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I was still looking at myself in wonder, amazement, and fear when I heard a nasal voice call, “Hey you!”

Note to self: Next time someone does that, don’t act like you’re the guilty one, just don’t respond.  Next time.

Because this time, I looked up and to the right, in the direction of the voice.  Shit.

“Yeah, you!  Who are you?  Where did you come from?”

Walking towards me was a guy who looked, well … my age now?  He had black, flowing hair that was wavy in a way that bounced as he walked quickly towards me.  He was a head shorter than me and his smooth face showed some sort of emotional mix I couldn’t quite place.  Anger?  Curiosity?  Pissed-off’edness?  He was wearing a dark forest green open vest with nothing underneath it, but the hems were extremely frayed to the point they looked like a lining of fur.  There were no sleeves.  His pants were impossibly tight and an even darker green, while he was also barefoot.

He was lean but more muscular than I, a stereotypical twunk, and his partially exposed body was smooth. As he got closer, between one bounce in his hair and the next, I saw pointed ears.  I tried very, very nonchalantly to reach up to my head and make sure my longer, blond hair was covering my – yup, still there – rounded ears.

He stopped short of me and asked again, “Who are you?”  His arms were now crossed across his torso, pumping up his pecs a little.  I couldn’t help but notice a tiny gold bar through his left nipple.  Great, a diva in training.

That said … down boy!  Now is not the time to get hard.  This guy was exactly my type.  After Zeke, of course.  And maybe without the attitude, but I was pretty sure I could work that out of him with my big, long, hard— No!

I looked around and there was no one else Miss Thang could be talking to.  I reached up, my hand scratching my upper back in what I hoped was a very casual, absent-minded-appearing gesture, though I realized I was also exposing my lower abs to the guy.  Right, great way to not look conspicuous.  Or maybe that was normal here based on how he was dressed?

“Uh, what do you mean?  I live here, I’m from over innnnnn that direction,” I replied, pointing in the direction opposite from his approach.  It sounded a lot more convincing in my head than it probably was once I got the words out.

“No you’re not.  I know everyone here, and no one enters or leaves Cockiri Woods, but all the twinks and twunks are here!  And I saw you just appear from nowhere.”

“Cockiri, seriously …?” I started before biting my tongue.  Shit.

“That settles it!  I’m taking you to the chief!  He’ll decide what to do with you.”

“You and what army?” I stupidly asked, looking at him, exasperated.  I mean, come on, I was tired physically and emotionally and still not sure if this was real.  I was working on two, maybe three hours of sleep and an hour or more of walking and all this shit to deal with.

The guy didn’t respond but instead pulled a black stone out of his pocket and threw it at me.  It landed squarely on my chest and immediately started to expand, flowing over my clothing and skin and forming a black shell of … latex?  You have got to be kidding me.  That’s one fetish I hadn’t explored before.  I tried to brush off the rapidly expanding latext but it just kept spreading until it had fully enveloped me, leaving only my nose and eyes exposed.  It also … no … fuck me.  I felt protrusions in my asshole and my mouth as the latex formed a dildo at each end.

“Follow me!” he ordered and started to walk away.  I had zero intention of following him, but my legs started to move, squeaking where they rubbed together, my arms also squeaking softly as they moved across my latex-encrusted core.  I tried to stop them, but I don’t think my legs were actually doing the work.  No, it was this latex!  He’d trapped me in a latex body suit that he somehow had control over and could make me follow him and do who-knows-what other nasty little things were in his muscular, slightly ripped, …

Helpless, I walked stiffly yet quickly behind him, trying to look around to see more of where I was or an escape route, but my head would not budge.  My eyes looked frantically from side-to-side, trying to get more information.

The forest clearing was built like a series of terraces, where hills had been leveled into a series of flat planes with heights of nearly 10 feet between flat areas.  I don’t know why anyone would go to such an effort and I saw no obvious way to move from one terrace to another until – ah, a few ramps were there, and I also saw a few ladders on sides without ramps.

The people around me were of all skin colors and hair styles, but beyond that they differed very little from each other:  All were men, all had pointed ears, all had great hair, were lightly muscled, no body hair, and wore dark green attire that was the same style as my captor’s which showed a lot of skin.  The few that looked towards me did so quizzically with no real concern, quickly turning to continue about their day.  They also looked 18–20 years old and ran the gamut from the most waif-like twink to twunks bordering on hunk.

There were simple buildings scattered about that looked like wigwams in their basic but effective construction.  They looked almost like massive muscle pecs in form, as each one had a nipple-like air duct off to one side on top of the slightly asymmetric structure.  Each building in this area had a pictogram above their door that I assume symbolized what was there.  One clearly sold chairs, another had food, while a third … sigh.  Dildos.

Speaking of dildos, there was more plant life here than in the field I initially rolled onto.  They all resembled dicks or butts.  We passed by clumps of bushes that seemed to start out looking like thick stalks or assemblages of leaves that looked like dicks, while others that looked older had opened, the leaves splaying from the center shaft, curving around in two clumps with a crevasse that divided them in half, and the center shaft retreated into the ground.  The trees that surrounded the clearing all looked like dicks with tall, thick, veiny trunks and then hugely flared heads filled with branches and leaves.  Ouch.  That would hurt, though part of me – my hole – kinda wanted to try a dick with such a flared head.

And, speaking of my hole, I tried very hard to ignore what the latex was doing to my crotch because the prodding at my asshole was bad enough, not helped by the latex in front squeezing and caressing my dick.  I didn’t need the squeezing of the latex, though, I was pretty sure I was getting hard all on my own.  My surroundings, the situation, the free display of sexuality, and the latex ministrations were working me up.  I felt a growing desire to get on my knees and service their leaking dicks with everything I had, to take one – two – three of them in my holes at once, to—

“Here we are!” my captor announced, breaking me out of my haze.  He looked down at my crotch and smirked.

The wigwam we were now in front of was the largest of the ones that surrounded it.  I had apparently spaced out because we had left the area of buildings with pictograms, and we were now in an area of smaller ones without any obvious signage.  This one was perhaps a little wider than the others, but other than that and a triangle with a circle in the middle above the door, it was no different than the others around us.  The door was woven of thin, leafy twigs and branches, which my captor lifted away.  Of my full-body suit’s accord, I entered with him.

My captor saluted a man who looked to be 20 and was reclining on a bed in the back, who honestly looked like we had woken him up.

“Why did you bring this guy here, Ahanu?” he stifled a yawn as he stretched.

“Kitchi, this stranger appeared from nowhere in Cockiri Woods.  I saw him with my own eyes: One moment he wasn’t there, the next he was!  It was in a flash of green light.  I’ve never seen him before, and his clothes are strange.”

Kitchi – the guy in charge, apparently, sat up and looked at me.  He then stood up and came closer.

“Why is he so calm, Ahanu?  The Wrap of Himeros is supposed to render anyone so mad with desire he should be a bumbling mess right now, wanting to take us both.”  He circled me.  “The stranger is hard, and I see the Wrap pulsing in his hole and around his dick and thrusting in his mouth.  And yet,” he placed his hand on my chest, “his breathing restrained, and his eyes unclouded.”

Ahanu looked at me, clearly pissed off.  “I don’t know!” he whined.  “Maybe it’s broken.”  There was the bitchy queen I knew he was.

“Hmmmm…” Kitchi murmured thoughtfully.  He tapped the suit three times, once on each nipple and once on the head of my dick, then pressed a finger from each hand firmly at my asshole and mouth.  As quickly as it had covered me, the latex retreated with a slurping noise, coalescing back into a black stone that dropped to the ground.  Ahanu scurried over and grabbed it, putting the stone in a pocket, and then retreated several steps.

The sudden withdraw of the thick latex from my ass left me moaning, and the loss of support made me collapse, while my mouth simultaneously released drool that had been pooling.  As quickly as I could, I scrambled back up, hands in front of me to try to hide my hardon, not like it would make any difference at this point.  But, I felt like I had to have some semblance of dignity.

Kitchi circled me again, slowly.  “Curious …” he drawled.  He looked me up and down from every angle and then stopped when he was directly behind me.  He reached up and pushed my hair aside, revealing my ear.  In so doing, his hand passed near the back of my neck and I heard him gasp and moan.  I immediately felt something thick poking my hole.

“Kitchi!” Ahanu exclaimed, rushing over.  “What happened, are you okay?”  Turning to me, “What did you do to him?!”

Kitchi moved away from me and retreated partway back to his bed.  The man’s hard, 6″ penis extending through a hidden slit in the front of his pants.

“I don’t know what he is, Ahanu, but Ἱμερος has come upon him.  Can’t you sense it?”

Ahanu looked at me, then Kitchi, and then down at his own erect member.  ” I don’t sense anything, Sir.”

“But you are certainly reacting to it,” Kitchi pointed to Ahanu’ hard, 5″ dick, which had started to drip precum on the floor.

“Uh, did you say some guy had cum upon me?” I asked.

“No, come upon you,” Kitchi replied, dismissively.

“The Wrap must have helped shield the effects,” Kitchi muttered.

Ahanu for his part looked like he was struggling, fighting a losing internal battle.  What happened next shocked me: Ahanu fell to the floor in front of me and stripped down my pants, swallowing my dick in one swoop before I could react.

“What the fuck?!” I exclaimed.  I tried to push Ahanu off but I couldn’t.  I don’t know if he had vacuum-sealed himself on or if I was getting weak because goddamn that boy could suck dick!  My hard, 9″ cock felt amazing sliding through his mouth and down his throat.  It was as if his entire oral cavity had been ribbed for my pleasure and was applying all the right pressure to all the right spots.

Then, I felt a tiny prick on both sides of my dick and I saw tiny, needle-like fangs retreating back into Ahanu’ upper gums.  “What the fuck?  Did you just fucking bite me?”

Ahanu didn’t reply, but I felt wave after wave of horniness emanating from my dick.  Whatever he did, it was making me infinitely hornier and this was still – and even more-so now – the best blowjob I’d ever had.

Kitchi, too, seemed to be fighting an urge, but he was resisting a lot better than Ahanu.  His hand was on his own dick, jacking it slowly, and he was sweating, but he stopped short of approaching me.

“Ἱμερος has come upon you.  I have never seen one who has been bathed in his essence as much as you:  You are radiating an overwhelming desire of sex that affects anyone near you.”

I thought back.  That didn’t make any sense at all, no one had ever acted this way around me.  “No, you’re the first to ever do this,” I replied as I thrust my hips hard back and forth, using Ahanu’ mouth like a fleshlight, unable to help myself as whatever venom Ahanu had injected into me worked its way through me. I should probably be pretty concerned, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything but desire.

“Think!”  He was sweating harder, and a big glob of precum burped from his dick head onto the floor.  “This hasn’t happened before?  Even devotees of Himeros like me don’t have this effect, or an effect this strong.  I– I am using all my willpower to resist.”  His face was red and his dick launched another gush of precum onto the floor.

“No, no one.  Not even in this crAAAA—” Ahanu did this little thing with his tongue and I nearly lost it.  “Even since I’ve been here, those guys in the temples, they didn’t.”

“The temples?  Ἱμερος’ power is neutralized in another god’s temple.  But how could you leave Cockiri Woods, you’re too young!”

“I don’t know!  One moment Zeke and I were being kidnapped, transported through a gold ring, he’s getting married, I went through two temples and they said I was being sent back in time, I played a fucking magic flute, your guy put me in fetishwear, and— what the FUCK!?”

Kitchi lost his internal struggle, as he rushed behind me, pushed my torso forward as he knelt down, and thrust his tongue into my hole.

“Holy mother of—.”  The two of them assaulting my hole and dick were making my head spin.  If Ahanu hadn’t been playing with my nipples and providing some support, I was pretty sure I would have collapsed.  I heard slurping and moaning and I was moaning right along with them.

After I don’t know how long, I felt Kitchi’s tongue withdraw and something thick pushing against my hole.  I spread my legs more and reached behind me with one hand to pull my cheeks apart, and I felt his tool thrust into me.  I was so fucking horny from whatever Ahanu had injected me with that I was ready to fuck and suck and take any dick presented.

Kitchi’s was not the longest dick I’d ever taken – by far – but it was thick, and at the age of my current body which I estimated to be just over 18, this probably was the biggest dick I had taken.  Certainly it was the widest.

He pummeled my hole while Ahanu was still sucking my dick like his life depended on it.  Kitchi’s dick felt amazing in my canal, giving it a wonderful stretch as he pounded in and out, and if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve sworn his dick was ribbed just like Ahanu’ throat.  I looked down at Ahanu’ dick and I was right: They had gentle ridges across their dicks!  No wonder Kitchi’s stick felt so good in my hole!  I reached down to fondle the diva’s nipple piercing, and it worked to send his mouth into overdrive.

I started to lose track of time as Kitchi pounded, my body felt like there was an electric tingling sensation running across it, with the two nodes being my dick and my ass.  Unceremoniously, I felt Kitchi pull out, grab my hand, and pull me to the bed on the far side.  My dick plopped out of Ahanu’ mouth and he moaned, drool pooling from the corners of his lips and he jumped up and followed us.

Kitchi laid down on the bed and pointed to his dick.  I took the hint and sat on it and started to ride his shaft, facing his head, my own dick flying around sloppily and flinging the occasional precum.  He reached up to play with my tight nipples on my twinky chest, and I reached up to brush my long, blond hair out from my eyes so I could look down at him as I rode him.  Damn I love twunks, and Kitchi was nicely muscled for one – almost a hunk, but he’d have to flex to get his muscles to show.

As I was busy analyzing his build for some reason, I felt another sensation from my hole and I looked back, brushing another lock of sweaty hair from my ocean-blue eyes.  Ahanu had laid down and was lapping at my hole as it stretched, ridge over glorious ridge, up and down Kitchi’s dick.  I closed my eyes and just rode and rode and rode that thick cock for all I was worth.

I didn’t even feel Ahanu’ tongue withdraw or anything weird until I slammed down on Kitchi’s dick for the umpteenth time and it was like it had suddenly gotten thicker.  Twice as thick, in fact.  My hole felt like it was stretched impossibly open and I looked back: Ahanu had stuck his dick next to Kitchi’s, and I had just sat down on them both.

I stopped at that bottom and just felt the two of them there.  Not content with that, as they seemed like in more of a frenzy and less in control of their actions than I, they started going up and down in opposite directions: My hole stationary, Ahanu thrust in while Kitchi pulled out almost all the way, then Kitchi pushed back in while Ahanu pulled out almost all the way.  I’m pretty sure based on how well in sync they were that this was not the first time they’d DP’d a hole.

My vision was white, my hole was the center of my being, it felt alive in a way that it had never felt before.  Sensations emanated from it, washing over me again and again like waves upon the beach as the tide was coming in.

If possible, I suddenly felt a little fuller, and then everything was still, both Kitchi and Ahanu stopped.  Then, slowly, Ahanu pulled back, and then Kitchi, and I felt liquid dripping from my gaping hole.  I looked down and my cum was all over Kitchi’s torso, and head, and hair, and bed.  I had cum hands-free: My first (definitely at this age) anal orgasm.  The two of them had cum, too, filling me up though I was now slowly dripping it out.

I could feel the cool breeze against my used hole, the coolness emphasized by the mix of the two guys’ cum.

I then felt another sensation.  It was weird, it was like I felt more … energized?  Powerful?  I felt like I could go another five rounds and be fine.  I also felt as though my skin was drawing in – absorbing – their cum. And it felt good.  I needed it, I needed more.

I reached around to what was dripping out of my hole and tried to push it in with my fingers.  Kitchi saw me and without moving his body he reached over to the side of the bed, rummaged around, and then turned to hand me something.

It was a buttplug.  Shaped like his erect dick.  Ridges and all.  I didn’t care anymore, I shoved it home and felt amazing, the cum working its magic on my hole.

We were all breathing heavily, and even though I had felt like I could do it all again over and over, I suddenly felt a wave of fatigue wash over me and I hoped it wasn’t venom.  I went to lay down between Kitchi and Ahanu and I was out before my head hit the pillow.

---

There we go.  I told you there’d be a sex scene again.  Definite twist on the original source material (still staying mum on that in case you haven’t figured it out yet).  The next 5.5 chapters are already written but as always, if you have ideas, let me know!

Meanwhile: Why was Luke suddenly so interested in their cum?  Where is Cockiri?  What’s he going to do about being 18 again?  Can no one really leave Cockiri?  What about Zeke?  What happened to the dick-like tin whistle?  What’s with all the dicks?  Did anyone else have an 8-bit soundtrack going through their head during this chapter?

I have a Patreon to support this work.  Right now (mid-June 2025), there are a few chapters up of a few different stories.  Some are re-writes / large edits of stories I’ve already put out there.  There is already some exclusive and time-limited exclusive content there.  If you like what I write, please consider supporting my work.  If not, please at least comment here so that I know what you enjoy, didn’t enjoy, and what you might want to see in the future.

The bar was dimly lit, the kind of place where conversations could stay hushed and intentions could simmer just beneath the surface. Jake sat at a corner table, his fingers drumming lightly against the edge of his glass. He was nervous, though he tried not to show it. Across from him, Ryan leaned back in his chair, a sly smile playing on his lips. They’d been chatting online for weeks, their messages growing increasingly flirtatious, and tonight was the first time they’d met in person. The tension between them was palpable, a quiet electricity that neither of them wanted to break.

“So,” Ryan said, his voice low and smooth, “you’re really into socks, huh?”

Jake felt his cheeks flush, but he didn’t look away. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice steady despite the heat creeping up his neck. “And you?”

Ryan chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “Oh, I’m definitely into socks. Especially when they’re on someone else’s feet.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the noise of the bar faded into the background. Jake’s heart raced as he glanced down at Ryan’s feet, noticing the clean white crew socks peeking out from under his jeans. Ryan followed his gaze, then looked at Jake’s own feet, clad in patterned socks and white high-top Blazers. The unspoken agreement hung in the air between them.

“My place is just a few blocks away,” Ryan said, his tone casual but laced with promise.

Jake nodded, his throat suddenly dry. “Let’s go.”

The walk to Ryan’s apartment was charged with anticipation. Neither of them spoke much, but the occasional brush of their arms or shared glance was enough to keep the tension alive. When they finally stepped inside, Ryan closed the door behind them and turned to face Jake.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing to the couch.

Jake sat down, his heart pounding as Ryan joined him, their knees almost touching. For a moment, they just looked at each other, the air thick with unspoken desire. Then Ryan leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I take your shoes off?”

Jake’s breath hitched, but he nodded. “Yeah.”

Ryan knelt on the floor in front of him, his hands moving slowly to untie the laces of Jake’s high-tops. The sound of the fabric sliding against itself was almost deafening in the quiet room. As Ryan pulled the first shoe off, Jake’s socked foot was revealed, the patterned fabric hugging his arch and toes. Ryan inhaled deeply, his eyes closing for a moment as if savoring the scent.

“Fuck,” Ryan murmured, his voice rough. “You smell amazing.”

Jake shivered, his toes curling slightly in response. “Your turn,” he said, his voice trembling with anticipation.

Ryan grinned and sat back on the couch, lifting one foot onto Jake’s lap. Jake’s hands shook as he untied the laces of Ryan’s Converse, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his white crew socks. When he finally pulled the shoe off, the scent hit him immediately—a mix of warmth and musk that made his head spin.

“God, Ryan,” Jake breathed, bringing the socked foot closer to his face. He pressed his nose against the fabric, inhaling deeply as his eyes fluttered shut. The smell was intoxicating, a heady blend of sweat and leather that sent a jolt of arousal straight to his core.

Ryan groaned softly, his hand reaching out to stroke Jake’s hair. “You like that, don’t you?”

Jake nodded, his lips brushing against the sock as he spoke. “So much.”

Ryan’s other foot found its way into Jake’s lap, and soon they were both lost in the sensation of each other’s socked feet. Jake ran his fingers along the arch of Ryan’s foot, feeling the warmth through the fabric. Ryan did the same, his touch firm but gentle as he massaged Jake’s sole.

The intensity grew with every passing second, their breathing becoming heavier as they explored each other’s feet. Jake couldn’t resist any longer—he pulled one of Ryan’s socks off with trembling hands, revealing the smooth skin underneath. He pressed a kiss to the top of Ryan’s foot, then trailed his tongue along the arch, savoring the salty taste.

Ryan let out a low moan, his fingers tightening in Jake’s hair. “Fuck, Jake… that feels so good.”

Jake didn’t respond with words—he couldn’t. Instead, he focused on worshiping Ryan’s foot, his tongue and lips moving with a hunger that surprised even himself. Ryan returned the favor, pulling off Jake’s other sock and pressing kisses to his toes before taking one into his mouth.

The room was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing and soft moans as they continued to explore each other’s feet. The tension between them was unbearable now, their desire for each other reaching a fever pitch.

Ryan was the first to break the silence. “I need more,” he said, his voice rough with need. “I need to feel you.”

Jake nodded, his heart racing as Ryan stood up and pulled him to his feet. Their bodies pressed together, the heat between them undeniable. Ryan’s hands moved to Jake’s waist, pulling him closer as their lips finally met in a searing kiss.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, their tongues tangling as they moaned into each other’s mouths.

Ryan’s hands moved to Jake’s shoulders, pushing him down gently until he was on his knees in front of him. The air between them crackled with anticipation, the weight of their shared desire pressing down like a storm about to break. Jake’s hands instinctively went to Ryan’s belt, his fingers trembling slightly as he unbuckled it with a quick, practiced motion. The sound of the belt sliding free was sharp, almost electric, and Ryan’s jeans fell to the floor in a heap, leaving him standing there in nothing but his white crew socks and his hard cock straining against the fabric of his boxers.

Jake’s eyes were locked on Ryan’s feet, the white socks hugging his ankles, the fabric slightly worn at the toes from a long day of wear. He could already imagine the scent, the warmth, the texture of those socks against his skin. But first, he had to get them off. His fingers hooked into the waistband of Ryan’s socks, and he began to pull them down slowly, inch by inch, revealing the smooth skin of Ryan’s calves, then his ankles, and finally his feet. The socks came off with a soft shhh sound, and Jake held them in his hands for a moment, breathing in the faint musk that clung to the fabric. It was intoxicating, a mix of sweat and something uniquely Ryan, and it sent a shiver down Jake’s spine.

But he didn’t have time to linger. Ryan’s cock was right there, hard and waiting, and Jake couldn’t resist any longer. He leaned forward, his lips parting as he took the tip of Ryan’s cock into his mouth. The taste was salty, slightly bitter, and utterly addictive. His tongue swirled around the sensitive head, teasing and tasting, and Ryan let out a low groan, his hands gripping Jake’s hair tightly.

“Fuck, Jake,” Ryan muttered, his voice rough with need. “Just like that.”

Jake obeyed, taking Ryan deeper into his mouth, his lips stretching around the thick shaft. He could feel every ridge, every vein as he moved, his tongue working in tandem with his lips to drive Ryan wild. Ryan’s grip on his hair tightened, guiding him, urging him to go faster, deeper. Jake moaned around Ryan’s cock, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure through both of them.

But Jake wasn’t done yet. He pulled back slightly, letting Ryan’s cock slip from his mouth with a wet pop, and looked up at him with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Your turn,” he said, his voice husky.

Ryan didn’t need to be told twice. He dropped to his knees in front of Jake, his hands going to Jake’s belt with the same urgency Jake had shown moments before. The belt came undone quickly, and Jake’s jeans followed, pooling around his ankles. Ryan’s eyes were drawn immediately to Jake’s feet, still clad in those patterned socks he’d been admiring all night. The colors were vibrant, the fabric snug against Jake’s skin, and Ryan couldn’t wait to get his hands—and his mouth—on them.

He started with one foot, his fingers hooking into the top of the sock and pulling it down slowly, savoring the way the fabric clung to Jake’s skin before finally slipping free. The scent hit him immediately, warm and musky, and Ryan inhaled deeply, his cock twitching in response. He pressed his face into Jake’s bare foot, his lips brushing against the arch as he breathed in the intoxicating aroma.

“God, you smell amazing,” Ryan murmured, his voice muffled against Jake’s skin. He kissed the sole of Jake’s foot softly, then dragged his tongue along the arch, tasting the faint saltiness of sweat. Jake let out a soft moan, his hips bucking slightly as Ryan’s tongue worked its magic.

Ryan moved to the other foot, repeating the process—pulling off the sock, inhaling deeply, kissing and licking every inch of skin he could reach. Jake’s toes curled under the attention, and he let out a breathy laugh. “You’re really into this, huh?”

Ryan looked up at him, his eyes dark with desire. “You have no idea,” he said before diving back in, his tongue exploring every curve and crevice of Jake’s feet.

But they both knew this was just the beginning. Ryan’s hands moved up Jake’s legs, his fingers tracing patterns on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. Jake shivered under the touch, his cock throbbing with need. Ryan leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of Jake’s cock before taking it into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the head just as Jake had done to him moments before.

Jake let out a strangled moan, his hands tangling in Ryan’s hair as he thrust upward, seeking more friction, more heat. Ryan obliged, taking him deeper, his lips stretched tight around the thick shaft. The sensation was overwhelming, and Jake could feel himself teetering on the edge already.

“Ryan,” he gasped, his voice breaking. “I’m close.”

Ryan pulled back slightly, his lips still wrapped around Jake’s cock as he looked up at him with a wicked grin. “Not yet,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “I want to make this last.”

He stood up suddenly, pulling Jake to his feet and guiding him toward the couch. They collapsed onto it together, their bodies pressed close, their cocks rubbing against each other as they kissed hungrily. Ryan’s hands roamed over Jake’s body, exploring every inch of skin he could reach, while Jake did the same, his fingers digging into Ryan’s back as they moved together.

The tension between them was unbearable now, their desire for each other reaching a fever pitch. Ryan reached between them, wrapping his hand around both of their cocks and stroking them together in a slow, steady rhythm. The friction was incredible, their precum mixing together to create a slick glide that drove them both wild.

“Fuck, Ryan,” Jake moaned, his hips thrusting into Ryan’s hand. “I can’t hold back much longer.”

“Then don’t,” Ryan growled, his own hips moving in time with Jake’s. “Let go.”

And Jake did. With a cry of pleasure, he came hard, his release spilling over Ryan’s hand and onto their stomachs. Ryan followed moments later, his own orgasm crashing over him like a wave as he buried his face in Jake’s neck, biting down lightly as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

They lay there for a moment, their bodies still tangled together, their breathing heavy and uneven. Finally, Ryan pulled back slightly, looking down at Jake with a satisfied smile. “That was… incredible,” he said, his voice still rough with desire.

Bryn’s trembling.

Not just from the steam or the shock of orgasm – though those play their part – but from something deeper. Something raw. His back is slick beneath my palms, his breath shallow against my neck. I can still feel the last of my cum leaking from inside him, warm and thick, sliding slow between his cheeks as we sit tangled on the tiled bench, our bodies pressed together in the humid silence.

I cradle him without thinking. One arm around his chest, the other curled around his thigh, anchoring him to me. Siting on my lap – his head rests against my shoulder, damp curls sticking to my collarbone. For a long moment, neither of us moves. The only sound is the low hum of the steam and the quiet, wet drip of sweat – and everything else – onto the floor.

Then he shifts.

Just slightly.

A little flinch. A sharp inhale. His body tenses in my arms like he forgot I was still holding him.

“Bryn,” I murmur, low. Not a question. Just his name. A tether.

He doesn’t answer. But when I glance down, I see the expression on his face. Not regret. Not shame. Something else.

Surprise. Maybe even disbelief.

His eyes are wide. Not alarmed, exactly – but stunned. Like he just stepped off a rollercoaster that dropped too fast, too far, and now he’s not sure if the ground beneath him is real.

I feel a hollow tug in my gut. Because I know that look.

I’ve seen it before. Not on him, though – but on myself. The moment after impact. When the lust fades just enough for the thoughts to come back. When your body’s still buzzing and loose, but your heart’s caught in your throat, trying to make sense of what just happened.

I pull him a little closer. Gently. Give him the choice to lean into me – or not.

He doesn’t move either way. Just breathes.

Slow. Uneven. His ass shifts in my lap – probably sore. Probably wrecked. I hadn’t held back. Not for a second. And now that the fog is lifting, I know it. I know I used him. Not in a way he didn’t want – he begged for it, took it, came hard – but in a way that wasn’t entirely about him.

I’d fucked him like he was someone else.

Like he was Marcus. Like he was the man who left me carrying all this hurt for so long. I turned Bryn into a surrogate for the damage I never got to return. I used his body to empty out years of rage.

I used Bryn to try and redeem every gay man that was ever fucked over by a straight man as badly as I was.

I close my eyes.

“Fuck!”

The thought clings like sweat, thick and sour. Shame collects at the back of my throat. I run a hand down Bryn’s spine – slow, deliberate. Not to comfort him. To calm myself.

His skin quivers beneath my touch, breaking into goosebumps. He doesn’t pull away. But I feel the shift – like something inside him has cracked open, and now he’s trying to hold the pieces together.

I want to ask if he’s okay. But that question feels too shallow. Too neat for what just happened.

So I say, “I didn’t mean to…”

But the words collapse before I can finish.

Because what didn’t I mean?

Didn’t I mean to fuck him so hard? Didn’t I mean to let go completely?

Didn’t I mean to pour every ounce of grief and fury into his body like he was built to carry it for me?

His voice breaks the silence. Quiet. Rough-edged.

“I’m fine.”

But the way he says it – it isn’t exactly dismissal – but it is shaky. Like he’s still catching up to himself.

I pull back enough to see his face.

He meets my eyes – just for a second – then glances away. His cheeks are flushed. His lashes clumped with sweat. His lips slightly parted, as if still holding the echo of everything I did to him.

“Really?” I ask, keeping my voice low, steady.

He nods. “Yeah. I mean…” He huffs a breath, almost a laugh. “I’m sore as hell. You really went for it.”

That cocky smile that I’m used to tries to land. But it wavers.

“You wanted it,” I say, not as a question. As a truth, a reminder. For both of us.

He swallows. “I did.”

Silence settles again. The steam curls around us, thick and heavy like fog on a battlefield. He shifts again – less tense now – but still thoughtful. I can see it in the way he keeps glancing down, then up, like he’s sorting through things he doesn’t have words for yet.

“I needed it,” he adds.

That lands hard.

Because I needed it, too.

But not like that. Not from him.

And maybe that’s the truth I’ve been dodging.

Maybe that’s the problem.

Maybe I’m the problem.

I press a soft kiss to his shoulder. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t lean in either. Just breathes, slow and steady, letting the moment hold.

“I don’t want to leave you – this thing we have – with the wrong idea,” I say finally, voice rough at the edges.

He tilts his head slightly, waiting.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

There’s a pause. A heartbeat. Then he says, “I know.”

Another pause from him. “But you still kind of did.”

That lands in my chest like a cold drop of water.

“Not in a bad way,” he adds quickly. “Not like I regret it. Just… I think parts of me didn’t know how much I could feel until they were being pushed past the edge.”

I nod slowly. “But I wasn’t gentle.”

His brow furrows – not in confusion, but in memory.

“Maybe I didn’t need gentle,” he says. 

I pause.

“You sure?” I ask.

He gives a half-shrug. “I’m not sure about anything right now.”

The honesty in that makes me ache.

And there it is. The truth hanging in the middle of the steam room, fog-thick and painful.

I stroke his thigh again, watching the slick curve of muscle twitch under my palm. My cum is still leaking out of him – slow and viscous – sliding between his legs like a secret I left behind. The sight of it – vulgar and intimate – should make me feel triumphant. Satisfied.

But it doesn’t. It makes me feel responsible.

“I think I used you,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “Not for the sex. For something else. Something I didn’t even know I was still carrying.”

Bryn looks at me.

His face doesn’t harden. Doesn’t retreat. He just listens.

“I think I poured everything I’ve been trying to forget into you,” I continue. “All the years of being a secret. Of being the fallback. Of being the one left behind.”

He watches me like he’s trying to see the shape of that pain.

“You didn’t ask for that,” I say. “You didn’t deserve to be the vessel I emptied it into.”

He tilts his head slightly. “Was it… about the guy you spoke about earlier?”

The question hangs in the steam like a flare.

I nod. “Yeah. Him. And maybe every other man who wanted me in private but couldn’t bear to want me in public.

Bryn breathes in slowly.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I figured.”

No accusation. No recoil. Just quiet understanding.

And that?

That breaks me more than if he’d slapped me.

We sit in silence again. But this time, it’s softer. No longer tense or waiting to snap.
Just… quiet. Like the aftermath of something sacred, not shameful.

“I liked it,” he says eventually, his voice barely above the hum of the steam. “Even if it was too much. Even if I didn’t know what the fuck was happening half the time.”

He gives a crooked, tired smile. “You make me feel… I don’t know. Seen. Useful. Like a part of me I buried a long time ago is rearing it’s head again. ”

I frown, gently. “Even when I’m brutal?”

He looks down, then back at me. There’s no hesitation in his reply.

“Especially then. Because you weren’t pretending. And neither was I.”

I let that settle. Let it find a place to land in the raw space between us.

“If there’s ever a next time,” I murmur, “I want to touch you like you’re made of something sacred. Not something to punish.”

His eyes flutter closed at that. His chest rises, then sinks, slow and measured.

“I think I’d like that,” he says.

I pull him closer again.

Let the silence hold. Let it wrap around us like the thinning steam – less oppressive now, more like breath on skin.

We don’t speak for a while. The heat no longer blistering, just soft and steady. Bryn shifts against me, slower this time, as if he’s just become aware of how sore his body really is.

“We should…” he murmurs, the rest of the sentence trailing off into the fog between us.

I nod anyway.

We should.

We peel ourselves off each other slowly, limbs reluctant to part. I help him stand – his legs unsteady – and he winces as my cum slips further down his thigh, stark against his flushed skin.

I grab one of the towels and kneel, wiping him gently. He doesn’t flinch. Just looks down at me, breath shallow, lips parted. There’s something about this part – this quiet act of care – that feels more intimate than anything we did against the wall.

Once he’s clean, we exit the steam room and head for the lockers. I reach for a fresh towel. He lets me dry him, arms slightly lifted like he’s offering himself – still trusting, still open.

I don’t rush. I towel his back, his arms, the curve of his chest, down his legs. I skip his cock – on purpose – and catch the flicker of a smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth.

He does the same for me. His hands are light, deliberate, his movements slower than mine, lingering just a little too long over my shoulders, my hips.

And he, unlike me, also dries my soft cock.

We dress in silence. I pull on my shorts, then a hoodie, the towel still looped around my neck. Bryn slides back into his compression gear with a muted wince as he pulls the fabric over his sore thighs. The green tank top is damp from sweat and steam and clings tighter than before.

He runs his fingers through his curls, taming them into something half-presentable. I tie my hair back.

There’s something strange and familiar about getting dressed next to him – like we’ve done it a dozen times, even though we haven’t.

At the front of the gym, we pause at the glass doors. The night outside is cool and soft, the parking lot mostly empty now, quiet in that way only late hours can be.

Bryn turns to me. “Will you meet me tomorrow? Just for coffee. Like… how this all started.”

I hesitate. The weight of everything between us presses in again – his marriage, his daughter, the mess that’s sure to follow if we keep going down this path.

He sees the conflict on my face and steps in a little closer. “It’s just coffee,” he says gently. “Same time. Same place.”

I nod. Slowly. “Okay.”

His smile is small, but it reaches his eyes. He leans in, presses a kiss to the side of my mouth – not quite on my lips, not quite off them. A promise, maybe. Or a question.

We part without another word.

He gets in his car first. I watch the taillights glow red as he pulls out and disappears into the dark.

Only then do I breathe again.

And even then, it’s shallow. Because I already know I’ll show up. I just don’t know if I should.

My apartment is dark when I get home, save for the city’s ambient glow leaking through the windows. I don’t bother turning on the lights. Just drop my keys on the counter and stand there for a moment, breathing like I’ve run a marathon.

My body aches. Not from the workout. Not even from the sex.

From the weight of what I did.

The steam, the slick skin, Bryn trembling under me – it all replays behind my eyes like it’s still happening. The guttural sounds he made. The slap of our bodies colliding. The raw way he opened for me. God. It was incredible.

Devastating.

Too much.

I scrub a hand over my face and walk to the kitchen, pour a glass of water I don’t drink. My reflection in the window startles me. I look wrecked. Not in a good way. In a real way. Like someone who finally saw himself clearly after years of squinting through denial.

That wasn’t just sex.

That was rage. Grief. Loneliness. Years of being someone’s secret. Of being wanted, but never claimed. Used, then discarded. And tonight, I turned it all inside out. Forced it into Bryn’s body like it would purge something from me. Like he could carry it instead.

He didn’t deserve that.

Yeah, he begged. Yeah, he moaned like it was everything he wanted – said so afterward, even. But that doesn’t make it okay. That’s not the kind of man I want to be.

Not again. Not ever.

I turn from the window, grab the glass, and take a long sip. The cold hits the back of my throat, grounding me. A small mercy.

No one has ever made me feel this out of control before.

I walk to the bedroom, peel off my hoodie, then my shorts, dropping them into the hamper with a careless thud. The bed’s still unmade from last night. I don’t bother fixing it. Just slide under the covers, naked, and stare at the ceiling. The scent of Bryn clings to my skin, intimate and earthy. Evidence.

“I won’t do that again,” I whisper – to the room, to myself. “I’ll never treat someone like that again.”

Especially not to Bryn. He’s too… open. Too raw. Too brave, even if he doesn’t know it yet.

The guilt still hums through me, quiet but persistent. But beneath it, something else begins to stir. Not peace. Relief maybe. Like a knot I didn’t know I’d tied has finally begun to loosen. Like I’ve stopped holding my breath.

Something cracked loose in me tonight. Bled out beneath the weight of that final thrust. That final moan. That final surrender.

I close my eyes.

And for the first time in years, I feel a little less haunted by the ghost of Marcus.

I get to the coffee shop earlier than usual the next morning.

Not on purpose, I tell myself – but maybe it is. Maybe I need the buffer. The calm before whatever storm Bryn might bring with him today.

The coffee shop is already humming with its usual rhythm: steam hissing from the espresso machine, plates clinking behind the counter, the low murmur of regulars pretending their lives aren’t quietly on fire. I recognize most of the faces. The woman with the tight bun and pearls who always orders green tea and sips it like it’s a vintage red. The older man by the window who writes obsessively on napkins and never looks up. The gym bro with his backwards baseball cap, hunched over a battered HP laptop – always out of place amongst the MacBook crowd, but a fixture all the same.

I wonder, briefly, what secrets these customers carry. What wreckage they’ve hidden well enough to pass for functional. What parts of themselves they’ve let someone else fuck – figuratively or literally – and then packed away behind polite smiles and too-hot coffee.

I slide into Bryn’s usual seat.

It still smells faintly like him. Pine. Salt. Skin. Something darker I can’t name. My fingers trace the grain of the table, slow, uncertain. I don’t know what he’ll say. What we’ll be today. Strangers again? Illicit lovers? Something in between?

I breathe in. Try to find stillness.

Then the bell over the door chimes.

And there he is.

Backlit by sunlight, he steps inside like a wet dream in human form – smirking, slow, unapologetically obscene.

His drawstring pants are pale, nearly white, and gauzy enough that they might as well be transparent in this kind of light. The morning sun pours through the coffee shop’s windows and hits him just right, casting his body in gold and shadows. The fabric clings to him – thin, soft, revealing everything. His cock sways with every step, heavy and unbound, a thick outline pressing against the cotton. Not swinging. Bouncing. Confident. Languid. Proud.

Jesus. I feel my mouth going dry.

He’s not just sexy. He knows he is. And today? He’s basking in it.

His tank top is cropped and loose, cut just short enough to leave the waistband of his pants – and the deep V of his hips – exposed. It rides high when he moves, flashing his stomach, the hard line of his abs, that fucking treasure trail that disappears beneath those pants like a whispered promise. His nipples are hard, blatant through the fabric, begging for attention. His curls are a little messy, like he barely bothered to tame them, and his skin glows – warm, flushed, alive.

He walks like a man who got absolutely railed last night and enjoyed every second of it. Like he’s still riding the high, still dripping with it. Which, knowing him, he probably is. The cocky glint in his eyes dares anyone to look. Dares them not to.

And when he sees me?

That smile curves slow and sharp across his face. Familiar. Dangerous.

His eyes flick down to where I’m sitting – his usual spot – and he doesn’t even pause. Just keeps walking, loose-hipped and graceful, straight toward the booths in the back.

Then he lifts a hand in greeting, fingers loose, casual, almost lazy.

Like he owns the whole room.

And right now, he does.

He owns the space – the light, the floorboards, the air between every set of eyes that trail after him like they can feel it too – the hum, the buzz, the “someone got ruined last night” swagger that rolls off him like heat.

He doesn’t stop at his usual seat. Doesn’t even glance at it.

Instead, he gestures to one of the booths lining the back wall, the one with the padded benches. “Can we… maybe not do the wooden chairs this morning?” he says, flashing a crooked grin and wincing as he shifts his weight from one hip to the other.

I blink. Then laugh – low, involuntary. “Ass still tender?”

His expression morphs into something halfway between murder and delight. “Let’s just say compression shorts and underwear were a hard no today.”

He slides into the booth first – slowly, carefully, like every muscle in his body is singing from overuse. There’s a theatrical little groan as he lowers himself onto the cushion, followed by a dramatic exhale that turns more than a few heads.

Especially hers.

The woman with the tight bun and the green tea – her usual spot three tables over – gives him a long, deliberate once-over over the rim of her teacup. There’s no judgment in her gaze. Just something knowing. Maybe even wistful. Like she remembers exactly what it feels like to walk into a place sore, glowing, and freshly fucked.

And Bryn? He notices.

Of course he does.

He shifts on the seat again, spreading his legs wider like he’s settling in – and his cock flops against the inside of his thigh, obscene under those sheer, sinfully thin pants. The fabric drapes over him like it’s trying, but failing, to be polite. It’s not subtle. It’s practically art. Every bounce, every twitch, is a goddamn exhibit.

My eyes dart to the older woman.

She’s still watching.

Bryn follows my gaze, clocking her, and then turns back to me – leaning in conspiratorially, eyes sparkling, lips quirking into that smirk I’ve already started to dread and crave in equal measure.

“I swear I thought these pants were thicker,” he whispers. “Guess I should’ve checked the mirror.”

I choke on a laugh. “You sure this wasn’t planned?”

His grin is wicked. “Let’s call it… a subconscious exhibitionist lapse.”

We fall into a quiet for a moment. Not awkward – just full.

Like neither of us is quite sure how to balance what happened last night with the brightness of morning.

Outside, a dog barks. A courier glides past on a bicycle. The world continues its indifferent spin.

But here, in this booth, with Bryn’s bare thighs pressing against the vinyl seat and my heart doing odd things in my chest, time feels slower. More deliberate. As if we’ve stepped out of it for now.

He stretches slightly, careful but cocky, like he knows he’s being watched – and doesn’t mind one bit. His fingers toy with the hem of his tank top, lifting it just enough to tease another flash of skin. A smirk curls at the corner of his mouth like he’s still riding the high of last night’s ruin.

I glance at him again. The way his eyes flicker over the menu without really reading it. The way he presses one hand into the bench to shift his weight like he’s trying not to groan again. He winces – then grins at me like it’s a joke you have to be naked to get.

“You okay?” I ask, softer this time.

His eyes meet mine. Something shifts there. Still warm. Still amused. But underneath it – something quieter. Something a little exposed.

“Yeah,” he says. “Just… didn’t expect to still be feeling it this much. But also? I’m kind of glad I am.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Glad?”

He leans back, cocky again. “It’s proof it wasn’t a dream.” My heart skips a beat. “Also, a weirdly satisfying reminder that your dick is an actual weapon.”

I snort, shaking my head. “That’s one way to put it.”

He gives me a wink, then softens. “It was real,” he says, more quietly this time.

I look down at my hands, suddenly aware of the way his words land in my chest.

This isn’t just about sex. Or just about soreness.

It’s about being wanted. About being seen.

We order without needing to glance at the menu – Bryn with his Americano, no sugar, and me with a cappuccino, two sugars, full cream milk. The barista gives me a familiar nod and disappears to make them, while we settle back into the booth. The energy between us is still humming – still charged – but lighter now, like the tension has shifted into something more curious than combustible.

“You work from home, right?” Bryn asks, settling into the cushion like he owns it, like he’s never sat stiffly on a hard chair in his life.

“Yeah,” I say, stirring the foam on my cappuccino. “I split my time between painting and writing. Mostly painting these days. The writing’s more of a… catharsis thing. Journals. Essays no one reads.”

“Painting,” he says, narrowing his eyes a little, as if turning something over in his head. “Wait a second. Bruno Mitchell?”

I snort into my cup. “Guilty as charged.”

“Holy shit,” he says, laughing and shaking his head. “That’s why your name rang a bell. I have one of your paintings.”

“You do??” I raise an eyebrow, amused but also genuinely surprised.

“Yeah. In my apartment nearby. I’m an architect – I mostly work from there. Marianne hates it.” He pauses, catches my wince at the mention of his wife, and adds quickly, “The painting. Not just the apartment. She says it can’t be healthy to look at naked men all day.”

“Which painting is it?” I ask, pushing past the flicker of discomfort to follow the thread.

“The Adam and Steve one,” he says, grinning. “Your reimagining of Tamara de Lempicka’s Adam and Eve – except yours has two naked men – as you know… One with his back to the viewer – shielding Steve, like he’s trying to protect him.”

“And the other fully exposed – genitals and all – vulnerable, but also reaching out. Grateful for Adam’s presence,” I finish for him.

“Yes! That one.” He laughs again, shaking his head. “I spent more on that painting than I did on anything else in that apartment. Had to outbid some collector from Paris who kept driving the price up.”

My eyebrows lift. “That was you?”

He smirks, full of smug pride. “Yeah. I wanted it bad. It hit something in me the second I saw it.”

The coffee arrives, but neither of us reaches for our cups right away.

“Marianne says it’s too… blatant,” he adds, shrugging one shoulder. “But that’s what I like about it. It doesn’t hide.”

“Neither do you,” I say, without thinking.

Still, the mention of his wife for a second time in a few minutes is a jab I wasn’t expecting. I try not to flinch, but it hits me anyway. Sharp. Subtle. Like a crack forming in glass.

“Sorry,” he adds quickly. “Habit. Anyway, she thinks it’s too… suggestive.”

He looks at me for a moment, a flicker of something crossing his face. Then he leans back again, loose and golden and proud – and explains more about his decision to purchase the painting. “ I figured if I’m going to be working all day surrounded by books and blueprints, I might as well stare at something that reminds me of what I’m actually craving. Even if I didn’t really know it at the time.”

He takes a sip of his Americano. “And Marianne thinks it’s just about the naked men.”

“Yeah,” I say softly. “People tend to stop looking after they see cock.”

“Her loss,” he says, grinning. “There’s a lot more going on in that piece than just a dick. Though it is a good one.”

I nearly choke on my cappuccino.

I hesitate. Then answer honestly. “It was the hardest piece I’ve ever had to let go of.”

“My agent convinced me it would fetch a high price – and I needed the money, after what happened to me just before painting it. She said it would get people talking, influence the rest of my work in all the right ways. Maybe she was right. On both counts. But that didn’t make it any easier.”

That quiets him. His fingers still on the rim of his almost empty cup. He watches me closely now, like I’ve become something else in the morning light – less shadowed, more real.

“Why?”

“Because it wasn’t about the subject matter,” I say slowly. “It was about the vulnerability. The loneliness. The longing. That piece… it was the first time I admitted to myself that I wasn’t just angry. I was heartbroken. I painted it after Marcus – the guy I spoke about last night – left. Or rather, after he stayed. With her. His wife.” I exhale slowly. “I wanted to believe there was still beauty in longing. That even if someone doesn’t choose you, the ache they leave behind can still become something honest. Something valuable. I was looking for my Adam.”

He goes quiet. Then softer, almost reverently, he says, “You painted that man like you were mourning him. Or waiting for him.”

I meet his eyes. “Maybe both.”

He takes a slow sip of his coffee, then adds, “And now that I’ve met the painter, I feel like I finally understand the painting. Why everything makes sense now. That man… the one with his back to the viewer… He looks a lot like me.”

I nod. “He does.”

He smiles. “I always thought the guy with his genitals exposed might be looking for someone. That the painter might be the one looking for him. For Adam.”

“He was.”

A flicker of hope rises in my face, quickly guarded again.

Then Bryn chuckles. “Well, considering then that I am your type, as confirmed by yourself, you’ll be happy to know your babies are still swimming inside me, trying to find an egg that isn’t there.”

I bury my face in my hands, laughing. “God, you’re disgusting.”

“Compliment accepted. Also – the dick in the picture does look a lot like yours..”

“Jesus, Bryn. Is the vulgarity necessary?” I laugh.

“What?” He grins wickedly. “You painted Adam and Steve. You can handle a little reproductive banter.”

I cover my face with one hand. “I’m never going to drink milk again.”

He laughs. It’s a full, open sound. Something bright flares in my chest. Something warm.

Then, quieter, I ask: “Can I see it again?”

He tilts his head. “The painting?”

“Yes,” I say. “Knowing it ended up with you – it… it changes what it means. I think I need to see it with new eyes. Yours.”

“I never track who buys my paintings,” I continue. “I don’t like the idea of needing to know where they end up. But that one… I hoped it would find its way to a gay man. Someone who might understand it. Not just the technique or the colour theory or the brushwork. But the ache behind it.” I hesitate, then add, almost shyly, “A gay man who’d been left, but still hoped.”

His expression softens. His voice, when it comes, is quiet and steady. “Maybe it did.”

Something loosens in my chest.

“Then yeah,” I say. “I’d like to see it again. See what it became, now that it’s found its place.”

And just like that, the heaviness lifts again.

When I finally look up, he’s already reaching for his phone.

“Let’s go,” he says, sliding out of the booth with a careful wince. “Before I change my mind.”

I follow him out into the morning light.

And oh, the light. It hits him from the front like it’s parting the clouds just for him, setting his hair aglow, kissing the sheen of sweat on his collarbone. But it’s his pants that do the most damage – thin cotton clinging transparently to every inch of his heavy cock, which bounces with each step, unbothered by modesty or underwear. It’s like he forgot – or maybe deliberately remembered – just how sheer they are in daylight.

A passing man does a double take. The woman from the tea table nearly drops her bagel.

Bryn notices. He smirks.

He walks like he knows he’s carrying a promise of hope between his legs and has decided today isn’t the day to hide it. There’s no shame in it. No apology. Just that unshakable, morning-after confidence of someone who’s been thoroughly fucked and liked it. Someone who, for once, knows that he’s wanted.

He glances back over his shoulder and catches me staring.

“Eyes up, Mitchell,” he says, grinning. “There’s art to see.”

I snort. “There’s art in front of me already.”

He winks. “Wait till you see my walls.”

And just like that, we keep walking.

Whatever line we’re crossing – again – we don’t speak it.

We just move toward his apartment and the painting, toward the moment.

Toward whatever comes next.

I follow him up the stairs, one floor, two, catching glimpses of his ass shifting beneath those maddeningly sheer pants. Even after everything – after last night, after this morning – it still does something to me. Still makes me want to reach forward, grip his hips, drag him back against me. But I don’t. I let the moment pass, let my gaze trail upward to the tangle of his curls and the confident lift of his shoulders.

He unlocks the door with a key that jingles in a way that shouldn’t be endearing, but it is.

“Sorry about the mess,” he says automatically as he pushes the door open.

But there is no mess. The apartment swallows me.

Plush. Expensive. Everything soft and curated, every piece of furniture tailored to whisper money. Not new money. Not flashy. Old. Considered. Tasteful. The leather on the couch is the kind that grows richer with age. The rug beneath my feet is handwoven, likely older than the both of us. The books on the shelf aren’t for show – dog-eared, underlined, loved.

And there, on the far wall, lit with intention – just above the low walnut console and framed with brutal elegance – is Adam & Steve.

The painting breathes.

It lives here.

The tones of the room echo its palette: the deep blues of Adam’s shadows, the soft cream of Steve’s skin, the flecks of rust-orange pulled into the pillows, the throws, even the flowers on the side table. Nothing matches, and yet everything belongs to it.

I don’t move.

Bryn steps inside, turning slightly to look back at me. “You okay?”

But I can’t answer.

My throat tightens.

The painting was always mine. My heartbreak. My wound dressed in brushstrokes. But here, in this space, it’s no longer about loss. It’s about devotion. About someone seeing it – really seeing it – and saying: I want this to be the heart of my world.

I take a few steps forward. My knees almost buckle.

The sob slips out before I can stop it. Small. Involuntary.

Then another.

And another.

My hand covers my mouth, but the tears keep coming – hot, silent, steady. I turn away, ashamed.

“Bruno?” Bryn’s voice is tentative. I hear him move toward me, but I lift a hand without looking. Not yet.

It’s not just the painting. Not just the room.

It’s what’s opposite the painting.

A sleek wooden desk sits there, perfectly aligned – like it was positioned to always face Adam & Steve. On its edge, a baby monitor rests, still lit. Just beyond it, a play mat in soft muted tones is laid out, toys neatly arranged. It’s clear: when Bryn works, he looks at two things – his child. And my painting.

That undoes me completely.

The tears come hard now – guttural, raw, like something is being wrenched out of me. I drop to the edge of the couch, hands shaking.

He crouches in front of me, startled. “Hey, hey – what is it?” His hands hover over my knees, not touching yet. “Is it the painting? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” I croak. “No, it’s beautiful. It’s… God, it’s too much.”

He hesitates. Then sits beside me, cautiously, his thigh pressing against mine. “Talk to me.”

I shake my head. Then, when the sobs slow just enough – “I never thought I’d see it like this. Alive. Like it matters to someone. I poured so much into that piece – into him. And then I had to let it go.”

Bryn doesn’t interrupt.

“I never let myself imagine where it might go. I thought – best-case scenario – it ends up in some collector’s archive. Forgotten. But you – ”

My breath catches. “You built your home around it. You built your life around it.”

He goes quiet.

Then he says, softly: “It makes me feel less alone. Every day. Even before I knew you painted it.”

I wipe my face. “Do you see now why I’m scared?”

He nods. “Yeah. I think I’m starting to.”

“I wasn’t just a secret with Marcus. I was his mirror. His release. His risk. And in the end, when the real world called, he chose safety. He chose her.”

“And you’re scared I’ll do the same.”

I meet his eyes. “Wouldn’t you be?”

He doesn’t answer right away. But his hand finds mine.

Laces his fingers through.

“I’m not Marcus,” he says.

I don’t say not yet.

Because right now, his hand is warm in mine. And Adam & Steve watches over us. And maybe – for this moment – that’s enough.

The silence stretches between us – soft, not awkward. Like the aftermath of a good cry, when you’ve said what needed saying and there’s nothing left but breath.

Bryn still holds my hand.

Then he shifts.

Not away from me – toward me. His thigh presses more firmly against mine. His other hand lifts, fingers brushing damp curls off my forehead. His touch is gentle. Purposeful. He doesn’t lean in to kiss me, not yet. He just studies my face, like he’s recalibrating something he thought he understood.

“I want to touch you,” he says softly.

I blink. “Now?”

He nods. “But not like last night. Not like that.”

I hold his gaze. “Then how?”

“Like you matter,” he says. “Like I see you.”

My throat tightens all over again, but I nod.

He rises first, leading me wordlessly to the bedroom with his hand in mine. It’s as beautiful as the rest of the apartment – sunlight filtering in through gauzy curtains, sheets like cloud-stuff, everything in soft tones that echo the palette of the painting in the next room.

When he turns to face me, something’s changed.

The cockiness is still there, but it’s gentler now. Steady. Intent.

He tugs the drawstring of his pants loose and lets them fall. His cock – half-hard already – swells as he steps out of the fabric, then reaches for the hem of my shirt and lifts it slowly. I let him. His eyes trail over my chest, not hungrily this time, but with reverence. Like he’s memorizing it.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he murmurs. “Let me.”

I nod again. Barely.

He kisses me. Slow. Mouth soft, lips parting only when mine do. There’s no rush. No desperation. Just warmth. The kind of kiss that tastes like forgiveness. Like beginnings.

His hands glide over my back, then down to my waistband. I let him undress me piece by piece, until I’m standing naked in the soft light and he’s kneeling to press his mouth to the curve of my hip.

When he stands back to look at me again, I lie back on the bed.

He follows, straddling my hips, his knees pressing into the mattress on either side of me. His cock grazes my stomach as he leans in to kiss me again – this time deeper, more insistent.

“I want to fuck you,” he whispers.

I exhale slowly, already dizzy with him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want to take you slow. I want to feel all of you.”

He reaches for the lube in the drawer beside the bed – familiar movements, no awkwardness. Just heat. Anticipation.

He slicks me first, then strokes me until I’m hard again. My breath stutters in my chest when his fingers find my entrance, his hand firm around me, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Let me,” he says again.

And I do.

I shift, spreading my legs a little wider, letting him settle between them. My head rests back against the pillow, chest rising and falling as I watch him line himself up, steady and reverent.

His eyes drift downward – just for a second – and something flickers in them. Not hesitation. Something else. A flash of memory, maybe. Of recognition.

He exhales, voice low, almost to himself. “Not the first time I’ve seen a man open up like this for me.” He catches himself, shakes the thought away, and adds, softer still, “But it’s different this time.”

I catch the shift. The implication. But he’s already focusing again – on me, on this moment – as the head of his cock presses against my entrance.

I nod – barely – never breaking eye contact.

And then he enters me.

Slow. Measured. Inch by inch.

He sinks into me with aching care, his brow furrowed not from strain, but from awe. His mouth parts, a quiet gasp escaping as he bottoms out, flush against my thighs.

“Jesus,” I whisper. “You feel – ”

“I know,” he breathes. “Just… stay with me.”

He moves slow. Undulating. His hands resting on either side of my chest for balance, his body working me with aching grace. Every roll of his hips is controlled, deliberate – like he’s trying to learn every shape he makes inside me.

And me? I can’t believe I’m letting myself be penetrated. But I also know that this, right here, right now, is what my body needs. What I need.

The way his mouth falls open. The way sweat beads at his temple. The way he bites his lip when the angle hits just right and I moan – louder than I mean to.

He leans forward, bracing himself with one hand beside my head. The shift brings his chest down against mine. Skin to skin. Heartbeat to heartbeat.

“I needed this,” he murmurs, lips brushing my ear. “But not just the sex.”

“What then?” I whisper.

He pulls back just enough to look me in the eye.

“This,” he says, fucking slower now. “You looking at me like that. Like I’m something worth staying for.”

My hands slide up his back, cup his ass, guiding him as I kiss him again. Long. Open. Like I believe it, too.

The rhythm builds – not rough, not frantic. Just deep. Sure. Every movement soaked in feeling. Bryn is everywhere – above me, around me, inside me – and this time, it doesn’t feel like he’s taking. It feels like he’s giving.

When we cum, it’s quiet. Shaking. His forehead pressed to mine, my arms wrapped tight around him. I feel him spurt inside me, hot and thick, and I cry out softly as the pulse of him triggers my own release. It hits like a tide – inevitable, rising in the dark, steady and overwhelming.

He collapses onto my chest, breathing hard. Our sweat mingles. Our hearts pound.

Neither of us speaks.

There’s nothing left to say right now.

Just this.

His weight on me. My hands on his back. The painting watching from the next room. And somewhere beyond that, the first fragile threads of something new beginning to stitch itself into place.

Something careful.

Something real.

The kitchen’s stark fluorescent lighting pierced through the early morning haze as Blake stumbled in, his eyes glazed over and his breathing ragged. The scent of sex still lingered on him, a heady cocktail of musk and sweat that seemed to cling to his skin like a second layer. His body still recovering from the gang-bang yesterday in front of his dad. Blake couldn’t believe it was all out there now and his dad had seen this side of him. He didn’t know what he was going to say or do.

His dad, David, was standing by the sink, his back to Blake, his posture rigid as he scrubbed a frying pan with a brush. The tension in the air was palpable, thick and heavy like a fog that neither of them could navigate through.

Blake’s legs felt like gelatin, his knees threatening to buckle under the weight of his father’s judgmental silence. His skin was sticky with the remnants of last night’s escapades, a constant reminder of the carnality that had unfolded before his father’s eyes.

“Dad?” he ventured, his voice a mere whisper. The bristles of the brush stopped their dance against the metal, and the kitchen grew even quieter. David’s reflection in the kitchen window offered no clue to the storm of emotions he must be feeling.

Slowly, David turned around, his eyes searching Blake’s, a tapestry of pain and confusion weaving through his gaze. He took a step closer, the silence stretching taut between them. “How are you?” he finally asked, his voice hoarse, as if it had been scraped over gravel.

Blake took a tentative sip of his coffee, the scalding liquid searing a path down his throat, a stark contrast to the coldness that had settled in his chest. He swallowed hard before responding, “I’m…okay, I guess.” His voice was small, barely a murmur, as he avoided his father’s eyes. The weight of David’s gaze was like a physical touch, probing and searching for answers that Blake didn’t have.

Then, as if summoned by the very awkwardness of the moment, Larry, David’s brother-in-law, barged into the kitchen, his laughter echoing off the tiles. “Well, well, well,” he guffawed, slapping a hand against his thigh, “So David, did you enjoy the show Blake put on for everyone yesterday. It sure seemed like you couldn’t take your eyes off of it!” His eyes danced with amusement, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked between the two men. The silence that had been so heavy just moments before was now shattered by his crude jest.

Blake’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the heat from his face radiating down his neck and into his chest. His hand tightened around the coffee mug, the porcelain groaning under his grip. He couldn’t believe Larry would bring this up right now, or that he would be so callous about it. David’s posture stiffened even further.

“Larry,” David began, his voice a warning growl, “That’s not something to joke about.” But Larry’s laughter didn’t abate. He sauntered over to the counter, leaning against it with a cocky smirk.

“Come on, David,” Larry said, his eyes glinting, “You’ve got to admit, it was pretty hot. Your boy here really knows how to handle himself.” The leer in his voice made Blake’s skin crawl, and the way he licked his lips was a blatant invitation for more.

Larry’s smirk grew wider, looking at Blake he asked. “How does it feel to know that your daddy now knows what a big, eager cock slut you are?” He emphasized the last words, drawing them out like a cat playing with a mouse, enjoying the distress he could see flitting across Blake’s features.

The room went silent, the only sound the steady drip of the faucet, a metronome counting the seconds of Larry’s audacity. The air grew colder, and it felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out, leaving only a vacuum of tension in its wake. Blake’s eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

“Larry,” Blake’s voice was a low growl, “Keep your fat, ugly, old mouth shut.” The words were a knife, slicing through the room’s thick tension. Larry’s laughter choked off abruptly, his smug expression frozen on his face like a statue caught mid-guffaw. The words hung in the air, sharp and jagged, a challenge that neither of them had anticipated.

Larry’s eyes narrowed, the humor draining from them like the last drops of a dirty joke. He took a step forward, his bulk seeming to expand with the sudden shift in power dynamics. “What did you just say to me, boy?” His voice was a rumble, deep and threatening.

Blake felt the sting before he saw it coming, Larry’s hand flashing through the air like a snake striking its prey. The impact sent him reeling, coffee spilling from his mug and scalding his hand as it shattered on the floor. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, his cheek burning with the imprint of Larry’s hand. The pain was a sudden, sharp slap that brought the reality of the situation into stark focus.

David’s eyes went wide with shock, the frying pan clattering to the floor as he took a step towards them. “What the hell, Larry?” His voice was a roar, a furious blend of anger and disbelief. But Larry wasn’t done. He took another step closer to Blake, his hand curling into a fist once more.

“You see this?” Larry said, gesturing to Blake, who was now cowering slightly, his hand cupped over his bruised cheek. “This is what happens when you don’t keep your mouth shut, boy. Now, get down on your knees and apologize to me for being such a disobedient little whore.”

The words hit Blake like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind out of him. His eyes watered, but not from the pain. It was the humiliation that stung the most, the feeling of being reduced to nothing but a toy for others’ amusement. He looked up at his father, searching for any sign of support or understanding, but all he found was a furrowed brow and a tightly clenched jaw.

With trembling legs, Blake sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving Larry’s, a silent rebellion against the order given. His hand fumbled with the button of Larry’s pants, his fingers slipping and clumsy with fear. He could feel Larry’s eyes on him, watching with a sadistic glee as he struggled to free his cock.

The fabric of Larry’s pants was rough against his skin, the denim scraping against his cheek as he finally managed to pull them down, revealing Larry’s thick, erect member. The head was already glistening with pre-cum, a bead of it forming at the tip and then sliding down the shaft like a tiny, viscous waterfall. The heat of it was almost overwhelming, the stark contrast to the cold kitchen floor beneath his knees making him shiver.

As Blake tentatively took Larry into his mouth, the taste of him was familiar, yet alien, a flavor that haunted his dreams and filled his mind with images of submission and degradation. Each bob of his head sent a thrill through his body, a heady mix of power and powerlessness that made his own cock stir to life despite his better judgment.

Larry’s girth stretched his lips, the salty tang of his arousal coating Blake’s tongue. He could feel Larry’s hand on the back of his head, guiding him, controlling him, the grip tightening and loosening in a silent rhythm that matched the pulse of his own racing heart. The sounds of Larry’s pleasure filled the kitchen, his grunts and groans a symphony of satisfaction that Blake found both repulsive and oddly gratifying.

But it was David’s reaction that Blake was most acutely aware of. His father’s eyes were a maelstrom of emotions, the lines on his face deepening with each gasp that Larry emitted. Larry, the obnoxious spectator, chuckled and said, “Look at him, David, your boy just can’t get enough cock, can he?” The words were a dagger twisted in the wound of Blake’s pride, a declaration that he was nothing but a whore, craving the touch of any man who deigned to give it to him.

Larry’s hand on the back of his head grew more forceful, pushing him deeper, making him gag. The smell of sex from the night before mingled with the scent of Larry’s crotch, a heady aroma that seemed to fill Blake’s nostrils and cloud his mind. His eyes watered, not just from the pain, but from the sheer intensity of the situation. He could feel Larry’s thigh muscles tightening, his balls drawing up, a sign that he was close.

And then, just as suddenly as it had all begun, Larry pulled out, his cock slipping from Blake’s mouth with a wet pop. “On your feet,” Larry barked, his voice thick with lust, “I want to see what else you’ve got to offer.” The command was like a slap, jolting Blake out of his haze. He staggered to his feet, his knees still trembling from the effort of staying upright.

The kitchen was a blur of cold white and steel, the light glinting off the countertops and appliances as he stood there, unsure of what to do next. His heart was racing, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The scent of coffee and shattered porcelain mingled with the musky aroma of Larry’s desire, creating a cacophony of sensations that was both terrifying and arousing.

Larry’s eyes never left him, his gaze a laser beam that burned into Blake’s soul, demanding obedience. “Well go on, show me what else you have to offer for your disobedience, whore” Larry yelled. With trembling fingers, Blake began to strip, peeling off the layers of his clothes, each piece revealing more of his vulnerable flesh. His shirt was the first to go, the fabric sticking to his sweaty skin, making it difficult to remove. The fabric whispered against his nipples, hardened into tight peaks from the cold and the anticipation.

Next, Blake’s pants hit the floor, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. His cock strained against the fabric, begging for release, a traitor to his own sense of dignity. The elastic band of his briefs dug into his hips, a silent protest to what was about to happen next. He stepped out of his pants, standing there in nothing but his underwear, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

David’s gaze was a mix of horror and fascination, his eyes flickering from his son’s naked form to Larry’s smug face. It was as if he couldn’t decide whether to look away or to watch, transfixed by the scene unfolding before him. Larry’s eyes raked over Blake’s body, a sneer curling his lip as he took in every inch of Blake’s exposed flesh. The air in the room was charged with a mix of arousal and animosity, a dangerous cocktail that had the potential to explode at any moment.

“Face away from us, slut,” Larry said, his voice a gruff command. Blake’s cheeks burned with humiliation as he slowly turned, his eyes filling with tears. He could feel his father’s gaze on his back, the weight of his stare like a physical force pressing down on his shoulders. Larry stepped closer, his meaty hand reaching out to cup Blake’s ass, his fingers digging in like claws. The fabric of Blake’s underwear was rough against his skin, a constant reminder of his vulnerability.

With a vicious tug, Larry yanked the underwear down, the elastic snapping against Blake’s skin like a whip. The cold air kissed his bare ass cheeks, sending goosebumps rippling across his skin. The cotton pooled around his ankles, leaving him exposed and open, his legs shaking as he tried to maintain his balance. He could feel Larry’s breath on his back, hot and ragged, as the man took in the sight of Blake’s most intimate area. The anticipation was a living thing, coiling in his stomach like a serpent waiting to strike.

“Spread ’em,” Larry ordered, his voice thick with lust. Blake’s fingers trembled as he reached behind him, gripping the flesh of his ass and pulling it apart, exposing his pink, puckered hole to the room. The sensation was strange and mortifying, a feeling of complete and utter exposure that made his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He could feel the cool draft of the kitchen breeze against his opening, sending a shiver up his spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.

“Take a look at that sweet hole, David. Trust me, it’s feels fucking amazing sinking into it” Larry said. David’s breath hitched, his eyes wide and horrified as he took in the sight of his son bend over ass spread and his hole winking at both Larry and him. Larry stepped closer, his cock now fully erect, jutting out like an accusatory finger. His hand reached out, the roughness of his calloused fingertips brushing against Blake’s skin as he traced the line of his ass crack.

“Look at this,” Larry said, his voice thick with lust, “Such a pretty little hole you’ve got here, Blake. Your daddy must be so proud.” The words were a sneer, a taunt that sent a bolt of rage through Blake’s body. He clenched his fists at his sides, the muscles in his arms standing out in stark relief as he fought the urge to turn around and punch Larry in the face.

But he didn’t move. He remained frozen, his cheek still stinging from the slap, his ass spread wide open for Larry and his father’s inspection. The coldness of the floor was seeping into his bones, making him feel like a statue on display for the amusement of the two men he was supposed to trust. The silence was a living entity, wrapping around him like a second skin, suffocating him with its weight.

Then, without warning, Larry’s hand left his ass. Blake heard the sound of a belt being unbuckled, the harsh metallic clank echoing through the kitchen like a gunshot. His heart raced, each beat echoing in his ears like the tick of a time bomb. He knew what was coming next, had felt it in the way Larry’s gaze had lingered on his exposed hole.

Larry’s gaze turned back to David’s as he spoke, the challenge clear. “Get down here and prep your boy or I’ll just take him raw with no prep.”

David’s eyes grew wide, a mix of shock and horror playing across his face. “I can’t Larry” David replied. Laughing Larry said “You either prep this sweet fucking hole or I’ll take it now and Blake won’t enjoy that”. He looked at Blake’s trembling form, the blush of shame that painted his son’s cheeks, and something inside of him snapped. It was as if the very fabric of his being had been shredded, revealing a side of himself he didn’t know existed.

Blake felt the warmth of his father’s breath on the back of his neck, his heart racing as he waited for the inevitable. “I’m sorry Blake” David said. Then Blake felt David’s hand reach out, tentatively touching the soft, plump flesh of his son’s ass. The touch was feather-light at first, as if he was afraid to break the delicate spell that had been cast over them. But as the seconds ticked by, David’s own desires grew stronger, his fingers digging in, kneading and caressing in a silent declaration of ownership.

The intimate touch was a betrayal of everything Blake had ever known, a line that should have never been crossed. Yet, in the face of Larry’s cruel taunts, there was something almost…comforting about it. It was as if his father’s hands were trying to claim him, to mark him as his own, to protect him from the vile intentions of the man who loomed behind them.

David’s hand grew bolder, his fingers sliding down the cleft of Blake’s ass to circle his tight hole. Blake gasped, his body responding despite the horror of the situation. It was wrong, so very wrong, but the feeling was undeniable, a dark thrill that made his blood race and his cock throb. His father’s touch was gentle at first, exploratory, as if he was trying to remember what it felt like to touch someone he hadn’t seen in years. But as he grew more confident, his fingers grew more insistent, pressing and prodding, coaxing the tight muscles to relax.

And then, without warning, David’s tongue was there, replacing his fingers. The sensation was like a bolt of lightning, a jolt of pure, white-hot pleasure that made Blake’s knees buckle. He had to grip the countertop to stay upright, his breath coming in ragged gasps as David’s tongue slid over his anus, tracing the edge of the hole, teasing and taunting it open. The roughness of the kitchen counter dug into his palms as he held on for dear life, his body a writhing mass of nerves and sensations.

The warm, wet muscle of David’s tongue pushed into him, the sensation so alien yet so utterly consuming that Blake could barely think. The initial shock gave way to something more primal, his body responding to the intrusion with a mix of pain and pleasure that had him biting his lip to stifle his moans. He could feel the tip of his father’s tongue exploring his depths, the wetness spreading him open like a blooming flower. The pressure grew stronger, the probing more insistent, until he was sure he would split in two from the intensity.

And all the while, Larry’s lewd comments continued, his chuckles echoing in the kitchen like the laughter of a sadistic puppet master enjoying his twisted show. “Look at that, David,” Larry sneered, “Your boy’s loving it. He’s always had a taste for the forbidden, hasn’t he?”

The words cut through Blake like a serrated knife, his cheeks flushing with a mix of humiliation and anger. He bit down on his lip so hard he tasted copper, his eyes squeezed shut as he focused on the feel of his father’s tongue instead of the horror of Larry’s voice. The sensation grew more intense as David’s tongue swirled and delved deeper.

“Mmm, David,” Larry taunted, his voice thick with arousal, “How does your boy’s pussy taste? Tell me, does it taste like sweet sin or is it just a dirty little hole?”

The question hung in the air, a blatant challenge that David couldn’t ignore. His face contorted with a mix of revulsion and a strange, twisted curiosity. He knew he should stop, that this was wrong on every conceivable level, but something within him was drawn to the dark allure of the act. The tip of his tongue traced the edge of Blake’s asshole, the salty musk of his son’s body. It was a flavor that was both repulsive and addictive, a taste that spoke of taboos and desires that should never be voiced.

The silence grew heavier, Larry’s question echoing in the kitchen like a bell tolling for their shattered innocence. David took a deep breath, the scent of Larry’s sweat and lust thick in the air, and then plunged his tongue into the tight, clenching ring of muscle. The sensation was like nothing he had ever experienced, a blend of heat and resistance that made his cock throb with a hunger that was almost painful. The walls of Blake’s ass were velvety soft, the slickness of his own saliva making it easy to slide in and out, exploring the uncharted depths of his son’s most intimate space.

Blake’s body reacted against his will, his ass pushing back against David’s invading tongue, his breath coming in sharp gasps. The sensation was wrong, so wrong, yet it sent waves of pleasure through him, a siren’s call that he couldn’t resist. His cock was rock-hard, his balls drawn up tight, begging for release. He could feel Larry’s eyes on him, watching his every move, his every reaction, a silent testament to his newfound role as a sex toy for the man’s twisted amusement.

Then, as if the moment couldn’t get any more surreal, Larry started removing all his clothes. The sound of fabric hitting the floor filled the room. Larry’s clothes fell to the floor in a pile of discarded fabric, revealing his bulging gut and thick, hairy thighs. His cock was fully erect, a monstrous beacon.

Larry yanked David off Blake, David stumbling back with a look of shock and disgust. “Times up,” Larry sneered, “Now it’s mine.” He grabbed Blake by the hips and brought Blake’s right leg up and bent on the table causing Blake’s his ass to be presented to the room.

With a sadistic glint in his eye, Larry lined his cock up to Blake’s stretched hole. The head of his erection, slick with pre-cum, pressed against the tender flesh, making Blake’s eyes water in anticipation of the pain that was to come. Larry’s grin grew wider as he saw the fear and arousal in Blake’s eyes, the power of the situation going to his head like a fine wine. With one swift, brutal thrust, Larry buried himself to the hilt in Blake’s ass, causing the table to shudder and a sharp cry to rip from the young man’s throat.

The pain was unlike anything Blake had ever felt before, a white-hot fire that seemed to consume him from the inside out. His body rebelled, trying to close around the invasive presence, but Larry’s grip on his hips was like a vise, holding him in place as he began to pump in and out with a rhythm that was as punishing as it was relentless. Each thrust sent shockwaves through Blake’s body, the pain giving way to a strange, twisted pleasure that had him biting his lip to keep from screaming out.

The table groaned in protest, the legs scraping against the tile floor with each violent thrust. The screech was a symphony of pain and pleasure, a cacophony that seemed to resonate through the very core of Blake’s being. The coldness of the kitchen was forgotten, replaced by the heat of Larry’s body against his, the stickiness of their combined sweat making their skin stick together.

Larry’s hands were like claws, digging into Blake’s hips as he pounded into him, his breath hot and ragged in his ear. Each stroke was a declaration of victory, a claim of dominance that Blake could feel deep within his soul. His own cock was trapped between his stomach and the unforgiving wood of the table, the friction sending sparks of sensation up his spine. He could feel the muscles in his ass spasming around Larry’s thick cock, trying to expel the intrusion even as his body begged for more.

And then, the sound of footsteps on the stairs, a sudden crescendo that pierced the cocoon of depravity they had wrapped themselves in. The men froze, their eyes locked on the doorway as the figure of Mark, David’s husband and Larry’s brother, appeared, his face a mask of delight and hunger . “What the fuck is going on here?”

Mark’s eyes darted from Larry’s cock, buried deep in Blake’s ass, to David’s horrified expression. His grin grew wider, the gleam in his eyes a mirror to Larry’s own. “Well, well,” he drawled, his voice thick with desire, “Looks like my stepson couldn’t go one day without cock.”

David, Blake’s dad, was rooted to the spot in the corner of the kitchen, his eyes glued to the scene unfolding before him. He should have felt repulsed, but instead, he was captivated, his own arousal growing with every passing second. The sight of his son, usually so reserved and obedient, writhing under Larry’s brutal touch was a perverse thrill that he had never imagined he would witness. The illicit nature of what he was watching only served to fuel his own desires, and he found his hand slowly making its way down to his crotch.

The room was filled with the sound of Larry’s grunts and the slap of skin as he continued to pound into Blake, who was now whimpering and begging for more, lost in a haze of pleasure and pain.

As Larry’s rhythm grew more frenzied, David’s grip on his cock tightened in the corner of the room. The sight of his son being taken so roughly by his husbands  brother was an intoxicating mix of horror and desire that he couldn’t look away from. His own breathing grew ragged as he watched Larry’s muscles tense and release, each thrust a silent declaration of power over the younger man’s body.

Mark, sauntered over to David, whose hand was still wrapped around his own cock. He leaned in, whispering in a loud voice so everyone could hear him, “Isn’t it hot watching Blake take it like that? He’s such a whore for it, have you tried your son’s prime pussy yet?”. His hand ghosted over David’s erection, stroking it gently. David looked at his husband and shook his hand, saying no in a low voice. Larry started laughing, “He wants to though, you should have seen him open Blake’s sweet hole up for me with his tongue, I had to practically yank him off his son”. Mark face went crimson from embarrassment and he couldn’t deny that he loved rimming Blake.

Mark’s touch was electric, sending shivers down David’s spine. He hadn’t anticipated this turn of events, but the forbidden thrill of it all was too much to resist. He looked over at Blake, his eyes glazed with pleasure as Larry claimed him, and felt a strange sense of pride mixed with the guilt. His own desires were laid bare.

Mark’s hand moved in a steady, tantalizing rhythm along David’s shaft, his thumb circling the sensitive head. “Look at him,” Mark whispered, his breath hot against David’s ear, “He’s taking it like a champ. Just like the slut he is.” His voice was filled with a dark excitement that seemed to echo the pulsing beat of David’s heart.

The room was a symphony of pleasure and pain, each gasp and groan from the table a note that resonated through the air. Larry’s hips slammed against Blake’s ass with the force of a piston, the sound of their flesh coming together a crescendo that seemed to build with every stroke. Then, with a final roar, Larry buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he released a torrent of cum deep within Blake. Blake’s body convulsed around him, his orgasm triggered by the intense sensation of Larry’s climax, and he screamed out his release, the sound a raw, primal cry that seemed to shake the very foundation of the house.

The sudden burst of activity seemed to bring David out of his daze, and he realized that Mark’s hand had been guiding his own strokes all along. The weight of the situation crashed down upon him. He couldn’t help but look at the scene before him with a mix of horror and arousal. The sight of Larry’s cock, still hard and slick with his cum, as it slid out of his son’s stretched hole was almost too much to bear.

Mark, seemingly unfazed by the taboo nature of the scene, gave David’s cock a final stroke before releasing it. He stepped back, his eyes never leaving his husbands face. “Watch this,” he murmured, a hint of challenge in his voice.

With a predatory grace, Mark walked over to Blake, who was still lying draped over the table, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He yanked Blake’s head up by the hair, causing his muscled ass to jiggle invitingly. The boy’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes glazed with lust and pleasure. “Look what we have here,” Mark purred, his hand coming down in a sharp smack on one firm cheek. The sound echoed in the room, and Blake gasped, his body jolting in response.

“You’re such a slut, aren’t you?” Mark said, spanking him again, watching as the red handprint bloomed on Blake’s pale skin. “You just can’t get enough, can you?” Each smack was accompanied by a twisted smile, as if he were praising a pet for a trick well done. Blake’s breath hitched, his eyes flying open in surprise at the sudden pain, but the sting only served to heighten his arousal.

Blake’s cheeks burned, not just from the sting of Mark’s hand, but also from the embarrassment of being used like this and loving it in front of his dad. Yet, he found himself unable to protest, the words lodged in his throat like a knot of desire. His body responded to the humiliation with a fresh wave of need, his cock growing even harder against the rough wood of the table.

Mark stepped back and admired his handiwork, his eyes raking over Blake’s exposed and vulnerable form. “Daddy’s little slut,” he murmured, before giving Blake’s ass one last hard smack. Then, with a wicked smile, he yanked Blake off the table, his body a ragdoll in Mark’s powerful grip. He tossed Blake to the floor in front of David, the impact jarring, but the pain only served to heighten Blake’s arousal.

As Blake lay there, panting and trembling, Mark began to step out of his clothes. “You’re going to show your daddy all the talents I taught you,” Mark said, his voice a dark promise.

David’s eyes were glued to the scene before him, his hand still hovering over his cock, unsure of what to do next. He watched as Mark grabbed Blake’s chin, forcing the boy to look up at him. “You’re going to suck your daddy’s cock like the good little whore you are,” Mark instructed, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

David’s mind was racing, trying to reconcile the reality of what he was seeing with the fatherly love he felt for Blake. But the sight of his son, so wanton and needy, was like a siren’s call he couldn’t ignore. He took a step back, intending to leave, but Mark’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm. “No, David,” he said, his voice low and firm, “you’re not going anywhere. You’ve wanted this for too long.”

“Open your mouth whore”, Mark said. With a sudden jerk, Mark pushed Blake’s head down on David’s cock, which was now standing at full attention. Blake’s eyes widened in shock and fear, but he didn’t resist. He opened his mouth wider and took his father’s cock inside, his eyes never leaving Mark’s. The taste was foreign, but the situation was not entirely unfamiliar. Mark had been coaching him, pushing him to explore his boundaries for a while now.

David watched in a mix of horror and fascination as Blake took him in, his cock disappearing down the boy’s throat with an ease that spoke of practice. The sensation was indescribable, a mix of wrongness and desire that only made him harder. He tried to pull away, to stop this twisted game, but Mark’s grip on Blake’s head was unyielding.

“That’s it,” Mark growled, “Take it all, just like you do for me.” His hand remained firm on the back of Blake’s head, pushing him down until he could no longer see his husband’s cock. David’s eyes rolled back in his head, the pleasure overwhelming his senses. He had never felt anything like this before, the power and the forbidden nature of the act sending shockwaves through his body.

Mark chuckled, watching the struggle on David’s face, his own erection pulsing in anticipation. “You’re going to love this,” he assured him, his voice thick with lust. “Just let go and enjoy it.”

Blake’s eyes watered as he fought to breathe around the thick shaft, his nose pressed into David’s pubic hair. Each time Mark pushed him down, the pressure built in his chest until he thought he might pass out, but he couldn’t deny the thrill of it all. His own cock was rock hard, bobbing against the floor as he worked his dad’s cock.

And then, with a slick sound, Mark’s cock was there, pushing against his already abused hole. The sudden fullness made Blake’s eyes go wide, and a muffled cry of surprise and pain slipped around David’s cock. But it was quickly swallowed by another wave of pleasure as Mark began to move, his hips rocking in time with the rhythm that Mark had set.

Mark’s cock slid in easily, lubricated by Larry’s cum and Blake’s own arousal. He groaned as he felt the head breach his entrance, the pressure building until he was fully sheathed in the younger man’s tight heat. He grabbed Blake’s hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, and began to thrust in a steady, measured pace. Each time he pushed in, Blake was forced further down on David’s cock, creating a delicious friction that had all three men groaning in unison.

David’s eyes were wide with shock and arousal, watching his own son’s face contorted in pleasure as he serviced him. He couldn’t believe what was happening, but his body was responding in a way that was far beyond his control. The sight of Mark’s old, fat form moving behind a stud like Blake, the sound of their flesh slapping together, was like nothing he had ever seen before. It was like watching a scene from a pornographic film, except it was happening right in front of him and he was a willing participant.

The pressure grew as Mark’s strokes grew more powerful, his movements punctuating the air with a rhythmic thud. David felt the tension in his balls coiling tighter and tighter, his cock pulsing in Blake’s mouth. Then, as if on cue, both men reached their peak. Larry’s cock swelled within Blake’s ass, his warm seed flooding the boy’s insides. At the same time, David’s cock spasmed, and he released his load down his son’s throat, filling his mouth with his cum.

Blake’s body was a canvas of sensation, painted with the strokes of Larry and Mark’s cocks, the taste of his father’s cum on his tongue, and the overwhelming feeling of being used by these two men. His own orgasm ripped through him, his body shaking violently as he came, his cum mixing with the saliva and pre-cum on the floor beneath him.

A chuckle sounded from above and Mark said “Don’t think this is over boy, your daddy needs to sample that pussy. Get your lazy fat ass up and take care of your dad”.  Mark then looked over at David and said “Babe, sit down on the chair and let your son show you what I’ve taught him about respect.”

Blake stood trembling, his knees slightly shaking as he approached the chair where his father, David, currently sat, his own arousal evident. His heart raced in a mix of fear and excitement as he looked at his uncle, whose face was a picture of twisted pleasure as he watched the unfolding scene. Mark, his stepdad, gave him a firm pat on the back, pushing him gently towards the chair. “Go on, boy,” Mark urged, his voice gruff, “Your daddy’s been waiting for this.”

Swallowing hard, Blake did as he was told, his thoughts racing as he straddled David’s lap. The feeling of his father’s cock pressing against his tight hole sent a jolt of electricity through his body, and he couldn’t help but moan in anticipation. He felt his father’s hands grip his hips firmly, guiding him down onto the thick shaft.

With a gasp, Blake began to lower himself, feeling the head of David’s cock breach his entrance before sinking in deep. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that made his head spin.

David, unable to hold back any longer, started to lift Blake up and down on his cock, his hands grabbing and squeezing Blake’s big, firm ass. He spread the cheeks wide, watching as his length disappeared into the tight, velvety warmth of his son’s body.

“Oh, fuck, daddy,” Blake moaned, his body moving in rhythm with David’s thrusts. The sensation of his father’s hands on him was too much to handle, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his veins. He could feel his cock, still rock hard, slapping against his stomach as he rode his dad’s cock.

Suddenly, Mark was there, his strong hands on Blake’s shoulders, pushing him up and down with a newfound urgency. “That’s it, daddy’s boy,” Mark sneered, his voice thick with lust, “Take it all, you know you love it.” Blake’s cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and arousal as Mark’s lewd comments filled the room. He knew he shouldn’t be enjoying this, but the feeling of being used, being claimed by both his father and his stepfather, was intoxicating.

With each push from Mark, Blake’s ass took his dad’s cock deeper, his insides stretching to accommodate the relentless invasion. He could feel his own cock bouncing against his stomach, precum smearing his abs as the pleasure grew. “You’re such a good boy, riding your daddy like that,” Mark continued, his breath hot on Blake’s ear as he whispered his depraved praises.

David’s eyes were glazed over with desire, watching the obscene spectacle before him. He never thought he’d see the day when his own son would be eagerly fucking him. The lewdness of the situation only heightened his pleasure, his cock swelling even more as he watched Mark’s hands guide Blake’s movements.

The sight of Blake’s ass bobbing up and down on Davids cock was too much for Mark to bear. His own cock, which had just been milked of its hot seed by Blake’s tight channel, began to stiffen again. The memory of the boy’s sweet moans and the feeling of his hot, tight hole clamping down on him were still fresh in his mind. He couldn’t believe how quickly he was getting hard again, but he couldn’t deny the excitement that was building in his groin as he watched the scene unfold.

With a wicked grin, Mark stepped closer and pushed Blake forwards until his chest was mashed with David’s. “I hope you still have room for stepdaddy,” Mark growled, as he lined his own cock at Blake’s entrance, right next to David’s. The thought of double penetrating the boy, of filling him up with both their seed, sent a shiver down Mark’s spine. He could feel the tip of his cock teasing the ring of muscles, begging for entry.

“No, please,” Blake whimpered, his resolve wavering as he felt Mark’s cock pushing against him. He tried to pull away, but Mark was too strong. With a brutal yank, he grabbed a fistful of Blake’s hair and pulled his head back, exposing his neck. “Shut up, boy,” Mark snarled, “You’re mine to do with as I please.”

The pain and dominance in Mark’s grip sent a thrill through Blake, his body responding against his will. He felt the head of Mark’s cock nudging against his already-stretched opening, and despite his protests, his ass involuntarily clenched around the intrusion.

“Aaahh, no!” Blake’s voice was a desperate cry as he felt Mark’s shaft pushing into him alongside David’s. The sensation of being filled so completely was indescribable, and the pressure was almost too much to bear. His eyes watered, and his breaths came in ragged gasps, but the combined pleasure and pain was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

Mark’s cock slid in with surprising ease, the lubrication from his earlier orgasm making the entry smoother than Blake could have ever imagined. He felt so full, so used, so utterly claimed by these two men he called family. The sensation of their cocks pressing against each other through the thin wall of his ass was an intense mix of pain and pleasure that had him moaning incoherently.

“How does it feel, boy?” Mark yelled, his hips slapping against Blake’s ass cheeks as he thrust in and out. “How does it feel to be filled by both your daddies?” The question was rhetorical, a declaration of victory in the depraved game they were playing.

Blake could only whine in response, his body no longer his own. The pain had morphed into a deep, primal need, his insides clenching around the two invading members. His moans grew louder, his body moving in sync with their rhythm, driven by a carnality he never knew he possessed.

David, lost in the haze of lust, couldn’t get enough of the sensation of his son’s tight ass enveloping his cock. He was so turned on by the sight of Blake’s muscular body riding him and his husbands cock at the same time that he couldn’t help but grab his son’s face and crush their lips together. His tongue plunged into Blake’s mouth, tangling with his, as he continued to piston into the boy’s stuffed hole. The taste of Blake, the feel of his hot breath mingling with his own, sent him spiraling closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Blake, you feel so good,” David moaned against his son’s mouth, his hips bucking upwards to meet Mark’s thrusts from below. The words were almost a growl, a declaration of the raw pleasure that was consuming him. Blake’s eyes went wide with a mix of shock and arousal, feeling his father’s love and desire in a way he never had before.

Mark, seeing the effect he was having on Blake, decided to up the ante. He began to pull out almost completely, only to slam back in, his cock grazing the side of David’s, sending shockwaves through Blake’s body. The feeling of being so roughly used sent Blake’s mind into a tailspin. He threw his head back, his mouth open in a silent scream as Mark’s cock hit that perfect spot deep inside him, the same spot that had made him see stars earlier.

The room was a symphony of grunts, slaps, and moans as the three men lost themselves in the depraved act. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, mingling with the musky aroma of desire and the faint metallic smell of precum. Each time Mark pulled out, Blake’s hole would clench around David’s cock, desperately trying to keep the thick intrusion inside him, only to be stretched wide again by Mark’s relentless pounding.

Blake’s moans grew louder and more desperate as he approached his own climax, his body no longer able to differentiate between the pain and the pleasure. He felt his cock swelling, the pressure building until it was unbearable. “Fuck, daddy, I’m gonna cum,” he panted, his voice trembling.

David, feeling the tension in Blake’s body, knew his son was on the brink. “Cum for me, boy,” he encouraged, his own orgasm building rapidly. “Let me feel you shoot your hot load all over me.”

With a roar, Mark pushed in just as David thrust up into Blake one final time, both men unloading their seed into the boy’s tight ass. The force of their climaxes sent a powerful wave of pleasure through Blake’s body, and he couldn’t hold back anymore. He exploded, his cock painting a mess of cum across David’s stomach and chest as he bucked and writhed in their combined grip. The feeling of their hot, sticky cum filling him up was almost too much, and he screamed out as his body convulsed with the intensity of his orgasm.

As the men slowly came down from their sex high, panting and sweaty, Blake’s body went limp on David’s lap. His legs were jelly, unable to hold him up any longer.

Blake looked into his father’s eyes, a mix of love and confusion swirling in their depths. With trembling hands, he reached back and began to pull himself off of David’s cock, feeling the slickness of their combined releases making the separation a little easier.

As he slid off, his ass making a wet, sucking sound, David’s cock slipped out with a gush of cum. Mark’s cock popped out of Blake’s ass with an audible ‘pop’ and a string of cum connecting them. Both men’s cocks were still semi-erect, glistening with the evidence of their shared pleasure.

Blake leaned in, kissing David gently on the cheek. “I love you, dad,” he whispered, his voice hoarse from the screams of passion that had just filled the room. David’s eyes searched Blake’s, looking for any signs of regret or fear, but all he saw was a deep love and a hint of satisfaction

When I sucked his cock for the first time, I immediately knew that this is the cock I dreamt of all my life.

It was perfect, not too big, but sizable, the ideal shape, color, and he kept it smooth, except for a small strip of trimmed pubic hair, which made it even more desirable. Even when it was not erect, I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I could heave sucked it for hours, really.

His name is Paul, and we met in Maspalomas, in a clothing-optional resort during the holiday. He was pure masculine, a perfect beefy dad with the most handsome face and a gaze that mesmerized you. We immediately hooked up. He became my Dad, and I was his boy. But that didn’t mean we were exclusive. Our love affair was actually very inclusive. Wink-wink.

So I couldn’t get enough of him and his cock. And when I sucked him, I was in a timeless trance of a slut, and somehow forgot the fact that we have limited time together: my holiday was already halfway through. But otherwise, I started to wonder how I could live without this non-stop sex festival with Paul in the center. And not just sexually, but emotionally too – I was in love. I know, I know, that time was too short to know for sure, but I still say: I was in love with Paul, my Daddy, with his round pecs, yummy nipples, beefy ass, perfect cock – but most of all with his dirty, boyish smile, his blue eyes full of kinky desire.

This afternoon we were outside of his terrace, drinking beer, he was butt naked, I was wearing a red thong. That started with my original mission: I’d wanted to get a thong tan line for the first time in my life – and, after four days, I had a very sexy visible line around my waist and ass.

’Paul, I’m really gonna miss you, but I no idea how I’ll live without your cock.’

’We will miss you too. But you know – it’s only a cock.’

’How will I find one that can be compared to this?’

’You’ll keep looking. I can imagine you are a little cocksucker. And with that face and body, no one would say no to you.’

’It might be challenging to believe, but at home, I am not a slut. I was always too picky or too shy, I don’t know. You know, years ago I went to Berlin with my boyfriend. We went to a bar and there was this pretty handsome guy, wearing only a pair of jeans, and he walked around and sucked as many cocks as he could. Publicly. And he swallowed all the cum.’

’Haha, were you envious of him?’

’So much. This level of filth, oh god… to think of it’

’You can do it tonight.’

’What?’

’We can go out and you should try to suck everyone you want.’

’Well, I mean it sounds the sexiest thing ever, but I am not that brave.’

’I’ll be there with you.’

’Really?’

This was a whole different level. But I was tempted, and just the idea made me immediately hard. 

’Come on, boy, don’t overthink it. I know this great cruise bar with a lot of glory holes. We go there. And if you need encouragement, I’m happy to help you out. Imagine, we could suck some dicks together. ’

’Okay, let’s do this.’

As much as I enjoyed the sun in the afternoon, I couldn’t wait for the evening to come.

I decided to wear a thong, shorts, a low-cut tank top, and flip-flops. And of course, the thick steel necklace Daddy’d given me.

On the way to the place, we stopped by a bar and had a few gin and tonics. I really needed it to pull myself together. I am gonna give my inner slut a chance to come out fully and have a night without any bondaries.

We were about to pay when suddenly I spotted David in the crowd. David is a young hunk, early 20s, killer body. The previous day, my Dad and his friend decided to swap their boys, and when I was fucked by Paul’s friend, Paul had fun with David.

He came over to say hi, but his English was non-existent. I could tell that he still liked Paul a lot from the way he smiled at him. Paul was friendly to him, but not flirty. They talked in Spanish, and David kept looking at me. Daddy must have explained to him what we were about to do. They talked a bit more, and then Paul turned to me.

’Bruno, I have an idea. I know you like challenges, so I’m challenging you to a glory hole contest. David and you get to the place and untill midnight you have to suck as many dicks as you can.’

’So what gets the winner?’

’Haha, he can spend the rest of the night with me.’

I looked at David. Fuck, he was so gorgeous that it was almost unfair, but I always liked a good challange, so we shaked hands on it.

 

Finally, the three of us got there around ten. It was a typical cruise bar from the 90s, with loud techno and an endless dark labyrinth. Paul paid the entrance fee and led the way. He knew his way around. I followed him curiously. And annoyingly sexy David was behind me.

This windowless maze spread over three floors, there were a hundred doors to cubicles and gay porn on little TVs everywhere. On the middle floor, there was a bigger space with a bar and even a small stage. Half a dozen men were watching us walk in.

Daddy went to order some drinks. Now it was time to transform into a slut, and I was wondering how to start. I looked at the empty stage, and I had this idea – what if I give these guys a live strip show? I cannot say enough; this is something I have never dared to think of in my everyday life, but here, it felt like a natural next step.

So I kicked my flip-flops and jumped on the stage. One of the older clients cheered, but the lights were almost blinding, making it impossible to see him or the others.

I started to dance slowly, moving around my body to the rhythm of the music. I touched my legs first, then my upper body, and I played a little with my pecs.

By this time, some of the guys had come closer to the stage, and now I could see their faces. Daddy was there, too, watching me with amazement, proud of his boy.

It was time to remove my tank top. I did it as slowly as possible, revealing my smooth torso.

A big cheer. More guys stopped by the stage, and all eyes were on me.

And at this moment, I got a competition. David jumped to the other end of the stage. He danced like a pro, and he unashamedly took off his shirt. The audience got even louder.

I could have hated him for stealing the show, but his presence made it actually even sexier. Here we were, two himbos, playfully fighting for attention.

I winked at him, and he got closer. Why not give these guys some jerk-off material for later? I kissed David. This was a theatrical kiss, more for the show than the pleasure.

I looked at Daddy’s face; he must have been in seventh heaven.

David kept on dancing, taking off his shorts. He was wearing some designer jockstraps.

So it might have been time to show more. I turned my back to the audience, leaned forward, and very slowly, I took my shorts off. Inch by inch I revealed my beefy bubble butts in the thong.

The effect was phenomenal. I got the biggest cheers.

At this moment, David jumped off the stage. he must have remembered that this is not what we are here for. It was ten o’clock and we had two hours to suck as many cock as we could.

Was it time to leave the stage? Probably. But before that, I wanted to do one more thing.

You know, in the previous few days, I did everything to have a thong tan line. This could have been the perfect scenario to show it off. Was I brave enough to do that live on stage? Could I go that wild? Now or never. So I went for it.

I did it as slowly as possible to tease the audience. And they were a grateful crowd. Cheering and clapping. I stand there alone butt naked on the stage with a semi-hard cock in a room filled with clothed men and I loved it. Well, I must say they loved it, too.

On the mirrored wall, I could see my smooth body and the sexy line in the shape of a thong on my ass. I pushed my ass a bit towards the men, showing my pink pussy.

And then the song ended – I jumped off the stage.

Daddy was there; he kissed me and handed me a drink.

It was time to start cruising. I left my clothes on the stage and walked around the maze completely naked.

I found a cubicle and sat on the bench, but I wanted to leave the door open so people could see me. There was a glory hole on my left and one on my right.

Slowly a sizable cock appeared in one of them. Fuck, I never did this before. I had no idea who it belonged to, but the dick itself was indeed beautiful, so I grabbed it and started to jerk it off.

But that was not enough. I had to put it into my mouth and taste it. So I kneeled and started to suck it passionately.

I heard some knocking from behind, and I turned around.

A beautiful huge black cock appeared from the other glory hole.

I started to give both of them a handjob, but the black one was way too hot not to taste. So I began to suck it desperately. I could tell from the moans from the other side of the wall that he is getting closer and closer. I sucked him faster and faster. And, yes, he came into my mouth and filled me with a massive load of hot cum.

One – that was my first tonight.

I went back to the other cock and kept on sucking it, but my mouth was still full of cum, so that must have had a great effect on that stranger – he came almost right than. I had to swallow and swallow – and I started to feel good, I mean real good, like one could get drunk on cum.

Two.

I didn’t have to wait long; two new dicks appeared in the holes. I couldn’t care less who they belonged too, I just wanted to be this perfect naked cocksucker muscle slut kneeling on the floor giving handjobs and blow jobs by the open door.

And all kinds of guys walked by and kept watching me. After a few minutes, I saw a familiar face – my Daddy with a beer. He gave me a dirty smile and a nod. He watched me as I sucked the cocks, I wanted him to see how they fill my mouth, so I did everything to make those two two cum. And I moaned as loudly as it was possible. They came almost at the same time, so I had to maneuver to get all the hot cum.

Three and four.

Daddy winked at me and walked on.

I decided to move around a bit, as much as I enjoyed sucking cocks in the glory hole cubicle I also wanted to see faces and bodies.

By this time, the labyrinth got busier—all kinds of guys, younger and older, dressed up completely and half-naked. As far as I knew I was the only one butt naked and I enjoyed the attention so much.

Even if I didn’t like some of them, I liked the way they scan my body, how they try to touch my ass or my cock.

A big, beefy, bald guy was drinking beer in the corner. He was staring at me. I walked to him, looked deeply in his eyes, and knew we didn’t need language to communicate.

I went down on my knees and started to play with his bulge. I kept looking up to him, my eyes must have told him how much I want to suck him, my mouth was wild open.

He took his middle-sized cock out and I sucked him like crazy. Other guys gathered around us and watched me perform this incredible blow job. When he got closer he took his dick out of my mouth and jerked off. He came all over my face, so I tried to lick it as much as was possible, and then used my finger to spoon the rest of the cum into my mouth.

Five.

I really had to pee, so I looked for a toilet. It was empty. I was peeing into the middle of the pissoir when two guys in their late fifties came in. They must have been a couple or close friends. They used the two other pissoirs but kept looking at me – make sense, I was completely naked. I don’t think they believed their luck when I turned around and sat on the bathroom floor, my back against the wall, my mouth open.

It felt filthy and hot to give them head by the pissoirs. They must have felt the same because they came at the same time, right into my mouth.

Six and seven.

I left the bathroom and looked at the clock. It was 10:45. I couldn’t believe I swallowed seven loads in 45 minutes. And I still had 75 minutes to go.

I had no idea where I was heading; I just enjoyed walking around naked with a massive erection and a cum-covered face. Somehow, I got back to the bar/stage area. There was only one small group this time – some British guys from a stag party, already pretty drunk. They were not gay at all; probably, they came in because they were on a dare.

They were laughing awkwardly. They’d probably thought that coming inside would somehow be funny, but now they couldn’t really handle it.

The groom was wearing a crown, he was fucking handsome. I walked to him, kneeled in front of him with a half-open mouth. He looked embarrassed and aroused at the same time. The others started to cheer loudly, and he finally took out his half erected penis from his jeans so I could give him the last blow job of his single life.

When the others saw me, the gigling somehow stopped, and I could tell I they all got horny. One by one, they started to caress their bulges, and after the first cock was out, all the others followed.

I was there, surrounded by six straight studs who were playfully fighting for my mouth. The groom came first – god, it was a massive load. Very soon, the others got to their climax too – i swallowed and swallowed, but it was like a river of cum my beard and face was fully covered, and the cum was still leaking right to my chest.

Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.

When they were finished, they left me there on the floor. I looked up.

Daddy was smiling at me from a high bar chair. He must have watched the whole show, although he couldn’t have had a clear view of me before.

Now here I was. A cocksucker pig slut drunk on cum. Did he like me this way?

He strolled up to me and looked deep into my eyes.

’I love you, Bruno. My little pig, my baby boy.’

And he gave me a long, deep kiss.

’I love you too. I hope I win. I really want to spend the night with you.’

He looked at the clock – 11:10.

’You have less than an hour left.’

’How’s David? Do you know his score?’

’The last time I checked, he gave eleven blow jobs.’

Fuck, that’s too close.

’Go on, boy, I leave you to it.’

And he walked away.

Suddenly, I had a problem. There were not that many guys to suck in this place anymore. Partly, because it was almost midnight, so they must have gone to the next joint, but also becasue David and I sucked a lot of them. If you think about it, that’s at least 24 dicks –a small crowd.

From this moment on, I couldn’t be picky. I really had to suck everyone wheater I liked them or not.

So I did.

I was walking around hunting for a cock, and when I found one I wanted to make it milk as soon as possible. I saw David doing the same thing. He was desperate to suck, too. I couldn’t hate him. He was my porn twin.

Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen.

I stopped being me completely. I was a pig, an animal wanting to get as dirty as possible. I sucked and I sucked and I sucked.

Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen.

And that was it. Only 5 minutes left to midnight. And there were no men left in the place, so I walked back to the bar area.

Daddy was already there waiting for me. I sat down by his side, and I was utterly overwhelmed.

David arrived. Daddy asked him something in Spanish. David answered.

’How many cocks did you sucked?’, he asked me.

’Nineteen. How about David?’

’Nineteen. The same.’

’Fuck, I really wanted to win this.’

Daddy gave me his dirtiest smile.

’You still have three minutes.’ And he took his hard cock out of his jeans.

I immediately went down on him, and sucked him like this is the last night on earth.

’One minute, boy’, he said, and even I was dead tired I did everything to make him cum.

And finally just before midnight he filled my mouth with his lukewarm cum.

Twenty.

When I stood up, David came to me and congratulated me. Probably he and I were the only guys in the bar that night who hadn’t come yet. 

I looked at this stud’s beautiful body and long shaved dick. I had a bright idea.

’Paul, you told me earlier that you would help me to suck a cock. That we would do it together.’

’Ah yeah.’

’So? I mean, David and I did everything. Now it is your turn. Wanna suck his beautiful dick together? Daddy?’

He waited for a second just to tease me, I guess. And then he slowly kneeled down in front of David. I followed him.

We looked at each other and maintained deep eye contact. I grabbed that beautiful sizable penis and offered it to him.

Daddy kissed its head. I could tell he loved this. He closed his eyes and got entirely lost in the moment. He kept moving his head up and down on this young dick. It was the most beautiful sight.

He opened his eyes, took the dick out of his mouth and kissed me passionately. David pushed his tool to our faces, and we were licking it from both sides.

I got so aroused that I had to start bating. I realized I made 20 men to cum, so it was my turn – and what could have been better jerk off material than Daddy’s face with a cock in his mouth? Well, maybe some cum from David on Daddy’s face.

Now it was my turn to suck a bit, and the two of us playfully fought for the dick. We knew the climax would come very soon – David’s breathing was faster and faster.

And then he shot his load everywhere. My face. Daddy’s face. Our beards.

Daddy and I got lost in the sloppiest kiss. We licked the hot cum from each other’s face like two hungry animal. And he kissed me so deeply – it made me cum.

It was so intense that I was shaking for a couple of minutes.

David must have left. The two of us were on the floor in an empty bar. He held me close and tight.

’Shall we go home?’ he asked

’Oh yeah.’

My clothes were all over the stage, and collecting them took me a second.

On our way home, we were not talking. I was lost in my thoughts. I was thinking of this night. I gave twentyone blowjobs – this is crazy. I never felt more slutier and dirtier. Yet, I fell in love with this hot piece of motherfucker who encouraged me to be this way.

’Did you enjoy this, Daddy?’

’Yeah, it was terrific.’

’Am I a pig?’

’You are. That is your true nature, boy. I saw it in your eyes when I met you for the first time.’

’And you like this?’

’I love it, boy. I could marry you right now, my little cocksucker.’

Oh, it was so bittersweet to hear this. These were my best days ever; however, they were numbered.

Was there an alternate universe where we could have stayed together?

From your Author:

 I am still trying to wrap up Dean. In this chapter Niki starts at ‘Little Dean had just turned one.’ That would be April 8th, 2019. But she reflects back six months and slowly brings us to today. RJC.   

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Niki’s POV:

Cooper had just turned one and I lived on the houseboat with Jeff and Donny. Dean had bought it as an incentive for me to go back to school and I couldn’t leave the boys behind. I never went back home to see my mom and dad because I had Jeff and Donny now. They were there for the birth and little Dean saw their faces first.

I have talked to woman and never suffered a single effect they talked about. As much as I don’t want to say it his birth was like the best orgasm I’d ever had. I didn’t have drugs and he came out fast. There was no need for a slap and he cried once and looked at me. I so whished Dean could have been here.

After his service I still made every decision even though Parker was Executor of his estate. That was how Dean wanted it. ‘The Dean Cooper Foundation’ was to be a boots on the ground in four hours of any school or mass shooting. I hand picked people and set up offices in states that met Dean’s goal.

When we weren’t responding to shootings we produced interactive assemblies for the youngest. Demonstration groups showed what bullying was, what it looked like, how it hurt people, and it needed to stop. You aren’t a bully when you come out of your momma. It is learned behavior and Dean’s goal was to provide a curve as early as possible.

He had recorded videos of his late self and asked all of them to pledge to never be a bully. He had raised a billion dollars for the Trevor Project and I was expected to pull off his wet dream with a tenth of that. But the money never stopped pouring in.  

Lil Cooper was born on April 8th. Donny, Jeff, and I started at the UW in the fall. He was always with one of us and I wondered why this all came about as it did. Dean would have been a great Dad and Donny along with Jeff filled that void whether they realized it or not. And he had a lineage of God Mother’s and Father’s six deep.

I told Dean’s parents as soon as I knew for sure and they embraced having a grandchild as much as they did me. I spent most of my pregnancy setting up the Foundation and checking credentials. Most I offered to pay but it was refused.

We had Doctors, Physiologists, Psychiatrists’, Professors, and even victims who had been through the same thing years before willing to help. They all had a to-go bag and never once when a call went out did someone refuse. We didn’t wait to be asked, we just showed up.

Dean was up for more awards at the AMA’s and I was there with his Mom and Dad to accept on his behalf. A ten-minute tribute was dedicated to Dean. I had worked with his parents and tried to prepare them but the whole show was so emotional. I had slipped his mom a pill for her nerves but I should’ve given her two.

There had been a dry run the day before like always but it was just movements not the content of the show. They were taken back stage so they could walk out when introduced to accept the first award after the tribute. His Mom was in a beautiful floor length dress and His Dad was in a tux.

Ladies and gentlemen, Pink. And she walked out. “You know I loved that little… Best album by a male artist; Dean Cooper for Resurrection.” And everything after that couldn’t be heard over the applause. “The award goes to Dean Cooper.”

A voice came from everywhere and said, “Accepting for Dean are his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper.” And they walked out. Mom definitely needed two pills.

Pink stepped between both of them and did that thing when she’d wrap her wings around you then walked off. They stood looking at the audience and cameras with the North Dakota fish face. I got her attention doing two fingers to her eyes and then mine. She smiled and nodded totally understanding me.

“When Dean came home to do the healing concert after the shooting,” she started. “I look around and see familiar faces. He called you his friends. I asked him after the show; ‘Who are you and what have you done with my little boy.” And she wiped some tears.

“It’s me Mom, and he showed me his ring, his kidney stones he’d had mounted.” 

“I guess what Dean did with the last year of his life created a legacy, made a difference, maybe saved lives. I missed him that last year. You all saw him more than we did,” she said holding his Dad’s arm.

“Many of you have been so kind staying in touch with us and sharing your experiences with our son. Dean found out about the cancer the day before his eighteenth birthday and didn’t tell any of us. The Doctor’s told him three months and he stretched it too almost five so he could finish what he did. I guess that’s why we’re standing before you now.” And Cooper chants started.  

      When I did shows the question was never asked if I was pregnant with Dean’s child or after if this was Dean’s son. I knew who Dean’s favorites were and I would appear when ever they asked. Never in the history of music had one person sang with so many different artists; dead or alive.

Lil Cooper was a Gerber Baby and always stole the show. He walked at seven months and was potty trained at eight. Well, he liked to pee off the deck into the lake. Thank you, Donny and Jeff. As soon as he could pull off his diaper, he did. And by one he was talking in complete sentences. Smallville and Jeff wanted to be the first one to be called Daddy and it was on Don Lemon’s show that Dean said it for the first time as I passed him over.

I could smell the fear off Don as I handed Dean across. When He said ‘Daddy’, you could have heard a pin drop in the studio and then the laughter started. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” as he slapped his hands on Don’s cheeks.

Don; a gay man who had once said, “Think of the gayest thing you can think of, I’m that gay.” Sounds like Mayor Pete, today.

The construction next door had been driving us all mad for the last few months. The Houseboat next to us was being remodeled. I walked down the dock and came face to face with the guys next door. I was speechless with Dean in my arms.

There are few times when I can’t talk and this was one of them. The taller of the two was maybe 5”11’ with brown hair shoulder length, a hint of auburn, and parted in the middle. His pants and shirt were fitted; over the top expensive, along with his shoes. But when he looked from Dean to me I saw the gold rings around his chestnut colored eyes.

“Are you, Niki?” The baby faced one with dishwater blond hair in matching equally expensive clothes, asked. “Is it really safe raising a baby on a houseboat?” That got my attention.

“I’ll throw him in if you think he can’t swim.” And I acted like I was ready to through him in.

The shorter of the two with his blue eyes and peaches and cream skin yelled, “NO.” like I would.

“Yes, I’m Niki.”

“We’re really sorry for all the noise and everything.” The taller one said. “We’re the Chancellor’s. My friends call me RJ or Chance, and this is Robby.” He told me.

Dean held out his arms and said, “Daddy.”

Ryan held out his arms and said, “Rye-Rye,” taking Dean and leaving me still speechless as he and the blue eyed one battled for attention from my little guy.

Ryan held little Dean’s butt on his arm with his back to his chest so he could look around and I have no idea how he knew that. Dean liked to see where he was going, not where he’d been. And he would let you know it. We talked as I saw Dean in his Dad’s arms. Ryan could have been Dean’s doppelganger right down to the shape in his crotch.

“We’ve met your room mates and you’re all invited to our house warming party this weekend.” He said taking Dean from Ryan.

OK, one of them was going to bleed. “You’ve met Donny and Jeff?” I asked and they nodded. Yeah, I’m pissed.

Oh yeah, some blood will be shed. I smiled and held out my arms and took him from Robby and continued down the dock. I couldn’t believe it; Ryan could have doubled for Dean and he even had some of the same mannerisms.

The way Ryan nervously thrust his hands in his pockets pushing his crotch forward or how he bowed his head and looked up in a child like way. I’m going to have to move. But first I want a pound of flesh from my room mates.

I walked in the door and they both greeted us as I pushed Dean to Donny and went at Jeff. His hands were up as he backed away, “Our neighbors.” And that was all I had to say.

“Niki.” And his hands came down. “You wouldn’t have believed us. I almost passed out.” Jeff finished shaking his head.

“It’s true Niki. We met them a week ago. Did you feel it Niki?” Donny asked.

“Say Daddy.” Donny requested of Dean; nothing.

Jeff walked over and took him. “I’m Daddy aren’t I?” And nothing.

“Come on Niki?” Jeff said. “Are you blind? They love each other more than themselves. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” 

I guess I missed that but looking back it was like each was a half that made a whole. Fuck, I missed it. “You guys could have said something. If you knew, you should have said something.

“Really, Lil, Dude? You call Don Lemon, Daddy, and I get this?” Jeff said again.

“He called Ryan Daddy and held out his arms.” And I started to cry.

I still missed Dean so… much even after a year but everything reminded me of him and now this man next door would remind me every day how much I missed him.

“Niki, don’t cry or Donny and I will cry too; that’s too much sadness for this little guy.” And I couldn’t help but smile as I reached for Dean and he called me Daddy for the first time.

The next morning Ryan was sitting on a bench at the top of the dock smoking a cigarette. He flicked it when he saw me and Dean get to the top.

“Ah, Niki?” and he stood holding his arms out for Dean, who was reaching for him.

“Daddy?”

 Ryan shook his head and said, “Rye-Rye,” in a baby voice and Dean made it clear what he wanted.

Ryan motioned to the bench and sat down after me. He pushed his knees together sitting Dean on them and started to bounce him. I had to look away when he leaned in and smelled Dean’s hair.

“Your interview with Lemon was on last night. I have had people say I look like him but I don’t see it.”

“Oh come on. Tell me you haven’t Googled him? I look at you and see Dean at my age. So what do you want to say?”

“Ok, I can’t help what or who I look like. I want you to know that Robby and I have been together for five years. I had no idea who our neighbors were when we picked this place.” And he took a deep breath.

“With that said, it’s weird. I feel a connection with this little guy, and it’s not because he called me, Daddy. I had never held a baby before yesterday and he gives me kind of, a comfort.” And he shook his head back and forth like not understanding what he said.

I studied him. “Don’t worry about it. It will be hard but something tells me this, what ever it is; call it fate or coincidence, luck or destiny, we’re neighbors. I’ve got to meet Donny and pass this little guy off so I can make my lecture.”

The next morning, I stood on the deck outside watching down on a twenty by twenty barge pulled by a ski boat making its way to my neighbors. It was loaded with furniture and boxes. Robby and Ryan were in the boat driven by; ‘fan myself; it must have been a young Keith Urban.’ 

I watched as a few more guys showed up and before long all shirts had been lost and I was treated to a Chippendales show in pants and shorts. I should have been sipping a mint julep. I found out later that Ryan had no intention of carrying everything down a three-hundred-foot dock. And honestly I never saw him lift a thing. 

I had a big house; theirs was bigger. We were both double slips meaning twenty-four feet wide and I was thirty-five feet long. The main floor was living and dinning with a powder room. The kitchen was towards the front and views were maximized. The main deck ran the full end and went out twelve feet.

My room was on the second level with Jeff and Donny’s and we split the deck looking out on the cannel with a bathroom between. It was twelve feet of glass in both our rooms and the large third bedroom was towards the front. And we had a rooftop deck.

The bathroom was like a Jack and Jill but bigger. There was a long mirror and counter with a sink on each side. There was a toilet closet and another door to the shower. The boys tended to use the guest bath for pooping and I was thankful for that.

I thought about the bedroom to the front but even as a baby the little guy liked this one. When he was three months old he grew out of it but he would wake up at night and just sob. One of them would come in and take him from me and Dean would calm. Sometimes I would comfort Donny when Jeff couldn’t. We were a family.

I still slept naked with one of Dean’s button up shirts that hung down over my butt and stuff. Donny wore boxer briefs and Jeff liked tight wild colored skimpy trunks that left nothing to the imagination. With the difference between them they were both beautiful male specimens.

There were times in the morning when I would see them so hard that their underwear couldn’t begin to hide what lay beneath. Other times I would find little Dean between them in bed sleeping or sitting with one of them down stairs.  

A bigger barge had been brought in two days later that was maybe twenty by forty and was anchored to the house next door. You do need to pay attention to weight on a house boat and extra real estate for a party came in this form when you had twenty thousand pounds of guests.

The front door was open as the three of us walked in with Smallville carrying The Little Guy. It was like a smorgasbord of beautiful people. I scanned the room and saw Robby and Ryan. Then I saw him and I wished I hadn’t worn heels and had my razor. He didn’t see me.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” I asked saddling up next to him.

“Ryan is my, God Son. His father and I were friends. Why are you here, Niki?”

“I’m just his next door neighbor; like you didn’t know. What are you trying to pull, Parker?”

“I didn’t know, Niki. Dean did consult me when he bought your place but Ryan didn’t. He had a guy he trusted. Dean and Ryan did spend time together when he came last October. They met in my office.”

I was surprised. Ryan didn’t mention and I never assumed. “It must have been like looking into a mirror for both of them.”

“You have no idea, Niki. Ryan is a man of passion and he has a voice in Seattle even as young as he is. He is also very rich. He and Robby are advocates and when they show up people listen. Robby is the scholar and Ryan’s the hothead; not that he’s dumb. I can understand why you would see it as something that was set up, but it wasn’t. I wouldn’t let that happen, Niki.”

Dean’s POV: 

We’d landed in Minot and Niki put a coat over my face incase anyone tried taking pictures of my frail frame. I didn’t know it would be like this. It’s hard to breath and if I take another pill I won’t be able to stay awake. I wish Niki would’ve left when I tried to fire her but.

She’s so strong for me. I’m so fuckin stoned I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t. I remember being in the car and Niki and Dad helping me up to my room. My head was clearing and I wasn’t in too much pain. I was happy for this moment and happy Niki would bury my secrets so my parents would never know.

I didn’t know a month ago how the end would happen or when. When I was in Washington I did some stuff and put it on a thumb drive for Niki, just incase. Incase I never had the chance to tell her; if my last breaths had been robbed from me and I couldn’t tell her.

“I don’t know much, but, I know I love you. That may be all there is to know.” 

When it gets to the end, you know. I did. Dying is kind of a once in a life time thing. It was like when I told Niki I loved her, it was ok to go. I had already composed an email to Niki and after convincing her I was hungry I added the end.

I lay there in the same bed I’d slept in since I was a kid. I could feel my breaths becoming shallower and tears ran down my cheeks as my finger hit send. Fade to white.

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From the Author: 

Like I said before, none of this will make any sense unless you go back to chapter one. Dean the person is gone although his dreams and aspirations will continue to live in this story. I’ve introduced, The Chancellor’s, who will play a very important part of the Second Book. In the next chapter Donny and Jeff reach a tipping point and who do you think steps in?

I would love for you to comment and vote. I would encourage you to criticize my many grammatical errors along with my spelling along with not being able to deliver to you the reader what you deserve from a writer. Or you could just tell me you think I’m doing an adequate job.   RJC. 

The mountain air was crisp and cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and earthy musk. The sun had climbed high above the peaks, casting a warm embrace over the rugged landscape. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I trudged along the narrow trail, my pack heavy with supplies for the day’s adventure. My breaths grew deeper and more deliberate as I approached the clearing where the rock pool lay hidden from the world. The promise of its refreshing waters was all I could think about.

As I emerged from the shadows of the trees, I caught a glimpse of the pool, shimmering like a jewel nestled in the embrace of ancient stones. I felt a thrill of excitement as I saw two figures approaching, their laughter echoing through the valley. They were hikers, like me, seeking reprieve from the heat. Their boots crunched against the gravel path, sending a spray of pebbles into the air. Their brightly coloured clothing stood out against the muted tones of the mountain backdrop.

They were two young men, probably in their early twenties, their faces flushed with exertion and excitement. They were both tall and lean, with the kind of muscular physiques that came from long hours spent outdoors. They spotted me and waved, and I returned the gesture with a tired smile, dropping my pack to the ground. I decided to take a moment to eat my packed lunch before joining them in the water. I pulled out a sandwich wrapped in wax paper, feeling the weight of the bread and the promise of sustenance.

In no time, the two hikers had stripped down to nothing but their birthday suits. Their clothes were laid out in a careless heap beside their packs. They didn’t seem to have a single shred of self-consciousness as they leapt into the pool, sending a spray of water glinting in the sunlight. I couldn’t help but admire their youthful abandon, their unbridled energy. The water splashed against their taut skin, and their laughter filled the air like the sweetest music.

Their movements were fluid and graceful as they swam towards the centre of the pool. The coolness of the water was palpable from where I sat, and I felt a pang of envy for their instant relief from the heat. The smaller of the two, a brunette with a sprinkle of freckles across his nose and shoulders, dove beneath the surface, emerging moments later with a handful of water which he flung playfully at his companion, a blond-haired giant with a mischievous grin. The blond took the shower in stride, his laugh booming through the clearing.

As I watched them, the distance between us seemed to melt away. They were so absorbed in their world that it was as if I had become invisible. They grew closer in the water, their limbs brushing against each other, and I noticed the way their eyes held a certain softness, a warmth that seemed to deepen as the minutes ticked by. Their friendship was close, but there was something more, a current that charged the air between them. They began to explore each other with gentle touches, their laughter turning to whispers that I could not hear over the burble of the nearby stream.

The brunette leaned in, his hand resting on the blond’s shoulder. The blond looked down, a blush rising to his cheeks, and for a moment, I held my breath, unsure if I should avert my gaze or not. But their intimacy was not for me to judge or interrupt. It was a beautiful, private dance that played out in the sunlit pool, and I found myself feeling not like a voyeur but a silent witness to a moment of pure connection. They kissed, tentative at first, and then with a passion that seemed to ignite the very water around them.

The sight was so unexpected and yet so natural that I felt a strange kinship with them. We were all pilgrims in this wild place, seeking solace and finding it in our own ways. As they drew apart, their eyes met, and I saw a spark of something that was both fierce and tender. It was a look that told a thousand stories, a look that held the promise of shared secrets and whispered confessions. They didn’t need words to communicate the depth of their feelings; their bodies did that for them.

I took a bite of my sandwich, feeling both a part of this moment and a million miles away. Their beauty was not just in their youth or their physiques, but in the way they had allowed themselves to be vulnerable in the openness of nature. It was a reminder that love, and desire could bloom anywhere, even in the most untouched corners of the world.

As the brunette’s hand trailed down the blond’s chest, the blond’s breath hitched, his eyes fluttering closed. The brunette’s touch grew more exploratory, caressing the other’s abs and then sliding lower, teasing the trail of hair that led to his groin. The blond’s arousal was clear, his member rising to meet the tender touch with an eagerness that mirrored his racing pulse.

They stepped closer, their bodies entwining in a dance as old as time itself. The water was their stage, the mountains their audience, and the sun their spotlight. Their kisses grew deeper, more urgent, as the brunette wrapped his hand firmly around the blond’s shaft, stroking him with a rhythm that was both familiar and thrilling. The blond’s hand found its way to the brunette’s cock, and soon they were both lost in the sensation, their hips moving in unison with each other’s touch.

The air grew thick with anticipation as their hands roamed over each other’s bodies, learning the contours and the dips, the softness and the hardness that made them unique. The brunette broke the kiss to whisper something into the blond’s ear, and the blond’s eyes lit up with excitement. They moved closer to the edge of the pool, the coolness of the rocks a stark contrast to the heat building between them.

The brunette bent over, resting his hands on the stones, and the blond positioned himself behind him. I watched, transfixed, as the blond reached into their pack, pulling out a small bottle of something that glistened in the light. Lubricant, I realised with a jolt. They were about to take their intimacy to another level.

The blond applied it with care, his movements sure and gentle, as the brunette leaned back into him. The tension was electric, their breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as the blond pressed forward, breaching the barrier between them. The brunette’s head fell back, his mouth opening in a silent cry of pleasure as the blond pushed deeper, filling him.

Their movements grew more frenzied, the splashing of the water a symphony of passion. The blond’s hand was a blur, pumping in and out, while the brunette’s fingers dug into the rock, his eyes squeezed shut. The sounds of their lovemaking grew louder, echoing through the clearing, a testament to the power of their connection.

As they reached their climax, their cries of ecstasy were like the calls of wild animals, raw and unfiltered. The brunette’s body arched, his back muscles rippling, and the blond’s hand tightened around his shaft, drawing out every last drop of pleasure. The moment was so intense, so private, that even the mountain itself seemed to hold its breath.

And when it was over, the blond collapsed onto the other’s back as the brunette lay on the rock, panting and smiling. The water lapped at their legs, a gentle reminder of the world outside their bubble of passion. They remained there, tangled in the afterglow, whispering sweet nothings as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over their entwined forms.

I took the last bite of my sandwich, feeling strangely at peace as I started to clap in a round of applause for the show that had been provided for my enjoyment.

The sudden sound of clapping startled them like a gunshot in the quiet mountain air. They froze, their eyes snapping open to find me, still fully dressed, clapping from my vantage point. The brunette’s cheeks turned a fiery red, and the blond’s eyes went wide with a mix of embarrassment and surprise. For a moment, the three of us were locked in a tableau of discomfort, the echoes of their passion dissipating into the silence.

“You looked very at ease, you two. It was a delight to watch you,” I said.

Then, the brunette looked at me, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I guess we got a little carried away,” he said, his voice low and tinged with a hint of laughter. The blond’s blush deepened, but he couldn’t hide the spark of mischief in his gaze as he met my eyes.

“Yep, I guess you did get carried away, but I have to confess, I’m very grateful,” I responded. “I enjoyed your passion and display of affection.”

The brunette’s smile grew as he pushed himself up, his muscles flexing. “Thanks, and you are very welcome,” he said with a chuckle, breaking the tension. The blond looked at him, then at me, and finally a grin spread across his face as well.

“Do you fancy coming for a swim?” the blond man asked.

I was caught off guard by the question. They had just shared something so intimate, and here they were, inviting me to join them as I looked at them both, standing in the water, naked and, to be frank, fit and very desirable.

Without giving it much thought, I found myself saying, “Why not?” as I pulled my t-shirt over my head, revealing my own sweat-drenched body. The brunette’s eyes raked over me, and I felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with the sun above. The blond’s grin widened, and I knew he saw my arousal in my eyes.

“I’m not coming in the water until we are acquainted,” I called out to them as I started to undo my shorts, my voice echoing through the clearing. “I’m Steve.”

The brunette’s eyes lit up, and he stood in the pool, his erection bobbing as the water dripped from his body. “I’m Alex, and this is my best friend, Tom,” he said, nodding towards the blond who was still treading water, watching me with a smouldering gaze.

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” Tom called out, his eyes dropping to the tent in my underwear. “You don’t see too many guys our age rocking tighty whities these days. You got a thing for the classics?” His tone was playful, the tease in his voice unmistakable.

“Just the comfortable kind,” I replied, stepping closer to the pool’s edge. The cool water looked more inviting by the second.

Alex’s gaze remained on my underwear, a glint of something more than just friendship in his eyes. “Those Fruit of the Loom ones suit you, Steve,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of desire. “They hug your package just right, but don’t you want to take them off before they get wet and allow us to see you in all your glory, as so to speak?”

With a smirk, I slipped my tighty whities down my legs revealing my hardened cock as I stepped out of them. The chilly mountain air did nothing to deter my excitement. The moment felt surreal, but also incredibly right. Two strangers in the wilderness, sharing something more profound than just a swim. “Better?” I asked, my voice steady despite the racing of my heart.

“Much better, Alex responded, his desire written all over his face. “And you’re circumcised. Even better,” he exclaimed.

With precum leaking from my cock, I waded into the refreshing water, feeling the weight of the world slip away with every step closer to Tom and Alex. The moment I was deep enough for them to reach, they both swam towards me, their movements swift and sure. Before I could react, Tom’s arms were around my neck, pulling me into a fiery kiss. His tongue danced with mine as his hand found my erection, stroking it gently.

Alex, not to be left out, came up behind me, his breath hot on my neck as he began to kiss and nibble at my sensitive skin. His other hand slipped down to my ass, teasing my hole with a single digit. The sensation was overwhelming, a symphony of pleasure that resonated through my entire body. I moaned into Tom’s mouth, my hands automatically reaching for their waists, pulling them closer.

“What do you like, Steve?” Tom asked, whispering in my ear.

I couldn’t form coherent words, but the desperate buck of my hips against his hand was answer enough. “Everything,” I managed to murmur, my voice hoarse.

“We like a good spit roast when we are together,” Alex answered while Tom pulled back, grinning wickedly, and nodded. “We like to keep things interesting, especially in places like this,” he said, gesturing to the serene beauty of our surroundings.

The water was now a churning cauldron of desire as we repositioned ourselves on the shingle beach. I knelt between them, my heart thumping in my chest as I took Tom’s cock into my mouth, savouring the taste of him, salty and musky. He groaned, his hands tangling in my hair as he guided my head. Meanwhile, Alex’s fingers circled my entrance, teasing me, preparing me for what was to come.

Tom’s cock was thick and hot, filling my mouth. I could feel the veins pulsing under my tongue, and I sucked him greedily, eager to give them both the pleasure they had so openly shared. Behind me, Alex’s lubed fingers slid into me with a slow, deliberate rhythm, stretching me open for his desires as he used his other hand to throw the tube of lube onto the rock next to us.

As Alex pushed his cock inside me, the sensation was intense, a perfect blend of pleasure and pressure. I moaned around Tom’s length, the sound vibrating against him as Alex began to move in time with Tom’s thrusts. The two of them were a well-oiled machine, working in tandem to drive me to new heights of ecstasy.

Their hands roamed my body, exploring and teasing every inch of my exposed skin. I felt like a god being worshipped by two eager acolytes, their touches like prayers offered up to the heavens. The water around us grew cloudy with our passion, the bubbles from my mouth as I worked Tom’s cock mingling with the splashes from Alex’s movements behind me.

Their grunts and gasps filled the air, echoing off the rocks, becoming a symphony of lust that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the mountain. I lost myself in the moment, my body a conduit for their pleasure, my mind a blissful haze of sensation.

Alex picked up the pace, driving into me harder and faster, his hand finding my prostate and massaging it with every thrust. I gagged slightly around Tom’s cock, the sensation overwhelming, but I never stopped, never slowed. They were in control, and I was more than happy to be their willing participant in this carnival of carnality.

The tension grew, a coiling spring tightening in my belly. I could feel Tom getting closer, his breathing growing ragged, his grip on my hair tightening. Alex leaned over me, his chest pressing against my back as he whispered sweet nothings in my ear, his breath hot and ragged. “You’re so good, Steve,” he murmured. “So, fucking good.”

Tom’s hips stuttered, and with a roar, he came, his warm seed filling my mouth. I swallowed it down eagerly, relishing the taste of him. Alex wasn’t far behind, his thrusts growing erratic before he too reached his peak, his cock pulsing deep inside me as he came.

We stayed like that for a moment, the three of us connected in a way that transcended mere physicality. The world around us had faded away, leaving only the three of us, our bodies entwined in the cool embrace of the mountain pool.

When we finally pulled apart, we were all smiles, the awkwardness of our earlier encounter forgotten in the face of what we had shared. We swam and splashed in the water, the tension of our encounter dissipating like ripples on the pool’s surface. The sun had moved lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over everything.

Afterwards, we sat on the rocks, our bodies still entwined, sharing stories of past adventures and future dreams. The mountain had borne witness to a moment of pure passion; a secret shared between three strangers who had found something beautiful in the wild.

“I just realised, Steve, that you haven’t shot your load yet,” Tom declared. “We can’t have that can we, Alex?”

Alex nodded back to Tom, and before I could protest or say anything, Tom had pushed me onto my back, his strong arms bracing my legs apart. He leaned in, his hot breath fanning over my sensitive skin, and took my cock into his mouth. His lips wrapped around me like a warm, wet glove, and he began to suck with an enthusiasm that left me speechless. His tongue swirled around the tip, teasing the slit before diving down to the base, only to retreat again. His technique was flawless, a masterful blend of pressure and suction that had my hips bucking upwards.

Alex watched with hungry eyes, stroking his cock back to hardness as he knelt beside us. “Let me help,” he offered, and soon his mouth joined Tom’s, both of them working on me in tandem. The sensation was indescribable, their tongues and lips creating a maelstrom of pleasure that had me groaning and writhing beneath them.

As they took turns sucking and licking me, their hands roaming my body, I felt my orgasm building, a crescendo of sensation that I hadn’t expected so soon. The sight of their heads bobbing in unison was almost too much to handle, their eyes locked on me, watching my every reaction, taking pleasure from my pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum,” I warned them, my voice tight with need.

They only increased their efforts, their eyes never leaving mine, and with a final, guttural groan, I released, my cum spurting into their eager mouths. They swallowed greedily, their eyes never leaving mine, a silent communication of shared ecstasy as I continued to pump more cum that I had expected, splashing Tom with a rope of cum across his face.

As my body relaxed into the aftermath of pleasure, Tom leaned back, a smear of my cum on his cheeks. “We aim to please,” he said with a wink, before swiping his tongue across my cock, licking me clean.

Alex followed suit, licking my cock and then kissing Tom, licking my cum from his friend’s face.  I couldn’t help but laugh at their antics, the intimacy of the moment giving way to a sense of camaraderie. “And you do, indeed, please,” I said, my voice still shaky with pleasure.

The three of us sat there for a while, catching our breaths and basking in the warmth of the sun. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, a heady mix that seemed to linger and cling to our skin.

“Well, I think we’ve earned a rest,” Tom said, stretching out his legs and letting his head fall back.

Alex nodded in agreement. “Definitely. But maybe we should find somewhere a little more comfortable,” he suggested, glancing around at the rocky terrain.

We made our way back to my picnic spot, where the soft grass provided a more luxurious setting for our post-coital lounging. The three of us lay there, our limbs tangled together, the sun warming our skin, and the sound of the waterfall in the distance creating a soothing soundtrack to our quiet contentment.

Our conversation flowed easily, a mix of jokes and personal stories, as if we had been friends for years rather than minutes. The tension of the day’s hike and the intense passion we had just shared had forged a bond between us, a connection that felt surprisingly natural and unforced.

As the sun moved into mid-afternoon, casting a warm glow over the mountains, we decided it was time to get dressed and continue our descent. This time together as a threesome. But as we pulled on our clothes and packed up our gear, there was an understanding that this wouldn’t be the last time we’d seek each other out in the wild. We had discovered something in that mountain pool that we hadn’t known we were looking for, and we were all eager to explore it further.

The gay gang threw Joe onto the floor and were repeatedly hitting him as hard as they could with their floggers.

“AHH! AHHH! AHHH! FUCK! AHH!” Joe called out as his body was becoming redder and redder.

“You’re about to get everything you deserve!” Terry told Joe as he continued to flog him.

Nick was sat down, watching his son getting flogged. He was watching in deep thought as though he was thinking about something, what that something was, it had been difficult to tell. One thing for certain though was that Nick wasn’t looking at Joe the same way he had looked at him when he first Joe bound in just his underwear. There was no look of worry or concern from him, he had a look of resentment in his eyes towards his son and who could blame him? This was the son who took advantage of his dad’s kindness throughout his whole life, the one who tricked him and spat in his face. Nick sat in silence and he then finally spoke up.

Nick turned to the gay gang and asked “could you guys bring him over to me please?”

They stopped flogging him, Joe was laid on the floor with pink/red marks on his body from where the floggers had connected with it. Terry spoke up and said “you want to talk to him? After the way he spat at your face? I am sorry to say this but he is past the point of any words having any effect on him now.”

Nick shook his head “I didn’t say I wanted to speak to him, I just want him here”.

The gay gang paused for a few moments and then Terry got Joe back up on his feet “up you get boy!” Terry put the handcuffs back on him.

“Might be good to get a couple of belts wrapped around his top half too, you know, in case the prick attempts to escape again” Jordan suggested.

“Good idea” the gay gang agreed. They fastened 2 belts around Joe’s upper body, this was so that if Joe were to attempt to escape again, they would be able to grab the belts to pull him back again.

“Fuck all of you” Joe said.

Steve slapped his face “shut your mouth!”

Joe kept his mouth shut.

They took Joe over to Nick and Nick asked them to have Joe standing over to his right hand side. He then asked them to bend Joe over slightly. They bent Joe over and Nick pulled him over across his legs. Joe was now laid across Nick’s lap and Nick told him “you are way overdue this”. Nick was now spanking him.

“AHH! GET OFF! LET ME GO! AHH! AHHH! AHHH!!! FUCK YOU!” Joe roared as Nick repeatedly smacked his arse hard with his hand. Each smack would progressively get harder and harder each time. Joe’s arse was now looking like a strawberry. Watching Joe get spanked by Nick was so entertaining to watch, Scott made sure to get a good close up of Joe’s face as he was being spanked, his eyes closed tightly and his mouth opening wide with each smack that connected. The gay gang was loving it too.

Nick turned back to the gay gang and asked “could you pass me one of those floggers?”

“NOOOO!!!” Joe yelled.

“I wasn’t asking you!” Nick replied.

Jordan had a big grin on his face as he handed Nick a flogger. Just like with the smacks from his hand, each smack that Nick connected on Joe’s naked arse would get harder and harder.

The only sounds that could be heard were the smacks from the flogger and Joe’s cries of pain. “OHHH! AHHHH! OHHH! FUCK!!! I HATE YOU!!! AAHHH! OHHHHH!!!”

Whenever Joe would yell a cuss that wasn’t a cry of pain, Nick would do his most hardest swing. When Joe’s arse was red raw, Nick gave the flogger back to Jordan and said “here, you can have him back too.”

“You did a fantastic job on him there!” Jordan praised Nick with a big smile. Jordan and Logan then pulled back the belts that were fastened around Joe’s body and they pulled him back to the front centre of the room.

“It felt good doing it I must say” Nick seemed to be really pleased with his work. “Please… don’t show him any mercy”

“Don’t worry, we won’t…you have our word” Logan promised him.

With that, Nick bid everybody farewell and said that he would remain in the office if anybody needed him again.

“FUCK YOU, YOU BASTARD!” Joe roared at his dad. Nick stuck his middle finger up at Joe and left the room which made us laugh. Nick gave us a wink before he left.

“I’LL GET YOUUUUU!!!” Joe tried to charge after Nick but the gay gang held him back.

“Right then… what to do with him now eh?” Terry teased us and we all chuckled.

“You can give me some clothes and let me go!!!” Joe demanded.

Terry laughed and asked him “do you seriously think you’re still in charge?”

“I run this company! This is my building! All of it is mine! Mine! I’m in charge! ME!!!” Joe shouted.

“Oh my god shut the fuck up Joe!” Brad responded.

“He’s got a big set of balls on him, quite literally!” Jordan admired.

“And you!!! Pretending to be my friend!!! Once I get out of this your—-!” Joe was interrupted by Terry.

“Let’s get him on the floor” Terry said.

With that they shoved Joe onto the floor. “Those big balls make for a big target” Terry continued. He then asked Jordan and Logan to hold down Joe’s legs, they complied. Terry lifted Joe’s cock up so and placed his big boot on Joe’s balls.

“OHHHH!!!” Joe called out as Terry applied more pressure. Joe’s balls were being crushed and if that wasn’t bad enough for him, he was occasionally getting smacked on the chest with the flogger by Steve too! “AHH! OHHH! AHHHH!” Joe continued to cry out in agony. The flogger continued to connect with Joe’s chest and Terry’s boot was firmly being pressed down onto Joe’s balls.

“Ahh fucking stop!” Joe pleaded.

“You don’t get any say in what happens to you boy!” Steve told him as he gave Joe’s chest another smack with the flogger. “AHHHH!” Joe reacted. Terry shifted the weight of his boot onto Joe’s chest, and then onto Joe’s cock and balls.

“Look at how red that chest is now!” Terry remarked.

We were all stood around filming it on our phones, making sure to get some good close up shots of Joe’s red chest.

“You gonna suck some dick boy?” Terry asked him.

“Fuck off!” Joe snapped.

In came a very hard smack from the flogger and Terry continued to ball crush him. As Joe’s torture went on, Terry asked him again “are you going to do as you’re told? Are you going to suck dick?”

“AHHH! NEVER!” Joe shouted.

“He’s just not co-operating is he?” Jason asked.

“Why don’t you get Mike to suck dick as he’s a faggot like yourselves?!” Joe questioned.

Mike wasn’t happy “could you stand him up?” He asked the gay gang.

“Of course” Terry replied and they got Joe back on his feet.

“You could have broken my fucking cock!” Joe raged.

“It’s a shame they didn’t!” Scott called out.

“You should continue to be concerned about your balls right now” Mike wanted Joe. Joe looked puzzled as he was trying to weigh up what Mike had meant by this. Mike asked the gay gang to spread Joe’s legs slightly apart and the gay gang did do so. Joe continued to look puzzled as he was stood there with Jordan holding one leg slightly apart and Logan holding the other, Joe was almost doing the splits.

“The fuck are you—?” Joe’s words turned into a very loud yell of agony. “AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” One swift kick from Mike connected on Joe’s balls, sending him to the floor. Joe was unable to wrap his hands around his balls to soothe the pain so he had to resort to crossing his legs over his balls instead.

“Fuck!” Joe cried out. We all cheered for  Mike for his revenge attack on Joe. Joe was on the floor curled up with in a foetus position letting out moans of pain.

“I think his future kids felt that one!” Scott joked.

“I think it’s safe to say that it’s in everybody’s best interests that he doesn’t breed anyway” Logan laughed.

“Do you have a girlfriend boy?” Terry asked Joe.

“Yes” Joe whimpered.

“He doesn’t treat her well though, she’s been trying to find the courage to break up with him for ages, she told me so herself” Brad announced.

“You’re a liar!” Joe snapped, he was still letting out moans of pain though from the kick to the balls he took from Mike.

“Ask her yourself when we let you go Joe” Brad was feeling smug.

“You mean IF we let him go” Jordan grinned and we were all amused.

Joe’s pain moans were getting quieter and less frequent as time was going on. “No you can’t just keep me prisoner” he was talking normal too  now rather than doing the usual shouting, he did not have the same level of energy as he always had before.

“Why not boy? Nobody cares about you to save you, everybody here is being entertained from watching you suffer, we’ve tortured you and you’ve been throat fucked, what is to stop us from keeping you prisoner? Besides, your girlfriend means to break up with you and we can’t see an obnoxious prick like you getting anyone else any time soon with your attitude so you may as well make the most of the action you’re getting here!” Steve told him and we all laughed.

Joe was speechless, he had a look on his face that I had never seen before, clueless and not sure what to do say or do. Is he actually now realising how defeated he is? Does he realise that Brad is telling the truth about his girlfriend planning to break up with him? Is he coming off his high horse and realising the danger he is actually in?

“As you’re going to have no girlfriend, you can focus on sucking some dick instead, now are you going to comply?” Steve asked him.

“Fine, fuck! If it’s what I have to do! Let’s just get it over with! Joe responded.

“It’ll be over with when we say it’s over with prick!” Terry insulted Joe for his insolence.

Joe sighed and then shuffled himself onto his knees. “Who would like to have their cock sucked first?” Terry asked everyone.

“I’d like to go first again if that’s okay? He owes me and he can continue from where we left off” Mike smiled. Joe was trying so hard not to rage. The gay gang smiled back and let Mike continue with his fun. Mike took his hard cock out and Joe had reluctantly leaned in and was now sucking it.

“Look at that for progress lads! He’s actually sucking a cock off his own will!” Logan was impressed.

Mike lifted up his t-shirt and moaned “ohh yeah!” As Joe was sucking his cock. Everyone had a turn of having Joe sucked their cock. Jordan took his cock out and Joe was sucking him then Terry, Steve, Jason, Logan and then… Eugene.

Everything that the gay gang had said Eugene’s legendary big black cock was all true, 12 inches, thick and veiny! We couldn’t believe the size of it, he was hung like a horse! Joe’s eyes widened at the sight of Eugene’s cock and he shook his head. “I can’t fit that in my mouth!” Joe protested.

Eugene gave Joe’s face a good few slaps with his monster cock and said “come onnn you can do it boyyy! Get it innn!”

Joe squinted each time the giant cock slapped his face, the sensation can’t have been that far off like getting hit with a pipe! Joe had to open his mouth up really wide to get Eugene’s cock in it.

“He looks like one of them blow up sex dolls!” Scott laughed.

“GLERGH! GLER! GLERGGHHH!!!” Joe made loud gobbling noises followed by gagging noises as his mouth was being stretched out by Eugene’s monster cock. Eugene placed his hands at either side of Joe’s head and pulled it towards to him, forcing Joe to deep throat him. “GLERRGHHHHH!!!!!” Joe was making loud retching noises and a few strands of dribble was coming out all around his mouth.

“Yeahhhh get it right in boyyy!” Eugene was happy.

“GLERGGHHH!!!” Joe continued to struggle for a few good moments before Eugene had finally pushed his head away. Once Eugene’s cock was out of Joe’s mouth, Joe was gasping for air, dribbling from his mouth all down his body and onto the floor.

“Suck it some more boyyy!” Eugene ordered him.

Joe did as he was told. After the way he was throat fucked by Mike earlier, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand a chance getting forcibly throat fucked by Eugene! Joe continued to suck on Eugene’s cock. “Yeahhh babyyy!” Eugene was loving every second of it, he was super cool and chilled out, somebody I would love to be a bottom to if the opportunity was given to me. For the first time in my whole life, I was jealous over Joe. After a good few more moments of sucking Eugene’s cock, Eugene let somebody else have a turn. Joe was gasping for air again, dribbling all over the place but Brad didn’t give Joe much time to recover before he demanded Joe to begin sucking him.

Every other employee also had a turn having Joe suck their cock with some of them all having a personal message of their own to give it to Joe as he was sucking them.

“A reminder for you Joe, ONE I am the SIR now, TWO you will make the most successful blowjob that you can give and THREE we call the shots around here now not you!” Brad told him and Joe was not allowed to respond, had to continue to do his as he was told and to keep sucking.

Later on as Joe was sucking on Ryan’s cock, Ryan told him “sorry Joe you don’t get any extra pay for this but you’ll live!”

As Joe was sucking on Scott’s cock, Scott said to him “say Joe, I’ve always been curious to know what my dick actually tastes like, I hope you can let me know one day!” he chuckled.

A few of the other employees had their dicks sucked by Joe too, he must be getting jaw ache by now but that’s not our problem! I volunteered to go last and when my turn had arrived, I walked over to Joe and took my cock out. Joe looked up and glanced at me for a few seconds, he appeared to have been weighing me up. He then focused his eyes on my cock and began to suck.

Joe’s lips wrapped around my cock, I could feel the wetness of his mouth as he was sucking me. He was going back n forth and would occasionally go a bit faster as he sucked, I was impressed by how good he was. Volunteering to go last after he was able to gain experience with sucking everybody else turned out to be a really good idea!

I placed my hands at either side of Joe’s head and played a bit with his orange brown hair. As much of a bully he is, there was no doubting how hot his face is. Had he have behaved differently, he would have been considered a dream boyfriend. Unfortunately for Joe, he just had to behave like a dick so that wasn’t the case. Fortunately for us, we now have him sucking our dicks because of the way he is.

I decided to do what Eugene had done earlier and pulled Joe’s head down my cock for him to deep throat me. My whole cock was in his mouth, it felt amazing! I felt as though my cock was about to burst with how amazing this felt, Joe was gagging on it and he was drooling all over it. “This is for me, this for everybody who works here, this is for your soon to be ex girlfriend who you treat poorly, this is for Mike and this is for Nick” I told Joe and as I kept his head in my cock. After I had said those words, I let him go and Joe was once again gasping for air and drooling everywhere.

Joe looked up at me quite angrily, he wanted so badly to reply to what I’d just told him but before he could get a chance to do so, Jordan spoke up.

“Niccceee Ben mate! Has everybody had a turn?”

We all confirmed that we had and now the cock sucker himself began to speak. “Okay I’ve done what you’ve asked me, I’ve sucked your dirty dicks exactly as you wanted! Now are you going to let me go?!”

The gay gang laughed. “Dirty dicks? I mean they probably are now that they’ve been in your dirty mouth you pig!” Jordan insulted him and continued “but if you thought that cock sucking was the only gay activity we were going have you do, you couldn’t be any more wrong!” Jordan grinned.

Joe gave an angry sigh “for fuck sake! Just let me fucking go!” Joe stood up on his feet “enough is enough! You’ve stripped me naked! Whipped me! Crushed my fucking dick and balls! Throat fucked me and had me sucking all of your cocks, what the hell do you want me from me now?!” Joe demanded.

“You still have a lot of learning to do!” Logan told him.

“You’ve learned how to comply” Jordan said, “but you haven’t learned to take responsibility. You have to do these things because you know it’s what you deserve! But don’t worry… that is something that I am going to drill into you!” Jordan grinned and pulled something out of his back. We all laughed and cheered.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!” Joe asked.

Jordan’s grin grew wider “we’ve all had a turn using your mouth…now…it’s time for your arsehole!”

The sound was so loud! It rang through the whole room as Jordan squeezed down on the trigger of the big drill with the thick black dildo attached to it.

The hallway was quiet. Just past midnight.

Everyone else in the house had either passed out or was still downstairs drinking. My room was right across from Jace’s. All I had to do was take a breath, cross the hall, and knock.

I hesitated.

Not because I didn’t want to…because I did. My whole body was thrumming with need. Jace had whispered it into my ear like a demand: My room. Tonight. I want to be the first to stretch that hole.

I’d been hard ever since.

So I knocked on his door. Once. Then again.

The door cracked open. Then swung wide.

Jace stood there in nothing but a pair of tight grey shorts that clung to his thighs and bulge like they were painted on. Yeah, of course he wasn’t wearing any underwear.
His chest was massive, hair dusting his pecs, abs like carved stone, arms flexed slightly as he leaned against the doorframe.

He looked down at me and grinned. “Pledge,” he said, laughing under his breath. “Didn’t even have to remind you. Look at you. Already at my doorstep like a good little mutt.”

My heart raced. I nodded.

“I like this dedication,” he said, stepping aside. “Come in.”

I walked in. Quiet. Nervous. The lights were low, room hot, the air laced with the smell of musk and body spray. His sheets were half off the bed, floor scattered with socks and used towels. He closed the door behind me.

“Strip.”

His voice was low and rough, no room for questions.

I peeled my shirt off. My boxers followed. I stood still, like I was waiting for orders. Like my body was no longer mine.

He stepped forward slowly, cock swelling behind his shorts. His eyes never left mine. “Get on your knees.”

I dropped down, legs folding under me. His shorts hung low enough now that the tip of his cock was pushing out against the fabric. Thick. Heavy. I stared. Waited.

He pulled his waistband down. Let it fall.

His cock bounced out…already half-hard, hanging low with weight. It smacked softly against his thigh. Then he stepped closer until his cock was right above my eyes. So close I could smell him.

Without a word, he slapped it against my face. The sound cracked through the room.

Smack.

Then again. Firmer this time.

Smack.

I didn’t flinch. Just kept my eyes up, wide and obedient.

He tilted his head. Smirked. “Chicks are desperate for my cock,” he muttered, stroking the shaft lazily. “But your eyes… your mouth… fuck….” His thumb brushed my cheek. “You want it more than any of them.”

He slapped it again.

Thwack.

“Lick it.”

I did. Tongue out. Slow. From base to tip. I could feel the veins throb against my tongue. I circled the head. Tasted sweat. Felt it twitch.

“Yeah,” he muttered, watching me. “This is the only lube you’re getting tonight.”

I licked it again, wetter this time, letting spit gather and drizzle down the shaft.

“Now spit on it.”

I leaned in and spat…thick, messy…right on the tip. He didn’t move. Just watched as it slid down and pooled around his fingers.

His voice dropped lower. “Get on the bed.”

I stood, legs weak, and climbed onto the mattress. I didn’t need direction, I got on all fours, ass up, face turned toward the headboard.

I felt the bed dip behind me.
Then his hand gripped my waist. Hard.

He spread my cheeks open and let out a low growl. “You’re fucking soaked.”

Then the tip of his cock pressed against my hole. Not slow. Not teasing. Just pressure. And push.

“Unhh..Aah. Jace.” I gasped, hands clawing the sheets.

He drove in halfway, thick and brutal. My body jerked forward. My ass stretched wide, struggling to take the size.

“Fuck,” he grunted behind me. “You’re tight as fuck, pledge…”

He spat on his hand, rubbed it between us, then slammed forward.

His hips met my ass. I moaned loudly, face shoved into the mattress.

“No whining,” he hissed, grabbing my throat from behind. “You wanted this, didn’t you.”

He pulled back.

Then….
Thrust again…

“Aah.. jace..”

“Sir…”

I could feel every inch, my body trembling from the way my hole stretched, from the heat, from the way his cock carved into me.

“Chicks line up for it,” he growled, pounding again. “But you? You take it like it’s your job.”

He slapped and squished my ass, “Fuck, your hole’s drooling already.”

He leaned over, his chest grazing my back, his voice in my ear. “You needed this, didn’t you?”

Thrust again….

“Yes…fuck..yes.. Jace,..”

“Louder.”

“I needed it…needed your cock,…”

His fingers dug into my hips. “You’ve been dreaming about this since the day you saw me. I instantly knew you wanted this cock so bad..”

Smack. He slapped my ass raw. “Admit it.”

“I have,” I moaned. “I wanted it…I still want it..”

“Say it.”

“I want your cock, Jace.”

He thrust harder. No mercy. My legs were shaking, arms collapsing beneath me. My whole body rocked forward with each thrust.

The room was filled with the sounds of Jace slapping my ass, thrusting his cock deep into my hole, ocassionally squishing my ass to see how badly I was leaking…the sounds of spit, grunts and moans… My hole was stretched wide, clenching around him.

He grabbed my hair, pulled my head back. “You think any of those other frat boys could fuck you like this?” he sneered.

I whimpered.

“Answer.”

“No…no one…just you…”

“That’s fucking right.”

He pulled out.

My hole pulsed, leaking spit and precum, gaping open.

“Turn over,” he said.

I flipped onto my back, legs still dangling. My body felt ruined. He grabbed my knees and pushed them up, exposing everything.

Then lined up again. His cock glistened.
“Watch me,” he ordered. “Don’t close your eyes.”

I nodded.

And he slammed in again.

“Who’s hole is this, pledge?”

“Yours Sir”, I answered

“And it belongs to whom?”

“Sir, you. own my hole”.

Thrust again.

“Atta Boy. That’s my pledge”

I gasped. He stayed deep, buried to the hilt. “You like looking up at me while I wreck you?” His abs flexed. Sweat dripped onto my chest. “Look at this fucking view.”

He pulled back.

Thrusting faster now. Relentless.

My body jolted with each hit, my cock untouched, bobbing helplessly.

“You feel that?” he muttered. “Feel how deep I am?”
“So fucking full….” I groaned.
“You think any of them could stretch you like this?”
“No…only you..fuck….”, I moaned.

He pinned my wrists above my head.

Then leaned in, his face close. “I should make you cum with nothing but this,” he growled.

He pounded harder. The bed shook. My moans spilled freely now.

“Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” I gasped. “Please….cum in me..fill me up, Jace.”

“Fucking slut,.. My slut.” he grunted.

Thrust.

Thrust.

His rhythm turned erratic. His grip tightened.

Then….

He slammed in one final time. His cock twitched deep inside me. I felt it.

Spurt.

Hot ropes of cum shot into me. His whole body shook.

Spurt. Spurt.

He stayed there, buried deep, breathing hard. My hole stretched around him, clenching.

Then he slowly pulled out.

His cum dripped from me immediately…thick, messy, hot.

He looked down at me. Smirked. “Clean it.”

I rolled over, dragged myself down, and took him into my mouth. Warm. Slick. I licked him clean like a good pledge. Swallowed everything.

He tapped my cheek twice. “Good boy.” Then walked off, cock still heavy, disappearing into the bathroom.

I stayed on the bed….hole leaking, mouth full of him, cock still aching for touch. And I knew it deep in my chest. I’d do it again. Whenever he wanted.

Jace was the first to claim my hole.
But this was only the beginning.
Four more guys were waiting for me tomorrow….for the final task.

---

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I was editing the footage from our latest tutor-jock roleplay scene: the one where I absolutely destroyed my straight roommate Brad’s brain and then his cock. It was a request from George, one of our more generous fans, and I wanted to get it just right. Except somewhere between cutting clips and adding audio levels, I got way too into it. I ended up jerking off to Brad moaning “Sir” on screen… which is, of course, the exact moment Brad walked in on me.

Instead of freaking out, he laughed. Teased me. Sat down next to me. One thing led to another, and I ended up finishing in his hand. Then the bastard licked it clean, stared right at the camera and said, “Gotta give ‘em a show, right?” Like we weren’t mid-editing session. And just as I was recovering, Brad hit me with: “Apparently someone wants me to do a solo vid. You film it. Talk to me while I jerk off or whatever.” So yeah.

That’s where we’re at.

He stood there now in the doorway of the living… bare chest, basketball shorts hanging low on his hips, a cocky little smirk like he hadn’t just eaten my cum off his palm ten minutes ago.

“You ready?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck like this was some casual errand and not him about to jerk off on camera for a stranger.

I was still adjusting my waistband, trying to pretend I hadn’t come already today. “Did you even read the request properly?”

He shrugged. “Something about eye contact, jerking off while you talk shit to me? Typical stuff.”

I picked up my phone, scanning the DM. “Yeah, but it’s not just dirty talk. They want… like, a back-and-forth. Said they want to hear me teasing you. Asking you questions while you stroke. Said they wanna hear how dumb you get when you’re horny.”

Brad rolled his eyes. “Wow. Can’t believe people think I’m the dumb one.”

I raised a brow. “You literally played a failing jock who needed to get his cock sucked to pass algebra.”

He grinned. “Yeah, well. At least I passed.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. The weirdest part about all of this… all the filming, the roleplays, the fact that we somehow stumbled into this whole thing without really talking about it was how easy it was with him. Comfortable. Like we weren’t even acting half the time.

“Alright,” I said, clicking the camera on. “Let’s see if Mr. Thompson can perform without a script.”

Brad stepped toward the couch, already tugging at the drawstring of his shorts. “You’re not gonna do the whole ‘Sir’ thing again, are you?”

“Only if you start whining,” I said, sitting behind the camera.

The camera beeped. It was recording.

Brad flopped down on the couch and spread his legs like a guy who knew he was hot shit. His cock was already hardening, tenting the front of his shorts like it knew the deal before he did.

“Okay,” I said, voice dropping into that low, teasing tone. “Let’s start with something easy. Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

He blinked at me, cock swelling more. “Right now?”

“Yeah. What’s got you hard already?”

He chuckled. “You jerking off to me earlier. That was hot as fuck.”

“Yeah?” I said, adjusting the focus. “You liked seeing me lose it over your moans?”

Brad licked his lips, sliding his hand under his waistband. “Kinda turned me on knowing you couldn’t even finish editing before you had to cum.”

“Keep going,” I murmured, letting the camera get a closer shot as he started stroking himself, slow and lazy.

He groaned, head tipping back. “I thought about getting home and finding you still watching. Maybe walking in on you with your cock out… maybe just watching for a second before joining in.”

“Fuck, Brad,” I muttered, heat pooling in my stomach again. “You’re really getting into this.”

His hand moved faster now, his cock thick and glistening in the low light. “Feels good when you talk to me. I dunno. Makes it hotter.”

“You’re gonna be such a slut in this video,” I said, moving in closer with the camera. “They’re gonna hear everything. Every little whimper.”

He groaned. “I don’t whimper.”

“Bullshit,” I said. “You did last night. When I had you pinned.”

He flushed. “That was acting.”

“No, that was you leaking down your thigh and moaning like you were about to beg.”

He jerked harder at that, eyes fluttering. “Fuck,…aah.. fuck you…Cody”

“Don’t cum yet,” I warned. “You know the rules. I want you desperate first.”

His chest was rising and falling fast now, abs flexing, cock twitching in his grip.

“You know,” I added, sitting back just enough to frame his whole body in the shot, “this is going to end up online. Everyone’s gonna see your dumb jock face losing it while I talk you into blowing a load.”

His hips bucked. “Then say something filthier.”

I smirked. “You want filthy? Fine.”

I leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for the mic.

“You’re gonna cum so hard your balls will feel completely drained. You’re gonna moan like my desperate little slut and even after you shoot all over yourself, you won’t stop stroking, because you’re just that needy for me.”

Brad growled under his breath. “Fuck. Cody, Bro…”

“Now,” I said. “Do it now. Look at me while you cum.”

“Ahhh.. Cody… uuh.. aah.

He looked right into the camera, right into me and gasped.

His whole body locked up as he came, fast and intense. Warm spurts landed across his chest and stomach, some catching his hand as he kept stroking, lost in it. His breath hitched, moans slipping out between clenched teeth, completely undone.

“Good boy,” I said, voice softer now.

He lay there panting, flushed and fucked-out, cum cooling on his skin.

I moved the camera aside and walked over, handing him a towel.

Brad just looked at it and scoffed. “You really think I’m gonna wipe off my cum with a towel?”

He leaned back on his elbows, cocky grin on full display. “Like Steven always says…what a waste of a good load.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Okay, wiseass. Got a better plan?”

He met my eyes, still flushed, still glistening with sweat and cum. “Yeah,” he said casually. “Roll the camera again..Let’s give the audience a little something extra.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What are you scheming now?”

He didn’t even flinch. “I want you to clean it off me. With your tongue.”

I stared at him. He just raised his eyebrows like it was the most normal thing in the world. ” Come on, Cody. Don’t let it spill on the couch”

I snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”

He leaned back again, chest still messy, cock twitching slightly. “Yeah. So get to work.”

His thick pecs flexing with every breath.

Sweat clung to his skin, mixing with the mess he’d made. His nipples looked tight, flushed, glistening in the light. And the cum? It was everywhere. And I mean everywhere.

Trust me when I say, he’d painted himself. It was splattered across his abs, thick between the ridges, a little dripping toward his navel. Some of it had pooled at the base of his cock, the rest trailing down his thigh in shiny, slow lines. I could see where it clung to the soft insides of his legs, that tender space no camera angle ever fully catches, but this one was personal. This one was for us. Perhaps just for me.

It was warm. Still fresh. Like it was made just for me.

I set the towel down, got on my knees beside him on the couch, and didn’t even ask. Just leaned forward and gave his lower abs a slow, deliberate lick. My tongue dragged through the thick white puddle, and I tasted him fully.

Not salty. I blinked, surprised.

“Dude,” I said, sitting back slightly, my tongue still wet. “Your cum tastes sweeter.”

Brad let out a breathy laugh. “Figured I’d get you addicted eventually. Pretty sure the whole pineapple diet’s finally kicking in.”

I smirked, leaning back down. “Consider this your taste test.”

He grinned. “Fuck yes, Cody. Late night snack.”

I went back in.
This time slower. My tongue pressed flat to his skin, warm and wet, catching every drop along his abs. The texture of it slid along the roof of my mouth, sticky but smooth, and I made sure to keep my mouth just parted enough for the camera. Let them see what they paid for. The way my lips shined, the way my tongue moved. The way I swallowed.

Brad’s breath hitched.

“Uh…fuck…”

Yeah. He was still sensitive.

I licked across his stomach again, letting the flat of my tongue smear the leftover streaks before I closed my lips around one spot and sucked gently.

He gasped. His thigh jumped under my hand.

I grinned against his skin. “Still tender, huh?”

He nodded, dazed. “Uh-huh… jesus.”

I moved lower, toward where it had dripped onto his thigh. His leg parted for me automatically, letting me between them. The inside of his thighs were warm, smooth, muscled. I kissed just above his knee, then let my tongue trace a thick drop of cum trailing upward.

It stuck to my tongue, thick and messy, and I moaned softly as I took it into my mouth.

“Mmm…”

“Damn,” Brad muttered, voice shaky. “You’re really going for it.”

I looked up at him, cum still glistening on my lip. “You started this.”

He smirked, but he didn’t say anything back. Just let me keep going.

I worked my way up one thigh, then the other, licking slowly, letting the camera catch my tongue dragging along the curves of his legs, up toward the crease where his thigh met his groin. My hand rested on his hip now, fingers gripping that soft line above his pelvis, the V-cut slick with sweat and cum.

Somewhere between his moans and the wet sounds of my tongue, I caught myself thinking about something else.

I didn’t even notice when I stopped hiding behind the mask.

Back when we started this whole thing, I used to keep my face off camera. I didn’t want anyone knowing. But that changed. It changed fast. The first time I showed my face in a video, the comments blew up…fans calling me cute, hot, saying shit like “Brad and Cody XXX is the best thing that’s ever happened to porn.” And I guess I just… leaned into it. The mask disappeared. My face was part of the brand now.

I didn’t care anymore.

I kissed the base of his cock. Not to get him hard again. Just because it felt right. Then I moved up, cleaning the trails of cum off his lower stomach, one slow swirl of my tongue at a time. I could feel how slick it was under me, how my lips made soft wet noises every time I sucked a drop clean.

“Fuck,” Brad whispered. “That’s hot. Like… too hot.”

“Fuck yeah,” I muttered, licking again, higher now.

There was one thick splatter just under his pec, like it had landed while he’d been jerking off and bounced. I leaned up, tongue out, and licked it clean in one long, slow stroke. His nipple twitched beside my mouth.

Then I saw it.

A little drop near his collarbone. Just under his neck, nestled in that warm hollow where his skin was flushed.

I paused.

This close, I could feel his breath.

His chest was rising, steady but deep. His hand was resting near his side, not moving. His eyes were on me now. Really on me.

I leaned up, slower than before.

My tongue met the cum there…warm, nearly dried and I licked it gently, tracing the edge of it before sliding the whole thing into my mouth. My face was right over his now. Close. Closer than we’d ever been.

He shivered.

I swallowed.

Then I realized… we’d never actually kissed before. We’d done everything else. Blown each other. Rimmed. Fucked. But we’d never really kissed.

Not once.

I hovered there, inches from his face, my lips slick, my breath warm against his cheek. Brad’s eyes flicked to mine. He wasn’t smirking now. He looked… something else.

“I think that’s the last drop,” I whispered.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice barely a murmur.

Our eyes met.

I could feel the tension, thick between us. It was different now. Not performative. Not for them. Just us. The camera was still rolling, but I wasn’t thinking about it. All I saw was him.

My lips were so close to his I could feel the warmth of his breath against mine. And for once, neither of us moved. We just looked at each other, like we both knew what this moment was but didn’t know who’d break it first.

Brad licked his lips once, slow.

Then just as I leaned in closer, the space between us charged with anticipation, every heartbeat pulling us closer to that moment. I thought to myself… was I finally going to kiss Brad?

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