Category: Uncategorized

A number of years ago, I was in my mid 30’s and traveled very frequently for work. Returning home to Newark airport after a work trip to a northern England, I was greeted by my limo driver, Jose, nearby baggage claim. Jose was HOT in his uniform. Maybe a fraction shorter than my 6”, he filled his uniform very nicely. Dark brown wavy hair, goatee, he exuded masculinity, and I was staring, as I couldn’t keep my eyes off this stud of a man. I did notice he wore a gold wedding band, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t look.

Once we retrieved my luggage and made our way to his vehicle, he invited me to sit up front with him. The ride would be almost an hour. As we drove away from the airport, he started some small talk with me about my trip and the weather. Then he began telling me about his wife being 9-months pregnant, and he wasn’t getting any at home. And as he said this, he turned his head to look at me and my reaction.

I said, well, I’m so pleased for you about becoming a father, that must be very exciting. And I’m sorry you’re not getting any action at home. And I took the risk and blurted out, “if there’s something I can do to help, please tell me”. Never thinking he’d take this offer seriously, his next sentence surprised me, “well, there is a rest area coming up in a couple of minutes. Do you mind if we stop?”, as he groped his cock through his pants. It was dark, so I couldn’t really see what he was packing, but I wasn’t going to say no.

We exited at the rest area and found a dark area to park where there were no other cars, and just one very dim light.  As he put the car in park and turned off the ignition he turned to me and said, “you were practically undressing me with your eyes at the airport, weren’t you faggot”? His voice changed from sweet and calm to forceful and commanding. I was stunned by his directness, but he wasn’t incorrect. I admitted, “yes, I was. You’re hot”.

He said, “let’s get out the car”. He opened his car door, got out and began to remove his jacket, tie, shirt, and t-shirt and threw them onto the back seat. Then he walked over to the  hood. I watched him disrobe from the passenger side of the vehicle. His torso was breathtaking. This man definitely worked out, and his chest hair was thick and curly up top and narrowed down the treasure trail and fanned out at the navel. I could spot dark patches of hair under his arm. I was licking my lips and drooling. Fucking hot!

Then he said, “get over here faggot”, and I walked over to him. I couldn’t stop staring at him. “Like what you see faggot?” I nodded. And then I just went for it and dove in with my face planted right in the middle of his pecs rubbing into his thick chest hair, and then I began to work his nipples over with my tongue and mouth. He held my head down as I suckled on his nips. I could smell the musk of his pits in the air, so I went in and began to lick his sweaty pits and inhaled deeply to savor the taste and the smell. I was delirious from the natural man smell.

He reached down and began to undo his belt buckle and unzip his pants. While cleaning his pits and sucking on his bicep, I reached my hand into his pants to find his cock. It was hairy down there, but in my hand was a fat uncut cock of about 7.5”, it was so far I couldn’t fit my entire hand around it. It was already leaking precum. 

I knew I wanted to suck this dick. I asked him how long it had been since he shot his nut and he told me 11 days! Holy crap, that would be a lot of spunk brewing up inside those hairy balls, and I wanted every drop of it! He pushed my shoulders down so now my knees were on the concrete of the parking lot. I opened wide, and I began sucking on his fat, Latino, uncut cockmeat. “Mmmmmm” I mumbled. It smelled so musky and it was so hot inside my mouth. I worked his cock using only my mouth and tongue as when I tried to use my hands he shoved them away. He said, “only your mouth faggot”. I keep my hands behind my back and leaned forward. He took the back of my head in his hand and pushed me down so now his hairy balls were hitting my chin, and his pubes were in my nose. He began a slow, steady thrusting of his thick cock down my throat. Because he was gentle, it was easy to adjust and take him all the way down my throat, and back, without gagging. 

His precum was flowing and constant. It tasted sweet. While working my magic with my mouth and throat, he asked “you wanna take my dick up your ass faggot”? I did, but I hadn’t planned to be fucked that night, and didn’t have time to prepare and clean out. He said he didn’t care, he just really needed to nut and wanted a warm hole to fill. So I got up from the concrete and began to undo my pants and pulled them down, then I pulled down my white Jockey low-rise briefs. “Let me see that ass”, he said. So I spun around and he cupped my cheeks in his hands and said, “nice firm ass. Bend over the hood for me faggot”.

Once bent over the hood, he pried my ass apart with his hands and began to spit into my crack. My chest was flush against the hood, my hands spread eagle, my feet planted firmly on the group, feet spread apart. His cock was very thick. I knew it would hurt going in. I had been experienced enough at this point to know taking a few deep breaths and exhaling deeply does relax one’s anus. He lined up his cock and pushed inside. We both let out an “oh fuck”, but probably for different reasons. He said, “oh fuck, faggot, this feels so good. You’re so tight”. While I was thinking to myself, “oh fuck, he ripped me in two, and my asshole is on fire”! He sank all the way in and held it there for a few minutes as the pain of the initial penetration subsided.

With his hands pushing my back down, he began to thrust his hips. He was a deep stroker, he seemed to prefer a slow withdrawal back to the tip, and then as fast jut back inside. He did this for several minutes, and it felt wonderful. I could feel my hole stretch wider with every push back inside, and it became much easier to take him. He grunted as I moaned. And just before I thought he was about to shoot, he pulled out. When I spun around, he was pulling down his balls, and said, “I’m not ready to shoot yet”.

He had me pull my pants completely off and lie flat on the hood of the car my ass at the edge of the hood, holding my legs up to expose my ass, and he plunged inside. The view of watching this beautiful Latin hunk fuck me is forever ingrained in my brain. We weren’t really in a position for me to rest my legs on his shoulders so my hands could explore his back and his chest, but it was my privilege to open my hole to him. I begged, “please fuck me. Fuck me”, and continued to beg and moan as he watched my face enjoy what his cock was doing to me.

Finally, he took one last deep plunge and his 11-day load gushed out from his balls and into my belly. He was panting uncontrollably, and he collapsed on my chest. I hugged him and then I was able to feel the muscles in his back and shoulders. A strong man that throws a strong fuck. His cock still somewhat hard inside me, he began to slowly move his hips. His head resting on my upper chest, I began to ruby hand through is hair. And I lightly moaned as he continued to churn his load inside me.

Instead of deflating, I felt his cock engorging. The speed of his gyrating hips increased. It sounded so wet down there, I could only imagine how much seed he deposited inside me. Jose lifted his head up and began to bite down on my exposed nipple causing me to yelp, but when his tongue flicked the tip of my nip that was held between his teeth, my cock jumped to attention. Jose was glued to me, his chest hair and skin sticking to my chest hair and skin. I wanted to stroke my cock, but couldn’t reach. It was growing harder between our bodies, and it rubbed between us as he thrusted.

He was so horny and pent up, it was maybe 5 minutes after his first load that he pumped his second load deep inside me. Then leaving his half-hard cock inside me, he rose up and I began to jerk my own cock off. He thrusted and I pumped until my own hot seed was flying outside of my cock spraying everywhere, on his chest, on mine, on the hood of the car. I can shoot like a fire hose when I haven’t cum for a few days and I’ve got something shoved up my ass! I was hyperventilating!

Jose scooped up some of my cum from my chest and fed to to me, and then I reached my head forward to lick my cum off his chest. Then, he finally pulled out. A puddle of cum leaked out of my chute. His cock glistened from his two loads of cum. He said, “clean off my cock, faggot”, so I took my place at his cock and began to lick, hungrily, getting every drop. When I stood up, he pushed my face into the puddle of cum on the hood and rubbed it in. My forehead, nose, cheeks and chin were soaked. He removed his hand and said, “clean it up faggot so we can get out of here”.

He stood with his arms crossed and watched me lick the hood of the car. My face was a cummy mess. I loved it!  He reached into the car and threw his white wifebeater at me and said “you can use it clean yourself up and keep it as a souvenir”. Then he put his white dress shirt back on, but left it unbuttoned and zipped up his pants and buckled them, and we both got in the car to drive to my house.

Interestingly, I sat in the back of the car on the way back. He walked around the car to open the back passenger door. And I got inside. Now I did feel a little awkward at this point, a little humiliated, but I didn’t care. At that time, I was embracing my faggot status, so it didn’t bother me that much. I liked watching him from the back seat, in the rear view mirror I could make out his exposed chest, still heaving. He didn’t say much of anything for the remaining ride home.

When we pulled up to my house he said, “I’ll pop the trunk for you fucking faggot”. I got out and removed my luggage on my own, and he sped off. Probably feeling bad about himself that he used a faggot to get off, twice, and maybe a little guilty. It’s amazing the decisions straight men make when they haven’t cum in awhile. Lucky for me, I’m the willing faggot that will take advantage of that situation!

Needless to say, once home, I dropped my bags at the door and ran up to my bedroom with his wifebeater in my hand. I laid down in bed and held it to my nose. It smelled like him, and like cum, and it was still a little wet and sticky, so I began to lick it. Stroking my cock like a fiend, when I was close to shooting, I shot right into it, adding my own load to the mix. I would not be washing that…ever!

I forget when and where this happened. It was long ago and “the only one.”

I was cruising a men’s room on a muggy summer day. It might have been in a local department store. One guy was sitting in the next to the last stall. The stalls had doors, but I could see his pants were down to his ankles, white briefs bunched together, showing a pair of slender, muscular legs dark with hair. He wore sandals. Italian, I thought.

I entered the last stall, bolted the door, and lowered my khakis and boxers. I was looking forward to some quick action. But as soon as my bare bottom settled on the rim, I cut a loud and unexpected fart, a blast my neighbor easily heard. Then, again to my surprise, my bowels began moving and I let a soft snakelike grunt plop into the toilet. I was embarrassed as hell, my ears burning and anus twitching.

The Italian would never guess I was gay now. I wiped my bare bottom and waited, shifted my foot, stared at his feet. Silence, stillness. Then, gradually, he strained and gasped and then three heavy bombs splashed from his bum into the bowl. He was “doing grunties” too! Wow. I hoped he’d do a “gassie,” but his crack was completely quiet. He emitted a big sigh and spun the roll of toilet paper, gave himself a very inadequate wiping. More silence.

Side-by-side, we sat–bare, with our unflushed grunts floating. Then, slowly, his belt buckle began scraping the file floor; he squirmed on the seat; he moaned; the shadows told a lot. He was jacking off.  

I tapped my foot. In a flash, he knelt under the partition, exposing his thick, hard “hog.” I followed, boner wagging. We pushed our bodies together so that my tightening balls rested on his solid, hairy thigh. He jacked my hog and my hole opened and I wanted him to finger my rectum, deep–the way I wanted to finger his–but we’d just done grunties and both our bummies were rank, dirty.

I shot a hot ropy load onto the cold bathroom floor and coaxed a puddle just as big out of him. “Thanks,” I panted. I think he fled before I ever saw his face. It was the only spontaneous buddy dump/JO I ever had.

Now I have a name for this. I call it “gruntiebumlove.”

END

Chip is a handsome black man that lives in our neighborhood. I never really thought twice about him, not in a sexual way. He’s not my type. Being dark skinned and Italian, blond guys with blue eyes are my preference. I met my partner, a blonde and we were a handsome, perfect match. Besides all his charm, intelligence and wit, he has a really nice cock and im happy to suck it as often as I can. I love cum and he really has the best tasting cum I’ve had, sweet and creamy. Trust me, I’m an expert, for sure. 

Calvin and I are so compatible, I suck, occasionally get fucked and everything is right in the world. One day at a party, and a little more than drunk, Chip came over and we talked. I watched as he payed more attention to Calvin. I could tell sexual energy was building. Black guys love Calvin. Although Cal was happy getting sucked off, I have watched him gag on a few big cocks when we occasionally have a threesome. I find it hot and exciting watching my more dominant partner be submissive but not with a black guy, yet. As I watched Chip talk softer and more sensually to Calvin, I couldn’t help but notice the huge bulge in Chip’s pants and a cock resting on his legs just inches from his knee! Wow. That turned me on. I really wanted to have sex with this black man but the thought of my top guy, Calvin being dominated by him turned me on even more.

I asked them if they wanted to smoke a joint. They agreed and followed me to a downstairs bathroom that was rarely used. As I shut the door and before I could spark up the joint, Chip grabbed Calvin and kissed him deeply. Calvin turned to me, almost for permission. My answer was an action. I pushed him to the floor. Once down, Calvin greedily pulled at Chips pants and revealed a huge black uncut cock with a roadmap of strong vanes. It was the biggest darkest most beautiful cock I ever saw. As Calvin tried to suck him, I watched and attempted to touch Chip and join in. Chip was into Calvin though. I was happy to watch even if Calvin wasn’t the best cocksucker.

Calvin not being a pro at this, pulled me down to help. I got down and rewarded Chip by taking every inch so deep he was shocked. He said no one has ever been able to do this to him. That just motivated me to be the first and the best. As I worked my throat on his meat, I was overcome by the hot musky aroma of his crotch and balls. This was different and that aroma drove me wild. I liked it. He then pulled Calvin up and sensually made out as I sucked both of their cocks, giving Chip most of my attention. I was happy to watch but now in this position, I was in my glory doing what I loved to do. Soon, Chip grabbed Calvin, bent him over the toilet and tried to fuck him. I knelt back to watch in real excitement of the idea of seeing that monster cock in him. Calvin protested but Chip didn’t care. He tried and tried but Calvin just wasn’t into it. He finally turned to me and said “Chip, fuck him. He loves cock up his ass.” As chip contemplated the offer of my ass, he closed the deal by saying he’d kiss him until he cums all over my ass and back, maybe my face. I grew so hard at the thought!

Calvin sat on the toilet as Chip roughly bent me over and pushed that big black cock all the way into my ass. As I struggled to accommodate his size, I could hear the kissing, wet, deep and noisy. That’s all I needed as Chip just used my ass to get off. He didn’t give a shit about me and as the fuck got more and more rough, almost brutal, I was more and more turned on. The detachment was thrilling. Filled and pounded, no need to please or do anything but provide a tight wet hole. We were both getting what we needed. Suddenly with little warning for me or what I wanted, I heard him moan and start slapping my ass as he came deep inside me. I felt the sting and growing wetness overflowing and splashing on the floor. Calvin tried to push him away, out of me but I was locked and so turned on, I was shootIng globs of cum  all over Calvin and the floor. Nothing else mattered at that moment. We shot our loads selfishly for our own pleasure. When it stopped, Calvin refused to kiss Chip and Chip pulled his pants up and left angry with no small talk or good byes.

Calvin turned me around to examine my used up asshole. I was a little embarrassed at my animal reaction. He said I was dripping cum and my hole remained stretched open, I looked so used but ready for more, his. He said he wanted to cum inside me right now. My dripping ass turned him on. He said “parties over. Let’s go home so I can fill you up, if I can feel anything.” We laughed. 

That night, he fucked me twice. He pulled my pants down and bent me over the sofa as roughly as Chip. I felt his tongue probe my hole and lick up my sloppy mess. He moaned as he said how hot my hole smelled and tasted like Chips big black cock. Then he tried to fist me. As he got four fingers in and pushed, I said “enough. Your cock is more than I want.” So he gave it to me with such force I fell over. As he fucked me hard he described how hot it was to watch me take such a big cock. He said my hole felt stretched and sloppy so he had to fuck me extra hard to feel anything. He said it was so hot when I moan and whimper and give myself so easily and submissively like a hungry whore. I could feel my load build until we both exploded and fell to the floor. Once again Calvin lapped at my ass  but now we kissed. He wanted me to taste and smell our bodies and juices. That taste and aroma, musk, lead to another session. By now, I was in pain but it was worth it. 

Over the next few months Chip tried to approach Calvin. Calvin wasn’t into it. I was happy on one hand and disappointed on the other. Chip didn’t want me but I would have let him use me again one more time, anytime. This night has brought us more pleasure as we talk about it during sex or I fantasize alone when I jerk off. My ass went back to normal but Cal says that it has never been so stretched out in the entire time we were together…. So far!

There were pricks everywhere not just in the bed next to mine. I used Saturday afternoon to get ahead with my homework. My roommate worked at his desk. When I got back to the room this morning, he was dressed and at his desk.

“Hey,” I said. “You doing OK today?”

“Sure,” he said as though nothing had happened the day before.

“You need to talk about anything? You’re OK with yesterday.”

He turned and looked at me. “What are talking about? I’m fine.”

I nodded and sat down at my desk and began working. At lunchtime, I changed into regular shorts and went down to eat. I didn’t ask him to join me. He was gone when I came back. I focused on my work, but occasionally, I did have the urge to ask him if his father would really kill him if I told on him. Had it just been a story to get me to screw him? Could he have been that manipulative? Or was he just another cold-hearted piece of shit?

Dinnertime arrived, and I changed my shirt. I stood looking at myself in the mirror. Part of me wanted to eat at a different dining hall to see if I could pick up another cute piece of ass, but another part of me realized how empty today had been. Tonight would be just as empty. Unless…

I grabbed a couple of condoms and some packets of lube and stuffed them in my pocket. I put my phone in the other pocket and I headed across campus. As I walked to what was called ‘The Old Mess Hall,’ I noticed for the first time how unattractive the campus was. Every building was in a different style with different colors of stones or bricks. I didn’t come here for the architecture, I reminded myself. I came here for the men. Two more weeks until midterms, and you still haven’t found love.

I heard a motorcycle go by with some grey-bearded man riding it. I’m not here for love, I told myself. I’m looking for a good time, like the one I had this morning. I caught myself smiling; he was all over me, wasn’t he? I wanted more of that. I hurried along to the cafeteria.

I was surprised by the oldest dining hall. It was rather stately with stained glass windows and nice clean tables. I got some turkey, mashed potatoes, Brussel sprouts, and iced tea. I also grabbed some pie. I picked a table where I could see people as they sat and ate. I had finished my dessert without spotting anyone who noticed me, and I wondered whether I should search for someone with my phone app.

A worker came by and took my dishes and silverware. I stretched and looked at the intricate designs in the ceiling. The metal panels reflected the lights from the chandeliers, and the shadows formed by the raised areas resulted in a mix of light, medium, and dark shadows. Some of the shadows seemed to dance a two-step. I was intrigued to the point that I didn’t notice the tall graduate student walk up until he began to sit across from me.

“Joseph?”

I looked at him. “I’m Mark.”

“No,” he raised an eyebrow. “I’m Joseph.”

I smiled. “OK.”

“Are you ready?”

Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “For what?”

“Aren’t you the guy I was chatting with?” he asked.

“No.” I shook my head, and I saw his cheeks get red. H glanced around. “Are you OK?” I asked.

“Yeah.” The way he said it, I knew he wasn’t.

I chuckled. “What’d you do? Try to hire someone to rub your feet, help you with your homework?” I smiled at him.

I saw his Adam’s apple move up and down.

“Was it a hook-up?” I whispered.

His whole face went flush.

And I got the checkered flag. Except that Joseph stood up and walked out of the room. I didn’t want to chase after him; the guy was petrified.

I pulled out my phone and opened the gay hook-up app. I know it wasn’t called that, but that’s what it was. I looked at the map; there were at least twenty active guys within half a mile. One of them was less than a hundred feet. I clicked on him. “Is this J? This is Mark.”

I waited almost thirty seconds before a message came back. “Who is this?”

“Weren’t we just talking at the table in the dining hall?”

“How’d you find me?”

“You’re less than one hundred feet away. I think you’re attractive. I wish you hadn’t left.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’m interested in knowing what you’re looking for.”

“I need a top.”

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes. No kissing; just that.”

“OK. Whatever you want.”

“I’m outside the door,” said Joseph. “Can you come with me now?”

“On my way.” I rose immediately and stepped over to the doors. I saw him standing in the vestibule; he looked nervous. I walked up to him. “What’s the matter, Joseph? Are you worried that someone will find out?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s our secret.”

“I’m across the street,” he said. “Module A, Room 137.” He glanced around. “Wait a few minutes, then… you know.” He walked away.

I wondered what his story was. Could this be a setup? Was he planning to do me in? I didn’t want to, but I sent a text to Jackson. “Wondering if I’m about to die. If I disappear, I went to Module A, 137.” Then I turned my phone off. I was being silly. I knew he was just a horny guy who was worried that people would think differently about him if they knew he liked taking dick up the ass.

I took my time walking out and onto the sidewalk. I looked toward the housing Joseph lived in. At least, I assumed he lived there. I thought I saw him crossing the street. I did my best not to hurry, maybe he wanted to clean up before I got there. I paused and sat down at a bench next to the sidewalk. He was meeting someone in the dining hall. Wouldn’t he have already cleaned up his place? Maybe he was planning to go to the other guy’s place. What the hell am I thinking? I’ve got the guy cleaning his place before he does me in. What if he’s spreading plastic to catch the blood and reduce the splatter? Shit. Maybe I should go back to my room, tie Hawk up and fuck him until I have no more energy. No. I was being stupid. I stood up and walked to Joseph’s apartment.

A light rap at the door was answered quickly. “Sorry if I seem weird,” Joseph told me right away. “I’m just stressed and anxious. Fucking my girlfriend just makes me more stressed. She so demanding, and I thought I could get on all fours and jerk off while someone fucks me and fucks the stress away.”

“OK. Sounds good.” I did think it was strange, but when he mentioned getting fucked, my dick responded.

“I’ve got condoms.”

“I have my own.”

Joseph pulled his pants and underwear halfway down to his thighs and positioned himself on the couch with his knees at the end of the cushion and his hands on the back. “How big are you?”

I slid my pants down and pulled my dick out. “Just average,” I said as I slipped the condom on and slathered it with lube.

I saw Joseph begin to jerk his dick, and I stepped up behind him and began to push inside him. He made no sounds. I moved in and out until I was able to penetrate him completely. I placed my hands on his hips and began to fuck him in earnest. He still said nothing. At some point, he twitched and then released his dick.

He didn’t move at all after that. I continued to screw him, but I felt no excitement, and even the pressure of his ass gripping my dick was not that great. At that point, he said, “Are you almost done? I’ve already come. You can stop.”

I pulled my dick out and slid the condom off, forcing it inside out as I did. I zipped up my pants and took the used rubber with me as I walked out. I’d never felt lonelier, emptier, or lost. I almost stepped in front of a car as I made my way back to the dorm.

Why did I do that? I kept asking myself. I realized I was still holding the condom, and I threw it into the nearest trash can. I ran to the dorm and took the stairs to my room. The room was empty when I got there, and I was glad. I stripped my clothes and took a shower.

I let the water run over me. I didn’t like what was happening. The emptiness was grander than the loneliness. Fucking felt good while I was fucking. But there was such emptiness after. My tears mixed with the water and swirled down the drain. I imagined myself slipping down the drain as well, being knocked around in the pipe and landing in the sewer. Is that where I was now, or did I have time to save myself?

I stepped out of the shower and stood in front of the mirror. I didn’t like the person I saw. Instead of looking at men as possible life partners and the possibility of the happiness that we might have, I only saw them as someone to have sex with. Had I lost the person I used to be, the one who looked for love?

I was in bed just a little bit later. There was a tightness in the back of my head. I got up and grabbed my phone and then slid back under the covers. I turned it on.

My phone blew up with messages from Jackson. “Are you OK?” “You don’t sound OK.” “Where are you now?” “I’m worried.” “Are you OK?” “?” “??” “???” I heard a hard knocking at the door. I got up and grabbed fresh underwear.

“Who is it?”

There was a muffled sound. I opened the door, and Jackson pushed in. “Where the fuck have you been?” He closed the door behind him then turned around and punched me. “What the hell have you been doing?”

“I went with a guy to his apartment. It was a disaster.”

“You fucking told me that you might disappear. You fucking bastard. I was so scared.”

I looked at Jackson; he was trembling. His eyes were filled with tears.

“Jackson, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re just a selfish asshole. Where’s the Mark I fell in love with? Where did he go, you self-centered piece of shit?”

“Oh, Jackson. That guy couldn’t find love, so he started to think of sex as intimacy and he lost his way. He got buried inside me, but he’s screaming to get out. I want to get out. Help me.”

“I tried. I tried to let you know that I had started caring about you in a way that was deeper than friends. But you didn’t notice.”

“Tell me I didn’t fuck it up.” Now tears filled my eyes. “Tell me it’s not too late.”

Jackson stepped closer.

“Tell me what to do.” I paused for a second. “No, you don’t need to tell me. I know. You’ve become my best friend, and I care about you. You’re more dear to me than any other person. I’m an idiot for not seeing it.”

Jackson threw his arms around me. “Apology accepted.” He pulled me closer, and I felt the caring love I had always wanted.

After a beautiful and warm Sunday, evening twilight fell over the forest, making shadows between the many trees grow to enormous proportions. It was the kind of forest where gay men tend to go, when they feel, that the quantity of hormones in their blood surpasses the red blood cells and they only come here to find solace for this blissful imbalance. Of course, straight men tried their luck as well, but mostly left disappointed, since female companionship was hard to find between the trees. At best they might find a t-girl, mistakenly thinking they had found what they were looking for, only to find out that the body structure was somewhat else than expected in the intimate regions.

Michael was certainly not looking for any female attention. He was as gay as gay can get. And he was in the already described condition. If any physician would take a blood test of him and would evaluate the results afterwards, chances were big that the man might cry out:

“My friend, you are desperately in need of having sexual contact!”

Michael was halfway his thirties, but still in good shape. His belly was flat, his chest and shoulders muscled and he had the legs of a marathon runner, although his lungs would probably stop him after five hundred meters. He didn’t complain about that. First of all, he had done this to himself by smoking too much. And secondly: for distances of 42 kilometers they had invented cars and busses.

He had decided to follow the imaginary doctor’s advice and as a result he found himself within a clump of trees, observing the men passing him over the small trail. Most were ignored, not being his type or even far off his search pattern. Others were interesting, but then he himself was not deemed appealing enough to give a second glance. And since sex was at a minimum a two men game it didn’t bring the facilitation he was looking for.

Michael glanced at his watch. Time was passing, darkness was falling and it didn’t look as if something worthwhile was going to happen. He considered going home, watch a nice, juicy porn and help himself for the time being for another time.

“Oh, what does it matter?” he murmured, “I’ll just hang around for another fifteen minutes. Maybe something shows up”.

And something showed up. A young man walked at leisure over the trail. It was the kind of boy, that made every gay man turn his head immediately: slim, supple gait, shoulder-long dark hair and, as far as was visible in the fading light, with the face of an angel. Michael’s heart skipped a beat when the boy stood still in front of him, looked at him intensely and then just walked straight towards him, stopping at a safe distance, out of Michael’s reach.

“Hi”, the boy softly said with an alluring voice.

“Hi, gorgeous!” Michael replied, feeling his hormones almost burning through his skin.

The boy just kept staring at him for a short while and then said:

“You wanna play a little game?”

“You bet!” Michael chuckled, “With a boy like you I’d like to play a lot of games”.

“Not so fast”, the boy said with a hoarse voice, “First, I just want to play my little game to find out if you are the perfect guy to play your kind of games with me”.

Michael stared at him, not fully understanding what the boy meant. He was no newcomer to cruise spots, had experienced a lot of funny and even weird things, but this one? No, this one was new: something like this had never happened to him before.

“Bit confused, are we?” the boy asked with a beaming smile, his white teeth flickering in the by now almost complete darkness.

“Yes…I am”, Michael admitted.

“I just ask you a few questions to find out which role you want to play in the game and then we play it”, the boy quietly explained, “So, what kind of animal do you want to be?”

Michael thought it over, still not knowing what to expect and answered spontaneously:

“I want to be a tomcat”.

“And what is this tomcat doing?”

“At this moment, you mean?” Michael asked puzzled.

The boy nodded so Michael hastily added:

“For the moment this tomcat is on the prowl”.

“For what?”.

When the question came Michael thought he saw a slight flickering in the eyes.

“For mouses”, he answered with a smile.

“Yuk”, the boy said in mock disgust, “Only for mouses?”

“Well, could be for birds as well”, Michael smiled.

“Birds as in girls, in women?” the boy asked softly.

“No, male birds, they’re more juicy than females. Haven’t you ever noticed that in the bird world the males are more beautiful than the females?”

“Hmmmm”, the boy smiled, again showing his flickering teeth, “I like that answer!”

The boy looked into the tree canopies overhead of them as if he was thinking and then he softly said:

“And…how about butterflies?”

Michael still had no idea where this was leading to, but he started to enjoy this almost literal cat- and -mouse game, so he answered:

“A tomcat that is chasing butterflies is just frolicking, just playing around. There is not that much to eat on a butterfly”.

“But does this tomcat know how to catch butterflies with his hands?” the boy asked.

“Claws”, Michael said.

The boy looked at him with quizzing eyes, clearly taken aback for a short moment.

“Tomcats don’t have hands, but claws”, Michael explained smiling.

“Yeah…you’re right. Well, as long as you don’t use your nails, it is fine with me”.

The boy looked at him with some kind of stare Michael could not discern because of the rapidly increasing darkness and then he said:

“Does this tomcat know how to capture butterflies with his hands…eeeuhh, sorry: claws?”

Michael shook his head. In fact, he thought he knew, but he felt that the required answer would be more elaborate than just the normal procedure.

“I’ll explain it to you”, the boy said, “So, listen carefully. Most people, and tomcats, are too rough when they want to catch a butterfly with their hands. They just swap around and if they catch the little thing, they do it too forcefully, too uncontrolled and too wild. So, they will crush the soft wings and the little thing dies in between the flats of their hands. Then there is the group, that is careless. Yes, they capture the butterfly, but then they open their hands to look at the treasure they have caught. Only thing that will happen is, that the butterfly will flit away, maybe being caught by someone else. Now, wouldn’t that be a pity?”

The boy fell silent for a few seconds. Then he dropped his voice and in a seducing, hoarse tone he continued:

“Only the one, who does it into perfection, will experience the soft tickling of the fragile wings on his skin”.

Michael thought it over briefly. What did this mysterious boy mean? But the boy made it clear right away when he asked:

“So, do you think this tomcat can do it in the perfect way?”

“I can always try”, Michael said.

Again, he saw the flickering white teeth and he heard the boy whisper in a clear challenge:

“Then come and get this butterfly…if you can, that is!”

“Won’t take long”, Michael growled good-humored.

But was he wrong! He jumped at the boy and reached to where his shoulders should be, only to grab in thin air. In surprise he looked around, searching for the boy, who stood about two or three meters from him with a mocking smile, having jumped out of reach with the speed of lightning.

“You can’t”, Michael said flabbergasted, “You can’t just jump away to that distance in such short time!”

The boy just stood, grinning, clearly enjoying it.

“Try again”, he just said.

Michael concentrated, jumped and…had the same result with the boy again chuckling about three meters from where he had stand before.

“How come you are so fast?” Michael uttered astonished.

“Butterflies are always fast”, the boy said, laughing teasingly, “Come on, don’t give up. But one tip: you do it too wild. Slow down, concentrate!”

Another attempt followed, but again the boy flashed away, out of reach as if a beam of light just moved from one spot to another.

No matter what he tried, Michael couldn’t grab the boy. They more or less danced around in the dark forest for about an hour. Some men passed by, looking on in bewilderment, shaking their heads and wondering what had gone into the heads of these two. But Michael was beyond caring if it might look ridiculous what he was doing. He was bent on grabbing the boy or the butterfly or no matter what. He just wanted him and he wanted him badly. Only problem was: his lungs told him he came at about the end of his five hundred meters endurance limit, while the boy just stayed as fit as he had been in the beginning. He showed no sign of tiring what so ever.

Michael knew he had to find a solution, otherwise this evening might end in a most frustrating way. Here he was, the most gorgeous, desirable boy, he had ever seen, in front of him, almost within reach…but unfortunately only “almost”! How could he catch this butterfly?

It was not only the problem of catching it, but then of keeping it. Because Michael started to get the feeling, that his interest in this boy was meant for longer than the coming night.

“First things first, man” he muttered softly, “First catch the little bugger”.

The idea he needed popped up in his head. He tried hard to think back to the time when he was a kid, observing how the family cat was hunting for birds. No, that was only partly true. Their family cat hunted everything that moved, including butterflies.

He tried hard to imagine how the animal did it. Somehow, he saw the whole movie passing through his head, frame by frame: how the cat slid with infinite patience to his prey, how any forward progress could be hardly noticed, how no sound could be heard and how it was constantly fixated on its game. And then, at short distance from the quarry, that was kept unaware about its imminent fate, the final jump and the ultimate success.

“So, little butterfly, let’s try it that way!” he whispered.

He started his deliberate and slow stalking approach, almost like their old cat did, centimeter by centimeter. The boy just stood, his back turned towards him. Michael felt it almost took the best part of another hour, but finally he stood about fifteen centimeters from the boy, who hadn’t moved. And then…the final jump!

“Got you!” he cried out in triumph.

The boy laughed and said:

“Man, I really thought you would never get that idea!”

He turned around and pushed his body against Michael’s.

“Well,” Michael asked, “Did I pass my exams?”

The boy nodded and whispered:

“Yeap, and with honors!”

“Hey”, Michael wanted to know, “How did they call this beautiful butterfly?”

With a giggle the boy replied:

“They called him Vincent. But now you mention it: how did your master call this sweet tomcat?”

“My master called me Michael”, was the reply, “And now?”

“That’s up to you”, Vincent said in that same enticing hoarse voice, “Your place, I presume?”

“Vincent”, Michael asked, knowing he was pushing his luck, “What will the butterfly do tomorrow morning? Will it still flutter away?”

Somehow the boy had set his heart ablaze and he simply felt compelled to ask it.

“Depends on how sweet this cute tomcat is tonight”, was the straightforward reply, “If he is really considerate and tender for his butterfly, then this butterfly might become very faithful and stick to the same flower, since its nectar is always at its best”.

The boy called Vincent brought his face closer and gave Michael the first kiss. Then he giggled and said:

“Mmmmm, I believe this little tomcat has already started purring!”

Michael felt himself blushing and softly said:

“Come on, let’s go to my place”.

They walked back to the trail and once they arrived there Michael took Vincent’s hand. Hand in hand they sauntered to the parking lot. It was simply a precaution: Michael had to keep the boy’s hand, it was no use to let the butterfly flutter away again. Not after all his efforts to catch it in the first place.

With apologies to Joecable and his ‘Interview with a Cocksucker’

---

Thanks for agreeing to be interviewed.

Happy to help.

How does a faggot differ from an ordinary gay guy? After all, most gays take dick.

Sure they do. But for most homos, taking cock is just part of making love with another guy and they like to get sucked or pump ass as much as they like the flipside. For fags, it’s a bit different.

How is that?

Well, I think it’s like this. Most cocksuckers like getting a blow job, what man doesn’t, after all? But for someone like me, sucking a man’s cock till he cums–servicing him, in other words–without reciprocation is the ultimate in sexual satisfaction. A faggot doesn’t need to cum when he services, for in a very real sense the pleasure of the man he takes care of is his pleasure too. The more the top guy enjoys the encounter, the more his faggot enjoys giving it, the more fulfilled he feels in his role as fag, the more sexually satisfied he is. And sex is often not just about pleasure. It’s also about satisfaction.

So a faggot likes to be used sexually?

Exactly. And, curiously, the less sexual interest the guy using us has in us, the better. A man using a faggot is using him to get his rocks off and to have his manhood worshiped, plain and simple. That’s what the faggot is there for, on his knees for, to be used. So if the guy is straight or thinks homos are the lowest of the sexual low, that’s fine. That just makes it even more of a privilege to get him off and makes his dick that much more exciting to worship.

You see, let’s be honest, a true faggot needs another man’s dick more than he needs his own. That’s just a fact. So the more sexually potent the other man seems, the more masculine, the better, the more wonderful it is to suck his dick for him.

How long have you been taking dick?

Since I was fourteen. But I’d been thinking about dick and about taking it ever since I started jerking off when I was around twelve. I guess I already knew I was a fag, but hadn’t come to grips with it yet.

How’d you get started?

My best friend had found one of his older brother’s porno tapes and we were watching it on the VCR in the den of his house one afternoon when no one else was home. We’d been jerk-off buddies for awhile, so we both just pulled out our dicks and started stroking.

This was a straight porn tape?

Oh, yeah, his brother’s straight. So is he, for that matter. So anyway, we’re stroking and he’s watching the tape and I’m more or less watching him. He noticed that I was looking at his dick more than at the slut getting porked on the tape.

“You like my dick?” he asked.

I said, “yeah, you got a nice dick.” He did too, it’s about seven inches, cut, with a smooth upward curve. That’s still my favorite kind of meat to play with.

What’s your dick like?

Well, not to boast, but like a surprising number of fags, I’ve got pretty big meat myself, a little bigger than Luke’s, maybe half an inch longer, even a little fatter.

Luke’s your buddy?

Yeah. He started showing off his dick to me and he asked if I wanted to play with it. I immediately forgot about my own dick and reached over and started stroking his for him. It felt like magic in my hand. After a minute or so he just said, “go ahead if you want to, I won’t tell anyone.”

I don’t know how, but somehow he knew I wanted to suck it. I knew I could trust him–we’d been buddies since kindergarten–so I just leaned over and took it in my mouth.

What was your first reaction to having a dick in your mouth?

That I was in heaven. It was by far the most exciting moment in my young life. It was like his dick was electric, except in a wholly good way. I’ll never forget how it felt. I guess I wanted cock as long as I could remember but it had never really clicked in my head that I could actually have the source of my desires.

Did he cum in your mouth?

No, not that time. He told me he was about to cum and took it out of my mouth and stroked it a couple of times and then came in quarts. Boy, did he make a mess. I went to the bathroom and got a towel and wiped him up.

Did you get to cum?

Yeah, I jerked off and wiped myself up but he seemed grossed out by it. Then we put the tape back where he found it so his brother wouldn’t know we’d seen it.

What did he say afterwards?

Nothing. His mother came home about twenty minutes later and asked me to stay for dinner, but I had to go home.

What happened when you got home?

I jerked off about four times that night thinking about what had happened. But I also remembered how repulsed he seemed when I was jerking my cock. I was scared he’d not want to be friends with me any more since he’d proved that I was a fag. That was about the worst word you could call someone in our crowd, although most of the guys probably didn’t think about what it really meant.

Is that what happened?

No, not at all. We hooked up in school the next day and he acted like nothing had happened. Then when we were walking home that afternoon, he asked me if I had liked it the day before. I knew what “it” was, of course, and said yeah, I had, and he said he had too. Then he asked me if I wanted to suck him off again. I said yeah, I did, and that was that. I was his faggot all through high school and that was just fine with me. And with him.

He ever suck you?

God no. He asked how I felt about giving him blow jobs while he didn’t give me any and I told him that it was OK, I really enjoyed sucking him. And that was the truth. I just felt so alive when I had Luke’s dick, when he was sharing his manhood with me so I could get him off. But it was clear from the first moment that this was a one-sided thing.

He didn’t care that his best friend had turned out to be queer?

Nope, he didn’t, thank God. I wasn’t a sissy or anything, but a hundred percent regular guy-guy and popular with others at school. No one in a million years would have thought I was a fag by how I acted. I just liked taking his cock when he needed it, being the instrument of his sexual pleasure while I fed my hunger for sperm. Some might have said he was taking advantage of me but I always knew I was taking advantage of him. But, no, I’m still a regular kind of guy except for being totally queer for a dude’s baby batter. In fact, he got off on the idea of what a normal jock type I was and would bait me occasionally by asking how I’d feel if some random member of our school sports teams found out how much I needed cum.

Did he ever fuck you?

God, yes. He got that idea in about a week. I’d never done it before but it just seemed like a natural progression between us. I mean, I love sucking cock and swallowing a tangy load but what sort of self-respecting faggot doesn’t hunger to have a dude pump him hard and shoot his load deep inside?

We stayed best friends and he took me two-three times a week. He’d joke with me that he was the only guy in school who never had to jerk off, because he had his very own, personal, private fag.

He’d ask for it or he’d just give me that look that told me he was horny and I’d get on my knees and service him. Sometimes at school he’d whisper to me, “Guess what I want,” and I could hardly wait for school to get out. After he came he’d let me nurse on his dick while I JO’d, and then we’d go play tennis or whatever, just like two normal, teenage, male friends. I could usually beat his ass in tennis, too. I’m a better athlete than he is.

Could you ask to have sex with him if you were horny?

Oh, sure, and sometimes he would let me. But it wasn’t all that unusual for him to just say ‘no’ because he wasn’t horny that day, or that moment. That was when I first learned that being a faggot meant for a very unequal relationship. I took care of him when he needed it but otherwise I needed to wait or just jerking myself off if I couldn’t stand it until he was ready. Like I said, we were buddies but in bed I was there for his purposes and mine were my own private joy.

How soon before he came in your ass the first time?

The third or fourth time.

You like it?

I liked making him feel good, so it was heaven. But I’ve never liked a cock that much. I know a lot of faggots live for a big cock, but for me, it’s the sperm I crave. It’s being on my knees, ass up for a man, giving him pleasure while he gives me cum that I love. That’s why I hate condoms. Sure, often that is the safe approach but I crave having a buddy like Luke where we can dispense with the condom and I can accept his baby gravy entirely, with no barrier between him and me. Cock’s are nice but receiving a man’s spooge is the only respectable goal for a faggot.

So, you don’t like a cock?

A man’s cock is just the delivery device for his cum, and pleasuring his cock is just part of the job, so to speak. But it’s an important part. And any fag is going to be drawn like a magnet to any male part: chest, abs, a tight butt, a low hanging set of balls. But none is as important as shooting a load. There’s a reason we call it “breeding.” A guy using a fag has every right to expect his cum to be accepted, and with fucking gratitude. I just try to be able to taste his sperm when he pops. Or to have his cock all the way up my ass. Then, I’ll moan with delight, knowing his little swimmers are filling me with proof of his superiority, his ultimate manhood, his final mark of domination. Or when I’m sucking, it’s then I look up at him and thank him with my eyes. Guys usually love that. Most aren’t going to get that kind of unreserved appreciation, tribute really, from a girl.

Your buddy the only guy you sucked in high school?

Oh, no. There was one other straight friend I serviced, and there were two other guys in our class who turned out to be fags too and I fooled around with them a lot once we found out that we batted for the same team. But that wasn’t giving service–that was gay sex. None of us were out, of course.

A lot of guys fooled around together when they were horny, mostly mutual jack off, and the occasional sixty-nine. But being openly queer was way uncool and it was never, and I mean never, talked about. So it was great having a couple of friends I could be completely myself with, guys who knew I was a homo and who were homos themselves so they understood why I needed dick so much.

How’d you connect with the other straight guy?

We got kind of drunk one night at a party and I was staying at his house for the weekend. After we got home, we piled into bed together–he had a queen size bed in his room, so I always slept in it with him to save messing up a guest room–and pretty soon he was asleep and his dick was hanging out of his boxers so I started feeling him up. I figured I could always do the old boy-was-I-drunk-last-night-I-don’t-remember-a-thing routine if necessary.

He got hard as I felt him up so I started sucking it. I guess he woke up because I felt him put his hand on the back of my head to indicate it was alright and he was enjoying it. He was a talker: suck me off, called me a queer, moaned about how much he loved getting sucked. So I continued sucking till he popped and then he just rolled over and went back to sleep and I jerked off, fagging out, feeling up his hot body.

He call you a queer the next day?

No, it turned out I wasn’t the first guy he’d given access to his cock. He told me his older cousin had seduced him when he was thirteen and was still giving him head now and then. He was surprised to find out I liked sucking dick, but it was cool with him because his cousin had taught him to enjoy a good BJ. So it became a sort of regular thing. Not as often as with Luke, but at least a couple of times a month. I was happy, he was a jock and pretty beefy for a high school kid. And I know I just said I wasn’t all that into cocks themselves but his was a work of art: fat — tumescent — with a big head and maybe a full eight inches. But, he had a pretty hot and heavy girl friend at that time, so he was getting plenty in the pussy department, but she wouldn’t suck his dick.

Did Luke know you were servicing him too?

Not at first, but he found out a couple of months later.

Did you tell him?

No. I always made a point of keeping the various parts of my sex life completely separate. I never told Luke about my fooling around with the other queer guys, or even that those guys were queer. And I didn’t tell him about sucking off Kyle.

How’d he find out?

[Laughs] That’s a bit of a story. It was after school was out in our junior year and I had gone over to Luke’s house one morning to play tennis with him. His family had a court.

I guess his family was pretty well off.

Yeah, his father’s a big-deal lawyer in the city. But we were all spoiled-rotten-rich-kids, I guess. My dad’s a doctor, a cardiologist. Everyone in the neighborhood’s pretty well off. Anyway, I walked into the house without knocking, like we always did. I walked into Luke’s bedroom, and found Luke still asleep, the lazy prick. I woke him up and he started stretching his arms and legs. God, he was so gorgeous when he did that. He looked at me and said, “How about a nice wake-up blow job, cocksucker?”

He called you “cocksucker?”

When we were alone he would sometimes. More often, he called me faggot But it was always meant–and taken–as a term of endearment. I was his faggot as well as his best friend, and he was my feeder as well as my best friend, and that fact meant a lot to both of us.

So you just blew him right there?

He stripped off his boxers and swung his legs off the side of the bed and I got down on my knees between them and started servicing him. We were really getting into it when the door to his bedroom suddenly opened. We both just about shat peach pits. Our little secret thing was going to be all over school! we were going to be revealed as queers! our lives were ruined!

But thank God it was Kyle. He didn’t know I sucked off Luke, but he already knew I was a cocksucker and I knew he wouldn’t tell anyone because he was sharing his dick with me too. Luke was frantically reaching for his boxers, but I told him to calm down, it was alright.

Kyle helped by saying “Don’t stop, guys,” and taking his own dick out of his tennis shorts and starting to stroke it. So I just went back down on Luke, who’d lost his hard-on to put it mildly–so had I, of course, but I still had my shorts on. Pretty soon he was back in business and I took his load for him. After Luke popped, Kyle said, “OK, it’s my turn,” and Luke got off the bed and he took his place and I sucked him while Luke went and took a shower and brushed his teeth and stuff.

Did you suck them off together after that?

Not as a usual thing, but several times.

Who had the nicer dick?

They were both real nice. Luke’s even a little longer, but Kylehas a nice fat one and low hangers that I loved to lick. But then Luke could shoot way more cum, which is after all what I was hungry for.

How did things change after you went to college?

In some ways not at all, in other ways a lot. Luke went to a different college so I didn’t get to see him nearly as much as when we were in school together. But he still wanted to be serviced when we were home on vacation. The first day I was back for Christmas vacation our freshman year, he called and said to come on over. No one was there besides Luke and pretty soon he gave me that horny look of his and asked me, “are you still my faggot?”

I just said, “always, you know that.”

“Then come and get it,” he said, I stood up and walked over to where I was laying on his bed. I undid my belt, shook off my jeans, flipped my boxers off, and climbed onto his cock, after I took a nice red ribbon tied in a bow off him. “Merry Christmas, faggot,” he said, laughing as I plunged down on his cock with a single take. He fucked me three or four times that morning. Luke is just the coolest straight guy I know.

How soon before you got some dick in college?

[Laughs] About a week. I guess it was instinct, but I found the john in the library that had a glory hole. I had never sucked dick through a glory hole, or ever sucked stranger dick for that matter. But I knew instantly what it was for and I just sat there for a while. Pretty soon someone came in and took the next stall and sat down on the john. I could see through the hole that he was playing with his meat and he could see me looking at him. So he just stood up and stuck it through and I serviced him. When he popped, he just said, “thanks, faggot,” zipped up and left.

Didn’t you get upset by him calling you a faggot? It’s not like he was your friend, like Luke.

[Laughs] Hell, no. I am a faggot. And a damn good one at that. By the grace of God.

But isn’t that word demeaning?

For some gays. But a fag relishes words like that.

Why?

Because in a world filled with lies, deception, it tells the truth. I am a fucking faggot. Proud to be. A fag was created to lust after cocks and cum, to appreciate real men, in more carnal ways no woman ever could. Unlike most gays, a faggot lusts after straight men — breeders — precisely because they are straight, because they are the progenitors of the human race. Literally, “fuckers”. It’s their role in life to fuck holes, to penetrate, to hold bitches and fags down and to shoot their cum up into them. I know that sounds crude but where would the world be without them? A faggot submits to them because they are who they are and he is who he is. It’s the way of the world. Only then does a faggot fully accept his place. Only when he is on his knees taking cock, only when he is being fucked up his ass, is he whole.

You don’t feel shame?

Actually, yes, I feel quite a lot of shame. That is a core part of the thrill of it. Life as a faggot can be hard. I really do wish that I could be a straight stud like them – king of the hill – so to speak. Many times. But I am not. But if I let the shame of taking their cocks stop me, how would I ever get their cum? [Laugh] In fact, that is a basic reason a faggot prefers a straight dude – because there is shame in serving his needs, to being subservient. But any time I am feeling so much shame that I hesitate, I look at their balls and think of how much sperm I can get and that snaps me out of it. To exist for no reason other than to sexually pleasure another at their whim is shameful but it sure does have its benefits! After awhile, a faggot must learn to fetishize his shameful desire for a real man’s cum.

It sounds a bit unnatural, at least to some.

One thing I learned in my Introduction to Evolution class, is that homosexuality has to have some purpose, otherwise it would cease to exist. If it doesn’t further procreation, it isn’t tolerated.

And what’s the evolutionary purpose of homosexuality?

Well, there are many different theories about that, for sure. But a common one is that gays in general help provide release for straight men, a way of getting their rocks off without having to fight over women all the time. After all, how much conflict in human history has come from that? Another is that gay men provide extra brawn to work, to fight, to help the community, asking almost nothing in return – other than the chance to get fucked by a meaty cock [laughs]. If that means taking your cousin’s load so he doesn’t have to go without where’s the problem with that? Win-win.

So you’re saying, gays are an evolutionary response to this? But then why aren’t all homosexuals like you?

Like me?

You know, a cocksucker, a faggot?

Who knows for certain? Maybe most gays are defective versions of guys like me. Maybe they are supposed to be faggots too. Maybe they just need to learn to submit. In my opinion, if they try it, they’ll never be satisfied with a homo cock again.

Hmmmm. So you started going to the library regularly?

Sure did. [Laughs] And that’s where I met the other faggots on campus. You’d be surprised how many guys like to take cock. Pretty soon I was friends with them. We formed a sort of secret underground sex club, taking care of each other and telling each other about hot cruisy spots. That’s how I learned about Rick’s.

What’s Rick’s?

Rick’s was a gay bar downtown that had a backroom. I guess the owner was the police chief’s brother-in-law or something because it was always full of college-age kids using fake ID’s but there was never any trouble, even with all the sex going on, let alone the drinking.

What was the backroom like?

It was half open to the front, so you could see if there was any action going on. Dark, but not too dark to see. Along one side there was a built-in bench where the cocksuckers would sit and service the guys who came in needing blow jobs. On occasion, a guy wanted more and would pass a note through the hole asking if we could go to one of the side rooms with a cot. Some nights it could get wild with maybe twenty guys in there fucking and sucking at the same time.

You liked it?

I loved it. It was a faggy dream. I had no idea such a place existed. I mean I know whorehouses existed, that guys could pay for sex with women, but where guys would take cock — for free? [Laughs] But Eddie, another cocksucker at college, took me there one night and we sat on the bench together and we each just did one guy after another and even shared a couple of nice cocks. I was hooked.

How’d you meet Eddie?

In the library john at school. We encountered each other there one night when we cruised each other. But it was soon obvious that we were both fags and we became friends. He was more experienced than I–he was a class ahead of me–and he showed me the hot spots and introduced me to some of the other faggots on campus. He introduced me to David.

Who was David?

He taught both Eddie and me how to be legitimate fags. Not just the physical act of bringing another guy to climax with your mouth or ass. Eddie and I were both pretty good at that by that point. But the psychological aspects of coveting not another man’s sperm but the load of a man otherwise straight looking and straight acting, to pine for such a stud’s load every moment outside of the ten seconds after receiving it. And all that comes with that. How to truly give service and submit to a man when he shares his dick with you, so the experience is at its best for both of you. As David told us, although taking cock is about a male giving sexual pleasure to another male, like all sex it’s really about both guys getting mutual satisfaction.

Except there is something unique about one seeking cum as a purpose and the other just being horny and seeking to dominate another toward that end. David pointed out that the world could only be in harmony when both males were freely following their own nature, each to its appropriate conclusion: one being the aggressor, the penetrator, and the other submitting, being penetrated. One filling the other with his seed, the other wasting his into the air or on the floor, one’s load hitting the target and being taken in, the other blocked and destined to be wiped up and thrown away. You might say, one load treasured by both men as the highlight of both of their days while the other’s is shamefully removed as waste, almost impotent. Get it? One begged for and one discarded. In fact, some men are even repulsed by a fag’s cum although most take some pleasure in the consummate proof that the faggot is getting off by being dominated by a real man.

Most gays who aren’t faggots get a glimpse of this, maybe preferring one role over the other, but in some ways it’s more like play acting, not being prisoner to one’s created purpose, not seeking one’s actual sexual destiny in life to the exclusion of all other distractions. In fact, David claimed that all males were exclusively tops or bottoms. Those who claimed otherwise were just confused sexual tourists.

Why aren’t most straight men willing to make use of another man?

Hard to say. Maybe they’re not fully men. [Laughs] No real man would turn down taking advantage of an opportunity to unload, at least if he was horny. My guess is that society’s attitude of dismissal, its misunderstanding, is what leads most men to not consider it, or at least not act on it. They probably are just thinking of gays in general, that they’ll want a relationship or something. Faggots aren’t after that, at least a romantic attachment. [Laugh] There’s little romance in spreading your hole so a man can fuck it uncontrollably, or to line up his cock with your mouth to skull fuck you. Romance is the last thing on his mind but then again it isn’t for us fags either. To be sure, it can be great to find a guy like Luke, who you can be friends with — when he’s not fucking you — if only to increase the odds that he’ll fuck you again. Believe me, the first thought on a faggot’s mind after he takes a stud’s load is where and when he can find the next one.

But, trust me, after I’ve shown a stud the possibilities, I’ve never met one that didn’t go back for more, at least from time to time. After all, they’re focused on the jackpot – a woman to fuck – and for all but the real studs, that’s quite a lift. Life is more than the pursuit of a piece of fickle tail, a madonna. At least that’s what David tended to think.

Was he another student?

No. He was older, about thirty. Really hot. He was a lawyer and a born top, just like Eddie and I are born fags.

Tell me some of the things he taught you.

I guess the most important was that if you’re a faggot you have to learn to accept yourself as a faggot, accept your sexual destiny so to speak: That your sexual pleasure comes from the pleasure you can give other men, that it’s their dick that’s important not your own. I’ll never forget the first thing he told Eddie and me when we went to his apartment that first time.

What was that?

That “most guys need only their own dick to get sexual pleasure. But a faggot needs someone else’s dick and that has consequences.”

Explain that a little.

What he meant was that the guy who owns the dick you’re both enjoying is the guy who calls the shots, that he’s the sexually superior of the two and what he says goes. You’re on your knees to take care of him, not yourself.

Is that what you meant by being a faggot?

Hell, yes. A faggot by nature submits. He gets on his knees, or he bends over, or he spreads his legs wide to allow access to a man. You think most men want to waste time with some gay guy pretending he has any other purpose? [snort] In my experience, most men really appreciate a good fag.

Did that bother you at first?

Yeah, it did at first. I’m a faggot, but I’m still a man. I didn’t like to think of myself as inferior to other men just because I want to suck their dicks. But he explained that it’s only during sex that a faggot must accept, indeed he must learn to relish, his sexual inferiority to the man using him so they both can get the most out of it sexually. The rest of the time you can just be friends and equals, like Luke and I were equals as friends, even though I was his cocksucker. A faggot isn’t an inferior person. He is just created to be inferior sexually to a man, a heterosexual man. That’s the way both have been designed. It’s like questioning black and white, up and down. Any guy is designed so he could get physical pleasure from being fucked and homosexuals are designed to have the instinct to want that. A faggot is a special type of homo that bridges the gap and makes this design make sense.

I soon figured out that he was right. After all, I’m on my knees and the other guy is standing up, using me sexually because I’m a cocksucker and I want to be used. Of course I’m his sexual inferior in those circumstances. When I find a man who is receptive, I would say I hunger after him. Lust, to be sure, but it is stronger than that, almost painful. I would do almost anything to be able to touch him, to touch his cock, lick his balls, all in the service of getting his cum for myself, to giving him pleasure.

So you’re content to be a faggot?

Totally. Enthusiastic, actually. I’m proud to be a faggot through and through. I relish elevating a virile man and his manhood, even if it is at my expense, whether he’s demanding, calls me a faggot, whatever, although the best is when they’re like Luke – confident, knows their role at the top of the sexual pecking order, appreciative of me, not so timid as to be too polite and avoid calling me as a cocksucker – even while I am sucking his cock![rolls eyes] – to tell the truth by naming me properly – faggot For a brief time, their faggot, born to give them pleasure and to let them fulfill their own evolutionary role. I’m proud I can give so much sexual pleasure to other guys while they give me the sexiest thing in the world in exchange.

What’s that?

[He smiles] A dick swollen with cum.

We left one city for another. Our vacation home was in Montreal. John and I were high visibility people in our community. So when we wanted a little play time, we’d head north. 

Our place was smack dab in the center of the gay village, Villa Marie. We were in our 30s, handsome, muscular, in love and horny. We had come to an understanding. We had a great sex life but we still wanted some variety. What worked for us was fooling around with others together, one time only and no sleep overs. Living so close to the clubs and strip joints, we sometimes had a series of guys in and out of our place on a Saturday night. Montreal men are beautiful, tall and dark but always hung. Really weird but everyone has a good sized cock. Maybe they are all physically fit and they just looked big but Montreal is hung.

One night we did our usual. We went to Sky bar and danced shirtless with a tall black man. As we danced more and more seductively, he started playing with my nipples as the three of us, drunk high and in a chain gang, rubbed and tugged at each other. I was in the front, Jean Claude, in the middle, John on the end, all grinding and humping as the French Dj interrupted our music, I motioned it was time to leave. 

It was a short walk to our condo. There was a lot of touching and grabbing as we all figured out our roles in the encounter about to happen. John and I were both horny cocksuckers. We always welcomed our guest by immediately dropping to our knees and pulling out their cock. This night was no exception. Our shirts were already off and as the door opened I went down and unbuckled Jeans pants. John, now on his knees waited for the big reveal. We weren’t disappointed. Before us stood a tall naked muscular and slim black man with a huge, hard, fat 9 inch cock. As we teased and licked each side, his dick started to leak strings of clear sticky precum. We didn’t waste it. We would catch it and wildly kiss as we shared his juices greedily sucked his dick. With our pants at our ankles, we jerked our cocks as we slobbered and deep throated his big cock. We were something else together as we tag teamed a guy. Sometimes we’d take turns and sit back to watch each other gag and try to get the pearly prize in our mouths. We were both drawn to cum. The power it gave us to please a man while he watches two horny guys fight over who gets more cum down their throat. Jean blasted on Johns face as I slobbered up more shots in my mouth and throat. When it stopped we would make out and share the load we worked for. I licked the cum off John’s face and kept kissing him as I fed him more and more cum, not unusual at all, Jean Claude was getting hard again. We headed for the bedroom where we took what was left of our clothes off and Jean Claude made his intentions clear. He wanted to fuck and that meant I was up. John was happy to watch and get sucked. John fucks, I get fucked. Truth is, John said watching was like having his own personal porno movie. I wish I could say I was as selfless as John. When he fucked a guy, I was cool with it but it was hard for me to stay back. I’d have to fuck him too or cum on his face. I couldn’t just watch. 

As I said, John and I fooled around together but he sometimes sat back or even left the room. He loved seeing me happy and if being uninhibited as possible at the hands of someone else was what he sensed I wanted, he’d give me that.

Here’s what happened later that night. John announced that he was getting condoms and smokes. “Don’t start until I get back.” I thought yea right. I’m naked on our bed with a beautiful French black man spooning me from behind and we’d wait. Okay. John left. Jean Claude lost all his inhibitions when we were alone. He started telling me how he was going to fuck me and how I was going to beg him to. He was very oral. He licked and sucked on my neck, ears and my back. His cock was hot, hard and sticky as he pumped between my legs, ass crack and balls. As he talked about how good I felt he played with my nipples, first softly as I moaned a bit, then rougher as my breath and moans deepened. I was totally letting go as I felt his cock rubbing my crack and approaching my asshole. As I moaned he started sucking on my back, then biting softly. I knew my ass was wet and ready but where was John? Around the time I was contemplating how long I could wait, I noticed John at our bedroom window looking in. He nodded at me. Permission? So as Jean Claude’s cock started pushing on my hole, he said “let me just stick the head in and he’ll never know. I know you want it. Beg me for it.” So I did. Then he sucked my back hard and chewed on my skin. As I moaned, I let him inside me. “Oh baby, you’re so wet. You feel so good. How’s your husband going to feel if he walks in and finds me inside you?” He pumped my hole softly, just his head inside. As he sucked, bit and tweak my nipples, I pushed back more and more. His cock felt so amazing. So big, hot. Burning my hole as he pumped me gently. As gently as he was inside me. He was so rough on my back, biting and chewing on my skin. He said he needed to be inside of me all the way now. “Fuck John? Where is he” Jean Claude said as I watched John through the blinds in our back parking lot. I said no as he bit me hard now and did the exact opposite of my word. With no self control, I push all the way back on his fat cock. I heard him gasp and moan as I rocked on his meet. He asked me to stop or he’d explode. He held my hips tight as he sucked on my back. Our body’s were connected and on fire down below and we were silent like that for 5 minutes. 5 minutes of his hard cock inside me full of blood and heat to its maximum girth. Finally he started rocking gently again. He sucked and bit me as he spoke in French, soft, whimpering. I was so satisfied in my own head as I occasionally watched John touch himself through the window. A few minutes later he said he couldn’t wai….and bit down hard as he dumped his thick load inside of me. I barely touched myself before I came all over the bed as he nibbled, tweaked and finished Cumming in my hole. He pulled out just as John came in the room. “Sorry I took so long.” Jean Claude nervously announced it was late and he had to go. As he rushed out, John got undressed and replaced Jean Claude in the same position. As he fucked me, you could hear sounds of juices and wetness between us. John looked at what appeared to be, then proved to be later, bite marks and big deep purple love bites on my back and neck. He was shocked I wasn’t hurting but he smelled them and licked them and bit them as he fucked me harder than Jean. John almost proving I was his as he pumped his load inside of me and called me his pig.  He wouldn’t let me cum. He asked me questions about how I felt having Jean fuck me alone. As we talked about what we both experienced, he fucked me again, on top this time, looking in my eyes. He was excited by how overcome by passion I get that I so easily lose all control and allow someone to use me anyway they want to. He said he was going to sell tickets to fuck me someday and see how many loads I will take before I’d had enough. As I thought about how hot that would be, totally used up with cum gushing from me, John pushed my legs up over my head as I jerked off, he pulled out and we both came on my face. We ended the night sharing our cum together in deep kisses. Do you think Johns fantasy of a gang bang ever happened?  

That night was with us for at least a month, when the marks on my back finally healed. Then Jean Claude was just a memory.

The strict Covid restrictions have caused many problems but for me an unintended benefit. I found out recently that my son was gay but not by him coming out to me in the usual way. I am a divorced father who before was sexually active with both women and men. My son knew that I swung both ways and I had suspicions that he was gay but he wasn’t ready to come out to me yet and I didn’t force the issue.

I must admit I was getting tired of jacking off, before Covid I at least could be guaranteed a blow job from various partners since I have a 10 inch uncut cock, but since Convid all sex has come to a complete stop. My son noticed my frustration and since he and I are very open he said something that surprised to no end. At first he was very hesitant and finally blurted out that if I was open to it that he would help me out by sucking me off. I told him that I was pleased he was so open and confirmed that he was gay. I told him there was a line between a father and son that once crossed would change everything.

I told him I would think about it and told him thanks for coming out to me and that he sincerely wanted to help me out . It had been a week since his offer and my balls were full of cum. I finally went to his room early one morning waking up with a hardon which needed servicing. As I entered his room, I stood at the side of his bed looking down at him wondering whether I should accept his offer.

As I was pondering this he opened his eyes and stared at my thick  hairy cock already dripping precum. Without saying anything he slid his body to the side of the bed close to where I was standing and I knew the decision had been made by him and I. I waited anticipating what was going to happen and felt his lips encircle the head of my cock with his lips and felt his tongue seeking out the slit where my precum was as I started to slide my cock farther within his mouth. I knew how this was going to end and as he started to suck me off he pulled off the covers and exposed his stiff cock. I watched as he started to jack off his cock while sucking me off. I asked him whether he liked my cock and since his mouth was full he could only tell me with a moan of pleasure. I asked if he wanted my load of cum and this made him suck faster like a newborn calf thirsty for his mother’s milk. The milk I was going to give him as a reward was a huge load of cum still waiting in my balls.

I started to feed my shaft in and out telling him he would have my cum soon and if he wanted to stop this was the time to stop but the way he sucked my cock I knew the decision was made. I withdrew my cock til only the head was within his mouth and told him to use his tongue on the swollen head of my cock. I felt the pressure in my balls release its contents and warned him it was on its way. Just as my cum reached his mouth he started to jack his cock in a fever pitch. I could only grunt as each spurt filled his mouth quickly to be swallowed. As my orgasm subsided he said he was ready to shoot his load and I knew what he wanted. I quickly got on my knees and engulfed his cock just as the first shot of hot cum left his cock. I found out he was a big cummer also and soon had a belly full of his cum.

After both of us were satiated I thanked him for what turned out to be the most intense blow job I had ever had. I was worried he and I would have regrets but on my part there was none and after receiving many more blow jobs from with the same eagerness, he didn’t regret it either.

Preface

Several years ago, during a visit from a friend who had just returned from being awed by the gem collection in Washington’s Smithsonian Institution, the subject came up that marvelous settings of gemstones, when worn appropriately, acquired meaning unique to the occasion. For example, it is one thing to see a precious tiara, matching necklace, and earrings in an exhibit case but altogether something else when worn by Princess Diana or Queen Elizabeth.

The idea stuck peculiarly in my head. That night, after reading until midnight when my eyes were tired, I reached to turn out my bedside lamp – and spotted nearby, on the floor, a yellow legal pad. Picked it up, leaned against my pillows, started writing automatically. Not a conscious thought in my mind. By 2 AM, the story had played itself onto those lined pages.

Next day, when I read it, my eyes bugged. As I typed it into my computer, I needed only to correct a few verb tenses and some prepositions. It was complete, as it appears below. Disbelieving the purity of its few pages, I forwarded the story, now dubbed a ‘fable,’ to seven friends. Their reactions were staggeringly different from each other.

Several took it at face value. Others saw it as implying sublimated sexuality behind Ugo’s behavior. I was accused of letting the story front for my own desires. All wondered at the ending’s ambiguity. Only two readers thought that wonder-full because it allows for multiple interpretations.

By posting here, where many have indulged my explicit tales with understanding and appreciation to one degree or another, I invite you to conclude as you may. Be mindful, however, that I do claim any real authorship. No tale as ineffably sweet as this ever occurred to me.

I tell you: It wrote itself.

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It befell upon a particularly sparkling Spring day, as his court was arrayed to celebrate the 25th anniversary of Good King Wilfrido’s ascent to the throne, that every chamber of his storied castle had its full complement of residents and guests, every adjacency its quota of persons-in-waiting, retainers, squires, and servants, all the stalls in its grand stables the household horses and those of the visitors. Kitchens bustled with preparations for the feast. Fresh fish and fowl were shorn of their outer and inner inedibles. Spitted pigs already turned over tended flames. Kettles boiled to spew their steam like volcanoes. Hubbub throughout, orderly and happy.

Good King Wilfrido himself was happy and orderly. He and his advisors thought ahead, made plans accordingly, and oversaw their being carried out smoothly. Theirs was a peaceable kingdom off the path of crusading or marauding armies (much the same for the damage they could do). The small kingdom’s farmlands produced what Nature’s generosity allowed. Owing to location and policies, farm workers and villagers led reasonable lives, reared their young safely, and honored their king. They, too, flocked the castle to marvel at its breeze-rustled garlands and wind-blown banners. The promise of free food and drink was lost on no one, from youngest to eldest. And entertainment – mummers, jesters, minstrels from far and wide! What could go wrong? The air brimmed with merriment.

Word reached the heralds, with appetites as ready as embouchures, to mount the drawbridge towers. A signal, the release of a dozen white doves from the King’s balcony, would trigger the processional with its flourishes. The entire, if small, court in elegant array would pass through the hundreds accepting the gift of a single flower from each person present. An already old tradition, started decades before by the King’s revered father, that of presents for the monarch’s accession day, presents which cost nothing, each of which was natural and lovely.

Oohs and aahs soared as the birds flew into the azure sky. Trumpets, sackbuts, and drums echoed from the stone ramparts to the firmament as the keep’s great, arched doors flung wide to reveal Good King Wilfrido dressed splendidly in robes of crimson and purple. A simple gold coronet glittered about this noble head. With a pause to smile, the King stepped forward with his followers, wearing their own family colors, to cheers and began greeting his people.

First to hand flowers to the King were a small boy and girl chosen for their good behavior. With murmured thanks and a touch of their heads, he moved on, passing the blossoms to the man behind. Like clockwork, the group progressed. Each flower handed along the rank of court members until it could be returned to the person who had presented it. Such blossoms then went into hair, buttonholes, pockets, or over ears so that the revelers who had given had also received. A symbolic continuity of good will appropriate to the royal family’s benevolent monarchy.

The merest stable boy – an orphan with a gimpy leg, a slight harelip, and a tendency to illnesses of the chest – after mucking horses all morning, had managed to bathe from water in the troughs and to wash his homespun shift before trying to find a flower. Alas, none was to be had within the battlements, nor had his work allowed him time to cross the lowered drawbridge in search of one before the festivity. He stood forlorn at the back of the crowd hoping to spot a flower someone may have dropped or to see someone with two, one of which might be begged. He had never been allowed near the King. Poor lad that he was, turning this way and that, he noticed through the open gateway a figure on horseback approaching from a great distance.

A foot on the bridge and a hand on the portcullis’ chain, he looked harder and blinked at what he saw. The horse, pure white and of some lineage the boy had not seen in the King’s stables, galloped fast. Astride, a knight in armor more brilliant than the boy’s mind could grasp, its metals flashing tones of silver, copper, and gold in the sunny day’s glaring light.

Instinct should have told the boy to call the drawbridge guards but they were nowhere to be seen. This mirage – it could only be a mirage – exercised a magnetic draw upon the simple boy. Perhaps a miracle. He had heard about those. One of God’s angels it could be. The rider’s white cloak fluttered out like wings in flight. As horse and rider neared, the boy found himself limping over the moat’s bridge in awe. He had looked back. There was no one to greet this stranger, no one but he, in his elation, to witness the glorious sight.

Encouraged despite his sorry state not to retreat but to look up and wave with both arms, the boy stood at the tip of the bridge smiling from ear to ear.

Dust settled where the rider drew his great snorting steed to a halt.

“What is this place?” his bold voice asked.

Somehow, instead of cowering as the boy usually did in the stables when confronted, he bowed low. “Sir,” he looked up, “it is the castle of Good King Wilfrido. Today is the Festival of Flowers.”

“And have you a name, boy?”

“Ugo, sir. I am the stable boy,” he replied clearly and without fear.

“Good. Help me alight.”

When he stood, a tower of strength made taller by the white and gold lance he held, the knight’s blue eyes looked down at the boy’s bare arms. “Are those arms of yours strong enough to bear my lance?”

Ugo shivered at the question. “I can try, sir.”

“It must be carried exactly as I do. Straight and proud.”

“I will do it for you, sir.”

“Then do it well and walk ahead of me to your King.”

“Sir, I do not have a flower. Everyone must have a flower to approach the King.”

A moment’s reflection and the knight’s commanding voice grew gentle. “Then you shall have mine.” With those words, he unclasped from his sinewy neck a golden chain, its medallion a ruby-centered flower with teardrop-shaped pearls for petals. This he fastened over the boy’s freshly cleaned if threadbare shift and around his slender neck and said, looking across, “Now hold my lance steady.” Then he nodded.

Ugo did not question the strange apparition nor dare say another word. His steps at first were slow but grew more certain as he felt the lance balance perfectly when held erect. It was lighter than he imagined. The toes of Ugo’s bad leg were strong and compensated as never before for its shortness. He did not limp, could not limp, because the lance was such a source of pride. He breathed easily for the first time in days.

Their procession, stately in its formal tread, crossed the bridge, passed under the ramparts’ heavy portcullis, and entered the castle grounds where, as the populace became aware, a path appeared piecemeal in the direction of the King’s party which was in progress toward the outbuildings.

Stillness spread through the assembly until it reached an old lady near the last courtier. She tapped his arm not for the flower he thought she wanted but to point silently, eyes wide, mouth open, back toward the gateway. Constable Augustino gaped and tugged the sleeve of Baron Enrico who poked Lord Lazaro who nudged Chamberlain Augusto, the Constable’s aged father, who reached for the King who had stepped just out of reach. “Sire,” he called with some urgency.

Good King Wilfrido in annoy turned to admonish the interruption of his converse with the miller’s pretty daughter. “What,” he started to ask, “is… – but stopped at the rows of heads looking back. The music had ceased. Jugglers dropped their balls. No one was moving except for two unlikely figures, a ragged boy with unkempt hair and high-held lance who preceded a splendid knight, helmet in his left hand and, in his right, gemstone-set reins leading an equally bridled steed of heroic, nay legendary proportions.

This was no etiquette ever seen, an event with no precedence, a shocking contradiction of protocol. No one knew what it meant. No one did anything. The Knight, his horse, and Ugo stopped some feet away from the royal party.

“Tip my lance forward,” the Knight instructed Ugo, “until it parallels the ground, then lift it and place its hilt beside your foot. You do me proud.” This in a voice which commanded attention and respect no less than his appearance.

Stymied by a circumstance for which there was no plan, Good King Wilfrido and his Court made not a move but regarded their unexpected, and thus far unannounced, visitor with rising curiosity.

“He spoke to that boy before addressing the King,” it was whispered.

Ugo was recognized by the stables’ boss whose open mouth was stuffed by a dirty hand. The sight of so fabulous a jewel around the miserable waif’s scrawny neck caused him almost to choke. Nothing could explain this!

At that instant, one of the occasion’s white doves circled the pair of arrivals, alit for an instant in the space separating the parties involved, and flew away, causing general astonishment at what seemed a message perhaps from Heaven.

One of the tower guards, having edged his way forward, caught the Knight’s eye. To that man, he handed his reins, saying, “Hold these for me.” Numbly, the guard obeyed.

With a few steps, the Knight asked Ugo for his lance and said aloud, “Present your flower.”

Little Ugo needed a moment to remember the necklace. He drew it over his head, walked carefully to his King and, by extending the priceless adornment, offered it to Good King Wilfrido. Astonished all the more by the object’s fineness, now that he held it, Good King Wilfrido thought briefly of keeping the jewel but could not bring himself to break tradition, so passed it to his Chamberlain, who passed it to Lord Lazaro, who examined it closely (his nature suspected trickery) but handed it to his friend Enrico who in turn, if reluctantly, passed it to the Constable.

Everyone waited. Tradition held that a flower, once gifted on this special day, must be returned. Constable Augustino squared his shoulders. Nothing so luxurious had ever been in his manicured hands. He looked at it with never-to-be-forgotten admiration, righted himself fully, and strode toward the watchful Knight.

The Knight looked at Ugo. “Kneel my boy. Your flower is being returned with, I believe,” his rising voice broke the silence decisively, “with appreciation for all you have done here.”

Augustino could not but believe he was meant to replace the necklace – literally – from whence it had come, the stable boy’s neck. Yet, from the intent of the Knight’s expressive authority, there was no doubt. He must sully his own knees in the dirt to accomplish the task!

Ugo had trouble realizing the flower was really his. But he stood and beamed unselfconsciously as the crowd broke into applause.

The Knight spoke, “With your leave, Good King Wilfrido, this brave and honest lad will journey with me for my land where he will serve as my squire. I have chosen him.”

With a gesture of his right hand and a slight nod of his crowned head, the dumbstruck King, who had not moved, saw the Knight don his finely worked helmet, hand his lance back to Ugo, mount the white stallion with singular ease, reach for his lance to secure its place by saddle-straps, extend a hand to the boy, lift him as though he weighed nothing, sit him behind the fantastically designed saddle, take up his reins, turn the horse, and ride in great quiet out of the castle and into the distance.

* * *

It was the morning after the Festival of Flowers that clean-up began while guests took their leave expressing fondness for so many pleasures. With the departure of many horses, the King’s stables returned to normal except that no one saw the stable boy. They did note that none of his work had been done.

“Where’s that kid?” demanded the chief stable hand. The other hands looked about and shrugged. “Well, find him and remind him where he belongs.”

“Hey! He’s over there sleeping,” one called, pointing toward the muck heap.

They saw that he was not sleeping and that on his face was a relaxed smile. They had no idea why.

This is one of my earlier stories. It’s all fiction, wishful thinking if you like. Simon

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I’m in the escort business. Yes. Say what you want, call me whatever you like, a slut, a prostitute, a fuck-boy, I’m still an escort and I love it for both the sex and the money, not to mention the adventure.

I place ads in gay magazines, different ads with different names and different telephone numbers. This way I know what the guy calling me wants. I’m Chris for clean, vanilla sex. I’m Hugo for slutting. I’m Jack for hard, top sex. And I’m Daniel for company with older men. Since I am 22 years old, I can play all roles and I try my best to please my clients. Beside the escort role, I also advertise as a masseur.

Last night my Chris number rang. Nice.

“Hello,” a husky, deep male voice greeted me. “Is this Chris?”

“Yes, it is. How can I help you?” I used my sweet, but masculine voice.

“You have an ad for massage. How much do you charge?”

I liked this. I appreciated the fact that this guy wanted everything clear right from the start. “It’s 50 dollars for a full body massage. That’s not including any extras,” I added, letting him know that I am open for more than the massage.

He agreed and I gave him the address, telling him I was available. Around twenty minutes later, he was at the door. I had arranged the massage room nicely, with incense and soft light music and fairly dimmed lighting. I had put on loose, black satin shorts (sans underwear, of course) and a tight-fitting I-shirt, accentuating my lean body.

“Chris?” he greeted me at the door. My first impression was very positive. The guy looked in his early thirties, conservatively dressed, fit, and handsome, with a light beard. I knew this was going to develop into an interesting evening.

“Yes. Please come in.” I led him to the living room. My apartment has one living room, a bedroom, and a smaller room, which I use for the massages.

“Would you like to drink something? Coffee?” I always like to treat my clients this way, to make them relax. This guy was quite tense and I could tell that this must be his first or second time.

“Ummm…” he hesitated, a bit taken by my offer.

“I have something stronger than coffee, if you prefer.”

He lightened up and asked if I had any scotch. “Straight, would be fine.”

I smiled and left to get him the drink. When I got back, he was sitting on the edge of the couch, looking skittish. I handed him the scotch and excused myself. “I need to make some preparations. Please make yourself at home and enjoy the drink. I will be back in a few minutes.”

I knew that I had to give him some time to unwind and relax. And the scotch would be of great help. I waited for around ten minutes and returned. “I’m ready if you are,” I said with an encouraging smile and led the way to the massage room. Handing him a clean towel, I asked him to undress and I left the room. Again I waited for a few minutes. When I came back, he had the towel wrapped around his waist and was sitting on the edge of the massage table. He had a hairy chest, and I could tell that he was excited by the bulge tenting the towel.

I had him lie on his belly as I prepared some oils. I took off my I-shirt, revealing my smooth chest. I noticed his look of approval as he turned his head sideways to watch me.

Applying the oil on his shoulders and back, I started the massage standing at the side of the table. I moved slowly down his back noticing his bubble butt. Then I moved to the top of the table, and I started on his shoulders. I made sure my crotch as right at his head. Since I wasn’t wearing any underwear, my 22-centimeter dick (8.5 inches) showed a promising attraction inside the silk shorts, even soft. I wanted this guy for more than the massage but I didn’t want to scare him away by being too obvious either, just a tantalizing touch.

As I worked his shoulder muscles, my crotch a few centimeters away from his face, I made him place his arms down on both sides. Every now and then, I would lean further down his back, my crotch almost touching his face. He was breathing hard and I noticed his humping. Then I moved over to the side and returned to the lower back. My crotch touched his arm, and I could feel him tense. Pressing just a little, I made sure that he felt my dick through the shorts.

Very slowly, he placed his hand against my thigh. Since I didn’t move away, he was encouraged to start gently running his hand up and down my thigh. I was still not erected, but I also gently rubbed my crotch on his arm.

Turning his head towards me, he murmured, “Is this included in the massage or is it going to be an ‘extra’?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, putting more pressure on his arm, my cock starting to harden. “If you like what I’m doing, there wouldn’t be any problem.”

He reached for my cock. Sliding his hand under the leg of my shorts, he felt his way up to my balls. As he got hold of my dick, I slid my hands under the towel and started to massage his butt cheeks. He was already moaning, his hand trying to measure my cock size. I could tell he was fully turned on.

“Could you turn over?”

The towel was tented hard when he lay on his back. I took his hand and placed it on my crotch encouragingly as I removed the towel to reveal a thick, cut cock, rock hard, pointing straight up. He rubbed my erection through the shorts as I massaged his inner thighs and moved up to his balls. In my role as Chris, I knew that what he wanted was a mutual blowjob. Nothing fancy: just to get off while sucking on my cock. I pulled down my shorts and kicked them aside, standing naked next to him, my hand now around his cock shaft. He immediately turned his face sideways and took my cock in his mouth. I let him nurse as I stroked his dick using more oil on the shaft and the head.

The man was hungry. I fed him my long cock and he gagged and slobbered but never let go. His moans were getting louder with each swallow, as I gently inserted more of the shaft into his mouth. Moving my hand from his cock to his balls and into his crack, I massaged the area under the balls until he started squirming with desire.

I wasn’t sure whether he was here for fucking also. Many of the men I serviced were satisfied with blow jobs. I needed to test and see if I should initiate something. As I inserted a finger into his hole, he started. “Sorry,” I apologized. “I thought you might enjoy it.” I immediately removed my finger.

He let go of my dick for enough time to say, “It’s a first for me, but I think I’m enjoying this.” He squeezed my dick with his palm and licked at the tip. Bending over his laid-out body, I reciprocated by taking him into my mouth. I was able to go down the shaft all the way to the base. Flicking my tongue around the head as I worked the base with my pursed lips, I quickly brought him to the edge. When he shot his load, he actually bit my dick. I was glad that I was able to make him cum since I had another client for later in the evening.

I pulled out of his mouth, my cock dripping with spit and some pre-cum, and wiped myself, cock and mouth. He lay on the table, breathing hard, eyes closed, all muscles tense. I heard him murmur, “Oh, my God, thank you, Chris, thank you, oh my God!”

Excusing myself, I left the room to let him get hold of himself and prepare to leave. Around ten minutes later, he emerged, all dressed, with a just-fucked expression on his face. I felt a little disappointed that I didn’t get to fuck him. There would have been more money to make, and to tell the truth, I just loved to fuck.

“Thank you, Chris. This was beyond my expectation.” I smiled. “I’m going to be in town for three days on business,” he continued. “Is it possible for me to see you again?”

“Sure, ah… Mr…” I realized that I didn’t even know his name.

“John. Just call me John.”

Aren’t they all johns? I smirked internally. After all, Chris was not exactly my name either. “Sure, John. Just call me and we’ll arrange for something.” To me, he was CJohn, the vanilla guy, since he used the Chris phone number. This way I could tell one from the other.

CJ took out his wallet and handed me a hundred. I made to get him 50 back, but he shook his head. “This was worth it, Chris. Keep the hundred.”

“Thanks, John. I’m glad you liked the extra.”

When CJ left, I was elated. This was going to be a lucrative evening and I might be able to buy a new smart phone.  Besides, I had a CJ client for at least two more days, and CJs were the easiest to handle, easy to be satisfied and always impressed by my equipment and my charm.

My next client was a house call. This guy used the Jack telephone line, and I was glad that I hadn’t let go and shot a load into CJ’s throat earlier. It looked like it was going to be much harder work. Being a house call, I quoted 100 dollars for the massage without the “extras.” The address he gave me was one of the plush hotels. I had never been there since it was too expensive for my budget or the budgets of my clients so far. So I was excited about the date. I worried about how the hotel staff would treat me once I got there, in jeans and t-shirt, toting a backpack that contained my massage stuff. The man said that he would meet me in the lobby.

I studied myself in the mirror as I prepared to leave after showering, to make sure I had the necessary rugged Jack-look that I was hoping would attract my client. The frayed jeans showed a nice bulge and the tight t-shirt outlined my abs and pecs. I applied some gel on my hair to make it spike a little, in a street-wise fashion. I needed to show a look of a hardened street guy ready to fuck. Inwardly, I wished I had spent more time in the gym developing my man muscles, but this would have to do. I was sure that as soon as my client viewed my equipment, all the other details would dissolve.

I entered the hotel lobby under the stern stares of the doorman, who I felt was following me inside. A middle-aged man in slacks and buttoned-down shirt approached.

“Jack?” he inquired and I realized that he had recognized the looks he was expecting.

“Yes,” I said glancing sideways to notice that the doorman had retreated. “I’m here for the massage appointment.”

The man smiled. Ignoring the beginning of white hair on his sideburns, I noticed that he looked quite handsome. I detected a bit of a pot belly under the fairly loose shirt, around which the pants belt strained. I was hoping that his wallet would be fat, too. In my business, I have serviced older, fatter men, not minding their out-of-shape bodies since they had shown so much zeal and appreciation in bed.

“This way,” he guided me to the bank of elevators, stopping for a few seconds at the reception desk and sliding what I imagined some kind of bill over the counter to the man behind the desk, who surreptitiously pocketed the bill, nodded and smiled at my man.

“You need to keep the staff happy,” he whispered to me as we approached the elevators. Inside, he said that his name was John. Of course, what else? So now in my mind, I filed him as JJohn as opposed to my earlier client, CJohn.

JJ led me to his room. What was I thinking? Room? The fucking place was a full suite, larger than my tiny apartment, fantastically furnished, with a hallway, dining-sitting area, bedroom, dressing room, and two bathrooms, the main one with a Jacuzzi tub. There was also a balcony overlooking the waterfront with a breathtaking view.

The guy walked over to the mini-bar and took out a bottle of wine. “Would you like some of this, Jack?”

I nodded, trying to take in the place. So this was how the high class, money-laden people lived. Well, for my JJ, this was how he would soon be fucked: royally.

Sipping at the wine, we stepped out onto the balcony. The suite was on the 19th floor, and I felt a bit dizzy with vertigo at this height. JJ stood beside me, close but not touching. With my free arm, I wrapped his waist and drew him closer. Even though I was much younger, probably as old as his son, I decided to take the initiative. I guessed that this was what he wanted by using the “Jack” number. He responded by pressing his hip onto my side and closing his eyes for a moment as I squeezed lightly on his waist. And, yes, I did feel the fat around his belly.

“So, Jack, can I ask how old you are?” he said between sips of wine.

I couldn’t admit to 22. But maybe he did want a young guy. Should I claim late twenties? Would this turn him off? I wouldn’t want to lose him as a client, not when he was so loaded. I decided to be enigmatic.

“Old enough to be your escort, young enough to be great fun,” I said with a smile, watching his eyes.

He stared at me for a moment, shifted his eyes down to my body, stopping at my crotch, and nodded his head lightly. “This is one of the very few times that I have been stumped by such a smart answer.”

Again, taking the initiative, I moved the arm from around his waist to the back of his neck, and pulled his face to me, placing a wet kiss on his lips. I heard him moan and felt its reverberations in my head.

“Shall we go inside?” he murmured huskily as we broke the kiss.

I followed him, watching his butt, bubble shaped and firm-looking even under the dress pants he was wearing. My dick liked that a lot and I promised him a good fuck.

“Let me get things set up,” he said as he disappeared into the bedroom and came back with a folded massage table on rollers. Wow! The man was prepared and ready. Slowly, I slid my backpack off and pulled off my t-shirt. I helped him unfold the table and make it fast.

Without speaking, and with his eyes alternating between my face, my naked torso, and my bulge, JJ stripped. All the way. He stood there, watching, waiting for my reaction, as I studied his figure. The pot belly was there, sure enough. He was hairy all over as opposed to the small chest hair patch that I had. I could barely see his dick through the thick, curly pubes. I wondered how he would react to my cock, which I estimated would probably be at least three times bigger than his.

Finally, he took a deep breath and climbed onto the massage table. “You can strip, too, Jack,” he suggested as he settled on his stomach, looking at me sideways. I undid my jeans buttons and slid them down, keeping my tight boxers. I noticed his eyes grow wide when he saw the bulge inside my underwear. My cock, now semi-erect, snaked down the leg, stretching the tight lycra fabric.

Fishing out my oil bottles, I started to apply some onto his back and to rub him up and down. As I did the shoulders, standing on the side of the massage table, I could feel the knots of muscle, and how they began to relax under my fingers. A few minutes later, I felt his hand on my thigh. JJ wanted action, it seemed, and he wanted it now. His fingers traced up and down my hairy thigh until they reached my crotch. Gingerly, he traced my dick. Still working on his shoulder, I moved to the top of the table and pressed my cock onto his upturned face. He moaned.

“I’m impressed,” JJ said as he moved his lips up and down my cock shaft, which by now was on its way to erection. I pressed onto his face harder, grinding.

“Do you like it this much, John?” I asked teasingly.

“Oh, Jesus, yes,” he groaned with lust. He moved one hand and tried to pull down the underwear. I immediately slapped it away. I felt I needed to prove to this guy that I was the one in control. He might be rich and all, but I got the dick and I was going to do the fucking, and he did use the Jack phone number

He kept his face glued to my crotch, but moved his hand back down to my thigh, caressing it.

I needed to do something special with this guy. “John?” I said, looking down at his balding head as he kissed and licked my bulge. “Does that Jacuzzi of yours work?”

He immediately got up, his eyes glinting. “Oh, yea, sure,” and I could detect the excitement in his voice. “Let’s do some Jacuzzi, Jack.”

He turned on the water to fill the tub, and as we waited, I pulled him to me and kissed him, this time with open mouth and deep tonguing. I pressed my erection onto his small penis and rubbed against him, one hand on the back of his head, controlling the kissing, the other caressing his firm, hairy butt. He writhed under my embrace. Age difference disappeared and it was as if I was the older guy, preparing a young kid for a hot fuck session.

Finally, the tub filled out. JJ added some bath oils and colored stuff from different bottles to the water, and he stepped into the tub, squatting and then sliding down into the now bubbly water.

Slowly, standing at the tub, I pulled down my tight boxers. My cock sprang up, 22 centimeters of hard fuck tool. The man’s eyes literally bulged. He couldn’t take his eyes off my hard cock, standing at an upward angle, revealing my balls. I stood there for a while, letting him drink in what he would later be getting up his man hole, all the way to the base. He reached for my cock, and I once again slapped his hand away. He settled back in the tub sheepishly, reaching for his own erection, now not only hidden by his pubes but also by the soap bubbles.

I climbed into the tub as he turned the Jacuzzi jet nozzles on, and I settled facing him, my legs stretched out along his sides. I started to relax with the warmth of the water, the scents of the oils, and the massaging effects of the sprays coming out of the nozzles. JJ kept his distance, like a good boy, all the while gazing at my face and every now and then licking his lips.

I couldn’t keep him in anticipation for too long. I didn’t want him to lose interest. So I sat up and made him slide on his butt between my legs towards me. Placing his own legs around my waist, he leaned over and we kissed. I took one of his hands and guided him to my hard cock under the soapy bubbles, and this time I let him explore. He palmed my hard cock, stroking me slowly as I tongued his mouth deep. I reached down and held his nipples between my thumb and forefinger and squeezed on them, making them hard, teasing them. His moans intensified.

I decided that by now, I should make the move to start the sex. I stood up, all soapy, my cock still angled upward and dripping and I thrust my pelvis towards him, inviting him. He eagerly held onto my thighs and gobbled my erection. Moaning loudly, he sucked on the head. When he tried to go down the shaft, he gagged. I immediately held his head and pushed deeper. With his lips open around my cock, he started to cough. I kept thrusting deeper. He looked up at me, his finger nails buried into my thigh muscles, as if begging me to let him breathe. Still holding onto his wet hair with both hands, I kept on pushing. I could feel my cockhead hit his throat. His gagging and coughing increased and the pressure of his fingers on my thighs intensified, digging into the muscles. I wouldn’t let him get off my cock. I pulled out a few centimeters, and a look of relief came to his face, which instantly disappeared as I shoved hard back down his throat.

Forcing him to take my long, hard dick turned me on more, and my cock got even harder and thicker. Once I felt his nose buried in my pubes, I started to grind against his face. He was still coughing and slobbering when I released the pressure off the back of his head a few moments later.

But would he pull back as I expected he would? Not on your life. He kept my cock buried down his throat and pursed his lips around the base. The coughing receded and I determined that by now he was able to control his gagging reflex. After a while, with me standing in the bubbly tub, and him sitting on his butt with my cock deep down his throat, he started to blow me. He never let go of my thighs. I caressed his hair and his face cheeks as he went down on me, pulling out till the edge of my cock head ridge and then swallowing back the shaft to the base. In response, I started pumping into his mouth.

With a gratifying look up at me, he took my hard pumping eagerly, now that he was more comfortable with sucking my big cock, which was totally in the mood for fucking.

Pulling him off my throbbing dick, I turned him around in the tub and made him bend over the edge. I wanted his ass. He wanted me to want his ass, too, I bet.

“Jack, please, wear some protection, ok?” he moaned as he offered his butt to be fucked. “There are some condoms on the rack behind you.” Sure enough, there was a packet of condoms, ribbed, right where he said it would be.

Quickly, I ripped open the wrapping and slid the condom onto my cock. It was a bit tight. Apparently, JJ hadn’t expected a cock as big as mine. Otherwise, he would have bought the large-sized condoms. I was a bit concerned that it would break, but I went ahead and rolled it down to around two thirds of my cock shaft. I knelt into the water behind him, and rubbed my cock shaft up and down his soapy crack. He ground back on me, moaning with anticipation.

Spreading his ass cheeks with my hands, being careful not to slip on the soapy porcelain, and enjoying the jets of water hitting my butt, I gave it to him. When I penetrated, he grunted with the immediate pain. His rim muscle stretched for me, and I paused with just my cock head inside him. Bending over his back, I pulled his head up by the hair, turning his head sideways, and I pushed my tongue into his mouth, and my cock started to get sucked into his hole. Thrusting, I went all the way to the base and paused again, grinding my groin onto his bubble ass cheeks.

Completely inside him, I bit on his lips and then moved to his earlobes as I started my fucking. I went a bit gently at first, but very soon, I was pumping his ass mercilessly. I felt I was going deeper into him with every hard thrust I made. His groaning and grunting told me how excited he was. His hole puckered on my cock shaft with every thrust. His tunnel spasmed wildly with every invasion.

I usually don’t come quickly. But what with CJ sucking my cock earlier, and now my deep fucking in the Jacuzzi, I couldn’t hold much longer. When I exploded inside him, I did so viciously. I was almost sure that the condom would burst with the force of my squirts. But I was way beyond caring. I pulled on his hair hard as I shot into the rubber, emptying my balls with repeated squirts.

“Take my load, bitch,” I hissed as more cum left my cock slit into the condom.

Finally, I pulled out, now anxious to see whether the rubber held. Thankfully, it did. I pulled it off my dick, which was still hard, and settled back into the now cooling water. JJ settled back also, facing me.

“You’re a hard fucker, Jack,” he groaned with satisfaction.

“Did you shoot your load, John?” I asked.

“Twice,” he smiled. Fuck! That was why his rim muscle was doing miraculous squeezing around my probing and thrusting cock shaft. He was shooting loads of cum, without even touching himself.

“This means that you have enjoyed the hard fucking, then?” I smirked, fully knowing that this was exactly what he wanted when he used the Jack-telephone line.

“Can you spend the night?” This came out of nowhere, taking me by surprise. I had never had such an offer before and I hesitated. “I mean,” he tried to explain, “it’s just that I enjoyed our fuck so much, I want repeats. Can you?”

I decided. “Yes.”

He beamed. Now, suddenly, I thought about the money side. Would he make me an offer? Should I stipulate a specific figure? How much should I demand? For one, he loved my fucking. Two, he was loaded. Three, it was he who suggested this. Man, I was really at a loss. He must have sensed this because he immediately told me that money was not an issue.

“What are we talking about, then?” I countered. “I have already agreed to stay for the night. I have not asked for extra money although I am certain that it will cost a bit more.” I was calculating the “bit more” part. I charged him 50 for the massage and there would be another 50 for the fuck. I thought that was kind of cheap. Maybe I should be looking at 500 for the night? That would be too steep, wouldn’t it?

Then he hit me with his offer. “Is 1500 ok?”

My jaw must have dropped and my eyes widened. One fucking thousand and five fucking hundred for one fucking night? I must have been dreaming. How many cell phones could I buy? Oh, my God.

I just nodded my head and I could see that he was elated. He reached out for his wallet which he had placed on the wash sink and counted 15 100-bills in fucking cash. Just like that! Oh, boy, I was going to fuck his brains out all night. He was going to be 1500-dollar sore by morning. I had the equipment to do it and I also had the stamina. All thoughts of CJ were blanked out by this.

“JJo…” I caught myself in time. “John, thanks, it is fine. Let’s get into the shower. I want to soap you all over and fuck you with water streaming over your body. Are you ready for some hot, rough showering?”

He beamed again and rubbed his ass, “Jack, you fucked me hard in the Jacuzzi. Let’s try the shower.”

“But first,” I decided on the rough part. “I want you to get down on your fucking knees and worship my cock.” I knew this was crass and vulgar, but I had to satisfy this dude in any way I could.

After a few minutes of allowing him to slobber on my rod, I told him I wanted to take a leak. I stood in front of the toilet bowl and let out a hot stream of piss through my now semi-hard dick. He watched, eyes open, jaw dropped. With my last squirts of urine, JJ heaved a deep sigh and stepped into the shower. The wad of money was still in my wet hand, and I rushed to where I had dropped my jeans and shoved it into the back pocket. Wow! 1500 dollars!

In the shower stall, I soaped him all over. My hands massaged his body, played with his tits and smallish dick. I fingered his hole and when he complained about the soreness, I slapped his butt and told him not to be a sissy. I could detect that he was really getting turned on with this rough treatment which, I had to admit, I was not used to. I usually fuck nicely, making love rather than fucking. I have always believed in a give-and-take relationship. But now I was paid as an escort. I was a male prostitute, to put it vulgarly. So I gave it to him, rough and hard.

Raising one of his legs, I thrust my hard cock into his hole without any preparation. I figured that my tub fucking should have prepared him enough. Besides, he wanted it rough. The soap made it easier for me to penetrate, but he cried out with the pain of my invading tool. This didn’t stop me as I roughly thrust my cock all the way to the base, my balls slapping his inner thighs, my fingernails digging into his thigh.

As I pounded his ass, JJ supported himself with both hands on the shower wall. His grunts and groans accentuated my fucking, giving me more impetus. We were like two animals grunting and moaning with lust. As I pumped deeply inside his body, I played his tits, squeezing hard; I grabbed his nuts and squeezed also. I slapped his butt cheeks. He responded with more intense moaning with a lot of “yeah”, “more”, “do it Jack”, “fuck me baby”, and “harder please harder.”

When I saw him reach for his dick, I slapped his hand away. I wanted him to shoot his load because of my fucking not because he was jerking off. I pounded harder and I could feel that he was about to reach a climax. I bit on his neck and squeezed his tits over and over, responding with “take my dick, bitch”, “I’m going to fill you with hot, creamy juice” (now that the protecting condom had been forgotten in the heat of the moment), and a lot of “fucking bitch”, pounding and squeezing.

All of a sudden, I felt the puckering of his fuck tunnel twitch hard on my pounding cock shaft and I knew that he was shooting his load. He arched his back against my chest and cried out as his dick released streams of cum onto the wall and the floor of the shower stall. I wasn’t close to losing my load yet, and I decided that it would be better if I kept it for further fucking since I was going to spend the whole night here. Also, I realized that I really should be more careful about bare-backing. I was almost certain that I wouldn’t be doing much sleeping tonight.

So I pulled out of him as the last drops of semen dribbled off his small dick slit. Turning him around, pushing him onto the wall, I held him tight with my hard, wet cock pressing on his belly, and we kissed. He was so hungry that he almost swallowed my tongue, all the while moaning with after-ejaculation pleasure, jerking against my pressing and throbbing cock. I made sure to finger his hole all the time to remind him that I will be using it over and over. There were fifteen hundred dollars stashed away in my back pocket, and I was planning on earning every cent.

He prepared pasta in the small but well-equipped kitchenette of the suite, as I lounged on one of the plush couches with only a towel wrapped around my body, enjoying the pleasures of the rich surroundings.

“Damn!” he exclaimed after he dropped the pasta into the pot of boiling water and opened the fridge under the counter/bar.

“What is it?” I asked, feeling all relaxed, even somewhat drowsy.

“The bastards haven’t put any vegetables or fruits in the fridge although I explicitly asked for a full stocking of stuff. I’ll call room service for salad. Any kind you prefer?”

Fuck! For me a salad was a salad: vegetables with some lemon juice and oil. What did he mean by “kind of salad”?

“I’ll leave this up to you JJoh… uh… John.” This was a smart way of avoiding to reveal my ignorance of sophisticated cuisine.

He laughed, noticing the difficulty of my saying his name. “What’s this JJoh.. thing?” Shit! How could I answer this without hurting his feelings? I didn’t want him to think that what I am doing to him was only to please him. I wanted him to feel that I was enjoying myself also and that my fucking was very real. Although it was real and I was enjoying myself, it was not my real preference in sex. CJ’s was more exciting for me: slow, easy love making building up to intense gratification.

I smiled to hide my nervousness. “Listen,” he said when I did not offer any explanation. “Why not use my real name? It’s Richard, ok?”

“Would you like to know my real name as well? It’s not Jack.” I felt I had to reciprocate. I also, and for the first time, felt that I needed to reveal more of my identity to a “trick” or a “John.”

“If you are comfortable with that, yes sure.” He smiled back.

“Ed,” I murmured.

“Ok, Ed. This sounds more like you than Jack. But I hope the Ed in you will fuck me like a Jack.”

“Oh?” I raised my eyebrows. What difference did it make to him whether my name was Ed or Jack? My dick was the same and my fucking was the same.

“I feel better to be calling you with your real name since I knew that Jack was a fake. I want the man who fucks me to be real not fake.”

I grabbed my crotch and said, smirking, “So all this time since we started fucking you considered this as fake? Didn’t it feel real enough for you?”

He approached me, also with just a towel around his waist. “Oh, Ed, it was real enough! My sore ass will vouch for that. You are an incredible fucker and I want a lot more of you tonight. But I like Ed much better.”

I didn’t take this any further as he picked up the phone and ordered the salad. Sitting in an easy chair facing me, he regarded me with what I felt more of a critical eye than before, less lustful, more judging, now that he had been fucked twice and ejaculated a few times.

“Why do you do this, Ed?” he asked in a low voice. I could hear the water boiling with the pasta cooking in it.

“Why do I do what, Richard?”

“Escort,” he explained.

Did he really need to ask this? Did he want me to admit to my being a prostitute, fucking for money? Fuck him! I decided to come right out and tell him.

“Not all of us are born into money, Richard,” I countered. “I need money and I have a hot cock with people willing to offer money to suck it and ride it. I don’t think there is anything wrong with that.”

“I see,” he contemplated. “So there is no pleasure for you, huh? Just fucking to make money?”

“Oh, Ricky baby, there is a lot of pleasure,” I smiled at him rubbing my semi-hard cock under the towel. “My dick must have told you that already.”

“What a smart kid,” he said and moved over to sit next to me on the couch, replacing my hand with his and massaging my dick. I kissed the side of his neck, licking over to reach his lips, biting on the lower one as he moaned. “You do wonders to me, Ed,” he groaned, trembling, pressing on my hardening cock.

I was already thinking of before-dinner fucking when there was a knock at the door.

“This must be the salad,” Richard said, standing up to answer the knock. The towel tented over my erection and I straightened to hide it.

“Should I go inside?” I asked. Perhaps Richard didn’t want to advertise who his evening visitors were or what they were doing to him.

“Oh, no,” he said as he approached the door. “The staff here are very friendly, especially when I am generous with them.”

I bet, I thought. I would be the friendliest person around, musing about the 1500 dollars for the night and the earlier 500 for the massage. I was 2000 fucking dollars richer. Add a 100 from CJ! Wow!

The guy who rolled in the trolley with three or four different bowls of salad was fantastically beautiful. I immediately hardened more when I watched him place the trolley next to the dining table.

As he prepared the bowls and plates on the table, Richard walked back into the bedroom saying, “Let me get you something, Dan.”

Oh? So he knew the waiter’s name? Hmmm. Had he done the guy? I wondered. Dan is definitely doable and I wouldn’t blame Richard for grabbing him into his bed. Dan looked sideways at me with a smile, and then moved his eyes down to my crotch where my erection was clearly visible. He knew the score and he smiled and I detected a quick flick of his tongue over his lower lip. I instinctively lounged back on the couch revealing my hardness invitingly. This could be good for business. Very interesting!

Richard called me from the bedroom. “Ed, I need to ask you to do me a favor,” he said as I walked into the room with my cock 20 centimeters ahead of me.

“Shoot,” I said.

“Is it ok with you if I asked Dan to stay for the salad and pasta?”

Oh, my God. My cock responded with a strong twitch. Now I got to fuck Dan, too?

“There will be another 1500 for you if you say yes,” he added in a whisper.

“YES!” I almost screamed. “Yes, Richard. That would be fine.” It was so hard for me to control my voice or the shivers that were streaming throughout my body. The money AND the sex! Fuck! How lucky could one get?

We walked back to the living area where Dan had finished setting the table and was waiting. His eyes immediately shifted to my tented crotch, and again there was the flick of the tongue along his lower lip.

“Dan,” Richard said approaching him. “How about staying and sharing all this with me and ah… Ed.” I noticed that he had pushed a couple of bills, probably hundreds, into Dan’s pants pocket. Did those kind of people ever handle tens or twenties? I guessed they even wiped their asses with 100-dollar bills.

Dan smiled, his gaze still glued to my erection under the towel. “Yes, Mr. Thompson. It would be a pleasure.”

He then approached me holding out his hand, “I’m Dan and it’s good to meet you, Ed.”

I took his hand and squeezed, pulling it down inches away from my erecting front. I could hear his breathing quicken.

“Ok, Boys,” Richard clapped his hands and moved to the kitchenette. “The spaghetti must be done by now.”

We sat around the table and ate. My erection receded and I discovered how hungry I was. Richard barely ate anything, but Dan also ate heartily. I knew that the three of us had similar thoughts: how would the coming fuck session be like?

The meal over, the three of us walked to the bedroom. No introductions? No making out? As soon as we were inside, I dropped the towel and sat on the bed naked, my cock limp and resting on my thigh. Dan was already impressed. His bulge showed a lot of interest. Richard did the same as me and pulling Dan towards the bed, he sat beside me and placed his hand on my cock. “What do you think of this equipment, Dan? Does Ed’s tool compare to yours?”

“Only one way to find out,” Dan responded by taking off his shirt and pulling down his pants. His briefs bulged impressively. Apparently he was also hung. Was Richard challenging us? Two hot, hung kids to service him?

And yes, Dan was hung. I felt a bit shamed when I saw that he sported a larger cock than mine. It was a monster of a cock. Thick, veined and a couple of centimeters longer than my cock, it erected curved sideways to the left, unlike mine, which erected upwards at an angle. I was starting to harden under Richard’s caressing and Dan’s huge dick.

As Richard bent to take my erecting cock into his mouth, Dan came over and presented me with his monster erection. I didn’t hesitate. I slobbered on his dick as I pumped up in and out of Richard’s hungry mouth. Already, I was having new sensations that I had never experienced before. So, ok, I was an escort and I was supposed to have experienced all kinds of sex. But this scene was totally new to me. In none of my relations as a sex prostitute had I experienced a cock so big. Most dicks were smaller than average, and the men much older. But Dan beat all. His body was a killer as well, lean and muscled and lightly hairy on the chest with thick pubes and hairy legs. I licked and sucked and slobbered, and so did Richard on my own cock.

A few minutes later, Richard released my dick and asked me to lie on my back. Straddling my hips, he held my cock, unwrapped a condom and rolled it down the shaft, and pointed the head at his hole. I felt Dan’s tongue licking up and down my cock shaft as I pressed on Richard’s fuck entrance. Dan’s hands were fondling my balls. I thrust up and penetrated. Richard’s hole was not so tight anymore and my penetration came easy and smooth. He pushed down until my cock was buried all the way inside him. Dan was still at my balls, slobbering and licking and fondling as I started fucking Richard’s ass with his meeting my upward thrusts with his downward push.

As I was enjoying the fucking, already sweating with Richard’s weight on top of me, I felt Richard settle and freeze his downward pushes, pinning me under him. I thought that he was orgasming, but I noticed that Dan was putting on a condom and lubing it. His monster cock glistened inside the rubber. So, ok, Richard wanted Dan inside him now. That was fine with me. I could do with a breather. But Richard kept pressing me down.

I started when I felt globs of lube applied to the base of my cock and into Richard’s crack, dribbling down to my balls. Could this be what I was starting to conclude? Was Dan entering Richard’s ass with my cock already inside?

I felt Dan’s fingers probing the stretched fuck hole and massaging my cock shaft inside Richard’s ass. Fuck! Richard was going to be double-dicked by two hard, fat cocks.

Sure enough, Dan straddled my thighs and I felt the head of his cock pressing down on my cock and stretching the rim muscle to enter. With all the lube, and with Richard apparently already experienced in taking cock up his ass, Dan entered. His cock slid over mine, pressing down on me.

I couldn’t describe the sensations. This was a first for me. As Dan pushed all the way inside Richard’s ass, he bent over his back, moving Richard’s head to the side, and started to kiss me. Now the two of them were on top of me. I found breathing to be difficult out of the weight of the two bodies and more out of the excitement of Dan’s dick pressing on mine inside Richard’s ass.

Slowly, as Dan pulled his length out, repeating the massage on my cock shaft, Richard kept his weight on me. When Dan pushed back in, I pulled out, neither cock totally exiting the fuck hole. We alternated, Dan’s dick pulling out, mine pushing in, and vice versa. This double fucking was making me mad with lust. I was fast building up to what I knew was going to be a huge load. My balls were aching. Dan felt so hot fucking both Richard’s ass and my cock, while I was doing the same to the both of them. There was no way I would be able to control myself and not explode.

This continued for some time. I had lost estimating how much time was elapsing. Except for the amazing sensations throughout my body, everything else went into oblivion. The alternating fucking made Richard go mad as well, crying out loud with every thrust of either of us. There were like thousands of “oh my God” and “Oh yeah” and “Dan, Ed, more, more” issuing through his lips. I could feel his body tremble and his dick pressed and rubbing between our bodies. There was a lot of slippery stuff on my belly and I figured that not all of it was lubricant, that some of it must be coming from Richard’s dick. How many times could this fucker ejaculate? I wondered.

When Dan finally pulled out, I felt huge emptiness although my cock was still buried deep inside Richard’s body. Slowly, Richard raised himself off me and my cock slid out of his hole as well. The three of us were panting and sweating. Richard knelt between Dan and me, removed the slick condoms off our pulsating cocks, and started an alternating blow job. Holding onto one cock and stroking, he sucked on the other. And then he moved to sucking the first and stroking the other. Dan and I were kissing like mad, tongues and lips and mouths. He tasted so delicious and I knew I was going to burst very soon.

Dan shot his load first. Richard gobbled and swallowed. The kid gave him such a huge squirting that Richard was choking with the flood inside his throat. Cum was seeping out through his gulping lips. I was almost there and the sound of Dan’s moans as he ejaculated made me ready to shoot my own. Pulling Richard by the hair, I took him off Dan’s cock, which was still squirting white semen all over the place, and pushed him down on mine, thrusting to penetrate the throat. Ignoring his gagging sounds, I fucked his mouth hard and deep, the juices erupting from my balls into my cock shaft. Again pulling on his hair, I pulled my cock out of his hungry mouth, and the first squirt hit him right in the face. It was so thick and intense that both his eyes and part of his right cheek were covered with semen. I directed my squirting cock toward Dan’s body and covered his dick, throbbing and leaking on his belly, with more cum. I cummed like crazy. Squirt after squirt of long streams of white juice exploded out of my cock slit onto Richard’s face and hair and onto Dan’s cock and balls.

Finally, I slumped back on the bed, almost unable to breathe because of the intensity of my ejaculation. Richard was cleaning both our balls and dicks and bellies with his tongue, his face covered with man juice. He didn’t seem to get enough of our cum.

Need I describe the rest of the night? Dan left after our threesome session, two hundred dollars richer. I could bet that Richard slipped him more bills as he left. Good for Dan. That was a great fuck.

I barely got a couple of hours of sleep. Richard was insatiable. All he wanted was cock after cock after cock, and mine was there hard and throbbing and ready to please. At one time during the night, the fucking turned more into rape, with my merciless pounding and slapping on his ass butt and pulling on his hair and squeezing hard on his tits. I was wild as I felt Richard receive all this with rising lust and desire. His cries were getting louder and I was a bit concerned about how thick the walls were and whether the occupant of the room next to the suite could hear the screams.

How many times did I fuck? No way could I answer this. It was continuous. Just before dawn, Richard was finally sated. Placing his head into the nook of my armpit, he fell asleep. I followed suit almost immediately. When I woke up two hours later, Richard’s mouth was already around my cock, sucking my morning boner. It didn’t take long for me to feed him his breakfast, thick and creamy.

Leaving the hotel, I had 3000 dollars in my pocket and a sore cock in my pants. As I approached the doorman, I fished out one of Richard’s bills and slipped it into his hand. His eyes widened when he glanced at the hundred-dollar bill that I had tipped him.

I felt very good. Actually, I felt excellent, heavenly. I enjoyed the night as much as Richard did. I didn’t feel like a prostitute at all. I didn’t just lie back and give him my cock to nurse or to fuck on. The night was memorable in all aspects.

Five minutes later, walking back to my place, thinking about the new cell phone I was going to buy with my newly earned money, I hailed a cab. What the fuck! This morning I was rich beyond my expectations. I felt expansive. I slouched back on the taxi seat and dreamed about double fucking and about hot Dan and about loaded Richard. By the time the taxi pulled over next to my apartment building I already had a raging hard on which I was sure that CJ was going to gobble and slobber on later today.

Oh, the miserable life of escorts!