeks, kneading the flesh with his fingers before parting them.

The young man molds his mouth against you, deeply probing your entrance with his tongue before adding further pressure with his fingertips. He slides a couple of saliva-moistened joints in, teasing you, before reaching to your nightstand to pump some lube on. You feel the much greater pressure of him filling you with two, then three fingers as he continues to lavish attention on your entrance with his warm mouth. As he adds a fourth finger, you can feel yourself stretching to accommodate him. He curls his fingers, searching for your prostate and massaging it gently. You moan in pleasure, your body trembling with the intensity of the sensation. He continues to finger you, building up a rhythm as he prepares you for what’s to come.

He generously pumps lube onto his lower knuckles, his fingers now joined by his thumb as if turning a knob inside of you. He continues to gently twist inward, slowly but persistently. “Damn daddy, I wish you could see this,” he exhales. “Your ass is swallowing me up. You have an amazing hole. Fucking hot man cunt.” As he continues to work his hand into you, you can feel your ass stretching further than it has in a long time. The sensation is both intense and exhilarating, and you can’t help but moan in pleasure as he hits your prostate just right. “That’s it, daddy,” he says. “Take all of me. You feel so good. You have almost all of my hand. Do you want me all the way in?” You nod, maintaining intense eye contact as he slides his loose fist all the way inside of you and your lips wrap around his wrist. “Relax, daddy,” he says. “Show me what you need.”

The feeling of the young man’s fist inside you is both overwhelming and incredible. You take a deep breath, focusing on the sensation of fullness and the intense pleasure radiating from your prostate. You feel yourself relaxing, your body adjusting to this new and exciting experience. The young man starts to gently move his fist, easing in and out of you at a slow pace. With each thrust, you can feel yourself being stretched even further, the pleasure building deep within you. “Oh fuck,” you say. “Fuck. This is incredible. I feel so filled up. Unf. Thank you. I really needed this.”

The young man smiles at you, his eyes glinting with satisfaction at being able to fulfill your desires. He continues to slowly fist you, each movement causing you to moan louder. You reach down to touch yourself, your hand wrapping around your cock as you begin to stroke in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation of his fist inside you and your own hand on your cock is almost too much to handle.

“I have an idea daddy,” he says, taking your hand and lubing it up. “You should join me and see how this ass feels.” He positions your fingertips at your swollen ring, pulling up while shoving your hand partway in. As you feel your fingers sinking into your own ass, the sensation is indescribable. A mix of pleasure and discomfort washes over you as you explore your own body in a way you haven’t before. The young man guides you, his hands over yours as you begin to fist yourself. He whispers words of encouragement, urging you to relax and enjoy the experience. “Oh fuck yeah, daddy. Fist yourself,” he says. “This is so fucking hot. You gotta see this.” He grabs his phone and begins recording. You manage to mumble instructions about casting onto your bedroom TV, which is mercifully on sleep mode and comes to life at your voice command.

On the large, crisp screen, you watch as your hand, slick with lube, disappears inside of you. The sight is both surreal and incredibly arousing. Your muscles clench around your fingers as you push them deeper, the feeling of self-inflicted pleasure intensifying. The young man continues to guide you, his hands still on yours as you fist yourself. You can feel your prostate throbbing with every thrust, the sensation building deep within you. It’s a fulfillment of the porn fantasies you’ve been harboring for months.

“Pull it out daddy?” he says. You comply, making room for him to fill you again. He pulls back out slowly. “Now you,” he says. You both pick up the pace until you are nearly punchfucking your ever-slackening hole. As you continue the serial punchfuck the young man’s eyes are filled with excitement and lust. He encourages you to go deeper, to explore the boundaries of your own body. You feel a sense of empowerment and liberation as you push past your limits, the pleasure intensifying with every thrust.

Suddenly, you feel the need to take it to the next level. You pull your fingers out and gesture for the young man to join you again. You both enter in the extended hand position, then start prying your asshole apart to either side in a big stretch. He pours lube onto both of your hands and exposed hole. “Think we can both fit inside that wet pussy daddy?” he says. “I think you’re man enough.” You both position your hands, ready to attempt the challenging feat. With a determined look in your eyes, you take a deep breath and nod at each other. Slowly, you both begin to push your hands into your inviting entrance, feeling the initial resistance give way as you gradually sink deeper. The sensation is intense, a mixture of pleasure and pressure as your hole stretches to accommodate both of your fists.

You start to convulse involuntarily as your entire body shudders with pleasure. “Ride it daddy,” he says. “Oh yeah. Show me how you come with your ass.” As you feel both fists – yours and the young man’s – buried deep inside you, your body trembles with the overwhelming pleasure. Your muscles clench around the fists and cause you both to moan in ecstasy. The unique sensation of being filled so completely is almost too much to handle, but you welcome the intense feeling of fullness and pleasure as you ride wave after wave of orgasmic bliss.

“Oh fuck daddy, you’re making me so fucking hard. I gotta come soon,” he says, starting to jack his cock with his slick hand, covered in lube and your ass mucus. He continues to pulse his fist in and out of your anal ring. “Ugh—UNF.” he yells as ropes of his come shoot out and spray your torso. You feel his warm release on your skin, marking you as his own. The sight of him losing control, coupled with the intense sensation of his fists still inside you, sends you over the edge once more. You cry out, your body shaking as you experience a final orgasm, this time finally shooting a load from your twitching cock hands free.

“Damn, that was so hot daddy!” the young man exclaims. “Fuck, look at all this come. I think you need to have this inside of you. You earned it.” He begins to scoop it with his fingers and pushes the loads into your loose entrance. It feels soothing and pleasant, like a final rundown after a vigorous sports massage. As the warm fluid mixes with the cooling lube inside you, a sense of satisfied fullness washes over you. You take a few deep breaths, basking in the afterglow of the intense encounter you just shared with the young man. He smiles at you, his eyes shining with appreciation and affection. “You’re incredible, daddy,” he says, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

“Same, son,” you say, kissing him back as you enjoy the final pressure of his talented fingers. “Same.”

I could hear the scraping of a chair against the tiles and the subtle whistle as he came closer. I had been tied down for ten minutes. Maybe five. I have no idea. It’s hard to keep track of time when you’re naked and blindfolded. My breath was heavy, brimming with desire and my skin was on fire. I could smell him close to me. He blew soft air over my lips and I opened them in a gasp. 

“Keep it open,” he said. 

I felt a slow dribble of liquid on my tongue. It was his spit. I swallowed hard and opened my mouth, eager for another taste. He chuckled. 

“Oh, we’re really going to have fun” he said, before the next dribble landed on my nipples followed closely by his tongue. I whimpered softly and my nerve-endings tingled. He traced his fingers from my nipples, across my chest, softly in the corners of my abdomen, down into my crotch, ignoring my caged cock. With a long labored breath and slow deliberate moves, he lifted my balls and lightly tapped my hole. He liked to call it his coochie, and this time he whispered it in my ear to remind me.

“This coochie is so beautiful. It’s mine. It was made for me. My beautiful pussy, you hear me?” 

I couldn’t respond. My toes were curling. My spine was tingling. Eze was not just drumming on my right caramel rosebud, he had slipped a finger into my chute and was now playing the piano in my tunnel. His fingers left no stone unturned in me. I was a moaning mess.  He moved his fingers slowly and rubbed my prostate in a circular motion. I felt like my body was on fire, and my squeals confirmed it. My hole was now gushy and budding open. That’s when I heard the camera click go off.  Eze laughed sinisterly, took his fingers out of my hole and smacked my ass so hard while giving a flick to my balls, I cried out in pain and pleasure. 

This was just the beginning. 

3 Weeks Earlier 

“Dave, you really need to get your ass up and go to work. You’ll get a query if you don’t” my roommate said. I grumbled and kicked against my bed, before deciding that I didn’t want to get fired after all, and slipping out the frame. 

Josh looked at me, cracked a smile and just shook his head before turning to leave for work. He was almost out the door when he stopped. 

“I hope you have a great excuse for your boss to explain your three-day absence,” he said, and then slammed the door. 

I jumped up and started prepping for work. Within 20 minutes, I was ready. I stood in front of the mirror, berating myself. I wasn’t ugly, some have even called me cute, but I just had a few facial features that I could’ve done without. Like my nose – it didn’t have to take so much room on my face. Or my hair.

“I wish I had more hair,” I muttered as I set off to work. Thankfully, my boss had been on a work trip for the past week, and HR was feeling gracious, so I got a pardon. My day was filled with boring work until I took a break and decided to surf Instagram. It was all memes and cute videos, until I stumbled on his page. His name was Eze, and he looked like he just walked out of a wet dream I never knew I had. 

His Instagram page was empty, but he had quite the number of pictures on his highlights. I hit the follow button and went through his highlights, taking a gulp with every swipe and almost feeling feverish by the time I was done. I have been celibate for months now, certain that queer relationships were a past chapter in my life. My last relationship ended badly and my sex life hasn’t been anything too crazy, so I was fine being celibate, until now. 

From what I had seen, I could tell that Eze stood at a height around 6 feet”, with a physique that striked the perfect balance between muscular and lean. His broad chest and defined abs, along with many pictures of him in the gym, suggested hours of dedication to fitness. He didn’t look like those overly bulky gymrats or the intimidating bulls. He looked just right.  Enough to turn heads without seeming too intimidating. His arms looked solid and powerful, with hairy, meaty forearms that added to his rugged appeal. His facial hair added to his ruggedness, with a thick, heavy mustache and a persistent 5 o’clock shadow that lent him a perpetual look of just having rolled out of bed in the sexiest way possible. 

I had never been so fascinated with any man, but the fact that he seemed to be in my state according to his highlights, it just gave me more reasons to indulge in this new obsession. I went back to his highlights to take a closer look and like the pictures. He had to notice me. Turns out my plan was working, because in a couple of minutes, he followed me back. 

“Shut” I said, a little too loudly, drawing the attention of my co-workers. 

“Sorry,” I muttered, before turning back to my desk to mull over what had just happened.

“Is he even gay? He doesn’t look like it”. “We have some mutuals, but what if he’s not gay?”

“He’s so hot though, the things I’d let him do to me” 

I thought to myself. 

I was thinking about texting him for the rest of the day and even when I got home. Josh was none the wiser, but even if he were, he was also straight and homophobic, so I couldn’t tell him about my new find. I just decided to observe from afar, until I was ready. 

The decision was great. But days rolled into weeks and I couldn’t get him off my mind, so I did the inevitable. It was a simple hello. I wasn’t expecting a response. I didn’t get one until several hours later.

“Hey. Wassup?” It read. 

That was the beginning of my destruction. 

I woke up to my blaring alarm clock/radio, so I rolled over and punched the snooze button. I got up and went into the bathroom to empty my bladder. I started running the shower and got in, still sleepy wanting to go back to bed. After my shower, I went to my closet trying to decide what to wear… I decided on a dark blue snug fit v-neck and my DKNY jeans. After I dried off with my towel, I put on my briefs and socks. Then I finished getting dressed and got my school bag ready with everything I needed for school, and went down for breakfast with my parents and sister.

Mom was in the kitchen, cooking waffles and eggs with bacon. Dad was sitting at the table with the paper in one hand and his cup of coffee in the other. Beth was in front of the T.V. watching her cartoons. Dad looked up from his paper and saw me and gave me a warm smile and said, “Morning, sleepyhead.”

I asked if there was any more coffee. My dad nodded in the direction of the kitchen and I got up and got my coffee. Mom greeted me and I gave her a peck on the cheek, telling her good morning. I went back into the dining room and Dad asked me, “Are you excited to be a senior?”

I really wasn’t that excited, because I am not popular, except in my small circle of friends. I just shrugged my shoulders in response to his question.

After I ate breakfast, I put my dishes in the sink and told my parents that I was going to school. I headed out the door and walked over to my friend Mona’s house so I could catch a ride with her like I always do.

I got to her house and knocked on the door and Mona answered the door with a look of desperation. “I have nothing to wear on our first day of being seniors!”

I just smirked at her and told her that I would help her find something to wear. We went upstairs and as I walked in her room, I thought that her room looked like it was hit by a tornado because there were clothes all over the place!

“Damn, what the hell happened?” I asked, and she turned around and gave me a look of annoyance, and asked me “Are you not going to help me find the perfect outfit so I can look good for my boyfriend, Tony?!”

I looked at her and chuckled and said, “I don’t think Tony really cares what you wear, because he already thinks you’re beautiful.” She let out an exaggerated sigh and laid on her bed.

I went over to her closet and looked through everything that she hadn’t thrown all over her room and told her to stand up so I could pick different items of clothing and make an outfit for her to wear. I finally decided on a purple v-neck with a plunging neckline and a white undershirt, and skinny blue jeans and black converse for shoes. I told her that she should go put it on in her bathroom, so she grabbed the outfit and I sat on her bed and waited for her to come out.

And, if you haven’t figured it out, I’m gay! The only people who know about it, are my parents and Mona and Tony. Nobody at school knows about my orientation, and I don’t want anyone to know about it either, because there are people at school who are not that accepting of gay people! I looked at her bedside clock and saw that we had to be at school in 15 minutes! I jumped off the bed and told her to hurry up or we would be late to school. We finally got our stuff and left, saying goodbye to her parents. We climbed in her car and she drove to school. On the way to school she asked me if I was finally going to get a boyfriend, and I told her I hoped I would finally lose my virginity. We finally arrived with 5 minutes to spare and we headed over to our group of friends before the the bell rang for us to go to homeroom. Mona went to sit by her boyfriend Tony, as I sat across from them and watched with a pang of jealousy that I didn’t have anyone special to cuddle next to.

Tony wrapped his arm around Mona and kissed her and then looked over at me and asked, “So, how was your summer? Did you get any while we were out of school?”

I looked at him and glared.

He raised his hands in surrender and apologized, saying he didn’t mean anything by it.

I told him, “It’s none of your business, whether or not I have had sex!” I got up to leave as the bell rung for us to get to class.

I got to my locker and grabbed my books for first period. I walked down the hall lost in my thoughts and turned a corner to head to class. All of a sudden, it felt like I ran into a brick wall… I felt myself crumple to the floor with my books scattered around me, and I heard HIM!

“Oh jeez, I’m soo sorry!” He apologized, as he tried to catch me as I fell.

I wanted to melt into the floor as I looked up and saw my long-time crush, Wes Carillo, standing over me with a look of concern on his face. I started to blush as I started to gather up my books and papers. Wes bent down to help me pick up my books, and as I reached for the last book, our hands touched and I jerked my book out of his grip and stood up and muttered, “Thanks.” I started to walk away when I hear him ask, ” You’re Andy, right?”

I stopped in my tracks and turned around while my thoughts were running rampant that he actually knew my name! I nodded the  affirmative and he gave a small smile.

“I just want to apologize for knocking you down.” He told me.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” {I’m fine, my ass! He is actually talking me!} I’ve got butterflies in the pit of my stomach. I heard the tardy bell ring, which brought me to my senses. “I’ve got to go, I’m late for class…”

“Can we meet up for lunch sometime?” he asked me, as I walked in the direction of my class. I turned around and gave him a little smile and told him “Sure, I would like that.” He gave me a wide smile and walked away as I entered my first period.

The rest of the day went by in a blur as I had continuous daydreams of Wes. At the end of the school day, I went to put my books in my locker and grab my bag. As I shut my locker, Mona was there and she asked “Ok, what’s with the pep in your step and the total after-glow? Something happened today?”

I just smiled and walked to her car.

“You’ve got a secret, spill!” she said excitedly.

We got in her car and I turned in my seat towards her and told her what happened between me and Wes.

“OMG!, He actually wants to have lunch with you?!” She asked me excitedly. I nodded and smiled.

“About damn time, I mean how long have you been pining over Wes now?” She asked teasingly.

“Ever since freshman year…” I said.

“Exactly!” she said smiling.

She dropped me off at my house and turned towards me and said, “I’m happy that it finally happened, but just be careful and take it slow.”

I nodded to her and got out of the car. “See you tomorrow Mona.” I said and headed towards my house. I walked in the front door and put my keys in the bowl on the front table and called out to my parents, “Mom, Dad, I’m home!”

“We’re in the living room!”  Mom replied.

I walked in the living room and put my bag on the couch as I plopped in a chair, sighing. Dad was in his easy chair watching T.V., while Mom was on the couch doing cross-stitch, her legs curled under her while she leaned on the arm of the couch closest to Dad.

“So how was your first day back in school?” Dad asked.

I smiled and said it was good, but my Mom saw my expression on my face and said, “Mm hm, what happened?”

“Well, Mom I had a run-in with someone, literally!” I told her.

“So who was this run-in with, if you don’t mind me asking? What exactly happened?” She asked curiously.

“I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking and I ran into Wes…” blushing a little.

“And who is Wes?” she asked smirking.

“He is a guy at school who is on the football and track team. He asked me out for lunch, and I told him that I would like to go to lunch with him. He knows my name, Mom! I didn’t think he even knew I existed, let alone know my name!” I said in awestruck.

“Well, sounds that he does know your name, and wants to get to know you.” she said.

“But why? I mean, I have had a HUGE crush on him since freshman year. And he has not once said anything to me or even looked at me when I passed him in the halls these last three years! Why did it have to take me, literally running into him, for him to even talk to me?” I whined. “It’s not like I’m that popular or anything. I’m just one of the many faceless bodies that walk the halls!”

She chuckled and said, “Honey, everyone goes through it, when they are in high school.” She patted my leg. “Go up and get washed up for dinner, it should be ready soon, ok?”

“Sure Mom, thanks for listening.” I said.

I grabbed my bag and headed to my room. I walked in my room and dropped my bag next to my desk and laid on my bed hugging a pillow against my chest, smiling.

What happens next? No sex yet but will happen soon. Part two is in the works! Plz leave comments and let me know what you think. Happy Holidays!

Finn had no idea where he was or what had happened. One moment he was in the woods searching for poachers; the next, he was lying in a room that was dark…yet not dark, for he could see light casting a vague glow off his nose and cheeks. Both silent and not, despite an absence of sound. And it was neither warm nor cool. In fact, he couldn’t even be sure it was a room because he was unable to locate any of the walls encompassing him…just like he was unable to find any source for the light shining upon him.

But what was worse? He sensed he was not alone.

He was stretched out on a bed…that wasn’t a bed. It felt like there was nothing beneath him but air, simple air holding him up. He knew he was still in his clothes — a well-fitted suit in a fine modern cut, neat tie and Oxfords, completely inappropriate for tramping through the shrubs and sticks of a forest but, being a detective-sergeant, he’d had little choice.

The call had come as he was en route to Clayton-Magna to meet some friends, and the male caller’s tone of voice was panicked. At least, that’s what the call center had said. Strange lights whispering through the forest. Animals scattering away from it in fear. Concern it might be a drug deal going down, or what was worse…yobs poaching. Uniforms were on their way but were fifteen minutes behind him and, since he was a Detective Sergeant, they felt he was best to at least make contact with the person reporting the incident so as to initiate a proper beginning to the investigation.

He’d agreed to do it because he didn’t feel it would take too long and could hand it over to another DS, as soon as he arrived. Plus, he knew his friends would be understanding. The life of a cop, sort of thing. He’d made a hands-free call to Prue, the woman who’d arranged the get-together, to let her know he was running behind then turned down Mid-Clayton Road to double back for Lower Clayton-Merrill.

He gave a soft chuckle. Prue was the reason he’d worn this particular suit. It was fitted in all the right places, showing off his trim, well-formed torso and colt-like legs, though it was a bit…well…snug around the derriere and…um…frontal area. However, he felt very male-model in it, and knew she would be impressed. At least, hoped she would be. Since she was a biologist, an unspoken part of that hope was perhaps she’d also now see him as not only a prime specimen of the male figure, but a possible bed partner and, if all went well, eventual husband. He was ready to start a family, having now settled into the area and it being just past his thirtieth birthday. Find a nice cottage someplace local, somewhat similar to the Cotswold’s. Not too far from the Criminal Investigations Division and DCI Blethyn, his superior. Base his life from there. They were meeting with another couple, married with a child on the way, so he also hoped this was a subtle sign she might be considering him as more than a mere boyfriend. And the idea almost felt cozy and warm.

By using a bit more speed than he should have, considering the narrowness of the roads, he’d arrived to the stated location only to find…nothing. No lights. No fresh tracks from foot or vehicle. No animals, either. The forest was still and dark, despite it only beginning to approach dusk. He’d wondered if he’d gone to the wrong side, but double-checking his GPS showed he had gone to where dispatch had said.

He’d tried to go a few meters into the trees, just to get a sense of the place, but the brush was thick and he could see no path to follow. He hadn’t wanted to push in too far because that would mess up his aren’t-I-hot suit, so he was about to back away when something had struck him.

The forest was completely silent.

No sounds whatsoever.

Not even the hint of a breeze to rustle the tree branches. That had been decidedly odd, especially being this close to the Channel.

Then about a hundred meters to his left he’d seen a light. Not like that of a torch or lamp, just a soft blue glow behind the trees.

Surrounding a lone figure.

Headed towards him.

He’d jolted and begun to back away, saying, “Hello! Police. I’m Detective Sergeant Winterbourne,” and the blue light had swirled around him —

And now he was here, with no idea how he got there or what was going on.

“Did I fall? Knock myself out?”

That had to be the explanation; the figure hadn’t been close enough to reach him, and there was no indication of a weapon firing, so he’d stumbled, hit something, been struck unconscious and was dreaming. It was the only thing that could make sense.

He tried to sit up…but he couldn’t move. Not his legs. Not his arms, which he finally realized were now held behind him by something that felt solid and firm, like thick cuffs. He could shift his eyes around, and could swallow, and he could breathe. That was all.

“Hello?” he called, not so much expecting an answer but only to see if he was capable of speech. He heard no echo in the chamber so figured he probably only thought he was speaking. Now he was certain he was caught in a dream.

Then he felt a whisper of air around him, like the soft caress of fingers…but nothing was there. It traced over his clean cheeks, his fine lips, his bright open eyes, a cool blue under light brown lashes. He felt it on the eyebrows he’d trimmed last night in anticipation of his date. Felt it travel through his thick curly hair, cropped close to keep from becoming too unruly. He wasn’t movie-star gorgeous; he knew that, but he also knew his face was well received by most young women…and the nothing-air was touching every inch of it in ways that made him very uncomfortable.

It moved over his chin, well-shaved not an hour ago; he had issues with a light five o’clock shadow, which Prue had once mentioned in her flat Belfast brogue, and he wanted nothing that might prevent any kisses. He had even showered and changed into this suit, at the department.

He noticed the nothing-air was also caressing the back of his head and nape of his neck. Whatever it was he was lying upon made no difference; the sensations merely displaced the feeling of support momentarily as they travelled across his shoulders and down his back…then up his sides?!

What sort of dream is this?

The nothing-air in front was pacing that in the rear as it drew over his chest, tenderly exploring under his suit coat to play with his nipples. Which surprised him. He’d never had anyone finger those, before, and the fact that it sent a jolt of pleasure through him was even more startling.

Then it continued down his fairly taut abs to his groin.

He moaned with both pleasure and discomfort.

Oh…oh, no. This…this isn’t real. It’s all a dream.

Except it certainly felt real. Especially when the nothing-air traced over his trousers to…to fondle his crotch?!

And massage his ass?!

“What’re you doing? What’re you doing?!?!” he cried. Or did he merely think it? He still couldn’t tell. But it had become deplorably invasive and he wanted it to stop.

After even more intimate caressing, the nothing-air traveled down his thighs and over his calves to his feet, making him cringe and try to pull away as short grunts of disbelief burst from him.

“What is this?!”

Still nothing but silence.

Then he felt the beginning of an erection.

He couldn’t believe it. The nothing-air was so sensuous in its touch, he was responding?! His body was enjoying it? He was shocked beyond belief. The one positive was, he’d worn his new tight CK boxer-briefs, and those might keep him from becoming too embarrassed.

He tried to move, again, but still could not; just remained floating in the silent nothingness. He knew this was not sensory deprivation because he could see light reflecting off his face and feel himself being touched. He swallowed, fear starting to build in him.

Then he felt his shoes being untied and removed!

“Bloody hell, what’re you doing?!”

No response. No echo. No proof of any sound coming from him. Just off with the shoes and a soft clunk when they dropped to the floor. Then the nothing-air caressed his soles and toes as it removed his socks, a new pair he’d worn because the only other pair that matched this suit had holes in them. Next, his suit jacket was shifted off his shoulders in soft, loving movements that were close to tenderly demanding.

“Stop! What’re you doing?! I’m a police officer! Stop! STOP IT!”

His tie was undone and his shirt slowly unbuttoned.

“It’s a dream, it’s a dream, it’s a dream, it’s a dream, it’s a dream,” he gasped. Or maybe he was just thinking it. Hoping it. Wishing it. Because no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, he could feel every single solitary thing the nothing-air was doing. Each touch was insistent. Each caress was too real. Each movement over him was meant to lead him closer to something carnal and prurient. It didn’t help that he’d been going through a dry spell and had been more than hoping Prue would take him to bed, that evening, instead of his hand being his only partner, again. But this?

This!?

Living with his grandmother…his Nan, where his mum and dad had dumped him as an infant so they could follow their own bliss…he’d had a couple of what she called Emission Dreams. She’d told him they were completely natural for boys hitting puberty.

“Both of your uncles went through this,” she’d said, “as did your father, despite his claims to perfection. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Just make sure to give yourself a good wash.” Then she’d taken his sheets and pajamas without further comment.

She’d always been the level-headed one in the family, not typically British in her understanding about sexual needs. She’d lived on a commune in Wales, traveled to Monterrey, California, and even stayed in some temple in the Himalayas for some form of awareness. All of that had carried with her, and he was glad he’d taken more after her than either of his unknown and very self-interested parents. Remembering this helped calm him and let him focus on the reality of the moment.

As soon as he could figure out what that reality was.

To start with, he knew this could not be happening except in his mind. So no matter what the nothing-air did, it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Despite what his body was telling him.

That helped when the nothing-air pulled his shirt open to reveal his undershirt — tight, white, and just a little see-through — then slipped the crisp cotton down and off his arms with a touch that was almost worshipful in its caress. The shirt was softly whispered past his hands even though they were still caught behind him…which made no sense, but that was the reality of this dream.

His breath was coming faster as he fought to keep panic at bay, and his well-formed pecs were causing the undershirt to shift a little over his now tender nips. He was proud of how he’d built himself up, after having been born underweight and sickly, and it seemed the nothing-air agreed, because it ran over his muscles and fondled and flicked and twisted his nipples through the fabric, making them tent against the light cotton, every touch shooting fire into his groin. He was in shock at how lovely it felt. How fantastic it was. How he didn’t want it to stop. How a tingle behind his balls was actually making him groan from pleasure.

Christ, is this what I want Prue to do to me?

Then the nothing-air ripped his undershirt open to reveal his smooth, barely tanned skin was laced with a dash of tawny hair that swirled down his abs to his groin. He yelped as the caresses ran across his belly and over his shoulders and along his arms to guide the shirt’s remains away in ways that seemed to sear the heartbreaking prurience of its touch into his very soul.

His breath grew sharper. Heavier. Was punctuated with grunts of fear. He fought to keep one thought in his mind.

It’s NOT real, Finn, it’s not real, it’s not real.

But he was losing the battle. The sensations brought on by the nothing-air were too demanding. Too consistent. And on top of it, his dick was growing fat and hard, in response.

Even though he could not move his torso or arms or legs.

Just an emission dream, that’s all, just an emission dream.

Then his trousers were unbuttoned!

He fought to picture Prue being the one doing it. Picture how lovely she was. Round in all the right places. Peaches and cream skin under golden red hair cut just right. That Belfast brogue. He’d been attracted to her the second he met her on a murder case. She’d been a suspect, for a little while, so their beginning had been tainted by that, but it was Blethyn who’d made the accusations, not him. After some stumbling, he’d been able to get her to know him and let him know her, and now…well…using the image of her helped him refocus and make this nightmare into something he could handle. If he was going to be dream-mauled, sexually, at least it would be by someone he wanted.

His zipper was lowered, almost teasing, and his trousers were guided past his hips and rear with the same tenderness and beauty as was done with his shirt. And under those briefs, he was totally ready to go. The nothing-air danced back up to play with his dick and balls through the cotton, not only whispering around them and over them and under them and along them but making the taut material surrounding them feel like something alive and needy. It also massaged the cheeks of his ass as if they were ripe melons. He didn’t have a bubble-butt, but it was a nice size and fit him just right. Apparently the nothing-air agreed, for this continued as his trousers were maneuvered down his legs to his ankles while the caresses wafted over the soft down on his thighs and calves. The elegant sensations were beginning to overpower his ability to concentrate.

Then the waistband of his CKs was grabbed…and they were pulled down to his ankles, where his trousers waited, exposing an erection that may not be the biggest dick ever but was certainly above average. At least, none of the women he’d been with had complained. He’d even caught a few lads in the gym casting him glances of either envy or interest, or both.

But now?

Like this?

As he was being violated?

The trousers were gently removed, then off went the CKs with even more caresses over his calves.

And he was now completely naked.

Completely vulnerable as the dreadful intimacy continued.

I’m handling it. I’m handling it.

Then the nothing-air slipped between the cheeks of his ass and touched his rectum.

“NO! STOP! THIS ISN’T RIGHT! YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” he screamed.

He fought to squirm away but his body still would not move. His breath was fast and furious, and while he could shift his eyes to look around and move his mouth to speak and knew damn well he really was yelling and snarling words into the nothingness, he also knew his nips had grown pointy and his balls were happily being juggled and his dick was being stroked while every other part of his body was also being mauled.

Bloody hell. Is this an alien abduction? Are those bloody stories true? No, I have to be hallucinating. I have to be!

Now the nothing-air danced over his nips to send more lightning through every nerve in his body. Caressed the hair on his abs and wandered through his pubes like they were rafting down a river that cascaded into gentle pond. Glided over his ass. Fondled his dick and balls in ways that seemed more like worship than sexual need. Sensations swirled up and down his thighs and calves, adding to the build of erotic need within him.

His dick was now as hard as it had ever been, and he was whimpering at the incessant manipulation of it taking him almost over the edge…but never quite. Stroking. Caressing. Loving it. Holding it straight up so that he could just see the head of his penis if he looked down with his eyes. He felt some form of covering glide over it, like a condom, but so far as he could tell nothing was actually being put on him.

“No, no, no, no…” was all he could murmur, now. He knew his cries and screams and pleading would do no good, but they still jolted from him at each step in the invasion.

I kneel obediently in the entryway, wrists behind my back, head down, heart racing as I hear Master slam his truck door shut and approach the door. He enters and sets down his bag, then stands in front of me and unzips his pants. “Evening boy,” He says, and before I can take my cue to bury my rubber-hooded face in his crotch, he tugs my collar, smashing my nose into the fabric of his jock. Immediately I taste the sweat and precum that absorbed into the fabric throughout the day, leaking through the metal tube that has encased his MasterNub for six months now. My body immediately relaxes as his masculine scent washes over me, even though I know I will spend the evening in agony for Master’s amusement and pleasure. But I suffer for Master.

It’s been weeks since I properly tasted Master’s full load down my throat, a parting gift before I helped him secure the custom, steel chastity cage I bought for him that has been there ever since. But in those weeks of denying his MasterCock the fleeting pleasure and release of an orgasm, he has slowly transformed, each night stronger, more powerful, more sadistic once he fully encases himself in the brand new rubber suit and heavy black molded mask. His body flooded with testosterone, ejaculating only out of biological necessity. Even without the rubber on, this denial and the accomplishment from the months-long abstinence milestone has left him in a very particular, aggressive, horny mood. He knew that with the gear on, seeing his loyal rubbertoy gimpfaggot suffer in His honor, he would finally achieve that incredible, handsfree orgasm inside the cool steel cage, releasing months of that potent MasterSeed. 

Master tilts my head up to stare lovingly at his rubberfaggot gimpobject. I smile, taking in his gaze as he pets my shiny black rubber head. “Six months today, boy,” he says. 

“Yes Master,” I reply. “I am ready.” 

Master clips the black metal chain leash on my collar as he leads me to the playroom we’ve been building. I crawl quickly behind him, my core, arms, and legs having gotten stronger and leaner from our dedication to transformation and my loyal slavery to Master.

“Present,” he commands, as he drops the leash. I jump to my feet, shoulder-width apart, and interlace my rubber gloved fingers behind my head, eyes at the ground. I quiver as he runs his fingers over my black rubber body, pausing on the metal belt that has become a part of me, that has made me truly cockless. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to stroke, let alone orgasm, but I don’t even think about it or want one. It’s not an option, nor should it be. 

“Open,” he says, his thumb now on my bottom lip. He slides his thumb into my drooling mouth and I eagerly suck it, but he pushes my jaw open. “Wider,” he demands, as he slides in a full-mouth Silencilicone gag. I growl contentedly as I bite down on the fat, squishy gag, just enough to sink my teeth into. I can barely swallow, barely make a sound. The playroom is soundproof, but even the occasional howls of pain and pleasure have escaped in the past. Tonight this gag will be very necessary. 

Master slides the blindfold over my perforated eyes. I’m now in total darkness. Even though this kind of predicament is familiar, customary, for this slave and its amazing Master, I still gulp and shudder as I slowly lose my senses, knowing each night he pushes me deeper, harder. 

I hear footsteps as he gathers materials from around the playroom. The clink of clasps and chains. One by one my wrists and ankles are restrained to the wall, standing spreadeagle. “Inhale,” he says, and I take three deep breaths from the poppers mask he’s holding up to my face. After the third he holds my nostrils closed. Each night he deprives me of air a few seconds longer, until I’m finally allowed to breathe out deeply. As I inhale fresh oxygen, the high hits, flooding my brain and body with endorphins. I purr happily in the gag, feeling my heart beat throughout my body. 

My head lolls down as the gas does its job. I hear Master continue throughout the playroom, preparing himself for my torture. He is committed to a full, handsfree orgasm tonight, and I must suffer deeply enough to make it happen.

As the gas begins to ebb I hear his steel toe boots clomping on the floor, approaching me. Again I feel fingers on my body and hear Master’s breathing. It’s slightly obscured now, he’s breathing through the noseholes of his Brute mask. My useless cocklet immediately hardens, as much as an unstimulated cocklet can, and dribbles precum into its necessary metal prison. I have not yet seen His Glory, but I know how it looks, and I know I am helpless against His Power in this state. 

He removed the blindfold and takes three steps back, under the dim light. It reflects off his own black rubber skin, growing pecs and thick biceps, a tree-trunk like torso, and bulging thighs that lead to 20-hole lace-up boots. He stares at me behind the molded rubber mask that fits his face perfectly, as if this rubber mask has temporarily become his true identity. I whimper at the very sight, such beauty, such power, such perfection that totally and completely owns and controls me. 

He approaches again and holds up the biggest electro plug I’ve ever seen before holding the poppers mask against my face again. This time he buckles it on, leaving me to breathe the gas as he slowly, masterfully, methodically, presses the plug into my eager, horny hole. He unzips more of the bottom of my suit, attaching pads to my round ass cheeks and my inner thighs, one of the most sensitive areas on my whole body. 

Soon the current begins, gentle at first. He’s getting me primed. Master cranks a winch down, lowering a spreader bar from the ceiling. He unclips my wrists and forces my torso to bend forward. My head is at chest level, convenient for him to lock on the rubber muzzle. When he’s not standing in front of me, I can see my reflection in the mirror across the room. He clips a chain to the top of the muzzle and attaches it to a chain from the ceiling. My head is held up now, my torso uncomfortably leaning forward, wrists behind my back, delicately balanced by chains.

I exhale deeply, bracing myself for the discomfort, having no idea how long this will be. And even if he cums inside that cage, there’s no guessing if that will be enough to satiate him. 

Master approaches again. He stares behind his molded rubber mask into my perforated eyes, and without breaking his gaze, amps up the current. I hear my scream muffled by the gag. Master feels a surge of power, strength, as his locked cocklet dribbles again into the cool metal tube. He caresses my hooded face with his rubber-gloved hand. I know I am safe, and in his safety I can endure more. Another wave of zapping electro that builds and builds in waves across the pads and the plug. I gasp for air under the gag and muzzle through my nose. Master catches his own reflection in the mirror, his strong, broad shoulders and black, shiny mask, sending another surge of undeniable power through his body, another dribble of delicious MasterSeed dribbling into the tube. He feels his shrinking nub stiffen in the tube, more than it has in weeks.

Master increases the settings, over and over. I transition from bracing myself from pleasurable stimulation to searing pain, to steeling my mind and my nerves to endure sustained, sharp shocks. There’s never enough rest to catch my breath. I’m either panting, gasping for air, or screaming into the gag. But the more my screams fill the gag, the more Master’s full balls leak. He feels his shrunken nublet bouncing inside the cage now. The months without stimulation have caused him to shrink more and more, and as his Masternublet bounces his anticipation builds. He can feel an incredible release coming, but not until he’s drained all humanity out of his gimp. 

“No more games,” he whispers in my ear, just loud enough to be heard through his mask. I look straight into his eyes again behind the mask. I feel the current increase again, steadily, relentlessly. My body is beginning to convulse, the sensation so overwhelming. I must endure for His Pleasure. 

I’m in a heightened state of torturous euphoria, my body’s natural endorphins combatting the relentless zap of electro as Master stares at me. I’m alternating gasping and panting, my mind mush, struggling to see straight with the occasional flood of poppers. Master’s locked cocklet is pulsing now, each moan, each pant, each whimper fueling his power. His own cocklet is pulsing up and down, he knows what’s coming.

Another deep inhalation from the poppers mask. I’m desperate for fresh air and he seals my nose closed again with his gloved fingers, his cocklet still racing inside his steel metal cage. I begin to resist, beg, struggle, a symphony of desperation, arousal, and emotions all happening at once. He knows I belong totally to him, my mind, my body, my suffering is for his pleasure. 

Pleasure indeed. Suddenly, without a single stroke, a single suck, a single pump inside a hole, Master feels a forgotten but familiar sensation beginning deep within his pelvis. He takes a step back and roars under the mask as hot, thick, potent cum erupts from his shrinking nub and coats the inside of metal cage. My continued screams encourage him onward, as he props himself up against the wall as waves of pleasure consume his rubber-encased body, from the first full, handsfree orgasm he’s had in six months. 

Master rips off his rubber mask and turns down the electro. I whimper, relieved, exhausted. Master quickly, expertly, unbuckles the muzzle and opens my mouth to pull the gag out, in one motion releasing my restraints from the winch so I can stand upright. He holds me tight. “My good boy,” he whispers. “My good gimp.” We’re both panting, exhausted in our own ways. “Thank you boy. You make me so proud,” he says, his big hand on the back of my neck, holding me close as my body weakens. He kisses  my rubber cheek. 

It takes me a few minutes to be able to speak again, but he never lets me go. “Thank you daddy,” I whisper. His pleasure is my purpose.

He hands me water and as I slowly get my wits about me again, help him take his gear off. I pause to inhale his pits, natural musk with sweat and lube and the natural scent of rubber. He smiles. I’m exhausted, drained emotionally, physically, yet his essence is all I crave. His scent, his taste, his body is my nourishment. 

“I’m gonna shower. Meet me under the chair,” he says.

Master goes to the bathroom to clean up and I attend to his rubber, preparing to get it cleaned and polished for next time. I walk to the living room and lay down under the rim seat, and clip my wrists to the side. Soon Master returns to the chair with a cocktail and remote in his hand. He doesn’t have to tell me what to do. As he relaxes watching the screen, my tongue and mouth lick and taste his hole, trying to burrow deeper and deeper. 

Master exhales deeply, content, happy. Balls drained. He looks down at his gimp’s rubber torso and legs extending out from underneath the seat, everyone where they are meant to be. 

The baby change room was big enough for the three of us. Nappies paid for, I pulled down the fold-away changing table. There was a metal chair in the corner of the room and Paul sat down on it, whilst I Ethan and I stood in the middle of the room. 

Ethan was gazing around the room, the smell of baby powder and fresh nappies mixed with the stink of his poo no doubt unlocking hidden memories. I locked the door, grinned at Paul, and sat on the toilet seat.

“Come and sit on Daddy’s lap, baby.”

Ethan slowly sat his warm stinky bottom on my knee and moaned as his thick mess squished and spread against him. I put my hand under his chin, and kissed him deeply, rubbing the soaked padding with my other hand. I felt him squeal and moan as I began to bounce him gently against my knee, making sure his warm shit was oozing into his skin. Paul began to breathe heavily.

“Such a good boy. Let’s get you changed, shall we?”

I lifted him in my arms as he whined and laid him on the fold-away changing table. His legs instinctively spread, his full nappy bulging out on show, feet in the air. I gave him one more long deep kiss as Paul undid his belt and began to get his cock out, grinning at me.

I undid the tapes of his nappy and opened it to see the pooey mess. I always loved the contrast: the clean white outside of his nappy with his cute designs, and the brown messy explosion covering his cock and bum. The air filled with the stench of poo and Paul began to sniff and inhale as he stroked his cock.

“Such a good boy. Even bigger this time! Someone really needed to go poopoo.” I playfully slapped his sticky bum as he giggled, showing his messy bum and crotch to the world.

“I barely felt it, Dada. It just came out!” He laughed.

I pulled the now shit-covered hollow dildo from his hole, from which another log of mushy poo slid out. I rubbed his new mess into his crack as he groaned. Paul moaned too, his eyes glued to Ethan’s messy bum. I sank my fingers into his gooey stinky mess, covering it completely. I got up and held it in front of Paul’s mouth. He sucked the pooey finger and licked it clean.

“Taste good?”

“Mmm. Your son makes some delicious poo.”

“He’s a good baby, isn’t he?”

“Tasty little boy.”

I went back to my ‘son’ and one again covered my finger with his mess.

“Just a lickle bit, Daddy.”

“Of course, sweetie.”

I held my finger in front of his laid down head, hovering in front of his face.

“Smell it. Properly.”

Ethan took a sharp inhale through his nose. He sighed, turned on.

“Tongue out.”

He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. I wiped my pooey finger on his tongue, painting the centre of it brown. He swallowed and sighed.

“Good boy!”

“Such a good boy. Does your poopoo taste nice, darling?” said Paul.

“Uh huh!”

“You’re a very lucky boy to have a Daddy like him, d’you know that?”

Ethan’s cock somehow managed to get harder.

“Go on Alan, I’m sure you’re desperate. Why don’t you clean him up!”

I pushed Ethan’s legs up further, stuck my tongue out, and once again licked up my favourite taste in the world; Ethan’s poo.

Ethan whined and moaned.

“Oh yeah, that’s it! Go on, lick up your son’s poopoo!”

I licked and swallowed his poo until my saliva was dripping off his hole. I cleaned his crack, his bumcheeks, and his balls whilst Ethan moaned and Paul wanked.

Once I started licking the poo off his willy, Paul had got up and was wanking up close, getting a good view. He crooned over Ethan, watching his little red face whine and sigh.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it baby?”

“Yes Paul.”

“Feels good having your father clean up your pooey bum, doesn’t it?”

“Yes… so good…”

“You want this all the time, don’t you, stinky boy? You want to be Dad’s nappied baby forever, don’t you?”

“Yes… oh god yes!”

His cock was almost clean.

“Uncle Paul’s about to go cummies now, baby.”

I could see him wanking his cock hard, his balls tensing up.

“Mmm, open wide!!”

Ethan obeyed, opening his pretty mouth. With a groan, Paul’s spunk shot out of his cock and flooded onto Ethan’s tongue.

“Ohhhh. Swallow… swallow it all, there’s a good boy.”

Ethan swallowed, licking his lips. I got up and kissed him, rubbing my shit-covered tongue against his.

—

As we exited tescos, Paul looked at me and Ethan.

“Well… that was one hell of a shopping trip! I’m so glad we got to have a family day out together.”

Ethan blushed and tried to hide a smile.

“You enjoy that souvenir!” I laughed. Paul had wrapped up the remainers of Ethan’s filled pampers and put it in his bag to take home.

“Oh I will! Ethan, you be good for your Dad now. I’ll be seeing you soon!”

“I’ll send you those photos I told you about.” I reminded him.

“Oh yes, I’ve got some friends who I think would love to see. I’ll be bringing them to the party.”

He hugged Ethan. “Now, you look after that nappied bottom!” He said, loud enough for people to hear. Ethan flushed red once again. “Well done on your un-potty training too. I’ll see you on Friday, baby boy! Be good!”

Paul waved as he walked to his car. Ethan smiled cheekily as we walked back to my truck, hand in hand, daddy and son, ready for the next pervy adventure…

If any dirty daddies would be interested in meeting in real life and re-enacting this story so far, or making a film of it, please get in touch at [email protected]

As Billy Jo returned to his apartment after the squash he suffered at the hands of Arthur and Deone, he realized how badly he had been beaten and the sexual abuse he suffered. How would he erase the stain of the match on his talent and manhood? He had agreed with a rematch and the use of a partner in a true tag match. Did he make the right choice or should he have just left and taken the whole affair as a learning moment? His pride had been stolen by the wrestling and sexual skills of the two black musclemen. How could he just walk away form that defeat and sexual assault as if nothing had happened? Yes, he had to redeem his honor and show he was not intimidated by any person white or black.

But what was he to do about a partner? He needed someone with strength and agility as well as courage to face the possible acts of demeaning physical and sexual domination. Who did he know that would be willing to step into the lion’s den and prepare to face two powerful and vicious black men who delighted in humiliating young white men? He thought of all the wrestlers he knew from the wrestling circuit but was hard pressed to identify someone willing to take on the burden of possible defeat. New to the circuit was Tommy. He had just graduated from wrestling school and not yet been assigned to a match. Tommy was 19, 5”11’, and 180 pounds. He had the developed body of a trained athlete due to his amateur background in wrestling and football. Billy Joe saw him one day at the arena. He struck up a conversation and then came around to the match he was scheduled to appear in. Tommy was interested because he wanted some actual experience before having a regular match. Billy Jo let him know the character of the match without too much detail. Excited about his first real bout he said yes to Billy Jo. Everything was in place. Billy Jo took Tommy back to the gym.

Having experienced his first sexual actions, Billy Jo knew that the inhibitions he had at the first match were gone. He would be as aggressive as the men who fought him at the site. He knew he could not tell Tommy everything, but he did tell him to expect the unexpected. Their opponents were powerful and held nothing back. Tommy took it all in stride and expressed his enthusiasm for the match. While talking to Tommy in his first extended exchange, Billy Jo began to feel the way the black wrestlers made him feel. The pain but also the pleasure was in his memory. He began to feel the same with young Tommy. He approached the younger wrestler with caution. He didn’t want to scare him away. Putting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, he began to rub it as if giving a massage before or after a match. Tommy, also someone who had no sexual experience, was taken aback with the touching. But Billy Jo softly told Tommy that it was the standard action of veteran wrestlers who let go of all inhibitions when in the company of real men.

Would Tommy be repulsed by what was happening or would he see that changes in life style are no more radical than keeping the past for no good reason. Tommy was intrigued by what Billy Jo was doing and decided to let the physical contact continue. Tommy was fast approaching the point where he wanted more than just touch. Billy Jo sensed that his apprentice was ready for something more explicit. “Let me kiss you”, said Billy Jo. “All right,” was the boy’s response. Billy Jo gave Tommy a gentle but sensual touch on the mouth. Billy Jo began to take his trunks off and Tommy did the same. Looking on each other’s body they felt urges that Tommy had never experienced before. Billy Jo knew that now was the time to act. He placed his hands on Tommy’s nipples and felt the boy give a start that said he was ready. He took the boy into his arms and gave him another kiss before taking him down to the floor. Tommy let Billy Jo lie next to him where the older boy sucked his nipple and began to stroke his penis. Tommy was feeling things he had never felt before. A desire for this feeling to continue became the main thought of the younger boy. Never had he been stimulated to such a level of pleasure. The gentle mouth on his tits drove him to heights of ecstasy. The handjob added to the need for release. Tommy began to tremble with anticipation of an explosion of his manhood. Billy Jo seemed to have learned from his fight about the technique to bring a man to the pinnacle of orgasm. Tommy blew his cum all over his body and Billy Jo’s hand. He had never felt anything like this in his life and he craved for more. “Please do it again,” he pleaded of Billy Jo. His request was met with another orgasm almost as explosive as the first.

Billy Jo laid down next to Tommy and pointed to his nipple and penis. He too wanted to experience the power of sex which had eluded him in his match with his black rivels. They had been too busy taking him apart and enjoying their domination that they had no time to have Billy Jo share in their pleasure. Tommy imitated what Billy Jo had done to him and it had the same effect. The sucking and manhandling by Tommy was just what Billy Jo wanted. He also tightened his muscles as he neared the orgasm he deeply desired. When Tommy seemed to hesitate pulling back for a second, Billy Jo said: “Go ahead. You’re doing great.” Tommy went back to complete his mission and Billy Jo also had a massive explosion. Asking Tommy to repeat the move as he had done, he again felt the same pleasure shock course through his body. Both were exhausted from the effort. Billy Jo said “You are a great partner here and I know you will be a great partner in the ring.” The day ended with two new lovers coming to sexual maturity and the experience of gay sex and its appeal to young athletic men. 

Arthur and Deone were just finishing their workout. As they entered the locker room Arthur asked Deone to wait a minute so they could discuss the match with Billy Jo and his as yet unknown partner. “What should be our plan for the match?” asked Deone. Arthur looked at him with a smile and said, “Remember what we did with that ass wipe? The most satisfying match we ever had. Let’s go as far as we can to reduce him and his partner to bitch status and make the crowd have their own orgasms as we enjoy making monkeys out of the white muscle boys.”  “Outstanding,” replied Deone. “Using handsome white boys for domination is the greatest sexual satisfaction possible.” Going into the shower they began to cool down and remove the sweat of the practice. Looking at Deone in his magnificent nakedness, Arthur had to satisfy his rising lust for his partner. Taking the black Adonis into his arms he felt the raw sexual power of his partner. He knew that here was the man who could compliment his sexual prowess with physical strength. Their wrestling only added to the drive to use their opponents as instruments of domination and sexual satisfaction. They were a perfect match. Deone duplicated the feelings of Arthur in a violent and destructive way. Deone went down on Arthur and as the shower water covered him, he took the massive tool of his friend and began to bring him to a huge and exciting orgasm that had Arthur shaking from the beauty of the sucking and the rising of his juice in his loins. The cum shot was like a cannon firing, filling the mouth of Deone who swallowed the liquid as a gift from his lover. Arthur was drained and lifted Deone up to kiss him in a passionate and long held embrace. With a lover like Deone, thought Arthur, there is no limit to what we can accomplish.” With the kiss still held Arthur took the penis of Deone and began to caress and fondle the love tube. In a matter of seconds, he had Deone in a similar state of excitement as he anticipated his own explosion of black manhood. The release of Deone’s cum made for the end of a perfect day of training.

On the night of the rematch Billy Jo and Tommy went to the arena early to do some quick exercises and plan out the match. Arthur and Deone walked in a few seconds later. Arthur welcomed Billy Jo and said how excited he and Deone were about the rematch. “Is this your new partner,” asked Arthur. “Yes, he is.” Billy Jo introduced Tommy to the black team and said that he was a great addition to the match since this was Tommy’s first formal wrestling exhibition. Arthur smiled at Deone in a knowing way, as if to say what luck to have this novice in the ring. Arthur said to the young men that it was the tradition of the African Wrestling Club for the tag team members to share an experience with one of the other tag team members. (Wonderful but effective lie.) Arthur tried to take Tommy into his arms. Tommy instinctively drew back alarmed by the action of the muscle man. “Don’t worry, boy, I won’t hurt you. But you must follow tradition if you want to wrestler here,” was Arthur’s response. Not knowing what to expect, Tommy stood fixed in place. But when Arthur again put his arms around him, he let it happen. Arthur made a few moves with his dick against the boy’s. Pulling away Arthur said, “That wasn’t bad now was it,” whispered Arthur into Tommy’s ear. “But in the ring I will enjoy my pleasure.” Tommy was dumbfounded. Did he mean actual sexual assault? What had he gotten himself into? Billy Jo reassured him with “It is just intimidation, don’t worry.” Deone did the same with Billy Joe.

            The arena was packed. Many had come for the rematch and the knowledge they would see a real tag team match and the masterful work of their black heroes against the white boys. As usual the visitors were roundly booed. Tommy was a little unnerved by the response but Billy Joe told him that was what they did here. When the home team entered the ovation was off the charts. Everyone anticipated another squash with brutal and sexually explicit holds.

The bell opened the event. Billy Jo started for his team determined to show that the last match was a fluke and he was a champion level wrestler. The truth was quick to be known. As Billy Jo moved toward Arthur, the black Hercules put a kick to his leg that sent him sprawling on the mat. Landing face first rattled him and left him monetarily flustered. Arthur wasted no time and landed a knee on the back of the prostrate youngster. Pulling him up by the hair, Arthur bent him back and spat into his face. “You really thought that you could equal our power and skill. Dumb ass. We just wanted another opportunity to degrade you in front of our fans. Thanks for the double fun with your partner.” Billy Jo saw that the actions after the last match were all for show so as to goad him into this ring of pain and sexual depravity. But it was too late to do anything now but fight for his dignity. He was sorry for getting Tommy into this mess. Arthur let a hammer blow fall on the exposed chest of his prey, letting him fall to the ground.

Arthur tagged in Deone. His first move was to lift the downed boy and body slam him full force onto the mat. A kick to his chest and a knee to his throat put Billy Jo in a state of numbing pain. But Deone had more in store for the wannabe champion. Raising the body of the boy Deone sent him into the ropes. When he came off the ropes Deone landed a beautiful and powerful drop kick that met Billy Joe square on the chest. Not hesitating a second, he then took Billy Jo and swung him into the ring corner. Following the battered young man, Deone made a running dive onto the body of the trapped white boy. He then did a monkey flip that had Billy Jo flying across the ring and landing fully on his back. Deone picked Billy Jo up and brought him to his corner and tagged in Arthur. The black Hercules took the bent over boy and lifted him until he was perched on Arthur’s neck. He then flung the hapless youngster into his own corner. When the body landed it hit the back of the corner. Billy Jo went down from the impact.

Arthur pointed to Tommy and motioned for him to come into the ring. Understandably, Tommy hesitated. The crowd began to make chicken noises implying that he was a coward. But Tommy finally had the courage to get into the ring. Arthur invited the white boy to take a clean shot at him. Tommy gave an elbow smash into the head of Arthur. The muscle man hardly moved. But when he returned the blow, he sent Tommy through the ropes and on to the floor. Deone ran around to where Tommy had landed. He picked him up and sent him into the ring post followed by a body slam on the ring apron. He then pushed Tommy back into the ring. Athur dragged the boy to his corner and tagged in Deone. Jumping over the ropes he landed a back body drop on the plaything. Again, sending Tommy into the ropes he lifted him as he came off and threw him as high as he could letting him fall flat on his face and body.    

Now it was Deone’s turn to point to Billy Jo and demand he come into the ring. When he hesitated Deone simply grabbed him by the hair and pulled him into the ring. Putting his toy into a full nelson, he put full pressure on the neck shaking him like the proverbial rag doll. He then changed the hold and took Billy Jo’s legs lifting the white victim and swinging him around and around for several turns. He then began to raise and lower the swing until he had the right height and speed to drive Billy Jo head first into the mat.

Arthur yelled at Deone: “Make him sequel.”  Code for get down and dirty. Deone picked Billy Jo up and laid a blockbuster kiss on the young wrestler. “Now we get serious,” said Deone. He meant that anything goes that satisfies the fans and excites the black torturers. Deone puts his hand into Billy Jo’s briefs and grabs his ball sack. With a smile on his face, he begins to apply pressure to the tender parts and elicits a howl from the white victim. The response from the fans is like an earthquake. This is what they have been waiting for. Any bozo can wrestle according to the rules or even a little rule breaking, but only a practiced artist can reduce a man to physical and sexual exploitation. Deone was the artist “par excellence.”  When he felt the flesh starting to give under his squash move, he relented so as not to permanently neuter his victim. But that merely meant a change in target. The screams and yells of Billy Jo were transferred to his penis which Deone grasped in his hand and squeezed with all the pressure he could bring. The tool was fully extended, giving the black demon a firm target. Going to his corner he tagged in Arthur.

Arthur entered the ring and put Billy Jo into a head lock, putting tremendous pressure on the head and neck. Then without warning he did a back kick into the white boy’s balls. Letting go of the headlock he took the boy and executed a front atomic drop making sure his knee hit the target of the groin. Billy Jo doubled over in pain. Taking the poor youngster by the nipples he lifted him up and putting pressure on his target lifted the boy until he was on tip toes and being jerked around while his tits were being abused. “Want some more?” Arthur asked. “Here, let’s try this.” Letting go of the nipples he planted the now pain filled boy in the corner. There he put his mouth on the beautiful tits before him and began to bite the pink flesh. If he was screaming at his highest decibels with the hand crush, he screamed even louder, if possible, with his delicate tit being knawel by the mouth of a wild beast without concern or mercy. Arthur broke the skin but only drew enough blood to do a “breast feed”. The fans were in a state of ecstasy at the actions unfolding before their eyes. This was what they wanted. Prove the power and domination of black brothers over so-called white muscle. Arthur knew this and milked it for all it was worth.

But what about Tommy. He needed to be part of this massacre. Putting Billy Jo into his corner he reached for Tommy’s legs under the ropes and dragged him into the whirlpool of pain and sexual torture. Going to his corner he tagged in Deone, whose eyes lite up at the thought of using this young and pretty boy. Knowing the fans favorite hold was nipple torture, he also began to bite one of the tits of this new object of pain. Again, just breaking the skin he also drew blood for his version of “breast feeding”. But he wanted more to satisfy his growing lust. Pulling Tommy’s trunks off, he put the boy on the top turnbuckle, grabbed his legs, and had him perched in a perfect position. The boy’s exposed cock was at the level of Deone’s mouth. Taking the tool into his mouth he began to bite at the head with just enough pressure to elicit a cry of surrender. But there was no surrender here. Tommy had never experienced such pain or humiliation in his young life. He responded like an animal caught in a trap. But there was no escape. When he had produced blood from the penis he dropped Tommy into the corner,

With the boy in perfect position, Deone brought his own tool to Tommy’s mouth. Landing a couple of blows to make him more cooperative, the black tool, now engorged and pulsing, was thrust into the mouth of the receptacle of the Deone’s manhood. Holding the top ropes in the corner, he plunged into the orifice now open to him. His thrusts drove the target’s head back against the second strand corner pad. The feeling of this new piece of meat around his love organ drove him to new heights of power and control. Here was a worthy object for his masterly art of destruction. The young man was even more appealing to him than Billy Jo being younger and more teen looking. Deone had an uncontrollable desire to wreak this pretty thing as he had never done before. If possible, his act of abuse rose to new levels of surging hormones. He had to make this fuck the best he had ever driven into another person as well as the most sexual sensation he had ever felt. Feeling his cum rising in his groin, Deone pushed harder and deeper with each thrust of his now huge weapon. He shuddered as the moment of climax arrived and he exploded into the poor kid’s mouth with firehose pressure. He wanted every pulse to be felt and every ejaculation drained to the limit. When the victory of cock over mouth was complete Dione lifted the violated boy to his feet and kissed him with the most powerful and dominating effort he had ever made. The shuddering of his body could not stop for the sheer ecstasy of the incredible fuck he had visited on Tommy. Exhausted, he went to his corner and tagged in Arthur.

How do I top that thought Arthur. Taking the totally destroyed Tommy he brought him to the opponents corner. Here was Billy Jo. What a great target to match Deone sexploitation of young Tommy. Billy Jo had no wish to be next in line for a massive sex assault. “How about a deal,” he said to Arthur. “Deal? What deal? Billy Jo answered: “Use Tommy instead of me for your grand fuck and I will join you in using him. Think of the reaction of the fans with the heel turn.” “Sounds interesting,” responded Arthur. “Heel turn? Not bad.” Taking the still exhausted Tommy, Arthur followed Billy Jo’s suggestion. Taking the boy, he tied him up in the top and second rope. Now he would give the fans a show they had never seen before. His billy club had aways been just a prop of a former policeman. Now it would be an instrument of pain. Approaching the boy, he pulled off his trunks and lifted his leg putting the club at the opening of his hole. Tommy was beyond himself with what he saw being used against him. Just twisting the tool prepared the way to a serious intrusion of his bottom. Arthur began to push the instrument harder and harder until he reached three inches inside. But that would not really satisfy either him or the fans. He called Billy Jo into the ring. Gasps from the crowd betrayed the unbelief that Billy Jo would turn on his partner. But there it was. Arthur told Billy Jo to take Tommy off the ropes but then hold him to administer a reverse atomic drop. The point of contact would not be the bottom of the victim on Billy Jo’s knee but the end of the club. Billy Jo raised up Tommy and brought him down on the mat so that the end of the club was shoved up into Tommy’s rectum. The cry from Tommy almost overshadowed cheer of the fans. Arthur walked up to Tommy and removed the offending instrument. Bringing it up to Tommy’s mouth he began to twist and turn it as if cleaning the tip.  Arthur had bettered Deone’s fuck. The reaction of the crowd proved it.

“Great move, Billy Jo. A perfect heel turn. But I don’t like traitors,” was Arthur’s remark to Billy Jo. With those words he let fly with a round house kick that floored the young man. It would be his turn as a sex target for Arthur and Deone. Tommy had crawled to the ring apron seeking asylum. He needn’t have worried. Billy Jo was the next fuck for Arthur. Landing multiple blows on his new target, Arthur pinned Billy Jo in the corner of the ring. Stripping the young man of his trunks, he raised him up on the second rope pad and put his legs over the ropes. Getting his club he moved toward Billy Jo whose reaction was one of fear and dread because of what had happened to Tommy. But Arthur used the club as a strangle tool, pushing it into his victim’s throat. With Billy Jo now immobilized he took out his own tool and rammed it up into the exposed opening. Arthur tended to be more the finesse wrestler while Deone was the wild one. Now Arthur dropped any pretense of artistry and went for raw physical attack. Pushing his massive cock into Billy Jo, he made it his mission to reward treachery. As did Deone, Arthur uses the ropes to ground himself and aiding the strokes of penetration. Anger added to the sheer power of Arthur’s muscles. The penis began its penetration with out preparation or slow development. The attack was sudden and complete. In a couple of drives he was in and also pounding the balls as they fell before the hole. Billy Jo gave out cries and moans as the fuck went on and on. Arthur would leave his young man with a torn rectum and bloody discharge. There was no holding back for Arthur now. Strokes became piston shots. Penetration became drilling. Arthur had to make Billy Jo know that he had committed the worst crime among black wrestlers. Never turn on a partner. The rise of the cum in his body sent Arthur into a frenzy of sex punishment. Billy Jo would remember this day for the rest of his life. The explosion of cum inside Billy Jo went on, it seemed, for minutes. Billy Jo was crying from the pain and shame he was experiencing. Arthur said: “So the little boy is crying. I always knew you were a nobody wrestler. A child trying to pretend you are a man.” Arthur let Billy Jo fall from the corner continuing to cry as he held his violated bottom.

Both young men had now experienced the agony of defeat in ways they could not have imagined at the beginning of the night. But it wasn’t over yet. Arthur and Deone had not exhausted their sexual or sadistic desires. Now the two joined together to enjoy the rest of the evening. Taking Billy Jo and Tommy, they heaved them over their backs in matching torture racks. Bouncing and pulling on the head and legs of their baggage made the boys scream their unanswered submission. Dropping the bodies they tossed them into the ropes flipping the boys over head to a crash on the mat. Each began to attack the young men by exchanging what each had done before. Deone took Billy Jo and began to mouth fuck the now fallen man who regretted his betrayal for the pain he had brought on himself. Deone made the punishment as painful and humiliating as he could. Again, he pushed his spear into the now devastated Billy Jo and loved the feel of the warn mouth around his cock. Again, he pushed his tool to its limit just waiting for the spray of cum into the white mouth of Billy Jo. No one had the ability to shoot multiple ejections of manhood as did Deone. One more time would seal his reputation as a veritable reservoir of white sperm. The end came with a vicious thrust into the boy’s throat that put ounces of cum down his wind pipe that caused Billy Jo to gag and heave to keep his airway open. Deone rubbed his cum covered tool over the face of the beaten bitch.

Arthur took the still suffering Tommy and putting him on his back pushed his still engorged cock into the manhole of the now toy boy. Nearing exhaustion from all the heavy exercise that night, Arthur made quick work of Tommy’s ass. Rapid and pulsing drives into the boy quickly brought Arthur to full extension and a high state of anticipation which was ended with a massive shower of cum into the already punished rectum. The night had been everything they had hoped for. The young wrestlers, Billy Jo and Tommy, had given both the black sadists and the demanding fans everything they could have hoped for. The night was a success for the promoter, the wrestlers, and the fans. What were the chances of duplicating this event.? Only time would tell.

In the dressing room later, Billy Jo and Tommy had to deal with the loss and Billy Jo’s betrayal. Tommy accused Billy Jo of lying to him about the nature of the match. He never would have agreed if he had known what to expect. But Billy Jo’s attempted heel turn to save himself was the final straw. He never wanted to see or interact with Billy Jo again. He threatened to let everyone at the pro club know what kind of person he was. Billy Jo grabbed Tommy and began to beat him. He would use the boy the way he had been treated and then Tommy could tell anyone he wanted. Putting Tommy into a sleeper that reduced his resistance, Billy Jo put his penis into the mouth of the groggy youth. With punishing drives he let the feel of the wet and warm mouth bring him to a high state of excitement. With the rising feeling of ecstasy he prepared to put the winer baby where he belonged, with a mouth full of his cum. Sealing the action with a kiss Billy Jo left the broken Tommy to stew over his loss and sexual humiliation. Would he tell everyone about the night? Who could tell?      

Final Chapter

“ELLIE”

“Holy shit!” Austin bellowed, his sweaty body collapsing on the bed as he panted profusely. After a couple of seconds, Gabriel fell beside him, his eyes vacant and lifeless. “How can you just keep going like that?” He asked, his head jolting from side to side. He looked at Gabriel and rolled over, hugging the stud’s torso and placing his chin on his chest. “Hey, you okay?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Gabriel replied, his eyes on the ceiling.

“You never talk about yourself,” Austin commented, eyes scanning Gabriel’s face.

“Not much of a talker.” Gabriel expressed evasively.

“I have a friend coming over tonight. Is that alright?” Austin questioned.

“It’s your fucking house, Austin,” Gabriel stated, chuckling. “Is it the guy we fucked last week?” Gabriel asked, making Austin giggle as he nodded affirmatively. “He’s hot.” He stated. Austin looked at him and frowned. “What, are you jealous?” Gabriel mocked.

“Kinda…” Austin replied with a longing look. Gabriel looked down at the boy’s beautiful green eyes, brushing his face with his hand, exuding a gentleness Austin rarely witnessed from him.

“I wouldn’t get attached,” Gabriel muttered before turning his head to face the window. “I’m damaged goods,” he whispered to himself.

“I hope someone out there can break through there,” Austin uttered as he placed his hand over Gabriel’s heart. The stud turned his head and looked down, smiling.

“Speaking of breaking through.” Gabriel teased, glancing at Austin’s smooth bubble butt.

“Jesus Christ, Gabriel! I’m still sore.” Austin moaned, sinking his face into the sheets.

“Stop being a pussy.” Gabriel grunted as he rolled over and slid his body over Austin’s, grinding his hips against the boy’s crack.

“Fuck, you’re so hard already.” The boy whined, his body language switching as he became mesmerized by Gabriel’s unrelenting lust. “Where did you get all this stamina,” Austin questioned, his body flinching forward as he felt Gabriel’s throbbing cock slide inside him.

“Runs in the family…” Gabriel rasped as he trusted deep inside, fucking Austin’s hole for the seventh time that day.

Later that evening, Austin was cooking dinner, and Gabriel sat on the couch, his arms stretched forward as he rolled a joint over the coffee table. Someone knocked at the door to the small apartment.

“Can you get that?” Austin requested. Gabriel rolled his eyes and begrudgingly walked up, opening the door.

“Hey!” A young man greeted Gabriel as he stood in the doorway. “Remember me, handsome?” He questioned a visibly unbothered Gabriel.

“Sure. I fucked your ass.” Gabriel stated. The guy chuckled.

“What’s my name?” The guy challenged, leaning against the doorway. You could hear Austin’s giggles from the kitchen.

“Hum…Jake?” Gabriel mumbled, his eyes on the guy’s crotch.

I’m up here, Gabriel. And it’s Jack, by the way,” he stated, walking inside and rushing for the kitchen. He slapped Austin’s ass and kissed him before rejoining Gabriel in the living room, already in his seat and taking the joint to his mouth. He stretched his arm and offered Jack a puff.

“Thanks,” Jack uttered. “So, what’s up?” He asked.

“My dick.” Gabriel teased with a smirk, making Jack chuckle slightly.

“Wanna do some blow?” Jack proposed. Gabriel turned his head and stared at him.

“I don’t know…” he hesitated as he peeked into Jack’s eyes. They wavered, charming and piercing. “Sure, why not?” he finally conceded.

Jack took his hand to his jacket’s inner pocket and pulled out a small metal box. He opened it, unfurled the small plastic ball, and laid the cocaine on the coffee table, evenly spreading it in six thin lines.

“Have you ever done this before?” Jack asked as he tapped the small credit card on the table. Gabriel shook his head, leaning forward as he gazed at Jack’s eyes profusely. His reckless and fearless countenance further enticed Jack’s fascination for the young stud. He leaned forward and sniffed two lines, tilting his head back and brushing his finger over his nose. Gabriel took the rolled one-dollar bill from Jack’s hand and sniffed two lines off the table. He felt his nose burn and a tingling feeling on the tip of his fingers, followed by a sudden sense of unclogging around his eyes as if his vision had suddenly cleared and the constant fog he had been feeling lifted. He reclined on the couch and let his body sink on it.

“So?” Jack asked. Gabriel looked at him and smirked as he unbuttoned his trousers. He lifted his ass and dragged them slightly down, exposing his hard cock. Jack looked at it and beamed.

“Save some for me.” Austin hollered from the kitchen before pausing as he mixed the salad. He could already hear faint moans coming from the living room. He placed the plastic forks down and stretched his head sideways, peaking inside.

Gabriel’s head slanted back as Jack’s mouth bounced up and down his cock. Austin chuckled immediately, strolling over and leaning on the doorway, looking at them blissfully before finally stepping over to them. The three men’s moans echoed in the distance, and for the next couple of hours, they fucked each other senselessly, fueled by drugs, dulled by their pain and loneliness.

Hours later, Gabriel’s eyes opened, his arms feeling numb as they stretched outwards, Austin and Jack sleeping over them. He squeezed from under them, sliding off the bed, and sat at its edge momentarily before standing up. As he reached the living room, he sat on the couch, his body naked and lit by the street lights that crept through the window. As his body stood still, his eyes became lost in thought, and tears began tumbling.

In that small room, surrounded by unfamiliarity, Gabriel’s pain started to pierce through. The silence was his biggest enemy, exposing the impairment hidden inside. It was almost as if his whole life had become a blur. Fragments of happiness, buried underneath, unreachable. The night those policemen knocked on his father’s doorstep, an invisible line sliced through him, cutting him from his own life.

Since then, in his solitude, Gabriel searched. He yearned to find meaning. Elliot was as much a part of his soul and life as his father was, and he had lost both. He felt amputated, shattered. He would never see his best friend again. And Jonathan was ever so slowly letting him go, much by Gabriel’s own doing.

He desperately missed his father’s presence, but his longing for the man he loved was as intense as his rage. He needed Jonathan’s touch as much as his sacrifice. He had tried desperately to save his son from grief, but Gabriel had unwillingly converted Jonathan’s unconditional love into a vessel for his suffering, a punching bag for his despair. Deep down, he knew he was wrong but knew that Jonathan would never renounce him.

Amidst these thoughts, a sense of remorse and despair came over Gabriel. How could he have been so careless with Jonathan’s love? How could he have pushed away the one person that would never forsake him? How could he kill his love for his father, the best part of himself and the only thing holding him to his former self? His hands bolted for his face, trying to hide his shame and disgust. He leaned forward and started darting around, anxious to find an escape, something that would numb his senses. Turning his head, he spotted Jack’s leather jacket tossed over the side of the couch. He stretched his arm and grabbed it, stuffing his hands aimlessly inside the pockets. As he did, he found a small plastic bag the size of a mothball tucked in it. Inside, a yellow powder. Gabriel smirked and ripped the elastic band around it. He laid the powder on the table slowly, drawing two perfect lines. He rolled the one-dollar bill and snorted them.

He immediately fell back, eyes wadding to the back of his head and a very acute burning sensation on his nose. His fingers came up, and as soon as they touched it, blood began pouring out, falling over his wrists and hands, splashing on his chest.

“Fuck…” Gabriel mumbled before his body convulsed violently, falling to the ground as he felt a warm liquid run down his thighs.

He lay there, slowly blinking as he lost consciousness, legs bathing in a pool of his urine. 

[In a particularly familiar beach]

Gabriel’s feet sank into the sand, the sea water washing over them. He heard a voice as he lifted his head, eyes glistening with tears.

“I was wondering when you’d show up?” Elliot uttered, his eyes on the ocean.

“Where are we?” Gabriel questioned, looking around the desolate beach.

“You tell me. You’re the one who got us here, dude.” Elliot replied, chuckling.

“This isn’t real,” Gabriel muttered.

“No. But for something that isn’t real, it feels fucking nice, doesn’t it?” Elliot teased, making Gabriel chuckle.

“I miss you…so much,” Gabriel whispered, his eyes locked on Elliot.

“I know,” Elliot stated.

“I wanna stay here with you.” Gabriel disclosed.

“You can’t. It’s not your time yet.” Elliot informed, his voice soothing.

“I feel so empty,” Gabriel confessed, his eyes shut in pain.

“Empty is good. It makes up more room.” Elliot countered.

“For what…?” Gabriel questioned.

“For whatever comes next,” Elliot replied, turning his head over to Gabriel and beaming.

“Will we ever see each other again?” Gabriel questioned, tears coming down his face.

“I fucking hope so!” Elliot exclaimed.

“Will it ever go away? The pain?” Gabriel asked, his eyes pleading for the comfort of Elliot’s words. His friend let his back fall into the sand, extending his arms outwards.

“Probably not, dude. But that’s the point.” Elliot uttered. “You’re supposed to learn to live with it. Embrace it. It’ll make you stronger in the end.” He clarified with lips stretched into a tender smile.

Gabriel let his body fall over Elliot, his head nestling into his friend’s chest. As he closed his eyes and inhaled, he felt the scent of his Elliot’s fragrance.

“Gabe…he needs you. And you need him.” Elliot whispered, his voice piercing Gabriel’s soul.

“I know,” Gabriel conceded, finally acknowledging how much he missed his father’s voice, body, and presence.

“Just…don’t forget about me, okay?” Elliot entreated.

“Never,” Gabriel vowed.

“Good. Now…time to wake up, Scarface.” Elliot whispered, his voice echoing inside Gabriel’s head, becoming fainter and distant.

[5 days later]

Gabriel opened his eyes arduously. They felt glued together. As he regained feeling in his body and his mind zoned in, he was crushed by a sharp pain in his stomach. As he let his head fall to the side, examining the strange and sterile room he was in, he saw someone sitting by the side of the bed, slanted over it, napping.

“Where am I?” Gabriel mumbled, confused and disoriented.

The person’s head lifted, and Nathan’s tender eyes greeted Gabriel.

“You’re at the hospital.” Nathan cautiously explained.

“What happened?” Gabriel questioned. His mouth felt dry, so Nathan took a large glass and guided a small straw over his lips. Gabriel drank almost all of it before reclining his head back and exhaling profoundly.

“You overdosed. They found heroin in your system.” Nathan revealed.

“Fuck.” Gabriel uttered his eyes on the ceiling.

“Your friends…they left you on the ER steps, Gabriel. Didn’t even check you in…you could have died.” Nathan stated, his eyes latched on Gabriel, whose head turned as he faced the window. “I…” He stumbled, his voice cracking.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Gabriel muttered. “Did you…?” He asked before stumbling on his words.

“I called him,” Nathan confirmed before pausing. “He didn’t show up.” He informed, extending his hand and placing it over Gabriel’s leg. “I’m sorry,” Nathan uttered as Gabriel looked out the window, his eyes filling with tears.

“I suppose I deserved that. After the way I treated him.” Gabriel’s weak voice spoke. It came punctured with despair and sorrow.

“He’s just hurt,” Nathan said as tears ran down Gabriel’s face, who finally turned his face to meet his friend. “He’ll come around.” He whispered as his lips stretched into a comforting smile. “I have to go,” Nathan informed reluctantly.

“Stay,” Gabriel said as he extended his arm and grabbed Nathan’s hand.

“I can’t. I have someone waiting…” He divulged.

Gabriel smiled, but inside, his heart ached. Nathan had moved on, it seemed. Everyone had.

“I’m…sorry,” Gabriel muttered.

“For what?” Nathan questioned.

“For hurting you. For pushing you away.” Gabriel replied, his eyes escaping to the window, his hand pulling away.

Nathan walked around the bed and held Gabriel’s hand again. His touch gave Gabriel the strength to face him, their eyes locked in a complicit stare.

“I’m not upset,” Nathan reassured before he leaned over Gabriel and tenderly kissed his forehead. “You need to start living again, Gabriel,” he whispered into his skin as his lips grazed it.

And just like that, Gabriel’s tears broke free. His body shivered and trembled as he wept uncontrollably. Nathan’s arms stretched outwards and embraced him, harboring his friend’s pain.

“It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.” Nathan’s voice spoke like a soft melody of peace and hope.

At that moment, Gabriel’s grief finally broke from the prison it had been held in. Gentle flickers of his former light finally emerged. Nathan pulled away, gazing at Gabriel’s chestnut eyes, a gentle spark twinkling inside them.

“There you are,” Nathan stated, smiling. Gabriel smiled back, tears still sliding down his flushed face.

After a couple of hours of chatting, Nathan finally left. Gabriel was discharged after three days, and Nathan was waiting for him, ready to drive him back to Jonathan’s house.

Along the way, Gabriel remained notably silent. His head leaned against his seat as he glanced out the window. But as Nathan drove the car into his old neighborhood, his heart began to race. Soon, they stopped in front of his father’s house. Shock took hold of both their faces as they gazed at the red sign buried deep in the middle of the green lawn. It read “FOR SALE.” Gabriel turned his head to look at Nathan, who just shrugged.

“Do you want me to stick around?” Nathan asked.

“Nah. It’s okay.” Gabriel answered vacantly, his mind already wandering. “I’ll call you later.” He said, grabbing his bag and jumping out of the car.

He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, facing the house as Nathan drove off. And finally, after several minutes of standing there, he grabbed his keys, opened the front door, and walked inside.

The silence was overbearing. Gabriel could still feel Jonathan’s scent floating around but knew he was alone. He dropped his bag on the floor and roamed around the house, checking everything, slowly realizing the extent of his father’s absence. The fridge was practically empty, his room filled with cardboard boxes, and the main power was down. He opened the door to the garage to find Jonathan’s car still parked inside before finally walking up the stairs to his father’s bedroom. The bed still had its sheets on and was unmade.

Like an uncontrollable urge, Gabriel’s legs blundered forward, and he collapsed on top of the mattress, his face buried inside the sheets. He inhaled deeply, sniffing Jonathan’s scent off them, his breath hectic like an animal in heat.

“Fuck…” He mumbled as his right hand reached under his body, grabbing his hard cock. He lay there for a while, his heart racing as memories of his father’s touch and the feeling of Jonathan’s cock sliding inside him came rushing in. “Where are you?” Gabriel whispered, his breath stretching as his face pressed harder against the sheets.

Suddenly, as he veered his head sideways, his eyes glanced through the mirror at Jonathan’s open closet door. It was almost empty, with only a few shirts resting on the wire hangers. Gabriel pulled his hand out of his crotch, his eyes frowning, perplexed. He approached the closet door and skimmed his hand over his father’s shirts, only for his eyes to veer down. There, under some blankets, was Elliot’s suitcase.

“I knew it.” He said. But unlike last time, there was no anger in his voice. Instead, there was a tenderness in his semblance, a solace.

He pulled it out and lay it on the bed, carefully opening it. As soon as he did, his eyes closed, Elliot’s perfume rushing into him. He fell over it, arms outwards, swathing the suitcase as if it was Elliot himself. Then, slowly, Gabriel lifted his head, his eyes misty and bloated. He started pulling his friend’s clothes out, one by one, and laying them neatly over the mattress. He stepped back, pulling the empty case with him as he did, dropping it on the floor. There it was, displayed in front of him, what was left of Elliot.

Gabriel’s fingers came up and skimmed his face, drying the moisture left by his tears as it finally dawned on him. Elliot, his best friend, was gone. And no suitcase, clothes, or perfume could undo what had happened. He would never touch, embrace, or make love to him again. He would never smell the scent of his skin or taste the flavor of his cock. And yet, despite this, his best friend felt more alive inside Gabriel than ever. His lips stretched into a smile as he finally understood. Elliot would live forever as long as he kept his promise not to forget his friend’s memory.

And for the first time since that tragic night, Gabriel felt hope again.

He started to strip, dropping his clothes on the floor as if he was stripping off his skin, like layers that harbored his darkest moments, being hurled into the wind. Then, as he stood naked, he finally leaned forward, grabbed one of Elliot’s shirts and sweatpants, and put them on, grazing his hands softly over them.

“From now on, wherever I go…” Gabriel whispered. You’re coming with me,” he professed before exiting the room and walking down the stairs into the hallway.

He picked his bag off the floor and strolled to the kitchen counter. He emptied his bag, grabbed all the clothes, and stuffed them inside the washing machine behind the counter. He picked the bag by its base and flipped it, making sure it was empty when he suddenly heard the noise of something falling to the ground. As his eyes locked on it, they squinted. On the floor lay his copy of Siddhartha’s. The one Elliot borrowed. And that Jonathan had later thrown in his face during their quarrel. He had completely forgotten he had it with him. He slanted down and picked it up.

Gabriel pulled one of the stools closer to the counter and sat down, slowly opening the book. The pages had dried a bit and made a scratching sound as he unfurled them. Gabriel grabbed the edge of the book and started skimming the pages like a deck of cards before his fingers halted abruptly. Tucked between the pages was a piece of paper that slid out slowly, falling on the counter, and the corner of the page folded scarcely, marking it. Gabriel rolled the book over and left it open over the table. He picked up the piece of paper, and as soon as he opened it, he immediately recognized Elliot’s handwriting.

“Gabe,

This was a fucking sick read!
The guy went through some heavy shit, but I guess things turned out okay in the end.

It made me think of us and this trip.

I suck at this, but…thanks, you know…for always taking care of me.

I love you, dude.

Ellie.”

Gabriel’s tears tumbled from his eyes, splashing on top of the paper, slightly smudging Elliot’s words. But he was smiling. His left hand grabbed the book from the table, turning it around. One of the passages was outlined, and it read:

“Whether it is good or evil, whether life in itself is pain or pleasure, whether it is uncertain that it may perhaps be, that this is not important, but the unity of the world, the coherence of all events, the embracing of the big and the small from the same stream, from the same law of cause, of becoming and dying.”

Gabriel’s arms crumpled over the counter as he chuckled, his eyes glistening with tears of happiness. He had been carrying his friend’s words with him all along, waiting for the time, perhaps, when he would be ready to read them.

His body shot from the stool. He took his house keys and ran out the door, crossing the lawn, sidewalk, and road into the other side of the street. He approached the entrance to the house and knocked on it. After a few seconds, the lights flickered, and an older woman greeted him.

“Gabriel…?” The woman said.

“Hey, Mrs. Sanderson.” Gabriel greeted.

“My god, you’ve grown. You’re just as handsome as your father.” She noted as she scanned him up and down.

“Do you know where he is?” Gabriel asked, taking advantage of her comment to attempt to cut the conversation short.

“Oh…honey…I saw him pack some stuff a couple of weeks ago. He took a cab and hasn’t been home since.” She explained. “I thought he might have said something to you…” She muttered, reacting to Gabriel’s bewildered expression.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later.” Gabriel uttered, already turning away, completely lost and shocked.

He stood on the sidewalk, looking at the street’s exit. His gaze was vacant. How could he just run off without saying anything? Had his cruelty and pain driven Jonathan this far away from him? Gabriel’s mind rambled aimlessly. Suddenly, everything he felt for his father was coming back. The want, the need, the love. How could he have been so careless with his father’s love for him? He had isolated himself in his pain and, by doing so, had sealed Jonathan in his painful solitude. He had prevented his father from doing the only thing that gave his life meaning: loving his son. Anguish overcame Gabriel, and he ran inside the house again.

He scoured it for several hours, trying to find clues pointing him toward Jonathan’s whereabouts. But, aside from the car keys tucked away inside one of the small hallway cabinets, he had nothing. He collapsed on the living room couch, his body slumped over it, and his head tilted back as his eyes locked on the ceiling.

“Where the fuck are you?” Gabriel mumbled, rolling the car keys in his hand until it suddenly hit him.

If Jonathan had left the car behind, he likely had traveled somewhere. His body shot from the couch, and he ran for the door that gave access to the garage. Gabriel cornered the car and jumped inside, opening the sliding door and starting the vehicle. He drove off, speeding away from their street to the outskirts of town before he realized the tank needed a refill. He veered into the nearest gas station and parked in front of one of the pumps, jumping off and walking inside the shop.

The old guy behind the counter lifted his head reluctantly.

“Afternoon.” The man greeted.

“Hey. 20 bucks on pump 2, please,” Gabriel ordered, his hand halting as he leaned in to grab the change.

He was so overwhelmed by Jonathan’s disappearance that he didn’t even realize he stood at the same gas station where Elliot had been shot.

“Is everything alright, son?” The old guy questioned, his eyes locked on Gabriel’s dazed expression.

“Yeah…sorry.” He mumbled before arresting himself as he stared at the older man. “How long have you worked here, if you don’t mind me asking?” He questioned. The man gazed at him with a surprised expression.

“About twenty years, son.” The man replied.

“I see,” Gabriel mumbled, eyes scanning the store like a relic lost in time. “My best friend. He…got shot here. Guess that makes you the last person to see him alive.” He stated before turning to face the older man, whose eyes trembled.

“Fuck.” The man murmured. “Sorry, kid.” He uttered, trying to mask his shock at Gabriel’s bluntness.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, too,” Gabriel replied. A long silence followed as the two men stood there, darting at each other, until finally, the man extended his arm and returned Gabriel’s change. “Take care,” Gabriel said, turning around and walking to the exit.

“Hey, kid.” The older man’s voice called, stopping Gabriel in his tracks. “For what it’s worth…your friend…he seemed happy.” The man stated, his words reaching across the store and puncturing Gabriel’s heart. He smiled.

“Thank you. For telling me that.” Gabriel replied, turning around and leaving.

He filled the tank, stepped inside the car, and stood leaning over the steering wheel before finally reclining back in his seat and grabbing his phone.

“Hey, it’s me,” Gabriel announced. “Can you meet me at my dad’s? I need your help with something,” he informed, driving back to Jonathan’s place, parking the car in the garage, and waiting by the sidewalk. About thirty minutes later, Nathan’s car was docking in front of the house. Without missing a beat, Gabriel jumped inside, closing the door behind him. He sat there, looking at Nathan.

“You know…one of these days, I’ll have to introduce you to my boyfriend. Otherwise, he’ll think you’re just a figure of my imagination.” He teased as they both chuckled.

“I know where he is,” Gabriel stated.

“Okay,” Nathan replied, his eyes locked on Gabriel.

“But I need you to help me get there.” Gabriel declared.

Nathan’s lips stretched into a smile.

“Where to?” He questioned without hesitation.

A few seconds later, the car was driving off. About an hour later, Nathan was parking it outside the airport. As he turned off the engine and leaned back on his seat, Gabriel’s chestnut eyes were waiting for him.

“I don’t know what to say…” He muttered, his voice choking with emotion. Nathan sat there, looking at him, his smile unwavering.

“I have always believed, and I still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way, we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value.” Nathan quoted, winking at Gabriel.

“You piece of shit…you’ve been holding on to that one for a long time, haven’t you?” Gabriel uttered before they both broke into laughter. And as their giggles subsided, Gabriel’s gaze lingered on Nathan. He bent forward and kissed Nathan’s lips tenderly. “Thank you.” He said as he pulled away.

“For what?” Nathan questioned.

“…For not giving up on me,” Gabriel whispered, skimming his hand gently on Nathan’s face. “I’ll call you when I get back.” He promised.

“Good luck,” Nathan uttered as Gabriel grabbed his bag and hopped off the car.

He rushed past the gates and into the airport with renewed hope and a particularly familiar feeling—something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was anxious. For the next twelve hours, as he sat on that plane, Gabriel’s mind wandered through all the events of his life: his early years alone with his father and the first recollections of their relationship, Jonathan’s smell, the feeling of his embrace, and the way he held him.

Then, he remembered the day he met Elliot on that bench in the school’s courtyard. He remembered how they immediately clicked and how his friend’s darkness felt mesmerizing and alluring. He remembered how their intimacy grew and how Elliot’s cold exterior slowly melted, unlocking his burning heart, aching to be loved.

And finally, Gabriel remembered their trip and his sexual awakening. He remembered how he finally opened his heart to his father, propelling their hidden desires to blossom untamed. Somehow, through his actions, Elliot brought them closer to each other and helped Gabriel escape his sheltered existence.

As he looked out the window, his eyes hovering over the clouds, Gabriel smiled. He had finally found himself again. Somewhere between his old self and whatever survived his experience with grief, a hybrid made of all-consuming rage, love, and light. Everything flowed at once like a river, not a shadow of the past or a promise of the future, where only the present existed.

After a smooth landing and a long walk through a crowded airport, Gabriel finally reached Puhket’s arrival platform. After scanning the large room, his eyes stopped. Sakda, the hotel transfer guide, stood among the crowd, smiling at him. Gabriel rushed over, placing his hand over his shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, man.” Gabriel greeted as he smiled.

“Good to see you too, sir!” Sakda replied with his characteristically humorous tone.

“Thank you for helping out.” Gabriel expressed, rushing for the exit.

“Anytime,” Sakda stated.

They eventually reached the parking lot and jumped inside the jeep, driving back through a familiar road until, about an hour later, they finally docked outside the main entrance to the Golden Lotus.

“He’s on one of the floating huts. Go. I’ll check you in, sir.” Sakda suggested.

Gabriel smiled and jumped out of the car, rushing for the entrance, past the reception desk, down the yellow brick path, and over the smooth sand. As he reached the shore, he suddenly halted.

Across from him, a train of floating huts stretched over the water. It was as if he had never left. In the distance, his father’s figure stood tall, his naked upper body lit by the torch flames and bright moonlight descending upon the motionless water’s surface. Gabriel’s eyes glistened with excitement and trepidation. He walked along the planks over to Jonathan’s, and as he grew nearer, his pace slowed down before finally coming to a stop as he stepped onto the circular bamboo structure.

As soon as he did, Jonathan turned around, his long hair floating in the night breeze. Gabriel’s whole being smiled, inebriated by his father’s presence. Jonathan’s eyes gaped in shock, and his mouth slightly opened as if he wanted to speak. But no sound evaded his lips. And there, as he stared into his father’s eyes, Gabriel’s spirit opened up again, all the light held inside finally breaking unrestrained. And once it did, he finally realized that his love for Jonathan had no logic. It was inappropriate, disruptive, impermissible, untamed, boisterous, unbreakable, vulnerable, yet positively indomitable. And Gabriel couldn’t bear to hold it in one more second of his life.

Jonathan’s shocked face finally cracked, and a smile emerged. And once his luscious lips stretched, Gabriel rushed forward and jumped into his arms, kissing his mouth.

“Dad…” He moaned into his father’s mouth.

“Gabriel…” Jonathan whispered, his voice soft and oozing a peculiar, tamed joy.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Gabriel groaned as he sucked on his father’s mouth with uncontrollable hunger.

“My light, my Gabriel…” Jonathan whispered, his words ushering Gabriel’s soul into that intoxicating place of love and care he so desperately yearned for.

“I love you, Dad. I love you so much.” Gabriel cried, his hands and fingers diving inside Jonathan’s hair as the stud held the boy’s body in his grip. “Don’t leave me, please.” He begged.

“I’m here, baby. Daddy’s here.” Jonathan professed, pulling Gabriel’s hair and making the boy look at him. “See?” He professed.

Gabriel’s eyes glistened, and tears broke from within them. He lunged forward, wrapped his arms around Jonathan’s neck, and held him tight.

“Take me inside.” Gabriel pleaded. “Make love to me.” He begged.

But there was no need to. Jonathan’s arms pressed against his skin, their strong and committed touch shaking off any doubt that might still inhabit Gabriel’s mind. His father’s love was just as strong as it ever was. Stronger even. Jonathan walked inside, holding his son’s body in his embrace, and strolled to the circular bed, laying Gabriel over it with the gentleness only he could provide. Gabriel’s fingers lingered on his father’s chest, skimming his skin as they slid along his hairy chest and chiseled stomach before halting near the stud’s swim shorts waistband. The boy could already see the considerable bulge mounting inside. He grabbed the edges of it and yanked them down in one swoop, exposing Jonathan’s 9-inch cock. Gabriel smirked, a sense of homecoming washing over him. He took his hand, fingers stretched, and collected the long string of precum that dangled from the cock’s tip, bringing it into his mouth and savoring it as he let out a loud moan.

He looked up, his hazelnut eyes submissively teasing his father, who gazed down at him in awe. Jonathan took his hand and brushed Gabriel’s face before shoving his right thumb inside his son’s mouth, who eagerly sucked on it.

“Good boy.” Jonathan groaned as he shoved his finger deeper inside Gabriel’s mouth.

Gabriel’s lips stretched into a devious smirk, and his hand came up, grabbing his father’s wrist and pulling his finger out of his mouth. Without missing a beat, he leaned forward, grabbed Jonathan’s dick, and shoved it inside his mouth, stopping to moan in pleasure. His tongue rolled gently around it as he did, teasing the stud’s sensitive tip. Jonathan’s head fell back in ecstasy, his long hair bouncing along his back. His arms crawled up his upper body, and his hands landed on his face, covering it as he groaned with pleasure.

Gabriel’s mouth had mastered every inch of his father’s cock, knowing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, how to pleasure it. And no time apart from each other had changed it.

“You like that, Daddy?” Gabriel teased in between licks and sucking motions.

“Fuck yeah,” Jonathan growled from under his hands.

Gabriel continued, tongue, lips, and throat working tirelessly to provide his father’s cock with the adoration it deserved. And with each movement of his head, the boy dove deeper, driving the monstrous shaft inside his mouth, gagging as he went. His hands came around Jonathan’s waist, squeezing his father’s firm ass cheeks.

“Fuck my mouth,” Gabriel ordered as he pulled back, unleashing a loud gasp.

Jonathan’s head came back up, and before his son had time to catch his breath, he shoved his cock back inside, gripping Gabriel’s long hair as he thrust his hips. The boy’s mouth felt warm, smooth, delicate, and accommodating. Tailored to hold Jonathan’s cock in. And despite his best efforts to hold it in, he could already feel his orgasm creeping up. Sensing this, he began to pull out, bearing Gabriel’s head by his hair, his dick suspended inches from the boy’s mouth as it throbbed. Gabriel’s eyes looked up, his mouth open and his tongue sticking out, pleading mercifully for his father to resume. Jonathan continued, fucking his son’s mouth and pulling away whenever he felt like busting. They kept going, endlessly edging Jonathan’s orgasm, until the stud’s voice broke the air with a sounding howl.

“Stop! Not yet…” Jonathan hailed.

Gabriel’s head shot back, his eyes glazed, his lips swollen, and his face flushed. Jonathan pushed him back, and the boy’s body fell on the bed. As he did, his cock slingshotted upwards, dangling vertically. His father kneeled on the floor and sloped forward, taking his lips to his son’s feet. Jonathan started slowly kissing Gabriel’s skin, first his feet, then his lower legs, going up his thighs, coating the boy’s body with his moist spit.

“Dad…” Gabriel moaned.

“Shhh…” Jonathan coached, squeezing his hands under Gabriel’s kneecaps and pulling his legs up. The boy’s hole was now fully exposed and puckering anxiously.

“Fuck…” Gabriel whispered with anticipation.

“Nobody’s been here since we were last together,” Jonathan noted as he stared at Gabriel’s hole with pride.

“I couldn’t…” Gabriel moaned before Jonathan leaned forward and skimmed his tongue over his son’s sphincter.

“What was that?” Jonathan rasped teasingly, ushering his son’s confession out.

“I didn’t want anyone inside me,” Gabriel confessed. “Just you…only you,” he revealed as Jonathan’s eyes shimmered with emotion.

The stud bent forward again, diving recklessly inside Gabriel’s ass. His tongue pushed in, taking in the damp, musky taste of his son’s sweaty ass and crack. Jonathan’s hands gripped Gabriel’s legs, pulling the boy’s hips into him, driving his tongue deeper. It swirled with surgical prowess, and with each movement, Gabriel’s body shot from the bed, his chest ricocheting upward in complete rapture. Each time he did, he could feel Jonathan’s groan and breath shoot inside him, warming his insides as his father’s tongue continued to worship his taint. They remained there, completely losing track of time. Gabriel’s legs spread at the edge of the bed, with Jonathan’s broad back looming over him like a beast as his mouth fed on his son’s sphincter. When the hunk pulled away, his beard and Gabriel’s crack dripped in saliva and sweat. The scent was intoxicating and undeniably engaging.

“I could eat your ass all day,” Jonathan commented, straightening his back and spreading Gabriel’s legs further apart.

Then, with his left hand, he stroked his throbbing cock. It was pumping blood, its veins protruding through its thin skin, the tip swollen as it hovered over Gabriel’s hole like a giant cucumber. The hunk opened his mouth but halted as his eyes met his son’s. He was about to ask for Gabriel’s consent, but the answer was inside the boy’s eyes. No words required. Gabriel’s hand gently grabbed his father’s hips, pulling Jonathan into him.

Aided by the moist garnered around the boy’s hole, the stud’s cock slid in easily, the tip skating in one swoop. Gabriel’s fingers gripped Jonathan’s skin, reacting to the pleasurable pain. As the giant shaft entered him, his father followed, leaning into his son until his muscular body collapsed on top of the boy, who threw his legs around the stud’s waist, resting his feet over Jonathan’s tight ass.

“Shit…” Jonathan uttered, his voice skewering Gabriel’s skin as his face drilled into the boy’s neck. “I missed this.” He conveyed.

Gabriel’s lips stretched, and his whole face beamed with happiness. He could feel his father’s cock swell inside him, and soon, his entire body began to tingle as a rush of ecstasy flowed over him.

“Dad?” Gabriel murmured.

“Yeah?” Jonathan questioned, his body frozen as his dick squirmed uncontrollably.

“Fuck me,” Gabriel demanded before taking his hands and holding Jonathan’s face, forcing his father to look into his eyes. “Like you fucked him.” He prayed.

Jonathan’s gaze froze.

“Are…you sure?” He challenged.

“I want you to,” Gabriel assured.

Jonathan’s face radiated, eyes glazed with tears falling over Gabriel’s chest. The stud raised his right hand and brushed his son’s face, sliding his fingers down until they clad around the boy’s neck. Then, he grabbed Gabriel’s left leg with his other hand, forcing his son’s knee to touch his chest, exposing and opening the boy’s hole wider. The stud leaned forward, his hand pressing against Gabriel’s neck and throat, and began bouncing his pelvis up and down.

Gabriel’s face immediately reddened, his eyes gaping in surprise as his father’s gaze became enveloped in a black layer, a shark-like state of predatory behavior. There was no crescendo. Jonathan was fucking Gabriel’s hole into submission, finally unleashing his true nature. Whatever restraint that had been present until now brought on by Jonathan’s feelings for his son had vanished entirely. In its place, an unbridled, forceful passion now resided. Gabriel’s mouth opened, any sound able to flee now kept at bay by his father’s hand grip around his neck as he hammered his hole. It gradually dilated, queefing loudly with each thrust, the boy’s legs and feet dangling and shivering, unable to stop the stud’s ravishing. In fact, he was voluntarily welcoming it.

Jonathan fucked Gabriel’s hole for over ten minutes, with little to no breaks in between, until he finally snapped his head back, his wet hair slicing the air and leaking sweat everywhere.

“Jesus Christ!” Jonathan howled, his hips still moving, his shaft thrusting in and out of Gabriel’s lax hole. “Look at that fucking loose pussy.” He taunted, finally unleashing his hand from his son’s neck. As he did, Gabriel released a loud gasp, his legs falling by the sides as they shivered uncontrollably. “Roll over.” He ordered, his voice deepening in tone, sounding increasingly menacing.

Gabriel’s hand came up instinctively, attempting to stop his father from grabbing his legs. But Jonathan’s power was overwhelming. He forcefully grabbed the boy’s wrists, wrenching his arms over his back and forcing him to turn around, locking his hands over his lower back.

“Shhh…we’re just getting started,” Jonathan warned, punching Gabriel’s back with his wrist before climbing over the boy and plowing his cock back in again.

Without a pause, the pounding resumed. The stud’s hips clapping against his son’s bubble butt echoed across the hut. Gabriel turned his head to the side, finally allowing his voice to break free. But no words were spoken. Only a sharp, dry, slicing wail escorted Jonathan’s every thrust. His father pulled his arms up, locking Gabriel’s wrists over his head, and descended, gluing his sweaty body to his son’s. He continued to fuck the boy, but now his strokes were shorter, deeper. Soon, the stud’s tip was pushing on Gabriel’s prostate, and by then, the boy’s wails turned into whimpers, faint yet pleasurable.

“Oh…my…God…” Gabriel’s voice whispered.

Almost instantly, Jonathan pulled up, placed his hands over his son’s neck, and pushed him down, lifting his ass as he pounded the boy’s hole violently. Gabriel’s muffled cries of pain broke from under Jonathan’s dominant grip. But the louder the boy shrieked, the harder his father would fuck him. Jonathan showered Gabriel with sweat, drizzling over his son’s heated skin. Every muscle in the hunk’s body flexed as he fucked his son into submission. And with each jab of his dick, the boy sunk deeper into the mattress.

“Daddy…please…” Gabriel implored before Jonathan swooped back down, covering the boy’s mouth with his hand.

“You can take it.” Jonathan groaned into his son’s ear as he pounded him harder, hitting his prostate and forcing these sharp wails out of him.

Suddenly he felt Gabriel’s ass clench around his cock, the boy’s inner walls hugging his shaft in a packed embrace.

“What is it?” Jonathan questioned. “Wanna tap out?” He mocked.

Gabriel’s eyes turned, gaping in a warning. And soon, Jonathan felt a warm wave of liquid travel slowly through his thighs. To his surprise, it wasn’t long before he realized Gabriel was pissing himself all over the sheets. The stud pulled out, finally freeing the boy’s hole, which burst in a loud queef. As he slid sideways on the bed, Jonathan could see Gabriel’s legs trembling, his thighs shivering like jelly.

“Jesus fucking Christ…fuck!” Gabriel exclaimed, his body wriggling as his hand went over to his hole, which gaped enough that his finger inadvertently slid inside as he did.

He rolled over to look at his father, whose gaze awaited him. A smug smirk riddled with lust and unsettling angst. Gabriel looked down at the sheets, a dark stain spread across them, then back at his father, smirking unwaveringly. For a brief moment, the two men stood there, eyes locked on each other. A match of sorts as both waited for the other one to break. And then, Gabriel’s body suddenly lunged sideways as he attempted to flee the bed. But Jonathan’s dominance was cunning. The hunk grabbed his son’s right foot and yanked him back onto the bed.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Jonathan questioned, pushing Gabriel’s body into the mattress, stomach down, lifting his left leg and exposing his hole. It puckered as soon as he did, almost like it taunted the stud.

“Wait, wait, wait…” Gabriel muttered incoherently. “I need a break,” he nervously chuckled as he tried to tear away, but it was too late.

Seconds later, he felt Jonathan’s cock enter him.

“No fucking way…” The boy giggled between solemn breaths and profound moans.

“Come here,” Jonathan whispered as he leaned into his son, turning his head and kissing his lips.

He shoved his tongue inside the boy’s mouth, hips bouncing up and down as he pushed his dick inside Gabriel. They lingered there, breathing into each other until the room went silent, and the sound of their bodies clapping together was the only thing heard.

“Daddy…” Gabriel wailed as his father’s tongue rolled inside his mouth. “You’re loosening me up so much…” He continued, feeling Jonathan’s cock trifle his prostate.

Jonathan groaned cavernously amongst heavy breaths that echoed for over twenty minutes as he savagely fucked his boy’s gap.

Finally, Jonathan’s gentle voice broke through.

“Gabriel…please…tell me to stop.” He appealed.

“No,” Gabriel replied, his words feeble and exhausted.

“If you don’t…I won’t be able to.” Jonathan whispered, his beard scuffing Gabriel’s ear.

“Good.” Gabriel’s voice replied, his tone shifting entirely.

The boy’s head turned, looking up, and he pulled his pelvis forward, unlocking from his father, who collapsed back, his cock standing vertically like a pole and his hairy chest moving up and down. Gabriel tugged himself up and climbed over the stud, saddling him. His hand went behind his back and grabbed Jonathan’s cock, aiming it as he slid it back inside. He tilted his head back and released a clangorous, satisfying sigh.

He lingered, eyes on the ceiling, as his father observed every motion of his body until he finally dropped his head forward and locked his eyes on the stud. But as Jonathan’s gaze dove inside Gabriel’s, his expression began to change, his eyes squinting as he realized. Gabriel had changed. A part of his son’s former self still lingered before him. But raw and untamed, a new side of his spirit stared back at Jonathan.

And then he saw it. There, buried inside Gabriel’s eyes, clawing his way through the boy’s soul and into Jonathan’s presence, was Elliot. The most beautiful, haunting, and spiritual phenomenon was being unveiled before Jonathan’s eyes. Elliot’s soul, the boy who had loved him and challenged his nature and that he had eventually learned to love, was merging with Gabriel. Their essences rejoined in a sensual quandary of desire, yearning, and love.

There they were. Finally.
The holy trinity, together again.

“Impossible…” Jonathan stuttered in disbelief.

“He’s here,” Gabriel uttered, his eyes glistening with emotion. “Inside me,” he whispered as tears fell, tumbling down and detonating on Jonathan’s chest. “Can you feel him?” Gabriel asked, his lips stretching into a smile of pure bliss.

Jonathan nodded, swamped by emotion.

Then, Gabriel leaned forward, bringing his face near his father’s.

“Breed us, Daddy. We’re ready.” Gabriel breathed into his father’s mouth.

Three thrusts of Jonathan’s pelvis and Gabriel felt the first strings of cum explode inside him. Thick, juicy, and lengthy. They seemed endless as Jonathan froze his body. The only thing moving was his cock, twitching as it fired shot after shot of bottled batter. As it began spilling out of Gabriel’s hole, Jonathan felt his stomach coated with his son’s love juice as the boy unloaded over his father, hands-free.

The two men pumped their load together until, eventually, the high began to subside, and their bodies collapsed on top of each other.

As they did, Gabriel’s lips skimmed his father’s ear.

“Jonathan…thank you.” Elliot’s voice echoed inside Jonathan’s mind before exhaustion ushered away his consciousness. As it did, a peaceful smile took hold of him.

A few hours later, their tired, naked bodies catnapped comfortably outside the hut, over the wood structure, Gabriel’s frame resting over Jonathan’s towering body. His legs laced around his father’s muscular body, and his head cradled peacefully over the stud’s chest. The night air was still and amiable, and the sweat on their bodies drizzled away slowly, ushered out by the delicate evening breeze.

“The Last time we were here, we said we’d never fight again. I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise,” Gabriel apologized. Jonathan didn’t answer, but Gabriel felt his father’s body beam. “Dad?” he whispered.

“Yeah?” Jonathan replied as his hand skimmed Gabriel’s back up and down, his fingers skating gracefully over the boy’s skin. Gabriel raised his head and placed his chin on Jonathan’s chest. His eyes locked on his father’s.

“Don’t sell the house. I want to move back in with you.” Gabriel uttered. Jonathan’s hand came up his back and brushed the boy’s long, dark brown locks.

“Are you sure?” Jonathan asked, surprised. Gabriel nodded and pulled himself up, closing his eyes and inhaling his father’s breath, his nose inches from the stud’s mouth.

“Positive.” He professed before kissing his father’s lips passionately. “I don’t want to spend another second of my life away from you.” He uttered, feeling Jonathan’s cock twitch under his thigh. He leaned further in and nestled his face on his father’s neck. “I know I shouldn’t love you this way. But I do.” He conceded.

Jonathan’s grip became tighter, and he pulled himself up, rolling their bodies over, his hard cock lodging between Gabriel’s cheeks and his hands holding the boy’s face delicately.

“Gabriel, what we feel for each other…who we are…what we do…nobody will ever understand,” Jonathan stated, his eyes closed on Gabriel. The boy could feel his father’s apprehension.

“I know.” Gabriel voiced before bringing his hand up and brushing Jonathan’s beard gently. “Fuck them.” He uttered as he pulled Jonathan in, sticking his tongue inside the stud’s mouth.

The two men lay in a protective cocoon born from their adoration for each other. Jonathan and Gabriel fucked each other until dawn, and from that day on, they never fought again.

 

[6 years later]

“Ready?” Jonathan questioned as he grabbed the car keys from the kitchen table. His hair was now shorter, and he was still sporting his untrimmed beard with a few extra wrinkles growing on the corner of his eyes, but he remained the most stunning, captivating man.

“Yeah,” Gabriel replied as he fixed his long hair in the mirror, straightening one of Elliot’s shirts he decided to sport that day. He glanced at Jonathan through the mirror as the stud slanted over the kitchen counter. He looked at Gabriel with an awed expression, his lips stretched into a smile. “What?” He asked.

“He’d be proud of you,” Jonathan replied, his eyes glinting with sentiment. “Very proud,” he expressed. Gabriel smiled, then turned to face his father. He walked over, placed his arms around the stud’s neck, and leaned in for a kiss.

“I didn’t do this alone, you know?” Gabriel teased as he rubbed his crotch over Jonathan’s tight jeans.

“I just fucked your ass this morning.” Jonathan groaned.

“You know I’d have you inside me all day if I could.” Gabriel taunted.

“Baby…” Jonathan rasped, pushing his son away as he chuckled. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late.” He uttered, visibly struggling to keep himself from indulging in his son’s needs.

They walked outside, got in the car, and drove into town, parking near a large public garden where dozens of small tents spread across extensive green grounds. Hundreds of visitors and volunteers gathered as they piled cardboard boxes into large trucks parked around the forum. A familiar voice broke inside the crowd as Gabriel reached the venue’s main stage.

“Hey, stud!” Nathan hollered. Gabriel smiled and lifted his arm in greeting as his friend approached him, holding hands with his handsome boyfriend.

“How are we doing?” Gabriel asked as Nathan leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“Over 30k in donations, and it’s barely starting.” Nathan conveyed enthusiastically.

“Good,” Gabriel replied with a smug expression.

As they chatted, a tall woman came rushing in from one of the tents, cell phone in hand and a walkie-talkie strapped to her belt.

“Can I borrow Gabriel for a moment?” the woman asked, addressing the group. Gabriel shrugged and walked away, following the woman inside. “The mayor’s here,” she informed.

“Right,” Gabriel muttered, clearly bored with indulging in his social commitments. Soon, she dragged him inside the tent, where a large group of suited individuals waited for them.

“Ah, our man of the hour!” An older, big-bellied man wearing an oversized suit man uttered. “Nice to see you, Gabriel!” He welcomed, pulling his hand out and shaking Gabriel’s industriously.

“Thanks for coming,” Gabriel replied nonchalantly.

“This young man has done more for our town in three years than I’ve done in my twenty years of service.” The mayor stated as he preached to the group. “The ELLIE Initiative has contributed significantly to the decrease in juvenile delinquency and has helped reinstate 73 children into loving homes, many translating in subsequent legal adoptions by their foster families.” He explained as Gabriel felt the other people’s inquisitive eyes scan him indiscriminately. “I can’t tell you how proud our community is of having you as one of us. What you’ve done for these kids is remarkable. You’re changing their lives, Gabriel.” The mayor sounded with genuine emotion.

“No. They’re changing mine, sir.” Gabriel stated before feeling his phone vibrate inside his pocket. “Would everyone excuse me?” He politely requested before pulling away to answer the call. “Yeah? Hey…sure. Where?” He questioned, exiting the tent and signaling Jonathan, who promptly rushed over.

“What’s up?” Jonathan asked.

“Dana called. I need to run by the school.” Gabriel informed.

“I’ll drive you there,” Jonathan replied as they returned to the car.

They drove a few blocks before Jonathan finally parked in front of Gabriel’s old elementary school.

“Want me to wait?” Jonathan questioned.

“Nah. It’s okay.” Gabriel said. Then he stopped, looking at his father before leaning forward and kissing him. “I love you.” He whispered as their lips parted.

“I love you too,” Jonathan whispered, their words assembling in a flawless embrace.

Gabriel hopped off the car and walked over to the closed gate. A few seconds later, a young woman came rushing to meet him, waving at Gabriel.

“Hey! Sorry, but it was kind of an emergency.” Dana apologized, visibly overwhelmed as the noise from all the children inside echoed across the lot.

“No problem. What’s the situation?” Gabriel calmly asked.

“8-year-old. Has been moved around a lot with his older brother. They were very close, and the brother just died. Pneumonia.” Dana explained.

“Shit,” Gabriel uttered.

“He’s been acting violent until a couple of days ago, lashing out at the staff. It’s been two weeks. But now, he just sits in the courtyard all day. He won’t speak and refuses to eat.” Dana reported.

“Okay,” Gabriel acknowledged as they stopped near the quad area. His eyes scan the grounds until they lock on the boy sitting on the bench with his head sank between his shoulders—the same bench Elliot sat on the day they met. Gabriel chuckled slightly.

“What?” Dana questioned, looking at Gabriel with a nonplused expression.

“Nothing. Give me a few minutes alone with him, okay?” Gabriel requested. Dana nodded and walked inside.

Gabriel strode across the yard, his childhood memories flooding his mind. As he approached the boy, his shadow shrouded the kid’s petite figure, and soon, his tiny head lifted, his eyes squinting as he glimpsed up at Gabriel.

“Hey, I’m Gabriel. What’s your name?” He asked in a calm and soothing voice. The child just sat there, staring at him with these deep blue eyes that caught Gabriel’s attention. “Can I sit next to you?” He asked, to which the child just shrugged. Gabriel sat down and stretched his legs forward, crossing them. “I used to go here. Met my best friend on this bench.” He recalled as he side-eyed the kid, scanning his reaction. His little hands held the bench, gripping its edges tightly. “Damn, I’m hungry.” Gabriel declared, pulling a chocolate cereal bar from one of the inner pockets of his jacket. He could feel the child’s eyes eyeing the bar as he ripped the plastic casing.

“Danny…” The child muttered.

“What?” Gabriel questioned, faking his reaction as he purposely munched on the chocolate bar, sighing in pleasure at its taste.

“I’m Danny.” The child reiterated, turning his head to face Gabriel, his eyes now locked on the snack.

“Here, you can have the rest.” Gabriel offered, extending his hand.

The kid took the snack and began biting on it frantically. Gabriel didn’t respond. He just sat back and looked forward. Soon, the boy had eaten the cereal bar and was falling back on his chair, his breath becoming less constrained and heavy.

“Better?” Gabriel finally asked. Danny nodded as his tongue rolled inside his mouth, trying to gather the last pieces of caramel stuck between his teeth.

“Where’s your friend?” Danny questioned, his eyes fluttering as he looked up at Gabriel.

“He died,” Gabriel answered without hesitation. The child’s eyes halted, his gaze deepening.

“Do you miss him?” Danny asked, his confidence regarding Gabriel’s presence starting to show.

“Every day,” Gabriel replied without reluctance.

Silence took hold until suddenly, Danny’s legs began playfully bouncing over the edge of the bench. Gabriel could feel him gradually lowering his defenses, yet he sat silently.

“I know what you feel, Danny,” Gabriel said, his eyes on the concrete pavement. He felt Danny’s head veer and the child’s eyes lock on him again. “You’re afraid that if you step outside this bench, you’ll fall into nothing.” He continued. “But trust me. You won’t.” He stated with conviction, finally facing Danny’s gaze. Inside it, he saw Elliot as he was all those years ago. A shy boy riddled with pain, yearning for someone’s hand to hold. “Now, what do you say we go get something to eat? A proper meal this time.” Gabriel suggested. Danny glanced at him, and soon, his lips were stretching, gradually and reluctantly.

“Can you hold me?” Danny asked. Gabriel looked at the kid, brushed the child’s hair to the side, and smiled.

“No, but I’ll walk with you,” he said. The kid smiled at him and stretched his hand, holding Gabriel’s—this time willingly.

As they began walking, Danny’s childlike curiosity finally kicked in.

“Your friend, what was his name?” He questioned.

“Elliot,” Gabriel replied.

“… What was he like?” Danny drilled, his eyes looking up at Gabriel, who looked down, smiling.

“Ah, you would have liked him,” Gabriel replied without faltering, his hand around Danny’s shoulders as they strolled away together. “…Best person I ever met.” 

THE END

“I know the time will surely come
When you’ll be in my life, my life always
Yellow is the color of sunrays”

Keep on Moving’

Soul II Soul

From the Album Club Classics Vol. One

---

First Contact

Oliver James Redmond was six years old and in his mind no longer a child. He climbed out of mom’s Grand Prix after struggling to open the coupe’s large door. Backpack sitting on the ground, he used both hands to close the door after telling his mom goodbye. As he picked up the backpack and slung it over his right shoulder, he watched the black car pull away and a truck pull up in its place. When the Grand Prix turned out of sight, he turned toward the school’s entry.

Falling in with the other children, Oliver headed toward the two sets of double doors where one teacher stood watch while another called out to everyone to hurry inside for the bell was soon to ring to start the school day. The first school day for Oliver, a first grader at Evans Elementary School.

He wanted to be like his older brother, Ash, all grown up and ready to enter his classroom where he would be with his friends and maybe even make new friends. Ash was in the fifth grade and had ridden the bus that morning so he could hang out with his friends on the way to school. For Oliver, it was all new. He had attended kindergarten at a small private school up in Monroe, and a couple weeks prior there had been a pre-school meeting to show him where his class would be and let his mom meet with his teacher, Ms. Bosman.

Moving down the wide corridor, Oliver felt small, for most were taller, older, and they moved past him in a hurry. He kept close to the wall, moving slowly taking everything in. The way the others were in groups talking and laughing and jesting with each other. He came upon Rachel and Ryan, his closest friends from his neighborhood, Ryan next door and Rachel in the house that backed up to Ryan’s house. They came together and moved as a group, all three nervous despite earlier protestations they would not be so.

“Our room is up here somewhere,” said Rachel.

“It’s the door past that fire extinguisher,” said Oliver, pointing down the corridor toward the second door on the right.

 

Oliver found himself sitting in the row along the wall with windows that overlooked the playground, about halfway back from the front. The teacher had them in alphabetical order, which put Rachel at the front on the second row and Ryan four seats behind her. Oliver looked around the room as the teacher stood at the door talking to another teacher. The boys and girls that would make up his class. There were a few that were African American, a few that looked Latino, or maybe they were part of the Native American tribe that lived to their south. He noticed the hair colors: various shades of brown, a few with hair that looked black but none as dark as his own, one red head, and a few with blonde hair.

Of the blondes, one stood out for the purity of its yellow color. Vivid, almost glowing, a color like his grandmother’s sunflowers. And it was a boy who was not talking to anyone or looking around the room with curiosity. He sat staring straight ahead, and Oliver wondered if he was nervous. He saw how the boy held his hands together in his lap. Then he noticed there was no backpack, no pencils or notebooks on his desk. Then he noticed the clothes. They looked dirty, worn and frayed. The shirt’s collar as crooked and he could see the left knee of the jeans was torn revealing the white skin within.

The door closed and Oliver looked up to see the teacher come into the room calling for silence. She wrote her name on the dry erase board, then looked around the room. Stepping behind a desk, she leaned down to a notebook that lay open.

“I’m going to call role, so when I call out your name, just say ‘here’.” She looked up and smiled and Oliver felt himself relax a little. It was a question he knew the answer to, one he could make a reply. He knew his name, and he watched the others call out here as she called their names, waiting for his chance to say ‘here’.  But what he really wanted was the blonde headed boy’s name.

“Benjamin Lee Baskin,” said Ms. Bosman.

“Here,” the blonde boy replied, his voice so low Oliver barely heard it.

 

As games of kick ball or lines formed for the slides or swings, Oliver kept looking over to the far side of the playground where Benjamin sat alone. He didn’t understand why Benjamin couldn’t join the others. Play kick ball or get in line for the slide. He wanted to go to him and tell him to join in.

He pictured the boy, the impoverished appearance, and he didn’t understand why Benjamin’s parents didn’t buy him new clothes for the school year, get him a nice haircut, or some new sneakers. Is this what it meant to be really poor? His own parents made comments about being poor, that they had to ‘pinch their pennies’ as his grandmother would say. But he had new clothes from the Wal-Mart and understood they were not the nicest clothes and thought Benjamin’s parents should have been able to do the same.

Sitting at the top of the slide about to go down, Oliver looked over at Benjamin again and he saw three of his classmates, Mark, James, and one he couldn’t remember his name, stand in front of Benjamin. He saw the three boys laugh, then one roughly pushed Benjamin, and Oliver knew they were being mean toward him. It wasn’t right, three against one, and he set off down the slide determined to run over and stop the three boys. He comes to the end of the slide, feet hitting the ground, and takes off running across the playground. As he circled around the swings, he saw Ms. Bosman rushing over to the boys. He stopped and watched her get on to the three boys, then say something to Benjamin, seeing him nod his head.

Over the following weeks, Oliver saw others treat Benjamin cruelly. He approached him, tried to befriend him, but Benjamin just looked at him suspiciously. He saw it, how the eyes looked up and down him, and he wondered what Benjamin saw that made him rebuff him so brusquely. He wasn’t like the others. He intended no harm. But Benjamin didn’t see it.

 

Over the next three years, Oliver would learn a lesson more clearly than any his teachers could teach. He’d learn some people were so poor they didn’t have new clothes, or birthday parties, or came back after Christmas holidays showing off some gift received or bragged about one at home, like a new bicycle, a laptop computer, or some highly desired toy. They had to wear old clothes, didn’t get haircuts at the barbershop, and worst of all, were treated differently.

He is scared to invite Benjamin to his own parties for he heard how the adults talked about Hannah Baskin, Benjamin’s mother, and some of the other poor people in the community, Mr. and Mrs. Bailey the worst, using words to describe others his parents forbade him and his brother from using. He knew his mother wished the Baileys would not cross the street to come to their home, but she let them in whenever they caught her coming in from a trip into town. Oliver felt like his mom and dad would never be so cruel, but he wasn’t sure, and he didn’t want to do anything to make them upset or not let him have his party.

A Connection

“Okay class, we’re going to do something different today,” said Mr. Ryland, setting two boxes on his desk. “I want everyone to partner with someone, then one of you comes up and takes five leaves from this box, and from this box, take two skulls. You will look up each one to identify it, then one of you will draw them and the other will write a paragraph on each one describing them.

Oliver looked around at his classmates, now in fifth grade, seeing how they paired up. Ryan and Rachel had paired up since they sat close together, leaving him to find someone else. It wasn’t surprising to him to see most paired up with their best friend. Besides Rachel and Ryan, he had other friends in the class, but knew he wasn’t really close to any of them and saw them pair up leaving him without a partner. He felt hurt by it, but knew he wasn’t as outgoing as the others. His mom said he was just shy, and at times like this, he wished he wasn’t so shy.

Looking toward the front of the room, he saw Benjamin sitting in his usual place at the front of the room not even trying to find a partner. Oliver knew no one wanted to pair with him, and he hated to see him being ostracized by his classmates. He climbed to his feet, seeing others turn and watch him as he made his way to the front of the room and cross over toward Benjamin. Even Mr. Ryland watched him, giving him a smile and nod.

Oliver came up to the front of Benjamin’s desk and waited for him to look up and acknowledge him. Slowly, so painfully slow, Benjamin looked up surprised to see him standing there.

“Hey, you want to partner with me?” said Oliver.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Oliver looked over to see the desk in the next row had been vacated by James, and he slid it over close to Benjamin’s desk then realized he needed his book and notebook.

“I’ll be right back; I forgot my stuff. Why don’t you go up and get the leaves and skulls.”

“Okay,” Benjamin replies in a low unsure voice.

 

Oliver spread out the leaves, setting the skulls aside. He had agreed to write the description and Benjamin would draw them. He didn’t know if he could write anything decent about them but he knew his drawing skills were not good.

“This is a maple leaf, and his is a holly, and this is an oak—”

“No, that is not right,” said Benjamin, sounding unsure but appeared otherwise.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s a hawthorn. We have a tree behind the house.”

Oliver looked in their textbook and saw the image of a hawthorn leaf knowing Benjamin was right.

“Nice catch; it’s a hawthorn,” said Oliver making note of the name. He glanced over and saw Benjamin smile, something he had never seen before. “This is a magnolia, but what is this one?”

“I think it is an elm,” said Benjamin.

“I think it is a birch.”

“They do look similar.”

Oliver looked up and saw Mr. Ryland watching them with a smile.

“We’re not sure about this one,” said Oliver to Mr. Ryland.

“Look at it closely and make your best guess. I just want you to do your best and see how difficult it can be to identify them.”

“Which one do you think?” said Oliver, looking at Benjamin.

“Elm.”

“Okay, elm it is. Go ahead and draw them and I’ll write up a description of the trees and their leaves.”

Oliver had a paragraph on the maple, holly, and magnolia, and was about to do the hawthorn, when he looked over and saw the drawings by Benjamin. He was shocked. They were so detailed, so perfectly rendered, even shadowed beneath them to make them look three dimensional.

“Wow, you can draw,” said Oliver.

Benjamin shrugged his shoulders, but as he leaned down to draw the lines in the elm leaf, he smiled again.

 

Oliver set the two skulls down in front of them. They were small and one looked unbelievably fragile, except for the long fangs.

“I think this is a snake, but I’m not sure about this one.”

“Squirrel.”

“Squirrel? Are you sure. Look at these teeth.”

“They eat nuts and, I’m sure.”

Oliver wondered if Benjamin hunted squirrels. He had never hunted, so had never cleaned a squirrel or any other animal.

“And that is a rattlesnake skull.”

It was said confidently, and Oliver realized Benjamin probably was exposed to the animals more so than he.

“Okay, I’ll write up a description and you draw them up,” said Oliver.

 

Oliver stood next to Benjamin, reading his descriptions while Benjamin held up his drawings. They were the last to present, and he glanced up to see their classmates staring at Benjamin’s drawings, some with surprise and some with what looked like jealously. He flipped to his last page and read his description of squirrels and rattlesnakes. Once finished, Benjamin lowered his sketches, and they looked over at Mr. Ryland to see how he responded to their presentation.

“Very good boys, and you picked all the right species, for that leaf was elm, not birch. And Benjamin, those are very good drawings.”

The bell rung ending the school day.

Oliver made more of an effort to get to know Benjamin. At first Benjamin was standoffish. But Oliver persisted, ignoring the comments by his classmates, even those he considered friends. He sat with Benjamin at lunch, and on days he brought his lunch, his mom let him bring two apples or oranges, or two slices of pie, to share with him. He found out Benjamin did know the skulls from having hunted the animals for food, and when pressed about the drawing skill, Benjamin just said he liked to draw when he had paper to do so.

After a teacher conference, Oliver’s mom and dad called him to the kitchen. He wondered what he had done wrong. His grades were good, and as far as he knew, had not broken any rules.

“What’s wrong?” said Oliver, wondering how he was in trouble.

“Nothing’s wrong, Oliver,” said his mom. “We want to just let you know how proud of you we are. Mr. Ryland said you have befriended the Baskin boy.”

“Ben,” Oliver replied, how Benjamin preferred to be referred to.

“Ben comes from a tough situation, and he shouldn’t be mistreated at school. It’s not his fault.”

“That he is really poor?”

“That’s right,” said his dad.

“His dad left them, and his mom works at the convenience store outside of town,” said Oliver.

“And it has made Ben’s life difficult. Your birthday is coming up. Are you going to invite him to your party?”

“He can’t afford to buy a gift,” Oliver replied. He wanted to invite Ben, more than any of the others, but it seemed wrong to expect him to bring a gift when he obviously does without.

“So, what should we do?” said his mom.

“Just have a cookout and we can do my birthday later.”

“No gifts? Are you okay with that?” said his dad.

“Yes, sir.”

 

Oliver sat in the passenger seat with gifts lying on his lap. He looked at the overgrown ditches along the narrow dirt lane as his mom drove them to Benjamin’s house. It was Ben’s birthday, but there would be no party. Ben’s mom was working, and he was home alone.

He thought about his party the month before, how there had been times he wished Ben had been the only one he invited. The others still ostracized him despite his efforts to include him, and by the afternoon’s end, Ben and he just played horseshoes alone while the others sat around the fire. How could they be so cruel when it wasn’t his fault, he was poor. It wasn’t like any of others were rich, most were like his own family where both parents worked, their vehicles were bought used, and they ate at home most often, eating out at restaurants too expensive.

The house came into view. The porch roof sagged, and sections of the railings were missing. The windows had sheets hanging over them instead of curtains, and the paint on the walls was peeling off. The yard needed mowing and a limb lay in the side yard. The only thing out of place was a row of sunflowers growing along the side of the yard, only a few feet high and not yet blooming.

“It’s worse than I thought,” said his mom as she pulled up to the front.

“Please don’t say anything,” said Oliver.

“OH, son, I won’t say anything to hurt his feelings.”

As Oliver and his mom climbed out of her Explorer, the front door opened, and Ben came out. He wore baggy gym shorts and a tattered T-shirt. Oliver came around the front of the SUV holding out the gifts.

“What is this?” asked Ben.

“It’s your birthday, and I knew your mom had to work,” said Oliver.

Oliver looked around as his mom came from the back of the SUV carrying a cake with twelve candles circling around a Happy Birthday topper.

“And we brought a cake too!” exclaimed Oliver.

Ben looked surprised, then sad, then he smiled as Oliver climbed the porch steps.

“Can we stay out here on the porch?” said Ben.

“Of course,” said Oliver’s mom. “I brought everything we’ll need. Paper plates, forks, and there are even drinks in a cooler.”

Ben and Oliver sat on the edge of the porch, feet resting on a step. Oliver’s mom set the cake on the porch and went back for the bag of plates and utensils. There were three gifts, each neatly wrapped with bows that Ben carefully removed. He eased the tape loose and removed the wrapping paper without tearing it, and Oliver’s mom turned to look away.

The first gift, the largest, was two drawing pads and two smaller sketch books. Ben’s eyes widened in surprise as he flipped through the blank white sheets.

“Thanks,” Ben uttered as he set them down on the porch and took the next one from Oliver. Once opened, Ben saw it was sketching pencils, color pencils, a sharpener, a fabric roll to put the pencils inside, and white erasures. “Wow,” Ben uttered, then he looked at Oliver smiling. Setting the gift box down, Ben shocked Oliver by hugging him, the first intimate contact between the two boys. “Thanks Oliver,” said Ben, then he pulled back and looked at Oliver’s mom. “Thanks, Mrs. Redmond.”

“You’re welcome. Now open the last one.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Ben as he picked up the last box. He eased the bow off the top and gently removed the gift wrap, then slid the box lid up. Oliver heard him gasp, then look down as he fingered the new shirt laying on top.

“There’s a couple of them and some pants below.  Go on, look below that one,” said Oliver.

“Oliver, let him take his time,” said his mom.

Ben lifted the blue plaid shirt from the box and saw one in green plaid below it. Then he saw the jeans, two pair and he saw they were the right size. “How did you know what size to get?”

“Mom called your mom,” said Oliver.

Ben lifted the jeans out to hold them up and saw socks and underwear beneath them. He stared at the brand-new clothes that still had some tags on them. Something he had never had before, and he smiled at Oliver, for otherwise he would cry.

Heartbreak

Oliver sat in the passenger seat reliving the phone call. Over and over, he replayed Ben’s voice coming over the phone. The usual greeting but with a tone vastly different. Then a silence, one far too long, and Oliver knew something was wrong. What is it? he had asked. Ben then told him they were packing up to move, his mom had gotten a job in Biloxi, Mississippi.

It might as well have been on the other side of the world, for Oliver knew they would not be seeing each other again.

His father drove quickly, splashing through the mudholes, as he sat silent not wanting to believe it. When they got there, surely Ben would come rushing out, laughing, telling him it was a joke. Swinging around the last curve of the long drive, he saw a small moving van backed up to the front porch with a few boxes sitting to the side and a mattress leaning against the wall. He sucked in a breath and held it. In the side yard, dead sunflowers leaned in various directions, Ben leaving them alone until the birds and animals got all the seeds from the dried back flowers. Oliver pictured himself running along the row with bright yellow sunflowers turned to the sun and in front of him, so much faster, ran Ben with his blonde hair that was just as vividly yellow.

They were in the seventh grade, and everything had seemed to be going so well. A few others had come to accept Ben as part of the group over the last two years. They gathered at Oliver’s home to study, play games, or have cookouts supervised by his parents. Christmas was a little over a month away, and Oliver had already gotten Ben’s gift, which was still in the bottom of his closet. He wished he had brought it with him.

As soon as the pickup came to a stop, Oliver was pushing the door open and unbuckling his seatbelt. He rushed up to the porch, climbing up on it. Ben came out with a box and froze when he saw Oliver standing on the porch. Ben’s mom came out with a box, and she moved past Ben into the truck.

“I’m sorry Ben, but we have to get the truck loaded today and be on our way.”

“You’re leaving today?” said Oliver.

“Yes. Mom needs to get the truck turned back in tomorrow morning to avoid additional charges,” said Ben.

“It’s just the two of you?” said Oliver’s dad.

“Yes, sir.”

“Come on Oliver, we need to help them.”

As his dad moved past him, Oliver stood frozen in place for a moment, just staring at his best friend. Ben was his best friend, and that became so obvious to him now that Ben was about to move away.

“Oliver,” said Ben. “Oliver, it’s okay. It’s for the best, for mom got a decent job with one of the casinos.”

“I know,” said Oliver, but he didn’t know. He was twelve years old, and his best friend was leaving. He felt breathless.

“Mom said I can write you once we get settled in a place.”

“Where are you staying,” said Oliver’s dad coming out with two dining table chairs, having overheard the two boys.

“A hotel until I find something to rent,” said Ben’s mom coming out with two more dining chairs.

 

Oliver and his dad helped them get the van loaded up and doors secured. His dad slipped a few bills to Ben’s mom, telling her it wasn’t much but maybe it’ll help. With the house locked up and Ben’s mom behind the wheel, engine idling, Ben came to Oliver and hugged him, a tight embrace, tighter than any before, and Oliver felt tears trickle down his cheeks. He pushed Ben to step back.

“Write when you get a place,” said Oliver.

“I will.”

Seniors

Oliver pulled into the parking lot in his old Civic. It had been a birthday present the past spring. He parked next to Lisa and Ricky, climbed out with is backpack and headed toward the buildings of Monroe High School. It was the start of his senior year, and he was excited at the prospect of finally finishing school. As he passed the music building, he glanced at his reflection wondering who the person looking back was. For four years he had struggled with himself, with feelings he didn’t know whether to control, bury deep inside, or daringly reveal to his classmates, knowing the latter would probably get him ostracized. Ostracized the way Ben had once been ostracized back at Evans Elementary School

Benjamin.

He still thought about him, despite the way they lost touch, neither being good at keeping up correspondence, and Ben not having a cellphone. By the end of seventh grade, the letters had stopped, and Oliver spent the summer feeling guilty about it, wondering if Ben felt guilty too. He thought of the boy he still considered a friend, despite no communication in over four years.

But would Ben still be his friend, if he knew. It was a question Oliver puzzled over, an internal test where he played out the various ways Ben could respond to him admitting to being gay. Ben being supportive, giving him one of those tight embraces and telling him everything would be okay. Ben stepping back, telling him no, that it couldn’t be true. Ben walking off, no longer wanting anything to do with him. Ben coming close, so close the face would fill his vision telling him he was gay too. The last was such a stupid fantasy, it made him burn with embarrassment to consider it.

Glancing again in the wall of windows, he saw the teenager that was seventeen, almost a man. He was five foot ten, a respectable build from baseball and riding his bicycle, and had let his black hair grow out over the summer finding it got wavy with length. He pushed it out of his face and looked at his reflection, brown eyes looking into brown eyes, thinking of the charade he was playing in the school. A gay male pretending to be straight. He had even gone out with Emily last spring a couple of times, until she thankfully called it off, saying she didn’t think his heart was in it.

He wanted to tell her the truth. His heart was elsewhere.

He entered the double doors and proceeded down the corridor to Ms. Douglas’ history classroom and his homeroom. He slipped down the second aisle and went halfway back and took a seat, greeting his classmates already seated and those coming in behind him. As the bell rang to start a new school year, Ms. Douglas came in with her satchel, placed it on her desk where she pulled out the notebook to call roll.

“Okay, class, let’s get through the roll and we can get started with class.”

A few moans and comments and everyone leaned back in their chairs waiting for their names to be called. Halfway through the rollcall, the door opened, and Vice Principal Harris came in followed by a guy with strikingly blonde hair, short on the sides but long on top, enough to hang over the eyes. The guy was tall, three or four inches taller than Vice Principal Harris and despite the loose T-shirt, it was obvious the upper body was well developed. Even the biceps stretched the sleeves tight.

Oliver noticed every physical attribute, then he looked at the face again as the Vice Principal was about to introduce the guy to the class.

“Ben?”

“Hey, Oliver.” It was said in a soft tone with a smile. “I hoped I’d see you this morning.”

“When…when did you get here?”

“Last night, so I didn’t have an opportunity to let you know. I tried to write last month when mom decided to move back but my letter came back undeliverable.”

“We moved…into Monroe.”

“That explains it.”

“Okay, boys, you can catch up later. Young man, what is your full name?” said Ms. Douglas.

“Benjamin Baskin. Benjamin Lee Baskin.”

“Okay, Benjamin, take a seat.”

Ben strolled down the aisle next to Oliver, taking the desk next to him. They grinned at each other. Ben leaned over the aisle.

“Do you have plans after school?”

“No.”

“Let’s get together.”

 

Driving out of the school parking lot, Oliver kept looking over at Ben. The seat was pushed all the way back for the long legs. There was the hand pushing blonde hair out of the face. There was the way the T-shirt fit the upper body and the how the jeans bulged so seductively, it was difficult to keep his eyes on the road.

“I should just drive south on 31?” said Oliver.

“Yep, down to 41 and turn right.”

“What got your mom to move back?”

“A job at the community college. Some admin position, but the pay is okay, and it got us out of Biloxi.”

“What’s wrong with Biloxi?”

“Crowded with tourists and there is that weather event in the fall called hurricane.”

“Oh yeah, it went just to our north and dumped a shit load of rain on us.”

“I’m not sure about my last year of high school up here but…it’s good to see you.”

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t keep up the letters.”

“Same here, but we were just kids.”

“Yeah.” Oliver drove up to the intersection and swung right onto 41. “Did you play any sports back in Biloxi?”

“Baseball and basketball. They tried to get me out for the football team, but I wasn’t going to go out there and get my brain knocked out. Why?”

“It’s just…” Oliver wondered how to say it. Ben, you’re hot would admit too much. He glanced over again and saw Ben waiting for him to finish. “It’s just, look at you. You obviously work out and…how tall are you?”

Ben chuckled, then fell back in his seat. “Crazy right, that the poor little boy would grow up to become…me.” He looked up to see the road Oliver needed to turn on. “I’m six foot four; that’s the road. Turn left.”

“Oh, okay,” Oliver replied, turning on the narrow two-lane highway. It had been recently paved and remarked, for the yellow line was bright against the dark grey asphalt. He eased along the road, passing a ranch house, two mobile homes, a barn with a fence around it keeping a few cows contained.

“The next drive on the left,” said Ben.

As he pulled to the drive, Oliver saw it was a prefab house with light grey siding and darker grey shutters. A small porch was on the front shading the front door and one large window. A red Ford truck sat in the drive.

“Mom is still home. She doesn’t start until next Monday,” said Ben. “Will you come in; she’d love to see you.”

“Sure.”

 

For the first few days, Oliver felt like he was in some alternate universe. Ben was back, but a different Ben. Not the introverted boy who endured so much bullying and ostracizing. But a different Ben, one that was tall and muscular and…hot as fuck. All his previous fantasies of what his life could be like if Ben had not moved away suddenly paled with the fantasies he now imagined. No longer were they naïve, quaint in their imaginings of the two of them kissing and holding hands and sharing lunch in the cafeteria. Now his fantasies were sexual in tone, lurid, with him touching Ben in the crotch or cupping the ass as Ben moved over him. Even their kissing was more physical, passionate, and he jacked off night after night to the image of him lying on his back beneath Ben with legs wrapped around the narrow waist.

It embarrassed him to think of it during the day.

As hard as he tried to be the friend Ben remembered from their youth, he couldn’t open up like before, not with his desire for more than friendship. He stayed guarded, struggled to keep his eyes off Ben’s body, something damn near impossible when Ben would remove his shirt once at his home and the two of them holed up in Ben’s bedroom playing video games. And there were times he showed up at Ben’s to find him in the shower, only to come out in nothing but a towel. Then right in front of him, drop the towel from the waist and toss it on the bed. The round ass burned forever in his memory. And a glimpse of the cock swinging into view. Ben had pulled on the tightest white boxer briefs, and once pulled in place, it made him look sexier in a way, with the tease of the cock bulge. And the ass, so impossibly curved and firm.

At school, Oliver felt so jealous at times, the way girls that once wouldn’t give Ben the time of day, or worse, made fun of him for being poor, were now throwing themselves shamelessly at him. And the guys that once bullied Ben were now talking about basketball or next season’s baseball, anticipating Ben’s joining the teams. Oliver wanted Ben to turn them down, every one of them. He wanted Ben to himself, as insane as that jealous thought was. He was on the baseball team, and they would be teammates, but in the locker room others would get to see that body.

But what hurt the most was the idea of Ben being just another straight boy in the school, leaving him alone as the only gay boy. He could see it, how sooner or later, Ben would be going out with one of the girls. There was just too much flirting for him to continue to ignore them. He knew the idea that a certain percentage of guys were gay, and if it were accurate, then he couldn’t be the only one. But it was a small-town school, and it seemed like gay guys should be in cities, urban areas that were progressive and tolerant. He had spent the last two years trying to make one of his classmates gay, and time and time again, it appeared to be just wishful thinking on his part. He had even watched the guys a year ahead and a year behind him. And there were a few he imagined coming out, admitting being gay too, none more so than Tyler that was a year behind him and on the baseball team. Dark brown hair and smooth skin with hardly a blemish, and in the locker room after practice or a game, he had seen him naked. A nice ass and cock that hung heavy over its sac. It was why he was always last out of the locker room, waiting until the guys in the showers were done or almost done, so he wouldn’t be tempted to stare at their naked bodies. But Tyler was too talkative, too friendly in his banter and time and time again, he fucked around too long and would be entering the shower right in front of or just behind him.

At Ben’s house, the way Ben paraded around shirtless or thought nothing of changing in front of him, that temptation was almost unbearable. But he stayed in Ben’s room, took every opportunity to see him changing clothes. Every opportunity to see that naked ass and just a glimpse of cock.  

As it was on the last Friday night of April. It was getting late, almost ten, and they had been to the high school baseball game playing their roles on their team as they lost to their rivals from Atmore. Ben had showered when they got to his place, because someone spilled a coke down his back at the drive-in after the game. Ben’s mom was out on a date, gone to Mobile for dinner and a movie, not expected to be back until very late. It left the two of them alone, the first time during the night. It was too perfect. Just the two of them and his parents knowing he might stay overnight.

Oliver felt anxious, excited, and trapped. He lay across the foot of Ben’s bed looking at his cellphone wondering if Ben really wanted to play video games this late at night. But he knew he would do anything to spend time with him. Rolling to his back, he looked at the poster over the bed. There was a late evening sky with scattered clouds in blue and purple and pink. The horizon was a black silhouette of trees, and in the foreground, sunflowers, all turned to a sun soon to dip over the horizon. Ben had called them little suns back in elementary school. Oliver thought of the yellow petals circling the dark center and how the petals reminded him of the blonde hair.

The shower turned off and Oliver knew Ben would soon be back in the room. He left with no change of clothes, so once again, Ben would dress in front of him. He tried to focus on his cellphone, but he kept looking at the door watching for it to swing open. He rolled up into a sitting position and leaned back against the headboard. He could glance over his cellphone at the door with just a shift of the eyes.

The door swung open, and Ben came in toweling his hair completely naked. Not even a towel around the waist. Oliver looked up and stared at the body. He couldn’t pull them away. The muscular chest with nice pecs. One arm raised working the towel over the top of head and the bicep flexing with the movement. And at the crotch, a flaccid cock that looked partially aroused. It hung heavy, about four inches long over the loose nut sac. Above it a small fan of blonde pubic hair then the flat abdomen, and looking upward over the chest, the neck, until he was looking into the face.

Ben came to the foot of the bed, tossed the towel over his desk chair, and stared back.

“What?” asked Oliver, hearing how the pitch of his voice was all wrong.

“Do you like me?”

“What? Of course…w-w-we’re friends.”

“I don’t mean like that. I see how you look at me and I wondered if there was a…”

The silence as the unfinished sentence hung in the air between them, Oliver found himself surveying the body again, unable to refrain. He looked down the chest, the stomach, the cock, wanting to touch it. To feel it in his hand, or his mouth, or…

“You wondered what?” said Oliver, finally breaking the silence.

“I know it can be scary as fuck, especially around here, but…if you liked me as more than friends, I would like that.”

“You would?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you gay?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“I think so; no, yes, yes, I’m gay too.”

Oliver saw the smile and smiled back feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

“Have you ever messed around with a guy?” said Oliver, not sure if he wanted Ben experienced or not.

“Just some kissing and touching before the guy freaked out about it. Have you?”

“No, of course not.”

Oliver chuckled, walked to the nightstand turning on the lamp. He went back to the door, closing it and shutting off the overhead light. “Is this, okay?”

“Yes.”

Ben crossed the room until standing by the bed, naked, skin appearing to glow in the warm light of the lamp. Oliver was about to reach out and touch him when Ben eased down on the bed. Right next to him, the long muscular body stretched out. An arm brushed against arm; a foot rubbed down a leg.

Ben placed a hand on Oliver’s chest then leaned over until their lips touched. Oliver closed his eyes focusing on the feel of lips against his own and the hand that was moving over his chest. Their kiss became more passionate, physical, as Oliver slid his hand over against the bare stomach. He rubbed it with the back of his hand, feeling the firm smooth flesh. The hand on his chest went near his neck and worked its way down, and he realized it was unbuttoning his shirt. The shirt slipped open, and the hand touched his bare chest as he daringly rubbed his hand downward until he felt pubic hair, then the cock. Ben moaned into his mouth, then began to kiss along his jaw and down his neck, at times nipping the flesh.

“I’ve thought of this so often it drove me crazy,” whispered Ben in Oliver’s ear, so close the lips grazed it.

“I did too,” Oliver confessed. It felt good to confess it. How he imagined sex with Ben, thought of it so much he too had felt driven mad with his desire. The hand moved over his stomach, rubbed along the top of his jeans, and he turned his own hand and took Ben’s cock, feeling the thickness of it. The hand slipped into his jeans, worked beneath the boxers, and down until touching him, bare fingers grazing his bare cock. Another’s touch. He moaned and pushed upward to increase the pleasure of the touch.

Fingers worked along his cock as it grew erect, straining to stretch out in the confines of his jeans. Oliver wanted out of them, wanted to be naked. He wanted Ben to be able to touch him everywhere. When the hand slipped out of his jeans breaking the contact, he almost cried out no.

“Oliver, get your clothes off.”

Oliver opened his eyes and saw Ben sitting up next to him.  He sat up, undid his jeans, and worked everything down his legs and off. Ben took the jeans and boxers and tossed them to the floor. When he turned back to Oliver, he put a hand on the chest again pushing Oliver to lay back as he moved over him. A leg between Oliver’s leg, stomach against stomach, chest against chest…lips against lips.

A hand rubbed over his cock. Fingers manipulated his nuts at times tugging them tight in their sac. Then the fingers worked down between the legs and touched him, rubbed over his tight opening until he was spreading his legs.

Oliver shuddered when a finger penetrated him. He moaned with the feel of it boring into his depths, twisting and turning, stretching him open. Two fingers penetrated him, then three, and he shivered with the stretch of his opening.

“Ben…fuck.” Oliver kissed the long neck, nipped at the skin below the right ear, then tugged on the lobe. He felt hot exhales against his own neck, then soft utterances.

“Oliver…can I…will you let me?”

“Yes.”

Oliver looked up at Ben holding his legs against the bare chest. A move closer and he felt cock touch him, rub over his loosened opening, then slowly, painfully, pleasurably, penetrate him.

Ben’s cock was thick, long, at least eight or nine inches long, and Oliver wondered ever so briefly if he could take it. He lay back clutching the bed as Ben pushed deeper and deeper. He felt the fullness of the penetration, how Ben’s cock seemed to reach impossibly deep within. Ben began to move inside him. A tug outward, a push inward, over and over, slowly, letting him feel every inch moving through his opening until he was gasping for breath. Then Ben increased his pace, moved faster and faster, until it was a man’s fuck. Physical; such an exertion it made Ben gasp for breath. Hips smacked his ass. Cock bore into his depths.

Ben moved over him, pushing his legs apart, and he wrapped them around the narrow waist feeling how the body moved over him. The undulating ass that pumped cock into his depths and the undulating stomach that pumped hot exhales against his neck. Fingers laced with his own and held him down as lips moved up his neck, along the jaw, until touching his own. He opened them to the tongue, letting it move inside him, like the cock moved inside him.

Oliver felt his own cock, pinned between them, rubbed to the point he wanted to come.

Ben hugged him, sat up rolling to sit on the bed, bringing him over and in the lap, cock still buried in his ass. He moved on it, up and down while his own cock dragged slickly over the stomach.

“Oliver…don’t stop.”

Oliver hugged the sweaty body holding him, penetrating him, making him so aroused he wanted to come. He kept moving on Ben’s cock, working his ass up and down its length while his own grew so erect it pointed up as it slid over the slick skin. Up and down with a steady pace. Up and down until he needed to come.

Oliver pushed back and rested on his hands, torso stretched out, and ass seated on Ben’s cock. He stared at Ben, looked into those vividly blue eyes and worked his ass up and down. Faster and faster until he was gasping for breath and sweat beaded up on his skin. And he didn’t slow, kept up his pace. He took his own cock in hand and stroked with the same intensity. Ben leaned back and began to push upward as he slammed his ass down.

Ben came first, shoving up and shuddering with release. Oliver kept working his ass on the spurting cock.

“Please…Oliver…”

Oliver came. Thick ropes of cum arced upward and landed on his chest and stomach. He settled his ass down on Ben’s spent cock and shivered as the last of his load dribbled out.

 

The shower ran hot steaming up the bathroom. Oliver faced the wall, forehead and hands braced on it. His feet were spread apart, and Ben’s cock was fucking him again. Slowly with full long thrusts into his depth. His own cock swung heavily between his thighs until Ben reach around and took it in hand.

A kiss to the back of his neck, then along the left shoulder. A hand stroked his cock while the other rubbed up and down his stomach and chest. Then a tall muscular body pressed against his back, and he moaned as he felt its undulation. Undulations that were pumping cock inside his ass.

It was Ben. The boy who came back. He opened his eyes and watched Ben’s hand on his cock. He pictured the tall muscular body as he felt it against his back. He pictured the thick cock as it sank into his depths.

Oliver came first, spraying the tile wall with his load. Then Ben was shuddering against his back while jamming hips against his ass.

 

Oliver woke during the night to Ben sucking his cock. Then he woke again to sunlight bleeding through the blinds giving the bedroom a warm glow. He was on his side and Ben was snuggled against his back. An arm held them together, and he smiled at the comforting nature of the embrace. He lay still, barely breathing, not wanting to wake Ben and end this fantasy come to life.

 

As graduation approached, Oliver and Ben found every chance to be alone. Each opportunity taken advantage of from being the last in the locker room at school, to parking down McGee Road to the south of town, to staying at one’s home when their parents were away for any length of time. Oliver took Ben in every way, eventually even being on top. They explored the other’s body, learned every curve, every mole or scare. They took the other in their mouths and their asses until sweaty and gasping for breath.

And afterward, in that moment of sweaty exhaustion, they whispered sentiments they dare not utter in front of others.

Springtime

Oliver walked across the campus heading back to the dorm. It was springtime and the campus was a hive of activity. Students heading to class or back toward dorms, and he walked along with them, feeling a part of the college that still seemed unreal. He had spent two years at the community college while Ben went over to Reid State Technical College. Once he finished his prerequisite courses, he got in at the university a couple of hours away while Ben finished his degree at Reid then took a job in Montgomery, an hour drive away.

He had just four weeks before finally graduating and receiving his degree. Four weeks and it would be time to get a job and settle into a new stage of life. He knew Ben had compromised on what he wanted, taking electrical courses to become an electrician when what he wanted to be was an artist. To Oliver, it was one more unfairness in life Ben had to endure but Ben had told him he always had his art regardless of the work he did to support himself.

He strolled past one of the planting beds and saw among the red and blue flowers, a group of bright yellow flowers. Their small petals stood out among the other flowers, bright as the sun, and it made him think of the sunflowers Ben always grew at his home. Sunflowers of various heights and colors, but it was those that towered over the others, twelve feet tall with large flowers. Flowers ringed with bright yellow petals mimicking the sun, staring back up at it during the day. It made him miss Ben. The blonde headed man who patiently waited for him to finish college.

Four weeks. Just four more weeks.