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A Collection of 12 Very Short Public School Stories

Each of the 12 stories below is told in a maximum of 350 words. They are unrelated and can be read in any order. They are not set in any public school in particular or in any period of history.  They are an utter antithesis of my normal, expansive writing style; with a maximum of 350 words per tale, every word must pull its full weight. 

 

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History Repeats Itself

The first former knocked timidly at the door of the head-boy’s study

A shout across the closed door told him to enter. The head-boy sat at his desk, on which lay a vicious looking cane, which already said it all.

“You wanted to see me, Sir?”

“Yes I did; I saw you this afternoon down town, which, as you know, is out of bounds to first formers.  Moreover you were not wearing your cap. You have thus committed two beatable offences, each of which carries six strokes of the cane. Take off your blazer and stand behind that armchair. Drop your trousers and underpants, bend over the back of the chair, place your hands on its seat and do not move until I give you permission.”

The head-boy administered twelve swingeing strokes and then told the boy him to get up, dress and get out.

Five years later, a first former knocked timidly at the door of the head-boy’s study. A shout across the closed door told him to enter. The head-boy sat at his desk, on which lay a vicious looking cane, which already said it all.

“You wanted to see me, Sir,”

“Yes I did’ I saw you this afternoon down town, which as you know is out of bounds to first formers.  Moreover you were not wearing your cap. You have committed two offences, each of which carries six strokes of the cane. Take off your blazer and stand behind that armchair. Drop your trousers and underpants, bend over the back of the chair, place your hands on its seat and do not move until I give you permission.”

The head-boy administered twelve swingeing strokes and then told a tearful boy to get up, dress and get out.

In the first incident, the head-boy was Simon Havers and his victim was Jonathan Powers. In the second incident Jonathan Powers, now in his final year, was the head-boy wielding the cane and his victim was Nigel Havers, the younger the brother of the former head-boy Simon Havers. Fact is often stranger than fiction.

A Painful Appointment

“Headmaster, you sent for me, Sir?

“Indeed I did, Fordyce. Do come and sit down and let me offer you a glass of Port.” said the Headmaster, who was sitting in an armchair in front of a blazing log fire.

Fordyce had no idea why he had been summoned: “That’s very kind of you, Sir; but the school rules forbid boys drinking any alcohol.”

“Oh, there are occasions when an exception can be; and anyway you might shortly be in need of something to fortify you. So sit down and let me pour you a glass, before we get down to business.”

Fordyce could not help noticing that the old armchair, over which he had bent several time in the past when the Headmaster had beaten him, had been drawn into the middle of the room, with a vicious-looking cane lying across its arms. This, together with the phrase: shortly in need of something to fortify you, send a shiver down his spine; a shiver which turned panic as the Headmaster continued: “Perhaps, Fordyce, as head-boy, you would be good enough to explain to me why I saw you emerging from the King’s Arms hostelry yesterday evening at 10:30 closing time.

Fordyce knew that his goose was cooked; as he had been caught in flagrante breaking one of the most rigidly enforced rules of the School. Sure enough, after choking down the last drops of port, which now tasted bitter, he found himself bent over that battered armchair, arse naked, staring down at a tear stained cushion, to which he was about to add his own lachrymose contribution. The Headmaster, who was an expert with the cane, did not spare his head-boy as he applied twelve swingeing cuts of the senior cane to an inviting pair of muscular buttocks.

The Headmaster, having offered his head-boy an alcoholic drink, then, a few minutes later shredded his arse for frequenting a public house, seemingly did not find his behaviour inconsistent. Fordyce, meanwhile, was relieved to have escaped with a well-beaten arse but with his status as head-boy intact.

A Silver Lining 

At the start of the school year, in his remarks exhorting them to keep order in the School by regular use of the cane, the Headmaster had told the newly appointed prefects that they could give up to a maximum of six strokes to their schoolmates for any one offence. The head-boy, as senior prefect, was allowed up to a maximum of twelve strokes. However, what the Headmaster had intended to be maximum punishments, with that sadistic enthusiasm of the prefects for inflicting pain on their schoolmates, quickly became the norm.

Even for the most piffling of offences, many of which hardly justified a beating, all prefects’ beatings became six-stroke affairs; the head-boy automatically always giving twelve cuts. By the end of the first month of the new term, the head-boy and his co-prefects had already established a reputation of being one of the hardest and most relentless groups of caners on record and were all heartily hated by their schoolmates.

First former, The Honourable Percival St. John Ibbotson-Smith, the eldest son of Baron Ibbotson-Smith, had been stupid enough to be caught running down the corridor: a definite no-no and always a beating offence. So when Percy knocked, with some justifiable trepidation, on the head-boy’s study door, he already knew that his arse was toast.

The head-boy revelled in the feeling of power that the plump, bare arse he was about to roast was that of a minor member of the nobility; it inspired him to a greater effort than usual. Twelve times the cane transmitted its agonising message to the unfortunate Percy’s naked butt, so that when he got up, he was sporting an artistically striped, excruciatingly painful pair of buttocks:  a truly well-beaten arse, but one which he could exhibit with pride as a trophy to his room-mates, who had hitherto thought of him as a toffee-nosed, upper-class twit. However, showing off his stripes to them room-mates changed all that. Percy had arrived and was finally accepted; he was now considered one of them.

So, flogged and flogger were, for quite different reasons, both content.

To beat or not to beat?

With apologies to Shakespeare for the pun: To beat or not to beat was never a question which crossed head-boy Hamilton’s mind, whenever the prospect of thrashing one of his schoolmates presented itself. No introspective soliloquy was ever needed to provide the answer, which can be summed up in another, this time, verbatim quotation from the bard: Lay on, Macduff, and damn’d be him that first cries, ‘Hold, enough!’

The second quotation is particularly apposite, for Hamilton never hesitated laying-on the cane with a vigour, which had earned him the hated reputation he currently enjoyed throughout the School: that of a sadistic sod! He totally ignored any plea from his victims, who dared to say: “Please, please, Hamilton, no more; I’ve had enough!”

Flogging his schoolmates was one of Hamilton’s two favourite pastimes; I leave it to the reader to imagine what the other was. He had fully accepted that as head-boy he could not both run with the hare and hunt with the hounds; and so he sacrificed popularity among his schoolmates on the altar of sadistic self-satisfaction. Hated reputation, be damned; Hamilton’s sadistic streak always dictated his actions.

First former, Patrick O’Hara, a Liverpool-Irish scholarship boy, was today to have his hitherto virgin arse introduced by Hamilton to that time-honoured, painful practice of public school life: a thrashing on the bare. Patrick, from a working-class family, with his Liverpool accent, felt like a fish out of water, surrounded, as he was, by boys from richer, more privileged backgrounds who talked posh and who walked around naked in the dorm as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do.

His crime? Talking during prep; hardly enough to justify a beating at all: but enough of an excuse for Hamilton to indulge his own intrinsic sadism and lay on twelve swingeing strokes across the lad’s bare arse. But the pain was worth all the tea in China to Patrick, as when he limped back to his dorm he was welcomed as a hero by his dorm-mates. He was finally accepted as one of them.

Dicing With Death

Dr. Eustace De’ath – pronounced Dee Ath – known to his pupils as Dr. Death, had a justifiable reputation as being the hardest caner known to man; well, if not to all men, at least to the generations of boys he had flogged over the past 45 years: the last 30 as Headmaster. Visits to his study were always justifiably viewed as a fate worse than death, although needless to say his victims always survived their ordeal: generally referred to as dicing with death.

Not surprisingly, 18 year-old Stephen Johnson, the deputy head-boy, was nervous as he knocked on the door of the Headmaster’s study to answer for his latest sin.  He knew that his arse was to be roasted, as he had committed one of those many one things, which the Headmaster cited as he prepared to beat his current victim: “One thing I will not tolerate in a boy is….”

Stephen was kicking himself for his stupidity. He had uttered the forbidden word bugger, cursing himself for muffing a conversion kick in the rugger match. But he had been heard by the odious sports master, who had reported him to The Death for swearing. So he knew he was in deep shit with his arse on the line.

The Death played Stephen his usual recording: “One thing I will not tolerate in a boy is swearing. You will receive six cuts for swearing and another six as you are deputy head-boy and should know better.  You know the protocol, Johnson, so prepare yourself for retribution.”

Stephen knew full well there was no point in explaining that he had sworn at himself for his ineptitude in the match. So he dropped his trousers and underpants and bent across the armchair and waited for the onslaught.

And when it came, in spite of his age, The Death showed that his reputation as the hardest caner ever was still intact. So it was with a very sore backside that Stephen finally escaped, feeling lucky that he had not been reduced to the ranks and that he was still deputy head-boy.

Beaten for Doing Nothing 

It was more than a week since the Headmaster had flogged a boy. As an inveterate flogger, who secretly enjoyed inflicting pain on his charges, he was suffering from severe withdrawal symptoms from his favourite pastime. A week devoid of any arse to beat was more than he could bear; never had he felt quite so deprived.

But things looked up, as he saw out of his study window, Roscoe,  a beefy fourth-former and a habitual bully, whose backside was no stranger to the cane, laying into a first-former half his size.  But when he observed four sixth-formers, obviously enjoying the spectacle, egging Roscoe on to do his worst, he felt that uncontrollable piece of flesh between his legs stirring in anticipation. Today, the gods were with him!

An hour later, Roscoe and the four sixth formers were standing, justifiably nervous, in front of the Headmaster. “Roscoe, you were bullying a boy half your size; and you four were just looking on, obviously enjoying the fracas.  The five of you, take of your blazers, trousers and underpants and go and stand with your hands on your heads and press your noses against the wall over there. Realising they were all to be flogged, one of four ventured: “But sir we haven’t done anything.”

“Exactly! The four of you did nothing, when as sixth formers you should have stopped Roscoe bullying a boy half his size. So, in retribution for your moral weakness, you will each receive twelve cuts on the bare.  However, one thing I will not tolerate in a boy is bullying  and you, Roscoe, are an inveterate bully; as such you will suffer twelve cuts of the birch followed by six of the cane, in the vain hope of curing you of your unfortunate habit.”

The Headmaster lived up to his reputation as the hardest of hard floggers and ensured that the five lads all left his study in utter agony. Five well-deserved beatings had given him the shot in the arm necessary to carry him forward until someone else needing his attention turned up.

The Worst of the Housemasters 

Housemaster Commander Thresher, whose nickname, The Thrasher, was well merited, was the only housemaster in the school to use the birch in addition to the cane; and use them both regularly he certainly did. No grass grew under his feet when it came to correcting – his word – members of his house. From first-formers through to the upper-sixth, boys dreaded the ominous order, to present themselves at The Thrasher’s study, always at bedtime, wearing only their pyjamas. Such visits inevitably presaged a painful night ahead for the unfortunate boy concerned.

No matter how trivial the offence, The Thrasher was always generous and never gave less than twelve cuts of the cane, always on the bare. Over the years, Thrasher had honed his technique to perfection and always sent a boy away, whatever his misdeed, with an arse so well-beaten, that the pain transcended the imagination of the bearable. Boys inevitably left his study in agony, bearing that classic public school hallmark: the well-beaten arse. But no boy ever complained; it just was not the done thing.

Thrasher’s basic, everyday, run-of-the-mill flogging was a dozen swingeing, evenly spaced, parallel strokes with a senior rattan cane, applied from the bottom of his victim’s back down to the highly sensitive sit-spot in his crease. But there are more ways than one to skin a cat. At the other extreme end of the pain-scale, were twelve cuts applied in two sets of six, to two well-defined, narrow areas of a lad’s arse. The victim emerged visually with only two stripes, each of which was the product of six precisely positioned, excruciatingly-painful strokes landing in exactly the same place: an exceedingly painful, blood-letting experience.

Between these two, painful alternatives, Thrasher had devised a series of graduated permutations, of which the ultimate horror started with six strokes of the birch, followed by twelve strokes of the cane:  a bloody – often literally – hideously painful experience for the recipient. There was no doubt that Commander Thrasher justified his reputation among the boys as the archetypal sadistic public school housemaster: a reputation he not only relished but burnished.

Birched then Caned

Upper-sixth-formers Blandford and Tremayne, had been caught red-handed by their housemaster, a dedicated, sadistic flogger, not only smoking, but also quaffing whisky in Blandford’s study bedroom, where the pair of them had felt safe from detection behind a locked door.

They had reckoned without their housemaster’s investigative zeal when it came to finding a victim on whose naked buttocks he could assuage his immediate desire to thrash a senior boy. That very evening, he had been prowling around the corridor, where the upper-sixth study-bedrooms were located, in the hope finding a sixth-former breaking some rule or other which would justify a beating.

For the housemaster, a day without a flogging was as unsatisfactory as meal without wine. So, that evening, he was looking for a suitable candidate on whose bare arse he could exercise his universally-recognised skill with the cane. When he scented cigarette smoke escaping from behind a locked door, his spirits rose. When he found not one, but two boys, not only smoking, but drinking as well, he knew that he had struck gold. Two backsides were shortly destined to experience the expert attention from the cane for which he was justifiably feared.

It was with well-founded trepidation that one hour later, Blandford and Tremayne, presented themselves, appropriately attired in gym shorts and vest, at their housemaster’s study, in the fearful expectation that their backsides were in for a completely justified, first-class roasting. They were not disappointed as their worst fears were realised when they found themselves, arse-naked, tremblingly facing each other across the backs of two chairs.

The housemaster, as ever, generous to a fault when it came to dispensing pain, first gave each young-man twelve, skin-breaking strokes of the birch, followed by six hard cuts with a senior cane, leaving them both in excruciating agony, each with six bleeding welts across his already well-birched, naked buttocks.

When they were finally allowed to leave to nurse their wounds, their housemaster, luxuriating in that sexually erotic arousal which frequently accompanies a flogging, permitted his personal five- fingered lover to complement what had been, for him, a perfect evening.

End of Term Treats

At the end of each term, the Headmaster saw – a euphemism for flogged – those boys, whose school work had been deemed unsatisfactory during the term. And when the Headmaster flogged a boy, always on the bare, pain was the name of the game: a game which he knew how to play to perfection. The boys concerned knew that their backsides would be on the firing line for what was generally referred to as the ETT, the End of Term Treat, which left the recipients with an agonisingly painful bottom for their journey home the following day.  

The only consolation was that one was never alone whilst waiting to face the Headmaster; there were always several other boys in the same boat.  Gallows humour abounded, as each boy waited to be called in to meet his fate. The procedure was always the same. At the appointed hour, the condemned boys assembled in the corridor outside the Headmaster’s study, wearing only their gym shorts and vests and were called in to be dealt with individually in ascending order of age.

It was the end of the end of the school year in late July. Among those waiting was a bone-idle, first-former Anthony Tillet, in line for his third ETT that year. He had already had his arse whacked by the Headmaster in the ETT at the end of the preceding two terms and was now justifiably apprehensive about his fate; and with good reason. The Headmaster had decided, in view of Anthony’s continued aversion to work, that the time had come for the ultimate punishment: a kill-or-cure, twelve stroke birching followed by six cuts of the cane.

As Anthony bent across the chair, waiting for the first stroke of his maiden birching, he suddenly remembered the ominous warning of his martinet of a father, Major Tillet, that he would give his son’s backside absolute hell if he received another bad school report for idleness. Major Tillet was a strict, no nonsense military man who kept his word. So Anthony had another thrashing to look forward to once he arrived home.

An Invidious system

The sword of Damocles, in the form of the rattan cane, hung perpetually over the denizens of the school. It was bad enough to be told to report for punishment to one of the many individuals who had the right to beat: the Headmaster and the six housemasters, of course: the eighteen prefects, (three per house) most of whom espoused the duty to keep order devolved upon them with a degree of zealous application, pronounced admirable by the Headmaster, but considered excessive by the boys on whose bare arses the cane landed.

Finally there was Halliday, the head-boy: a peerless disciplinarian:  the chief keeper of order when the boys were not in class. Like many prefects allowed to thrash their schoolmates, Halliday dispensed floggings at the drop of a hat and was considered the hardest caner of the year, as any boy who was unfortunate enough to be called to his study could testify.

But over and above the regular beatings which were accepted by the boys as being a painful reality of school life, the school had a system of cumulative demerits. All boys carried a small demerit diary, on each on each page of which was a series of 10 demerit boxes. Any boy being awarded a demerit handed over the diary to the prefect or master concerned who simply ticked one of the boxes and added the date and his name. There was no record of why the demerit had been awarded.

Once a page was complete with 10 demerits, the next Friday at five o-clock, the unfortunate boy was honour-bound to present himself voluntarily to the head-boy to receive a six-cut, no-questions- asked beating on the bare.

Needless to say, as the school had 500 boys, there was a regular stream of casualties waiting nervously each Friday to receive this somewhat percussive expression of tender-loving-care to their bare arses, which Halliday generously dispensed with the cane. Halliday saw it as one of the most agreeable moments of his week; the boys being beaten less so.

Mass Slaughter in the Dormitory

The housemaster had remarked in September to his three newly appointed prefects that he thought it might be no bad thing – his very words – if the entire house intake of 20 new boys had their first encounter with the cane by the end of their first term; the sooner the new boys faced up to the painful reality that the ubiquitous rattan-cane, would be their constant companion throughout their entire school career, the better.

The three house-prefects, each with the power to beat their housemates, decided that they would ensure that their housemaster’s wishes were fulfilled and looked forward, as boys in power often do, to beating the bare backsides of all 20 new boys before the end of term.

The new arrivals were housed in two, 10 bed dormitories, imaginatively called D1 and D2.  The concept of a whole dormitory beating was not new and the prefects intended to ensure that the occupants of D1 and D2 would all experience the bite of the cane across their bare arses before the end of term.

D1 met its fate at end of the first week. The duty prefect had switched off the lights himself at 8:30. An hour later another prefect, conducting a spot inspection, saw the lights were back on and found the occupants out of bed engaged in various recreational activities. A few minutes later all ten occupants found themselves over the foot of their beds, having their arses introduced to the painful bite of the cane.

A week later, the ten occupants of D2 suffered the same fate. They were all caned, stark naked in the showers, where they had been caught by a prefect in the forbidden act of flicking each other with their towels.

The head-of-house, in his weekly meeting with the housemaster, reported that the prefects had had to flog the occupants of D1 and D2 to teach them a lesson. The housemaster simply said: “I suppose it was inevitable.” Even though he did not say it, he secretly saw it as a job well done. 

The Head-Boy’s Dilemma

The Headmaster had unfortunately slipped and sprained his right wrist. Not wishing to deprive the Friday night’s contingent of boys on the punishment list from their just deserts, he delegated the task to his head-boy, a dedicated practitioner of the gentle art of arse-beating.

Head-boy Alastair Wilson, who that Friday had only two first-formers to beat, was initially delighted. However, delight turned into dismay when he saw that his co-prefect, upper-sixth former, Martin Fletcher, was listed to receive twelve cuts of the dragon cane.

It would have been difficult for him to beat any sixth-former; but Martin and he, both dyed-in-the-wool gays, had been regular sexual communicants since the lower-sixth. So he was confronted with an unenviable problem of flogging an arse on which he regularly exercised himself sexually.

Friday evening arrived; the head-boy dispensed his painful justice on the naked backsides of the two first-formers and on the first five lads on the Headmaster’s list. Martin Fletcher, waiting patiently outside the head-boy’s study, was finally called in.

“Martin, the Headmaster has unknowingly placed me in the invidious position of having to flog my closest friend. What the fuck did you do to merit a Headmaster’s flogging?”

“Old Hutchison (the head of the mathematics) was riding me and I just lost my cool and told him to go and fuck himself. So that’s why I’m here.”

“No, Martin; you are here in my study, because the Headmaster has sprained his wrist and delegated me to thrash, among others, my best friend; he has even lent me his dragon cane, specifically to use on your arse. How the fuck do you think I feel right now?  Look, Martin, there is no way I can get out of giving you a proper flogging; but I will make it up to you afterwards.

Later, Alastair’s post-flogging, sexual ministrations to Martin’s arse, confirmed to both of them the well-known, synergetic relationship between corporal punishment and anal sex. Neither of them had ever experienced such intense orgasms as Alastair’s efforts induced. Indeed, Martin felt that perhaps the beating had been worthwhile after all.

The End

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

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Oh, the possibilities seem so plentiful.

I believe I would begin by gently caressing the boy’s body, running my fingers up and down the outline of his body, allowing my hand to linger on his thigh, rolling across to the front of his thigh, as my boy’s back is pressed up against me.

Then, as the boy starts to awake, I silently and softly kiss his neck, my hand moving up the front of your thigh until it runs softly over your balls and dick, which is beginning to stir in anticipation. As my boy grows longer and harder with my touch, I kiss a little harder, gently stroking your morning wood as you harden further.

As you begin to moan, I slip down, sliding you over and to your back, kissing my way down your body until, with a speed and depth that makes you gasp, I take all of you suddenly and quickly into my mouth, all the way to the back of my throat, the move so swift and unexpected, you are nearly instantly starting to thrust as I suck heartily, you feeling yourself building towards climax at a speed that shocks us both.

But I only pause just a brief moment, to wet my fingers, then I return your throbbing cock to my mouth, your moaning starting to fill the air around us. Then I reach under, you thrust your hips upward, as I insert my fingers into your precious boy hole, and your moaning is almost a whimpering, fearful you can hold on no longer. But I don’t let you stop, and in mere seconds more you convulse upwards, as burst after burst of your beautiful seed blasts into my mouth, so much so it can’t be contained, and it spills out of my mouth as I crawl up your body, your juice falling from my mouth as final bursts shoot from your cock, coating us both as I press against you.

I give you a big, boy-juice filled good morning kiss, pulling back and watching you smile as you pant happily. You sigh but before you can relax, I prop up and suddenly flip you over onto your stomach….

That’s one way to wake up

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

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Saturday came and I woke with a boner, like usual. As I sat up in bed, I started to remember last night. Was it a dream? I had to think about it for a minute before I remembered it wasn’t. I laid back down and started rubbing my cock thinking about it before I remembered what he said as he left: “…tomorrow we can do some more inventory.” I stopped, wanting to save up any young man juice for later. Just in case.

The day seemed to drag but, eventually, evening came, which meant it was time to go to work. I was excited. When I arrived, Wes was already there. I wondered how he’d react around me. Initially he was stand off-ish, but it soon returned to normal. I even got a smile or two from him throughout the night. Then the rain came. It rained. And rained. And rained.

Closing time came and we cleaned everything like normal while the rain continued. My heart sank, knowing we couldn’t get to the roof in the rain. Wes knew it too, as he continuously checked out the windows all night long himself. Everyone started leaving while it was raining. I ran to the car and waited as Wes ran to his truck. He pulled up to the side of my car.

“Looks like no inventory tonight” he said.

“Yeah” I sighed.

“You know…” he started. “You could come to my place if you want.”

“Yeah sure!” I said, almost jumping for joy. “What about your parents?”

“They’re there, but I can get in the back door. My room is in the basement. We can get in without them ever knowing. Besides: my Old Man will probably be asleep anyway” he told me.

“OK. If you think it’s OK I’ll follow you!”

I pulled up behind him and followed him inside. The house seemed empty, which was good for me. We made our way down to the basement. He had a pretty nice lay out: the basement was finished and nice. He had a bed, his own bathroom and the standard video game and television.

He turned on the tv to normal volume, then we sat on his bed. In no time we were kissing, this time with more passion than the previous day. Our tongues explored each other’s mouths, as we caressed each other’s bodies. Wes’s shirt came off first. I kissed his neck and down on to his chest, his chest hair rubbing against my face as he moaned and groaned rather loudly. I licked his nipple as he grabbed my head, forcing me to his chest, which I didn’t mind one bit.

I removed my shirt, then pulled him back on top of me, falling back on his bed. He ground his hairy body on mine, I could feel his hard cock through his jeans. I reached down and undid his jeans as he pushed them off. I did the same, which meant we were only wearing our underwear and socks, with me underneath him.

As we kissed, I ran my hand down his back, feeling every muscle move as he squirmed around on top of me, making my way to the small of his back, where I found some hair. I slid my had down into his underwear, feeling his hairy and exceptionally firm ass. He moaned into my mouth, his tongue punching back into the back of my mouth as I squeezed his ass, more cock pushing harder and harder into his groin.

He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back, moving his mouth down the side of my neck. He chewed and sucked on my neck, causing me to push his head off me.

“No marks” I whispered.

“Ok ok” he said. I pulled him back down on top of me, where he belonged.

I wrapped my hands around his shoulders as we kissed, moving them down his sides down to his cock head which had poked out from underneath the leg of his underwear. He stopped kissing as soon as I touched his cock head. I traced its outline, feeling each ripple of skin as he held his breath. I did to his cock what I like to do to my own: I wrapped my fingers underneath its head ridge, and slowly worked his cock up and down. He buried his face on my shoulder as I made my way down the base of his hard cock. I in creased my grip as I pulled up, released as I pushed down. I enjoyed pleasing him but before I could continue, he sat up abruptly.

He looked at me and I at him, unsure of what he was thinking. But then, he rolled off me to his side table, rummaging through a drawer. He returned with a rubber still in its package.

“What’s that for?” I whispered, knowing, secretly hoping, but also somewhat terrified.

“I want you to fuck me” he said.

I laid there, somewhat stunned, but not too stunned to keep my cock of bouncing at the thought of it. He tossed me the rubber as he stood up.

“Put that on. I’ll be back” he said as he walked into his bathroom. I wrapped my cock, and in no time, he was walking back, naked, hard cock sticking straight out of his massive bush.

“You ready?” he asked. I nodded ‘yes’ as he straddled me. He spat on his hand and rubbed my wrapped cock, lubing me up. He sat down on my stomach, his cock pointing at my face, his hairy nuts pushing on my furry stomach. I reached around and slapped his ass with my cock, working his spit around his hairy crack. He spat on his hand one more time, lubed me up again, rose up and put my round dick head against his hole. He sat back slowly. I felt my cock met resistance, before my head slipped in his hole.

He breathed out a heavily and, with his eyes locked on mine, slide me up inside him. His eye widened more with every inch of me he took in. He sighed, almost as if in pain, but he never stopped. I felt his chute try to resist, but to no avail. My cock split his hairy hole open more and more, until I was fully inside him. He leaned forward, pulling me out of him some, then sat back down. He picked up the rhythm more and more, groaned and rolling his eyes the faster he went. Eventually, he balanced his upper body my placing his hands on my shoulders.

“That’s a big ass dick man” he moaned.

I started to fuck him, meeting his downward momentum with upward thrusts. The harder I thrusted, the more his eye rolled back in his skull, the more he moaned. I met his rhythm with my own and, holding on to his hairy hips, started pounding him like a pro. A pro at eighteen at least.

Wes started muttering things like ‘fuck’ and ‘oh god’ and ‘yes yes yes’ as I watched his hard cock bounce and slap my stomach. I knew I wouldn’t last long, being this was my first fuck ever, so I pushed Wes back to an upright position as I started torturing the inside of that rubber with my load. Wes might have felt it or just had enough, as with two strokes of his cock, he was unloading his juice all over me. He soaked me from head to chest. As he violently jerks his cock, gushing out more and more of his load on to me, I felt his chute squeeze my cock.

Once done, he sat on my still hard cock. I watched his hairy chest heave as he tried to catch his breath as quietly as possible. I reached up and moved his hand from his cock, running my finger up its shaft as it softened. As he pulled of me, his eye grew bigger and bigger. I looked down and watched my rubbered cock pull out of his ass. As my head broke his ring, he gasped as I popped out. His leg shook as he finally removed me from him. He fell off to the side of the bed, letting out an audible gasp. I watched him collapse next to me before noticing the broken rubber on my cock.

“Fuck man!” I said. He looked down.

“Fuck” is all he said.

“Man I’m sorry! I didn’t know…”

“It’s OK” he said. “It happens sometimes. You’re clean and I won’t ger pregnant so….” he said with a smile. “I’ll get you a washcloth.”

I watched his waddle into the bathroom, my on cum running down the inside of his hairy leg. He returned a moment later with a warm washcloth, his flaccid cock cutely poking out from his bush.

“You’ve got a big dick man” he said.

“You think? I have nothing to compare it to” I replied, trying to clean myself off best I could.

“I do. And I want more of it” he said.

“Well, if we keep this between us, I’m game for it!” I told him.

“I’m not telling anyone” he told me.

We finished out the night with some bad tv before I left home, a new man. Not a virgin anymore. No matter what happens with Wes and I going forward, I can now go off to college with more experience than I had anticipated. That summer, Wes and I taught each other many, many things. All of them served me well my first year in college.

Wes is married to a woman now. I see him occasionally when I go back home to visit my family. We say ‘hi’ to each other, but nothing more than that. Wes hasn’t aged well, which is a shame. He was so sexy back in the day. Oh well, that’s life, I guess. But I won’t ever forget my first fuck, fucking my work crush.

---

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 I met Craig on the Cape about 10 years ago. He appeared to be a normal, older man who was looking for a younger playmate. I was mildly experienced, but at 27, was looking to enjoy a more regular hookup, where my comfort level would allow me to explore my full sexual appetites. I was living with my girlfriend at the time, but felt these urges strongly.          

 We spoke over coffee initially and he explained what he was into. Craig said he was dominant and verbal while he played, and while never rough, he enjoyed total control over his sub. I was new to the lifestyle so we started slow.           

He gave me simple instructions in the coffee shop to follow- He had me go to the bathroom, sit in a stall, and text him pics of my pants and underwear around my ankles while I played with my cock. He told me I was a good boy and that he’d give me a shot.           

These commands escalated to tasks that I was to perform, record, and send to him almost daily. I had to ask for permission to masturbate and was to send pics of my cum each time. Once he ordered me to cum in my girls panties, let them dry, and replace them in her drawer. One night he had me record her and I having sex. It was a turn on to send him the vids and when he and I finally hooked up, he did to me what ever I had done to Cindy in the vids.           

Cindy was very submissive to me, which is probably why I liked to relinquish control to Craig. He’d have me enter his house, kneel with my palms up and head down and wait for orders. He liked to tower over me running his hands over my head and putting his fingers in my mouth. After attaching a collar, he would then lead me to his bed, undress me, and place me on a fucking pillow. He’d play the video as he deep fucked me like a woman. Since I always came in Cindy, he always bred me or came in my mouth. It was the first time I had ever felt what cum felt like inside of me. I liked it-I liked being Cindy for him, but I think he wanted more.          

We made plans to get to P-town for the weekend while Cindy was away. On the drive there, he picked up a few friends, introduced us, and headed east. We drank and loosened up. As we approached the town, Craig pulled into the garage of a beach house and suddenly my hands were pulled behind my seat. Craig reached over and cupped my mouth. “Shhh my darling. Welcome to your conversion.” I was ushered into the house from the garage and brought to a room with an exam table. 3 men held me down on it while Craig removed my tank, shorts and underwear. I thought they would rape me right there, but I wasn’t prepped yet.         

My hands were bound up over my head as I saw razors and shaving cream. I stopped struggling and became compliant. “Do whatever you want, just be careful.” I said. They proceeded to lather the cream from head to toe and with 2 razors, shaved what I could never reach. When they spread me open to remove the hair around my hole, I could feel fingers enter me. In 20 minutes, I was hairless. They fed me a large glass of vodka and one of them showered me free of the residual cream and used a douche to clean me out. When dried off, I was dragged into a room where I saw a dress, panties, makeup kit and small metal cage on the bed. I wish he had just asked, but this process was a turn-on for him.         

Craig and I were alone now as he applied some makeup to me. After caging my cock, he slid the panties up my smooth, lean legs and had me put on the sundress. A brunette wig was the last piece along with flip flops. He gently held my face and kissed me. ” There are some guys I’d like you to meet, my sweet Cindy.” 

I was escorted around town by the 4 men and about to experience sex from a new perspective…

love always admired Mike and his body. From his nice rear end to his hairy chest that stuck out of the top of his tight button up to his smile. And he seemed to admire me as well. We would stare at each other from across the aisle, especially when his desk was close to mine. But alas, I was moved a few rows over and we only saw each other in chance meetings walking around the floor. Until today.

While working, nature called and I went to the restroom. As I opened the door to the restroom, he walked out. We literally ran in to each other. We laughed, said excuse me to each other and I cursed my luck as I stepped up to the urinal. If I would have left twenty seconds or so earlier, we could have ended up at the urinal together. As I stood there doing my business, someone stepped to the urinal next to me. Out of my periphery, I saw it was Mike. My brain got stuck for a second, then started processing the situation: he just left, why would he come back in and pee again, if he just left?

As I finished, I turned and went to the sink to wash my hands, he follows a second or two later. My curiosity was up, but we both had work to do, so I left and wondered for the rest of the day what exactly happened.

Five o’clock rolled around and I finished up my last bit of work and headed to my truck. There, next to my truck, was Mike in his Honda, fidgeting with something in the seat. I saw him look up, slyly I think was his goal, then look back down.

“Did you lose something?” I lamely asked, trying to spark a conversation.

He looked up, acting surprised. “Oh yeah. Hey. Yeah I can’t find my phone. I think I dropped it down the side of the seat but I can’t seem to find it. Do you have your phone?”

“Yeah” I replied.

“Can you call it? I know it’s here somewhere” he said.

He gave me the number, I dialed and sure enough, his phone rang a couple times before he pulled it from under his seat. “Got it!” he exclaimed. “Thanks man!”

“No problem” I said as I opened my door.

“Hey: the guys and I are going out for drinks tonight if you want to tag along” he offered.

“Yeah OK” I replied, smiling. “When are you going?”

“I’m not sure yet. I have to check with them when I get home. Probably around eight or so” he said. “But hey – I have your number now so I can just text you when I know more” he offered.

You have my number now, how convenient I thought. “Sure. Shoot me a text when you know more!”

“OK” he said as he pulled away, his eyes locked on me. I’m not model, but I do OK in the looks department, I guess. Mike was the real looker in my department for sure. But he seemed to be interested in me, so I went with it. I got home, did what I needed to do around the house, got a shower and trimmed my scruff and waited for a text. Around six, my phone vibrated with a message. It was Mike.

“My buds backed out but I’m still going. You can come and hand if you want”

I replied back with a ‘thumbs up’ emoji. He sent me the time and location. Looks like I have a date tonight, I thought with a laugh of wishful thinking.

I walked into the bar and Mike was no where to be found. I pulled out my phone to text him only to see a text from him saying OMW. I took a table and a few minutes later Mike walked in looking stunning. I think my jaw hit the table on the way to the floor.

“Well, I think I’m under dressed” I said to him. I was wearing my polo, sneakers and jeans, compared to Mike jeans, loafers and blazer over a form fitting t shirt. “I didn’t know I was on a date” I said a smile.

“You wish!” he replied. I didn’t have to wish, I thought to myself.

We ordered and talked for a couple hours but, eventually, I had to pee again. I excused myself and made my way through the sparsely filled bar (more like a lounge really). But even for a lounge on a Tuesday night, it was dead. Only a hand full of other people were seated around the room. I stood in the surprisingly dark restroom relieving myself when I heard the door open. In walked Mike. Again. He took the urinal next to me, just like earlier. But this time, he stood further back from the urinal than normal

“I was gonna’ wait but I couldn’t anymore” he said as he flopped out his member in a very obvious way. He sighed audibly, trying to draw attention to himself. Curiosity got the best of me as I realized I was already finished but continued to stand there. I glanced over at his partially hard member, impressed by its size and shape, before stuffing away my own growing pole and walked to the sink. Mike followed immediately. We stood there, washing our hands. I looked up in the mirror and he was looking at me in the mirror, giant smiled on his face. Obviously, he was feeling proud of himself.

“Well, I guess I should get going. What do I owe you for the drinks?” I asked, drying my hands.

“Drinks are on me” he said.

“As was the show” I nonchalantly mentioned.

“I hope you enjoyed it” he said with a smirk I could hear in his voice. I looked over at him as he stood next to me, hands wet, waiting for the paper towels. I moved over to allow him to dry his hands. He crowded me away from the towels more than necessary. I could smell his cologne and he smelled amazing.

“I did” I said, calling his bluff.

“Good. Want to come back to my place” he said, turning to face me.

“For what?” I asked. He smiled coyly.

“I see how you’ve been looking at me” he said, taking an unnecessary step towards me.

“Yeah well, you’ve been looking at me, too. And what was the bathroom thing you did at work earlier?” I asked.

“I was just trying to get your attention where there wasn’t a lot of people around” he said.

“Like here?” I asked.

“Exactly” he replied, I could smell the alcohol on his breath now, he was so close. I studied his brown eyes, his thick blonde stubble that led down to that hairy patch clawing its way up under his polo, trying to merge with his neck stubble.

“You know, I have roommates, so my place is a no-go I guess” he said.

“I have one, too” I replied. I looked back into the back of the dark restroom at the handicap stall. I looked back at him, smiled, and nodded my head back that direction. He smiled and followed me back to the stall. I closed and latched the door.

Hooking up in public stall is not my style, but I’ve been hungry for this guy for months and, after all the flirting and ‘bathroom visits’, and being we neither had a free place, this was free and, well, available, seemed like a no brainer.

I instantly stuck my hand up his polo to find my hand land on a flat, fuzzy belly. Being so smooth, I was envious of such manliness. I ran my hand up as his fuzzy belly turned mostly smooth, before it erupted into a forest of hair on a very firm and sculpted chest. I pulled my hand out and pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his torso to my delight. I wondered where his blazer was for a quick second, but soon didn’t care as my hands explored his chest.

He removed my shirt, exposing my smooth body. He looked shocked.

“You’re more buff than I thought you’d be” he whispered as he pulled his hands down my shoulders, over my erect nips, and down my flat stomach. “And smooth” he hissed as he kissed my neck. I felt his stubble scrape my skin. It almost burned, but I didn’t care one iota. I enjoyed the roughness.

He reached down and grabbed my swollen member, unbuttoning my shorts and pulling them down. I never felt so free in a restroom before. He took me into his mouth as I ran my fingers through his hair, pushing his head into me and pulling him back, my sac bouncing off his chin.

He stood up and I assumed my position. He couldn’t have been comfortable in those dockers, since they were so tight, holding back his throbbing cock. So I was happy to release the beast. And what a beast it was. It had real mass as I grabbed it with one hand and slapped it against my other hand. But I knew we had to be quick, as the workers may come looking for us. Using all my skill, I shoved as much of that monster in my mouth as I could, burying my nose in to his trimmed but still thick bush. I grabbed his rather small balls and pulled them down tight as I face punched his body.

I felt his nuts pull up into his body as he stopped breathing. Then, with one long, quiet breath, he onloaded the contents of his prostrate in my mouth. There wasn’t a lot of force, but the volume was there. I held tight against him as he finished, filling my mouth entirely. He pulled back, his beast slightly falling out of my mouth, glistening in what light there was in there, still fully hard. I turned and spat out his seed in the toilet but did manage to swallow some. I had to in order to keep it from spilling out of the corners of my mouth.

“That was nice” he said quietly. “Do you want me to return the favor?”

“No” I replied, to his surprise. I don’t like to finish without something inside me somewhere at least. I turned towards the toilet as he stepped around to my side, I grabbed myself and began to jerk, looking at his face. He reached over and grabbed my nipple, twisting it which was enough to finish me off. I braced myself on the stall wall as I erupted into the toilet. I blasted several shots and my legs buckled and I started to fall when he caught me with one arm. I kept shooting like I was trying to put out a fire. His eyes widened and his mouth opened as I continued to blow. After about twelve shots or so, I started calming down enough to breathe. I shook myself, flipping the last drops out of me on the toilet seat before I exhaled.

“Holy sh-“ he started to say when we heard the door open. We stood still, like a deer caught in the head lights of an oncoming car. The guy finished, washed his hands and left. We both exhaled a lung full of relief as we got dressed. Mike left first, followed by me about twenty seconds later.

Mike made good on his offer to pay and we made our way out to the parking lot in silence.

“So:” he said as he got to his car.

“Yeah. So” I replied, with a sheepish smile.

“You work tomorrow?”

“I do. You?”

“Yeah”

“So… I’ll see you tomorrow?” I said, as if nothing happened.

“Sure” he said as he reached around and patted my rear end after looking around making sure the coast was clear.

“I think my room mate is going away for the weekend” I said. “If you’d be interested in hanging….or whatever” I offered.

He smiled. “Sure. Text me a time later in the week?”

“Sounds good” I said. “See you tomorrow.”

I got in my truck and he offered me a wave as he drove off, along with a sly smile. I started my truck and headed home, anxious about the upcoming weekend</

---

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“Hey yo, everybody, this is Bryan!” says the blond, beaming.

“And Corbin!” the brunet says, running in from off-screen.

“Welcome to another fitness cast,” Bryan says, flexing one bulging bicep and attempting to look grave and serious while Corbin does exaggerated superhero poses behind him. In another moment Bryan’s dropped the mock seriousness and Corbin’s joined him on screen with one arm around his shoulder. Bryan continues: “Now a lot of you guys have been asking us what kind of exercise we actually do every day. Well, they’ve been asking me; Corbin apparently came out of the womb jacked.”

“Hashtag no cheat days for babies,” Corbin ad libs immediately.

“So do you want to tell ’em?” Bryan asks.

Corbin strokes his chin like a villain. “I dunno… maybe if there was some way for our viewers to prove their loyalty…to show that they deserve to know our deepest secrets…”

Bryan’s eyes light up, as if he’s just thought of something. “Oh! You mean like hitting… two-hundred thousand subscribers?!”

An air horn sounds three times and confetti bursts from above the two jocks and rains down on them as house music blares. Bryan links his hands and simulates a wave running from elbow to elbow while Corbin does the running man. Later, a quick cut will be inserted and the two of them will be positioned back in front of the camera. It’s this sort of snappy editing that’s become typical of their channel’s style.

“Seriously, you guys. Thank you so much for your continued support. Honestly without you guys, this channel would just be me listening to Corbin talking about his lower back hair problem,” Bryan says.

Corbin stares into the camera, and deadpans, “It’s not a problem anymore. Since I started using the Lower Back Hair Shredder 6000: Take Your Lower Back Hair Down… for good. Unrelated: thanks to Lower Back Hair Solutions for sponsoring today’s cast.”

Beneath Corbin’s face scrolls a message that Lower Back Hair Solutions is a fictional entity and that in fact there are no sponsors to speak of. Yet.

“Were we talking about something else?” Corbin asks, snapped out of his trance.

“Exercise. Fitness. The Spartan Pursuit. The…” Bryan drones.

Corbin snatches the camera and walks away as Bryan continues to go on with made up synonyms for exercise. Corbin speaks earnestly to the audience about their reaction to the news of hitting two-hundred thousand followers. After that the guys goof off for a bit longer and then get into the workout that ends the cast.

Once the cameras are off, their cameraman emerges from behind camera two. “Looks good, mostly, but Corbin, you lost your glisten about three-quarters in. I’m gonna need you guys to get your energy up again so I can get some stuff b-roll stuff to slice in. And Bryan, I don’t think the lower back hair stuff works. I may cut it.”

Bryan squints. “What? Kendall, we were just being funny. That’s why people watch us.”

“Which is great, if you actually are funny,” Kendall replies. “Stop arguing. Just work up a fucking sweat and let me get this done? Please, Bryan: do I have to beg?”

Bryan rolls his eyes, but hits the mat with Corbin, anyway.

Of the two, Corbin is the larger. He has bowling ball shoulders that their viewers covet and idolize in equal measure and a thick neck. Muscle atop muscle packed onto a solid frame that only a disarming smile keeps from seeming intimidating. Bryan—only leaner by contrast—has calves of granite, robust thighs and round, high glutes connecting to a trim mid-section. As they move through their exercises, growing sweaty and red-faced, Kendall floats in their periphery, staring through the chilly distance of his camera’s lens.

The jocks work hard to appear focused though Kendall routinely interrupts them so as to prompt them to hold poses or exaggerate motions that will later seem tasteful and effortless once Kendall has worked their two-dimensional images like clay on his computer screen.

Even their conversation, light and aimless, is a mine of behind-the-scenes content or post cast blooper material. Bryan finds he barely recalls these days how he and Corbin interacted before there was a camera between them. And then there’s Kendall.

After their first few thousand followers it occurred to the young men that there might be something beyond just goofing off on camera for their friends and friends of friends. Kendall, Bryan’s older brother, had just graduated from college out west with a minor in advertising. They promised to pay him in beer (which they were then too young to buy) and a future stake in the business (which did not exist). Kendall took nothing and offered them only a summer of work. Two years and thousands of hours of film later, Kendall’s still breathing their sweat and is just now lingering over the tensing muscles of his younger brother’s arm during a flawless, protracted tricep kickback.

“Let’s switch to legs for a bit?” Kendall asks. But it has the weight of a demand.

Bryan puts down his free weights and gives himself a moment to shake off the effort. His white tank top with the pixel fox logo of their brand is transparent with sweat and Kendall hovers around him as he lifts the bottom edge of his shirt up to wipe his face. Bryan glances behind his brother at one of the mirrored walls of the exercise room and notes the considerable wetness on the back of his shorts. It’s doubtful that that particular detail will make it into the cast, but Kendall snaps a photo with the high-definition camera hanging around his neck anyway.

Corbin leads them through a set of lower body exercises that Bryan finds challenging, but invigorating. Using little besides sidelong glances and slight smiles, they calibrate the workout in tandem, knowing each other’s limits intimately from years of working out together. It’s not for nothing that the online commentariat has often pegged them as an item despite increasingly frequent social media posts with pictures of Corbin and his girlfriend Jessica.

There were some concerns that Jessica would ruin the purity of the connection between Corbin and Bryan. Perhaps this new face might muddy the narrative of their perfect friendship with something as coarse as sexuality. Of course, there were disappointed fans and even some scary threats against Jessica, but together they made a photogenic couple and Jessica with her tattoos and motorcycle and devil-may-care attitude provided a counterpoint to the wholesome, puckish prankster jocks. Kendall carefully setup the narrative of their relationship and through a series of posts over one long weekend their follower count exploded. Just like that Jessica was here to stay.

Bryan thinks about that moment a lot. He wonders what would have happened if the Jess debacle had gone another way, tanked their audience engagement instead. Would Jessica have gone away or become a covert part of Corbin’s life instead of showing up in their videos a few times a month? He tries telling himself that it’s impossible to know, but the question rolls around his mind like the grain of sand steadfastly refusing to become a pearl.

---

The next day brings more of the same. Four days of filming in their rented exercise room slash studio per week and then another for recording the ‘candids’ that populate their social media accounts which Kendall then organizes with a master’s touch. Even when their photos of a ‘spontaneous’ trip to a local taco truck were taken weeks ago, their official timeline remains consistent. He tells them all the time that consistency leads to reliability and ultimately it’s reliability, more than actual truth and authenticity, that people crave.

So it’s a surprise when Corbin and Bryan arrive in their workout gear and Kendall tells them they won’t be shooting, or at least, that they won’t be shooting what they came to shoot.

Corbin crosses his massive arms. “Dude, we spent all weekend shooting candids. What the fuck more—”

Kendall cuts him off. “Not candids. Something else. We’ve gotten an offer.”

“An offer?” Bryan asks. He fights the jittery feeling in his stomach. They’ve been looking for a major advertising partner. This, he thinks, could be the moment that changes everything.“Which advertiser?”

Kendall licks his bottom lip. It’s his tell.Bad news, Bryan thinks. “Bro. Just fucking tell us.”

“The offer is… look, I wouldn’t be bringing it to you guys if this wasn’t real. So just keep that in mind. This is real,” Kendall says. He hands Corbin his phone with an email chain pulled up. Corbin reads it slowly, his openly curious expression turning stormy, unreadable.

“What? What the fuck?” Bryan asks. Corbin hands him the phone and he reads the emails between Kendall and some person named Jerry who’s offered money to see Bryan and Corbin together. Naked.

It’s a lot of money. Bryan looks at Corbin first, who doesn’t meet his gaze, and then at Kendall whose eyes might as well be full of cartoon dollar signs.

“It’s a lot of money,” Kendall says. “And I’ve gotten him to agree to a video where I scrub your faces beforehand. No one will be able to identify you. And…” Kendall squeezes his own shoulder and makes a face. “It’s a lot of fucking money.”

“I’m not—” Corbin begins.

Kendall puts his hands out. “I know. I know. This guy knows, too, which I think is why he wants it. It fucking does something for him, I don’t know.”

Corbin scoffs. “We’re not considering this, right? Not seriously.”

Bryan says it’s ridiculous to even consider. Corbin agrees with him, but Kendall just keeps bringing up the money. A few days pass and Bryan is alone at home: a studio he rents in an alright part of town paid for by sweat and smiles. He gets a call from Kendall.

“He agreed.”

“What? Who agreed to what?” Bryan asks.

“Corbin. To the private cast. Can you get here in the next hour? I don’t want this to eat into our regular filming schedule, so it has to be tonight.”

“But what about me? What if I don’t want to do it?”

Kendall laughs. “Bryan… This is me, I know you better than that. Now take a shower and be here in an hour.”

Bryan ends the call, puts down the phone, and stares at it for a while. Then he gets up to go take a shower.

---

Corbin is nervous, and it shows in his hands. He keeps clenching and unclenching them as if by some dexterous use of his fingers he can will himself into another room, will himself clothed.

Or maybe at least soft.

Bryan has seen his best friend’s cock before. They’ve skinny dipped, talked shit in saunas, helped each other through some pretty gnarly injuries both in the studio and out in the world. But he’s never seen it in this context. He never particularly expected to see it hard, at least not while his own cock was hard. He finds himself light-headed and dry-mouthed, but Bryan’s cock is hard, too, and there’s no hiding it.

Kendall’s voice cuts through the tension like a grenade.

“OK, boys. Just be yourselves. A bit of posing, maybe some goofing around. You’ve done this a million times. It’s no different.”

“It fucking is different, Kendall. Stop being fucking obtuse,” Corbin says savagely.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Corbin. Would you prefer not to get a check for this? Is that why you drove out here, to use your dictionary practice on me?” Kendall snaps back.

Corbin cracks his knuckles and gives Kendall a withering look. Bryan’s elder brother is tall and lanky, not apt to win a fight if Corbin is inclined to give him one, but Bryan puts a hand on Corbin’s shoulder and when his friend looks at him, Bryan smiles. “We were looking for a way to make more cash off of our content. Imagine making this much money and we didn’t even have to put our clothes on.”

Corbin extends his glare to Bryan, but it doesn’t hold and he laughs. Kendall is already rolling.

Bryan finds it’s easier than he’d imagined. He and Corbin just shoot the breeze, they flex and race each other up and down the length of the studio. Corbin hits himself in the balls accidentally and collapses in a mix of anguish and laughter while Bryan stands above him, pretending to teabag his downed friend. That turns into the two of them wrestling on the floor, one of them then the other on top. Their arms and legs bulge as they strain against each other, muscle pitted against muscle with Corbin in a vast lead, but Bryan is spry and vicious and their contest is not the foregone conclusion that an onlooker might expect. They know each other too well for it to be easy. So they struggle and fight and eventually Kendall shouts cut.

The two of them blink at each other. A half hour has passed, the work is over.

Kendall stays behind fiddling with his equipment while Bryan and Corbin get dressed and leave the studio. As Kendall has reminded them several times, they still have filming in the morning.

As the two of them walk together, Corbin says, “Is it ok? What we just did? Was it the wrong thing to do?”

Bryan shakes his head.

“I don’t know. I hope not. We’ve gotta’ trust Kendall.”

“And do you?” Corbin looks at Bryan, his eyes searching.

Bryan can’t think of an answer that would satisfy his friend, so instead he slaps him on the arm. “Let’s just be fucking meatheads and leave the heavy thinking to the Ivy-Leaguer, eh? I’m thinking we go fuck up some burgers? Fucking avocado bacon with an over easy egg? Tell me you’re not wet.”

Corbin smiles. “I would, but I’m supposed to meet Jessica.”

“Right. Of course. Another time.”

“Thanks for understanding, man. Another time though. For real. And without the cameras, maybe.”

“That’d be nice,” Bryan says. “I’d like that.”

---

They don’t discuss the late night cast again. There’s no reason to. The money comes in as promised and is split the regular way with Bryan and Corbin each taking thirty-five percent, Kendall getting twenty, and the leftover ten going to administrative fees. Even after the split, it’s still a considerable amount of money. Enough to keep them happy and fed for a good while.

So when Bryan arrives at the studio a few weeks later to find Corbin waiting for him, sitting outside the studio on a planter vaping giant clouds of smoke, money is the last thing on Bryan’s mind. Corbin springs to his feet as soon as he sees Bryan approaching across the parking lot.

“Hey,” he shouts as soon as Bryan is within range. “Have you talked to Kendall?”

Bryan shakes his head. “Talk to Kendall about what? Is everything OK?”

Corbin sidles up beside him and they walk into the studio. Once the door is shut behind them, Corbin says, “Another… opportunity.”

Bryan can’t disguise his shock or at least doesn’t both trying. “Again? Seriously? Same guy?”

Corbin shrugs, grumbles. “I don’t know… Kendall was supposed to talk to you. I don’t know what the fuck.”

“I think I’m… I don’t know if we should…” Bryan says, but Corbin isn’t listening: he’s talking, too. His fingers clenchand Bryan thinks back to his naked cock, hard as a fucking rock, and his stomach lurches.

“Jessica and I are thinking about buying a house. The money… it could do a lot, you know. It’s not just bullshit. This could really mean a lot. I just think we shouldn’t… you know, just refuse if it could be something. Worth something, I mean…”

“Corbin, I—” Bryan begins.

Corbin stops him. “Wait. Let me. Please? This request is more… it’s just more than we did last time, but I didn’t think it was that bad last time. Not as bad as I thought it would be. Not that I thought it would be bad because of—” Corbin blows out a long breath and tries to compose himself. “I don’t think it’s bad if we do this. It’s just money, Bryan. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“But what if it does? What if means something to me?” Bryan whispers.

Bryan’s gaze falls to his own purple-and-gray sneakers, but he can feel Corbin looking at him for a long time. Too long. And Bryan wishes he had said nothing, had never opened his fucking mouth. He doesn’t know what to expect when he looks up at Corbin again, but it isn’t the vitriol, rage, and disgust he’s expecting. He can survive those. This is pity.

And it’s fucking worse.

“I didn’t realize. I’m an idiot,” Corbin says.

“No. Don’t do that. It’s not—”

“I’m sorry. Christ. And Jessica, the whole thing… was it awful? Has it been awful this whole time?”

“No. Look. I’m happy for you!” Bryan says. He puts a hand on Corbin’s shoulder and grins. “I’m happy for you. Always.”

Corbin pulls Bryan into a hug. The embrace of the larger man is warm and the smell of his shower gel is oddly comforting. Bryan lets himself rest his head against Corbin’s shoulder. He knows this isn’t what he wants, not really, but it’s a piece of it. It’s nearly enough to fill the yawning chasm that’s opened up in his chest with this impromptu admission. Corbin strokes Bryan’s head.

“I think we should do it. Would you? For me?” Corbin asks.

Corbin is pressed up against him now and the smell of his freshly washed body rises up through his clothes. Bryan can feel the lump of Corbin’s cock against his leg and Bryan knows that it’s unfair, that he’s desperate for something that’s not even real, but he’s trembling and he can’t stop himself; he swallows hard.

“Ok. For you.”

It’s at that moment Kendall arrives and Corbin backs away, taking his warmth and his fresh laundry and clean skin smell with him. Kendall looks at them, suspicion or something like it on his features, but he doesn’t address whatever’s nagging at him.

“Are we decided? Are we doing this?” Kendall asks.

Corbin nods. Bryan nods. Kendall sets up the cameras.

It isn’t like the time before. There’s no goofing around and the small talk disappears. They’re positioned next to each other on a bench along the far side of the studio wall.

Bryan is nervous, too nervous to be himself, he doesn’t even know who himself is in this context. But Corbin is animated by something other than fear and anxiety, he reaches over and undoes the string cinching Bryan’s shorts and pulls them down his thighs along with his underwear. Bryan lifts his ass off the bench to help the process, but he does nothing else. His face is flushed and his heart is trying to escape out of his throat.

Corbin leans over and Bryan’s cock disappears into his best friend’s mouth. The exact instant it happens, Bryan cums. He doesn’t mean to, but the sensation running through him is more than just sexual excitement, it’s the culmination of something that he hasn’t even been able to name. Corbin pulls back as Bryan’s cock continues spurting reckless blasts over his legs and onto his stomach. When Bryan looks over, half-horrified, half-delirious with lust, he notes that Corbin wipes his lips with the back of his hand and grimaces, but he swallows.

“Well, that was sub-optimal. I’ll fix it in post. As long as Corbin can last a little longer,” Kendall says from behind the camera. “Bryan?”

Bryan looks up.

“Get to it” is all that Kendall says, so Bryan does.

Where Bryan screwed the proverbial pooch, Corbin performs admirably. He’s vocal and expressive—not just with his face, which will be edited out—but with his body. He squirms and thrusts his hips, forcing his cock up into Bryan’s hand and later up into his mouth, when the blond wraps his red lips around Corbin’s red cock. Corbin engages his core and twists his body toward the camera for maximum exposure. His performance wakes up the part of Bryan that knows how to perform regardless of the tempest stirring in his mind and in his heart. So he groans around Corbin’s cock, worships it with mouth and begs for more. It’s a cast and in a cast, you perform, Bryan tells himself.

He tells himself this over and over as Corbin positions him on the bench with his ass in the air then kneels behind him. Corbin’s mouth locks onto his hole and his tongue goes to work on noisy, sloppy wet feasting that feels fucking wondrous to Bryan. He need not feign his excitement and his cock firms up again, harder even than before. Corbin eats his ass and then abruptly transitions to pressing the head of his cock against Bryan’s ass. Bryan reels. Was this a part of the plan? They hadn’t discussed it. He feels Corbin’s hand on the small of his back.

“I can stop,” Corbin offers.

Bryan reaches behind him and interlaces his fingers with Corbin’s. Bryan has imagined this moment more than once, more than a hundred times. But never with the cameras, with his older brother in the room. There’s a stone in his throat he struggles to swallow around, but he refuses to refuse. He squeezes Corbin’s hand and Corbin fucks him.

And for all Bryan’s hesitation, the sensation is the same—no, better!—than in his fantasies. Corbin’s cock is fairly thick, but he’s a thoughtful lover and he moves carefully at first while Bryan adjusts to the size of him. His mouth is a litany of phrases: “I can’t believe we’re doing this, bro.” “I could never have imagined how hot this would be.” “I love the way you feel around my cock.” “I want to fuck you so fucking hard.” “I could fuck your ass every day.”

I could fuck your ass every day. Bryan fixates on that as Corbin thrusts in and out of him, stimulating his ass in a way that feels almost too exciting. He finds it hard to focus. To be present. He just groans, passively takes each thrust and leaves his own deliriously hard cock dangling between his legs alongside his low-hanging balls swinging like a pendulum to the rhythm of the progressively rougher fuck.

Bryan realizes as the pressure inside him builds, his ass slackens under the assault, and Corbin fucks him harder, that what had actually said was, “I could fuck ass every day.” It’s a minor difference, but one that subtracts Bryan from the equation. He realizes that it’s not his ass Corbin hungers for, but any warm hole that’s willing to accommodate him. It changes things.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Fuck! I’m gonna shoot,” Corbin cries.

“Do it inside him. Cum inside him,” Kendall commands.

So Corbin buries himself deep and the two of them grunt in unison as Corbin’s cock throbs a dozen times or more, growing even fatter momentarily and filling the space of Bryan’s brutalized hole. When Corbin finally pulls out, Bryan can feel the sperm dripping out, dribbling down his perineum. Corbin reaches for a towel, but Kendall comes forward and trains his camera on his little brother’s leaking hole.

After the recording light goes dim, Corbin towels himself off and throws one to Bryan. The two of them clean up silently until Corbin breaks the silence.

“I can’t stick around. Jess and I have plans to…” Corbin trails off. “It’s gonna be a busy day.”

“Yeah. I get it,” Bryan says. He can’t bring himself to smile and be gentle.

“But… maybe we can…” Corbin starts. Fails. Tries again. “Let’s talk later.”

Bryan makes agreeable noises and Corbin leaves. Kendall stays behind. He sits cross-legged on the floor hunched over his laptop. Once Bryan is dressed, he goes over to see what Kendall is working on. He doesn’t know what he expected, but Kendall is watching a scene of Bryan getting fucked in super slow motion. It doesn’t seem as rough as it had been. The echoing sound of Corbin’s skin slamming against his ass is gone in the silenced video. The smell of their co-mingled sweat and the Bryan’s hard fucked ass are absent.

Kendall gets to a scene where he zoomed up close to Corbin’s big cock coming out of Bryan’s ass. Bryan’s thoroughly fucked sphincter hangs open for a few long seconds, waiting to be filled again. Kendall’s eyes are glued to the screen and Bryan notices how hard his brother is in his khakis. Kendall sees his brother staring at his lap and adjusts his cock so it’s less obvious, but nothing could completely hide the sizable erection in his slim fit pants.

“Occupational hazard,” Kendall says. Bryan laughs, half-heartedly; Kendall’s gaze drifts back to the screen.

---

The cast begins with a sea-foam green couch in a nondescript apartment and then Bryan comes around from behind the camera and sits on the couch. He flashes his trademark smile, but it quickly disappears.

“I wanted to address the fans directly. I know there hasn’t been a video up in the last two weeks and I just wanted to tell my side of the story. I want to get it out there.”

He shifts in his seat and grinds his knuckles into his meaty thighs, which even in this setting are just barely covered up by a pair of dark above-the-knee length workout shorts. His legs are spread.

“Corbin and I have been doing our casts for a few years now and it’s been great. He’s my best friend, my business partner, and my lifeline. Honestly, there have been a lot of dark moments I’m not sure I would have made it through without him. But there’s another side to our dynamic I haven’t talked about publicly. I’ve barely admitted it to myself.”

He looks into the camera, blue eyes full of tears. He blinks and suddenly his cheeks are wet.

“I have feelings for Corbin. I care about him and I’m in love with him. It’s getting harder to hide and I don’t think I want to anymore. He’sfamily and I don’t want either of us tobe hurtby this, but I can’t pretend it’s not real. That it’s not something I’m going through. And this is not to disrespect Jessica. I love her and she’s so good for him, so please keep her out of this. However, Jessica’s involvement in his life doesn’t change my feelings. I don’t think I can continue on with this channel anymore. It’s painful, andit’s not fair to Corbin or myself, if I’m honest. I can’t keep pretending. I have tolive authentically and be real with you guys. That’s the most important thing.”

He’s momentarily overcome with emotion, but he settles himself, continues.

“I’m sorry if I let you guys down. That was never my intention. Thank you so much for your support so far and please don’t badger Corbin and Jessica about any of this. It’s not their fault, and it’s not their responsibility to comment on my shit. I love you guys. Thank you so much. I’ll see you later.”

The playback of the cast is paused there on Bryan’s earnest, open expression as Kendall taps something on the computer balanced on his lap. The projection on the big screen on the other side of the room dies and the lights come back up.

The three of them are sitting in plush leather computer chairs in a rough triangle. Corbin sits beside Bryan and Kendall sits across from them both. The office space is a rental and out of the way for all three of them, which is good because they’re meeting to deal with the fallout of Bryan’s surprise announcement. Their studio has been swarmed with fans since the cast got picked up on several high profile entertainment blogs.

“You should have talked to me first,” Kendall says. “We could have figured it out. Worked out the details.”

“You don’t give a fuck about the details. You care about the follower counts, user engagement, and endorsements,” Bryan spits.

“Exactly. The fucking details. Or did you forget why you pay me twenty percent of your earnings?” Kendall fires back.

Bryan makes a disgusted face.

“Bryan. I’m sorry that I didn’t know and I didn’t take you more seriously,” Corbin says.

Bryan looks like he wants to say something nasty, but he doesn’t. He softens like butter left out on the counter. Corbin has a way with his little brother that Kendall envies. It would make life easier if they both had that soft touch.

“Well, since we’re all friends again. Here’s the—” Kendall air quotes. “—details. The follower count since the confession has gone to seven-hundred fifty-thousand. If we capitalize on this. If we do it right. We could hit a million imminently and that’s when the brands will come calling,” Kendall explains. “I’m already in preliminary talks.”

Bryan shakes his head. “You expect me to go back into it? Just like that?”

“I expect you to operate in your own self-interest instead of sabotaging your career because of a schoolboy crush,” Kendall replies.

This time it’s Corbin who shoots Kendall a look. Then, Corbin turns to Bryan and wheels his chair closer. The soft touch again.

“No one is expecting you to jump back in right away. But when you’re ready, maybe we do a statement together. Just something showing we’re still talking. That there’s still a future. If that goes well, we talk about some other opportunities. Yeah?” Corbin says. He puts a hand on Bryan’s shoulder and rubs it gently. Bryan relaxes into the impromptu massage.

“Opportunities? You mean…”

Corbin licks his lips, keeps massaging Bryan’s shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready, Bryan. That’s what you have to understand. There’s no one forcing you. But I think we’re good together. On camera. It can be whatever we want it to be. Just think it over.” His other hand goes under the table to rest on Bryan’s thigh, then slips between his legs as Kendall watches. Bryan moans softly. “It’s good money and it’s fun. You seemed to enjoy yourself. Why stop now? We’ve barely scratched the surface. All you have to do is say yes and we’ll take care of the rest.”

Bryan, eyes lidded with lust, but still biting his lower lip apprehensively, opens his mouth and answers…

---

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The first time I went out dressed was because I just could not stand sex by myself any more. I went to a bookstore with video booths in east Portland. I had been there before. Only in boy clothes saying no to all approaches. This time I wanted to say YES…

I had pulled out all the stops. Garter belt, thigh highs, 5 inch red open toe stiletto’s Cherry red with fingernails and lipstick that matched. My make up was the best I had ever done. My outfit with the heels, flared short silk skirt, the tops of my Red stockings visible as I walked. With maybe a hint of white lace panties I was more than passable. I was hot.

As I got out of my car feeling the breeze up under my very short silky skirt, trying to pull it down as cars were whizzing by. I walked or should I say wobbled, the half block to the peeling green door of the adult bookstore. I barely heard someone honk over the blood pulsing through me. I felt so alive, scared, horny, that I had to will each foot to take the next step. I opened the door and walked towards an older man behind the counter who put down his book and was smiling at me.

What can I get you beautiful” He asked? I blushed at the compliment and his smile got wider. I pulled a five dollar bill from my purse and asked for tokens. There were four men scattered in the store and all had turned to watch me come in and walk to the counter.

When I asked for tokens three of the men headed through the archway that said arcade. The man behind the counter gave me a stack of tokens and the five I had pushed toward him back to me. He winked and told me “Have fun and if you need anything just ask me”. I blushed again and headed for the arcade as he chuckled.

Everybody there heard my five inch heels coming, They watched me walk into the arcade. There were no doors on the booths and there seemed to be about twenty men looking at me with big smiles on their faces, a couple of them whistled. I darted into the first doorway without a light above it that I came to. I took tokens from my purse and started feeding some into the slot while my whole body was vibrating.

Jjust as the video started a man walked in, lifted my skirt and gave me a hard swat on the ass. “That is for teasing us” he said. so there I am standing there with my ass cheek burning. My mouth still hanging open in shock after letting out a high pitched EEEK!! when he says “Well what do you have to say for yourself girl”.

I take my first real look at him, he is big so big and hard looking, it scares me. I say “I’m sorry” but it only comes out as a squeek. I try to squeeze past him to get out of there. “Not good enough” he says stopping me by grabbing my arm and spins me around, he lifts my skirt again, pulls my panties down and slaps my ass again. He says “Count”. I could not think and again he spanks me and says count. There are a lot of other men outside the booth and I am so embarrassed. He slaps my ass again and I cry out “one”.
I hear laughing from the men outside. he keeps slapping my quickly reddening ass, and head turned away from the men outside the booth I count. When I get to twenty he stops. I have tears in my eyes. He says “good girl” really soft puts an arm around me turns me around and starts kissing me, forcing his tongue into me and I let him.

I feel his whole body pressed up against me. He feels so solid. I can feel his cock, it is hard and pulsing against my belly button, a lot bigger than my teeny thing. I am so turned on I started moaning into our kiss and pulling myself against him harder. He sticks a finger in my mouth and says “get it wet”.

I suck on his finger like I had his tongue his other hand on my ass is spreading my cheeks. He takes his wet finger and pushes it all the way inside me, I muffle a scream into his shoulder when I hear a man say “Oh she really likes that”. and I remember all the men watching, so embarrassed then so incredibly turned on by the looks of lust on their faces. How much they wanted me making me bold. I looked out at them while wiggling my ass on his finger smiled and said “yes i do”.

I felt like such a slut, it was fantastic. my man turned me towards the wall and bent me at the waist so it was put my hands against the wall or fall. A bottle of lube seemed to appear from nowhere, was squirted against my ass and then one hand pulled behind me and put on his oh so warm and hard cock. Him telling me to “put it in”. as his other hand raised my skirt again. I put his hard, hot cock against my hole and started pushing back, but it wouldn’t go in. It just kept slipping. Then another man was holding a little brown bottle up to my face, when I looked at him he smiled and told me to “breathe it in through your nose honey. it will help”

I started breathing it in and felt that incredible rush of heat traveling down to my hole and I pushed back hard and he was deep in me. the man who gave me the bottle started kissing me and I was so glad after the way he was making me feel with that little bottle. my blouse and skirt pulled over my head, panties around my ankles in garter stockings and heels a mans cock so deep inside me another mans tongue down my throat then someone crawling between our legs and taking my peenie in his mouth and a whole group of men watching this happen to me and waiting to do even more to me.

And in my ass the man was thrusting harder and deeper and the stuff the man kept putting under my nose to sniff had me so turned on my ass was moving back to meet him. I was coming into the mouth of the man underneath me. the pain in my ass had become such an intense pleasure that my legs were just shaking. And I was moaning so loud that the man with the brown bottle said “put my cock in your mouth and moan on that”.

He pushed my head down right on it and said “open up slut”. Right then the man behind me thrust so hard my mouth opened and the cock was thrust to the back of my throat, making me choke up some phlegm and man said “that’s right baby get it nice and wet”. I tried to push off with my hand but the man behind me grabbed them and pulled them behind me. Using them to get even further up inside me. The man in my mouth he started forcing his cock down my throat. His cock completely blocked my airway and I could not breathe at all. I am trying to scream and he just says “slut stick your tongue out and lick my balls when I go that deep”.

He pulls out I get one breath before he’s thrusting back in again. There’s a couple sharp smacks on my ass and The Man Behind Me says “got to keep it pink”. He’s pulling his cock all the way out of me and ramming it all the way back in.

I catch a quick glimpse of a lot of the men watching me and they are all breathing hard stroking their cocks, and I wonder how many are going to fuck me before I can get out of there and I couldn’t help but wiggle my ass.
The man in my mouth thrust deep into my throat and held my head, his cock started swelling and he was shooting his cum down my throat. I tried to back up so I can taste it but he held me there after about five squirts he pushed my head off and handed me the bottle saying “you’re going to need this girl”.

He moved away then and there was another cock in front of me and it was huge. I took three quick hits off the bottle then looked up at the man the cock belong to. He saw the look of fear in my eyes and said “darling you ain’t got to take it all but get it good and wet because I’m going to have that pretty little ass when your other gentleman caller pulls out.” And he chuckled again seeing my eyes go wide.

I took another quick sniff off the bottle and tried to get the cock head into my mouth but my lips would not stretch wide enough he had his hand on the back of my head and with a little push he got the head of his cock in my mouth. He had to be as big around as a soda can my teeth were raking him, causing him pain cuz I could not open my jaws any wider so I pulled my mouth off his cock as the man behind me pulled hard on my hips and his cock started pulsing inside me The man in front of me saying “better hurry darling or you are going to get it dry”.

I grab his cock and start getting as much spit as I could on it. The men watching started laughing and saying “look at Her Go”. I kept stroking his cock real fast with my hand hoping I could get him to come, meanwhile the guy inside me was filling me with his cum it felt like a lot. I was glad, it was going to be extra lube for when this other man tried shoving his Monster in.

The man behind me pulls his cock out and I feel a cool breeze rush in for a second and some cum seeping out.He pulls up his pants, slaps my ass again and says “hope to see you again in here.” and the man that I would never forget the man who took my ass cherry, walked out the door and was gone.

I wanted to race after him, He had opened up a world for me that I had only been looking at from the outside, and for that I owed him all he could ask of me. But before I could even straighten the man with the big cock moved around behind me grabs a cheek in each hand spreading me wide he said “little girl that does look pretty tight and I will say sorry before hand”. I told him “no you can’t do this”. and he just chuckled and said “girl when you came up here in them panties and swinging that upturned ass with them heels you gave up all right to say no” and took three of his fingers and shoved them into the second knuckle.

I screamed and I heard all the men start laughing again and the big cocked man Bent down and put his hands behind my knees. Grabbing them he lifted and spread my legs in one motion. Now my back against his hard chest his mouth next to my ear he whispered “you ready girl?”
I said “no” as his cock head forced its way in. I screamed and he said “that was the hard part “. My ass so full and in so much pain was trying to force him out. it just kept convulsing and causing me more pain.
Despite my ass trying to force him out he started sliding in. I think that’s when I passed out the first time. When I came to he was pistoning his cock in and out of me.

My cock was standing up hard and leaking all over. Strings of come going this way and that from the shaking as he fucked me. I had never hurt so much and felt so much pleasure at the same time and I think I passed out again for a little while.

I heard whispering in my ear again, he was saying “hey little darling wake up. This isn’t over by a long shot”. I was no longer feeling pain but so much pleasure I could not process it all. While I was out of it more lube must have been used. The rawness was gone and it felt silky smooth and the stretching feeling still there, but welcome now. I grabbed the biggest of three cocks in front of me and pulled it to my mouth, he pushed as it went in and it bent right down my throat. I looked up at him in surprise, but he did not see, his head was thrown back.

He sure felt my mouth pulling off though because his hand shot out to the back of my head and slammed his cock down my throat again and held me till spit bubbles came out my nose. Both men matched rhythms and crushed me between them on every thrust.
I struggled to breathe until they both came 3 or 4 minutes later. The man in my mouth pulling out and shooting the first jerks on my face, some in my eye where it burned. I tried wiping it out, but I only saw fogged Images through my eyes after that.

Behind me my hips gripped hard enough to see bruises the next day. The man with the huge cock filled me up with his cum. I could feel it spilling out when he pulled free. Another cock pushed into my mouth. I could not tell who was on me now. From that point the only thing I remember is someone telling people to let me get a break and giving me a soda and a couple paper towells to clean up with. I tried to clean my eyes, The cum was dry and little came off.
The rest of the night was a blur of men coming and going. How long was I there? I don’t know. I woke up in the back seat of my car.

My blouse and skirt were lying over the top of me. My stuffed bra, panties, one stocking and my heels were gone. I had dried cum all over me. I could not spread the fingers on my right hand at first. They were so stuck together. My ass I’m sure was bleeding. My knees torn and swollen. My lips the same. Yet despite all the pain, I could not stop smiling. I had found my true calling. SLUT!!!

Hope you liked that little piece of my life, hope it made you cum,I know I did. it was raw and real and went by in a blur, but was the most defining moment in my life. If you live near me and want to be in one of my stories, I would love to see you. Write what you know, You know.

---

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

---

Phil

I was shaking. My heart pounded. Nausea took over me. I was still in the cabin after Paul had escaped for what I assumed was to get help. I cast my eyes at Dad who was knocked out on the floor, still naked. Had I killed him? No, he was breathing, and I could’ve sworn there was a pulse. A pool of blood had formed under his head after I’d bashed it against the door.

What had I done?

I kneeled beside Dad and checked his wrist again, felt around his neck, and pressed my ear against his chest. He was alive. What a relief. My lips mumbled the longer I stared at him. Why? Why had it come to this? I’d been so confused when he’d pounded my ass for his pleasure. A big part of me hated him for doing that to me. But why had there been a tiny bit of pleasure on my part? Why had a small part of me wanted more? I’d cried during the pounding because I hadn’t wanted to accept the reality.

That my own father had used me for his sick needs.

I’d cried from both the pain and a strange hunger for Dad, to be close to him. He was my father, but what he’d done was wrong. I couldn’t erase this confusion from my mind. I’d wanted a better relationship with him. I’d wanted us to be a happy family. But he’d never let it happen. He’d been consumed by the overpowering lust for his own sons. In some ways, I wanted to disown him for how he was and what he’d done. In other ways, I still felt some kind of love for him.

Why, though?

Dad grunted after just waking up. He remained in place, and his blue eyes gradually opened.

My heart sank with fear that something bad could happen, that he could seek revenge and try to fight with me again. I tensed up, preparing myself to fight if need be.

But he just stared at the ceiling, and something was off. He seemed…disoriented? “Where am I?”

Huh?

Dad’s eyes found mine, and he wrinkled his forehead. He squinted and looked as if he were trying to focus. What was going on? That face. He seemed weird. “Who are you?”

My eyes widened. What? Was he serious?

He grunted with a look of discomfort. He breathed a bit harder for a moment. He grunted some more. “My head…ow. What…happened? Why am I here?”

What exactly was going on? Was he faking it, or had he lost his mind? “Dad, it’s me. Phil.”

His look of genuine perplexity terrified me. Had I really caused this? Had I done damage? I had to process all of this.

I took his hand in mind. “It’s me, your son.”

“I…” His eyebrows furrowed, and he paused.

“Dad, do you remember anything?” In some ways, I prayed he didn’t. In a town where almost everyone was bigoted, they could likely side with him if they found out about me. They’d never believe he was capable of doing the things he’d done.

“Why am I naked? Why are you naked too?”

Oh, shit. If he really didn’t remember a thing, how could I explain this?

“Did you take advantage of me?”

My heart rate sped up. “Dad, no, it’s not what you think!”

He tried getting up. He struggled but then managed to slowly lift himself upright. He sat there for a while—a long while—looking around the cabin with a genuinely dumbfounded expression. Then, he looked at me. His eyes watered. “Phil…”

He remembered! I swallowed and gave his hand a little squeeze. “Dad…”

“I hurt you real bad, didn’t I?” Wow. The first time he showed an ounce of emotion and remorse, his tone weak as if he felt defeated. This wasn’t like him at all, yet it was suddenly the version of him I’d longed to see.

“Dad, do you remember what happened?”

After a moment, a tear rolled down his cheek. It was the first time I saw him cry. He reluctantly nodded, now unable to look me in the eye. “I thought I could fight my own demons.”

It was also the first time he admitted wrong. If only he could’ve had the ability to do this before he’d done what he’d done.

“My lust for you and Paul,” he added. “I wanted to be more than a father to you.”

“What do you mean?”

He paused. “When I saw what you and Paul had in the recordings…I wanted a part of it. But I didn’t know how else to make it happen.”

Now, this was getting uncomfortable. Dad had feelings for us? It hadn’t been just sexual?

“I’m gay, Phil. I’ve always been. But I don’t want to be like this.”

All of this was too much to take. I didn’t want to think or talk about this anymore. I didn’t want any more of this to happen. I just wanted to move on and pretend everything was normal again. I pulled him into my arms and wrapped them tightly, the first time I showed this kind of affection to my own father. I didn’t even know what to say. But his sudden burst of tears made me want to erase everything and start over.

I kissed Dad’s head and let him cry, and I ignored my cock twitching from being this close to him, naked.

After so many minutes of crying, he looked at me for a moment. He sniffled, his face drenched with tears, his blue eyes focused on mine. Then, he kissed me.

Deeply.

What was he doing? Why was he kissing me? Why couldn’t I stop? I didn’t want this. I didn’t want anyone but Paul.

I broke the kiss and sighed. “Dad…no. We can’t do this.”

“I love you, Phil. I love you and Paul. I don’t want to be gay, but…I can’t stop thinking about being with you both. I can’t ever just be your father anymore. It’s either this or nothing.”

Oh, no. This wasn’t happening. This reality was too much for me.

He shuffled around and lowered his head to put his mouth on my cock, sucking away.

“Dad, what are you doing?” Fuck…it felt amazing, though. No, no. This was wrong. I gently pushed his head away. “Dad, no. Stop. We can’t do this.”

But he put his mouth back on it and continued sucking me, and this time, it became even more challenging to stop him. This feeling. Why was I enjoying this like a sick fuck? Was I as sick as he was? I pulled out of his mouth to lie on my side for a sixty-nine position. I leaned toward his hard cock and sucked him while he sucked me. I wasn’t sure why we were doing this. He’d done terrible things to us. At the same time, maybe this would be my final interaction with him. To get it out of our system and never see each other again.

His mouth slurped on my cock, and he moaned, sounding hungry for me. I was so horny and confused and feeling torn that my body wanted something entirely different from what my mind and heart wanted. Within just moments, I grunted as I flooded his mouth with my cum.

Seconds later, he gripped the back of my head and cried out in ecstasy as he made me swallow his cum, the first time I tasted someone’s cum.

I gagged from the realization of swallowing my own father, and bile threatened to surge from my throat. I couldn’t finish the rest, and I spit the rest of it out, still gagging. I controlled myself from throwing up, and I coughed. What had just happened? Why had we done that?

He sighed, and we stayed on the floor for a moment. Then, he got up and began to get dressed, looking just as confused as I was.

I had no clothes here since he’d taken them away with him. So, I remained on the floor in deep shame. I couldn’t look at him. I just stared at the floor. We’d never be able to have a normal relationship. We were fucked up in different ways. It was to say goodbye.

Forever.

“I’m terrified that Paul’s going to report everything,” he said, trying to control his emotions. He was back to how he’d always been. “So I want to make you an offer. I have a ton of money saved. More than anyone knows. If I pay for you and Paul to move out of state and live together somewhere far, anywhere you’d like, will you promise me that what I did to you will stay between us? That if the cops question anything, you’ll deny the truth? We’ll never see each other or even speak again. We’ll live our separate lives. I’ll tell your mother that you and Paul found new jobs or whatever I can think of. No worries there.”

Relief came over me. I’d needed to hear that. As much as I probably should’ve reported what he’d done, I just wanted to move on. It was clear to me now. Our relationship was beyond repair. While there was still a small part of me that wanted things to be normal between us, to forgive and forget, it was too late.

But I had Paul. My sweet little brother. The love of my life. No woman could ever mean the same way he meant to me. I realized it more and more. I was in love with him, and I wanted to build a life with him as both his brother and lover. I’d even adopt a baby with him. I’d fucking marry him if I could. I wanted forever with him.

And only him.

I nodded but still didn’t look at Dad. “Okay. Deal. But in one condition.”

“What is it?”

“Give us the money first to take care of it ourselves. I don’t want you to know where we move to.”

After a long pause, he said, “Fair enough. I’ll go home and get some clothes for you.”

The door flew open, startling us. My heart pounded like a jackhammer. Paul stood there fully clothed with a shocked expression, but he wasn’t alone. A cop stood right next to him, and the look on his face made me realize there was no explanation for me being naked while Dad’s blood and cum were on the floor.

Oh, fuck…

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Copyright © 2021, Rod Rey. All Rights Reserved.

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I woke up to the voices of Rodney and Tony. As near as I could tell, it seemed that Rodney had woken up, then woken up Tony. And to no surprise they were hard and inside me, with yet another interesting turn in Rodney, it seemed.

I halfway pretended to still be asleep, as Rodney slowly discussed with Tony how best to fuck me. It was almost like he was quietly taking a course in how best to use me.

“So I think I just pulled out of his second hole. Can you push into it now?”

Tony smiled. “I think I can. Damn. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun using a guy before, in my whole life.”

Rodney kissed him. “So can you feel your dickhead going in and out of the mouth of his second hole? Sometimes when I’m in, I think I can, but I often get too excited and drive in so I can shoot deep inside, or probe around until it feels like I’m hitting some spot that excites him more somehow, almost like I’ve never hit it before.”

“Fuck. You’re going to make me cum too early. Let me try to pull out, and as it seems like I’m coming out of his second hole, you drive in. Just do it slowly so you’re as sure as you can be that that’s what’s going on.”

“Damn. This is way better than just doing this myself.”

“It feels like I just popped out. So drive in really slowly, with me.”

“Fuck. That feels so good. It feels like I’m right at the entrance. I’m just trying to hold there.”

“You think you can go back and forth right there at that second hole?”

Rodney smiled. Damn. I loved his quietly beautiful smile.

“I’m doing it. Why don’t you try to join me, right at the entrance to the hole. It’s so nice that your dick is so huge.”

“Shit. It feels like your dickhead is making love to mine. That hole is so damn tight. But it feels so good being so close to you right there.”

“Fuck. I don’t know how long I can hold this. I’m going to blow again. Drive slowly in with me. Maybe we can both unload again together, deep inside.”

Rodney smiled again. “I swear I can feel your dickhead getting bigger. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this hard before.”

They both pushed so slowly and deliberately. Rodney motioned towards me. “Look. He’s going hard. Wouldn’t that be hot if all three of us shot at the same time?”

“Damn. Drive in.”

They both went all the way in. I moaned. They both smiled. And held each other as they both started creaming me. I was just a bit late, but I had to release as well.

Of course they noticed. Rodney looked intensely at Tony: “Wow. This is the best fuck ever. You’re the best, man. Just hold there. I have a few more shots to go.”

Tony smiled. “As do I.”

Then Tony laughed. “You’re as bad as him. You did that. I was just lucky enough to be part of that. I halfway think I can feel your cum shooting all over my dick.”

“Just stay there. Damn. I’m halfway tempted to fuck hard until I’m emptied, but this feels so nice being so tight and deep inside him.”

Tony looked at Rodney pretty seriously. “How often do you think of him?”

“Fuck. You love these jugular questions don’t you. It almost pisses me off how much I think of him. I’d be happy if he even thought of me half as much as I think of him.” And Rodney grabbed my face. “Just don’t forget that you’re still the fucking bottom, dude.”

Tony looked almost as intensely at Rodney. “I think you know that makes two of us. But now I don’t know how I’ll ever stop thinking of you all the time as well.”

“Damn. If I could figure out how to make a life out of this I would go for it in a heartbeat. I swear.”

Tony smiled. “You swear for real?”

“Fuck. You have a plan?”

“Dude. It’s already halfway working.”

“Are you shitting me? For real?”

“You really want to spend time with me here?”

“Hell yeah. You just fucking made me hard again.”

“Damn. You may be hornier than he is.”

“No contest. But I don’t care as long as there’s a way to make this work. Damn. Your softening dick feels so nice against my hard one in him.”

“I have so much to bring you up to speed on.”

I felt what I was sure was Rodney flexing his dick deep inside me. He looked at me: “I love you, dude.”

I was trembling. Damn. I would never have dared to dream this first meeting would go this well.

“You two like each other?”

Both Tony and Rodney burst out laughing.

“For the devil that you are you can be so adorable at times.”

Tony pulled out so I could suck him off.

I almost thought I could differentiate between the flavors of his cum and Rodney’s.

Tony looked at Rodney: “You have to join me in making sure he recommits himself to Satan in front of both of us. I hope that doesn’t creep you out or anything.”

“Fuck. You seem to think of everything. I can’t wait to help this develop.”

Tony laughed again. “I’m pretty sure your helping is already well on its way.”

I cleaned them both up. Wow. I was so looking forward to everything. My ass and mouth were totally in heaven.

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Matt was a slut, no two ways about it. God only knew how many cocks he’d taken up his ass. But Alan couldn’t really hold that against him. A willing bottom can get as much sex as he wants and Matt was a horny guy. Alan knew he would have done just as many guys, given the opportunity. But a top can’t always get laid as easily as a bottom. 

In spite of his whoring around, there was something sweet and almost innocent about Matt. He was tall, well over six feet, but had a quiet voice and demeanor. He had dark red hair and pale skin, with rich green eyes. Occasionally he would grow a mustache which gave him a bit of a porno look, but his baby face (he looked younger than his 28 years) somewhat mitigated the effect. Plus, Alan kind of liked the feel of the mustache lightly bristling his shaft when Matt blew him.

The two first met on an Adam4Adam hookup. Alan messaged Matt and after they exchanged a couple of photos, they set up a meet. Matt had the house to himself so he invited Alan over. He said he was living with his parents while he went to nursing school, but they were across the country visiting relatives so he had the house to himself for a week. Alan drove up to a nice ranch-style house in a neighborhood near downtown and Matt answered the door wearing only boxers. He was kind of skinny with a very pale belly and a little dusting of ginger hair across his pecs. They went into Matt’s bedroom, which was done in a very boho style with colorful patterned fabrics, a platform bed and a funky crystal overhead light fixture. 

Alan was ready to get down to business, so he pulled off his shirt and started to unlace his shoes. He was a nice-looking guy – not Chris Evans, but easy enough on the eyes. He had fine, straight dark brown hair and dark brown eyes with gold flecks. He was trim with a smooth chest and a tight set of buns. He had recently turned 30 and was taking extra care to make sure everything stayed firm. He unbuckled his belt and pulled off his jeans, then pulled down his boxer briefs so that he was completely naked. He kept his brown bush trimmed into a neat V, pointing down to a cut cock that was six inches long when fully erect, and damn near six inches around. He was starting to plump up in anticipation of getting laid and he took his member in his hand and started to stroke himself as he checked out Matt. 

The air was slightly sweet and herby, so Alan figured Matt was 420 friendly. Alan’s vice was alcohol and he didn’t mess with anything else, but he didn’t begrudge anyone a toke. Plus, a mellowed-out bottom could be a good thing. 

Matt hooked his hands into his waistband and stripped off his blue boxers. He was sporting wood and his dick was longer and thicker than Alan’s. It was an impressive piece of equipment, with a big spongy mushroom head and nice low-hanging eggs. His bush was dark red like the hair on his head and stretched from hip to hip like a fluffy cloud backlit by the setting sun. Alan crossed the room and dropped to his knees in front of Matt. He wanted to taste that fuckstick and actually enjoyed giving head almost as much as getting it. Matt was larger than average, but not so outsized that Alan couldn’t get his mouth around his girth. Matt sighed with pleasure as Alan got his cock nice and wet and began to use both his hand and his mouth in tandem to work Matt’s rod.

Once Alan’s jaw got a little tired, he backed off and stood up. Matt took the hint and got into position to return the favor. He had a nice hot mouth and active tongue. He fondled Alan’s smooth balls and his taint as he slurped the entire length of his shaft. Alan enjoyed these ministrations for several minutes before he could feel his balls start to draw up and he had to back off to avoid blowing his wad too soon. 

Matt laid back on his bed and pulled his knees up, giving Alan a front-row seat to view his pale pink rosebud. “There’s some lube on the desk behind you.” Alan grabbed the bottle and greased up his head and shaft then knelt down and spread a glob across Matt’s fuckhole and gradually worked his fingers inside. He finger-blasted his new acquaintance for a while until he could tell it was time for more. Then he stood up and pulled Matt to the edge of the bed and pointed his dick slightly down and pressed it against his target. He gently began to apply pressure and his cockhead popped into heaven.

With every new partner, there’s almost always a moment early on when you know if it’s going to be a good encounter or not. If a guy goes down on you and quickly gets you slick and finds a rhythm, you know it’s going to be good. If you feel a lot of teeth or a guy can’t get more than your head in his mouth, you know it’s going to be bad. When you go down on a guy, if his shaft is nice and smooth and you can fit most of him in your mouth, you know it will be good. If you swallow his stick and find out he has rank pubes or something, you know it will be bad. (Some guys were into man smells, but Alan wasn’t one of them.) Similarly with anal, if you’re trying to fuck a guy and he’s so tight or inexperienced it’s like there’s a No Trespassing sign on his asshole, you know it will be bad. But if he’s a pro at taking backdoor dick and knows just how to work his muscles to help pull you in, you know it’s going to be awesome. 

Matt had the sweetest tunnel Alan had ever penetrated. In fact, he could only think of one other guy who felt half as good. It was like an electrical plug slipping into an outlet. Matt was still tight enough to give good friction, but he could easily accept thick meat. And he seemed to genuinely enjoy long, full strokes, which was Alan’s favorite fuck method. The lube made a slight slick sound as Alan worked Matt over, sliding deep to press his pubes against Matt’s taint, then pulling out until the ridge of his head was just visible outside Matt’s entrance. Alan looked down, enjoying the view of his fleshtube disappearing and reappearing in and out of that magic ring. They kept this up for several minutes, Alan concentrating hard to stave off an orgasm, because he didn’t want to end things too quickly. 

Then Matt pulled away a little bit and turned away. “Spoon-fuck me, lover,” he said, bending his knees a little and raising his left leg to allow Alan access. Alan slipped into bed behind him and wrapped his arm around Matt’s chest and pulled him close to his own chest. His penis easily found purchase in Matt’s ass again and he resumed thrusting. Alan had never fucked in this position before and he found it very satisfying. Matt grabbed Alan’s hand and moaned softly. “Put all your cum inside me,” he said.

Alan began to thrust a little harder and faster, ready to allow his climax to wash over him. Matt released Alan’s hand and began to stroke his own big tool. About a dozen thrusts later, Alan felt that rising tightness in his balls and his sperm began to pump out deep inside Matt. He gasped and pressed his lips against Matt’s ear. “Fuck, I’m fucking cumming,” he managed to whisper. His dick finally stopped spasming and Alan let out a huge sigh. Matt began to furiously pump his cock and quickly shot out his own gooey load, slightly yellow in the light from the overhead fixture. Matt was silent as he came, except for quick little exhalations. His cream soaked the sheets and filled the air with the scent of man juice.

They lay there, still wrapped in each other’s arms, for several minutes as Alan’s dick softened and eventually slipped out of Matt’s hole. Alan got up and began to pull on his underwear as Matt sat up and kissed the back of his neck. “Fuck me again sometime?” he asked. 

“Definitely,” Alan answered. “You want me to give you my number?”

“Sure.”

After that, they met up every couple of weeks for sex. Matt’s family returned and so Alan took over hosting. He would get texts sometimes when Matt was on his way home from class asking if he could come over. Occasionally, Alan wasn’t in the mood or was busy with something else, but he usually said yes. They fell into a nice pattern of satisfying fuck sessions, different from Alan’s usual hook-ups. Usually, he met someone off an app or went cruising in the woods and when he fucked, he would turn the other guy away from him, bend him over, and go to town. He was aware that he was basically just masturbating into their assholes. 

It wasn’t like that with Matt. They would make out for a while and trade some oral before the main event. Alan even found that he liked fucking Matt missionary-style so they could kiss during the act. It wasn’t like they were boyfriends or anything corny like that – they were fucking, nothing more – but it was nice to have a connection. Matt would make soft little sounds of satisfaction while Alan was deep-stroking him, like a kitten mewling in a patch of sunlight. 

As his climax built, Alan would whisper, “I’m about to shoot.”

“Give me all your juice,” Matt would say, then their mouths would fuse again as Alan increased the speed of his thrusts until he felt the rising tension throughout his genitals, followed by the bliss of releasing a flood of his semen into Matt’s heated, eager tunnel. Afterwards, Matt liked to jack himself to orgasm with Alan gently massaging his impressive testicles. Then they would lie in bed and talk a little, or just relax quietly, wrapped around each other. 

But sometimes, Matt’s slutty side took over. On those occasions, he just wanted to be fucked with no bullshit. One day Alan got a text asking if he was home. He texted back that he was and Matt responded with this message:

Just got fucked by a Latino guy at a hotel. Want ur load on top of his. Bend me over and make me your cum dump.

Matt arrived just a couple of minutes later. Alan opened the door and Matt pushed past him and went straight to the bedroom. No greeting, no kiss or squeeze of his bulge like usual. Alan followed him down the hall and Matt was already pulling off his jeans and flannel shirt. He left his socks on, but otherwise was naked. He got down on all fours on the bed with his pussy spread open and waiting for Alan. His anus was still slick and shiny with the lube from his recent pounding. Alan thought he could also see a little jizz mixed in. 

“Fuck me hard and give me your goddamn load,” Matt growled and wiggled his ass.

Alan spit into his palm and slicked his shaft. “Did he fuck you good?”

“He was thick as fuck but his cock was short. He stretched me out but didn’t get in as deep as you do.” 

Alan moved into place and shoved his piece in with one swift push. He grabbed Matt’s hips and began to thrust hard, basically vandalizing Matt’s ass. He thought he could feel the other guy’s cream and knew there was some risk here. He knew Matt was on PrEP, but there were some other potential consequences. He rolled the dice though; it would have been a crying shame to put a condom between his cockflesh and Matt’s perfect, silky cunt. Plus, Matt was greedy for his seed.

Alan rode his fucktoy like a bronco buster while Matt growled out dirty talk.

“Yeah, rape my fucking ass. I’m your little whore. Tear that shit up. Fuck yeah, pound your little bitch with that motherfucking cock!”

Alan plowed him as hard and rough and deep as he had ever plowed anyone. The more furiously he fucked, the more Matt got revved up. Alan was getting close to the point of no return when Matt bellowed out a final “Fuuuuuuuuuuck!!!!” and hosed out a massive load on the bedsheets. Alan crashed over the edge seconds later and added more cream to Matt’s pie. Now he had two loads in him simultaneously, just like he’d wanted.

Alan pulled his slimy cock out and slapped Matt on his pale rump. “You made a fuckin’ mess on my sheets.” He pushed Matt’s face down into his own jizz. “Now get the fuck out of here, you fuckin’ slut.”

Matt jumped up and began to pull on his jeans. Alan grabbed up his shirt and shoes and began to march to the door. “Pump ‘n’ dump’s over, punk. Beat it.” He opened his front door and dropped the rest of Matt’s clothes on his front porch. Matt slipped past him, wearing only his jeans, and had to finish dressing outside on the porch. Alan locked the door behind him and smiled. He wondered what kind of mood Matt would be in the next time he texted.

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