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I’ve always wanted to someone’s gay crush. But it never happened. But I wasn’t going to walk into a club and announce I’m gay and hope someone responds. I have a reputation to protect. I come from a nice family. I was sure the only way I’d ever ‘give in’ to my fantasy of being someone’s gay fuck toy is if I was tricked or even gently forced to do it. Thus, my preoccupation with gay bondage porn. I like seeing a crossdresser or a sissy be caught in drag and blackmailed into having sex with a big hung guy too. That was my favorite fantasy. I’ve tried on many of my mom’s and sister’s pretty underwear. I like it. Oh my, if a man would catch me like that! What would happen?

Jay from this sire emailed me the other day. he said he could fulfill my fantasy for me. He lives across town and has a van that he uses to do flower deliveries. Before I know what happened the van is at my front drive. Jay is standing by the front door, knocking. We had been texting and I was supposed to be in panties and a corset from my mom’s closet. He would ‘catch’ me and drag me away into his creepy kidnap van. He is tall, fat and pretty creepy looking. Perfect!

I carefully open the front door and peek out. Jay tells me to let him inside. He has a delivery for me. He has some flowers and a pair of handcuffs in his hands.

Moment of truth.

Do I? Do I let him in and see me? Am I gay? Are I not gay? Am I going to let this weird stalker type handcuff me and do who knows what else to me? I’ve imagined and dreamed of a moment like this my whole life. What am I supposed to do? I can feel the blood rushing from my face. I’m sweating. I look down to see the girly underwear I’m in. I put this on for him. I’m here with my door ajar. What the fuck?

The door opens, pushing me back into the hall. “Oh what a pretty little whore you are!” Jay loudly announces. The door closes behind him. “Get on your knees and shut up, bitch.” Jay is playing the part well, I hope. I’m backing up away from him. He is moving toward me faster than I am backing up. I reach out to push myself away. He roughly takes my arm and twists me around. ‘Click’ goes a handcuff. “Ouch, that’s tight, Jay.” His hand pushes me from behind against the hallway wall. ‘Thunk’ I hit the wall hard. My other hand is pulled behind me, finishing the cuffing activity. I’m trying to complain and play the victim, so surprised and trying to resist. He moves close to me. He smells like he hasn’t showered all week. His face is unshaven and bristly. He whispers in my ear. “You’re going to shut the fuck up or I’ll haver to gag you like a slave. So shut up, bitch.”

I guess that was my cue. “Fuck you, you bastard, I’m going to scream!” But of course, I don’t. Yet. “So that’s how this is going to be?”

As he is saying that, my mouth is forced open with a thick rag or washcloth. It puffs my cheeks out and fills my mouth up quickly and completely. “Mummphh!” 

I hear some tape being pulled from the roll then see a long clear piece in front of my face. He pulls it tight around my mouth and the back of my head.. Around and around several times. The cloth in my mouth is pressed inside even deeper. His hand slides down my back to my ass, squeezing my cheek. Then he forces his hand between my cheeks and tries to shove a finger in my ass right through my pretty pink panties. More chatting… “I’m going to fuck you so hard and so long you wont shit for a week, bitch.”

My garage door opens and he drives the van inside. I’m thinking he is going to fuck me right here then leave. With all that has happened already, I’d be fine with just that. But not so fast.

He leads me out into the garage and pushes me inside the back of the van. I expected to see flowers and shelves and that sort of thing. And there is some of that in the front half of the van. But behind a sliding door halfway back, there is an area that looks like a sex dungeon. A heavy comforter or sleeping bag on the floor. Two chains with leather cuffs hanging from the ceiling. It’s lined with thick heavy padding like a prison cell for crazy patients. I’m lying on the soft, thick flooring, in a silent, padded cell, dressed like a pathetic slut, cuffed and tightly gagged. I’m fucked. And I’m going to be. We don’t stay at my home or in the van and fuck here. We drive away.

Once we finally stop, it’s dark outside. I only know this because he opens the security door in the van to let me out. We are back in the woods somewhere. It’s cold, dark and very secluded. I’m nervous. He can tell. He likes it.

“You’re going to get out this one way only. Otherwise, I’ll leave you out here to walk home all night. It’s going to be 30 tonight. And the sissy clothes you’re wearing aren’t going to keep you very warm. You get it? Fuck or walk, bitch.”

My eyes are fuzzy from me crying a little. The cuffs hurt. I can’t stand this fucking gag in my mouth. I think this is just some play acting on his part, but I’m dot really completely sure. I slowly nod my head.

“Good girl.”

The next thing I know I’m kneeling with my hands in the leather cuffs up over my head. The tape and the rag in my mouth are gone, thank God. Jay crawls into the back of the van with me, naked and sporting a pretty big hard on. The security door loudly closes and locks. He rubs up against me, still smelling like a sweaty old man. His mouth opens and he kisses me, right on the lips! His tongue slips in. His hands start to grab and grope my panties and bra. He likes me in them. Next he moves up bringing his cock right into my face. “Be a good girl and swallow it all, bitch.”

I tried really hard. He wouldn’t cum. he was really hard, breathing in and out, feeling like it should be any second, but it didn’t happen. “You suck like shit, you pathetic wannabe faggot.”

As he moves in behind me, still rock hard and throbbing, he grabs my ‘tits’ hard and tells me more. “I was going to do this either way. This way I’ll blow an extra big load up your sissy ass.”

Before he slapped my ass cheeks and violated me, he put a wide sticky piece of rubber tape over my mouth and all the way around my head. Fuck, gagged again!

I could my moans and outbursts echoing around the small chamber even though there was padding everywhere. he liked me trying to scream, squirming and struggling to resist. “Keep this up, and I will make this a weekly this, you stupid cunt.”

I liked him calling me girl names. I liked him fucking me like I was a kidnapped girl in his abduction van.  I liked the feeling when he blew that huge load up inside me. He pushed and grunted and grabbed my ‘tits’ so hard they were red and sore until Thursday. 

I don’t remember him taking me home. I woke up in my bed, still wearing some of the girly underclothes I’d had on the night before, but not all of them. I think he kept my panties for a trophy or something. My tits, mouth and butt hole were all pretty sore. But they were actually a nice reminder that it had all really happened. And I wasn’t gay. I was just a victim or circumstances. I’d been tricked, duped, seduced and caught being a pervert, dressed in mom’s underwear. I felt better about myself. I checked the text on my phone from the night before. I still have his number. I wonder if he might want to kidnap me again sometime?

“And what would be the price if I paid cash?”

Vince Jacobs nearly gagged on his beer. He’d recognized who he was dealing with as soon as Chaz Nelson walked into the Rail Pub in oldtown Savannah, Georgia, for their meeting about the oceanfront property on Tybee Island. He knew Nelson was a young pro tennis player. But he wasn’t first tier. How much did second- and third-tier tennis pros make? Vince wondered.

“I’ll have to call Mr. Hopkins for that figure. It wouldn’t be anything less than a million, though, I’m sure.” Jacobs was trying to call the young man off calling Hopkins and embarrassing them all. The asking price for the small oceanfront house on Tybee Island to the south of Savannah was $1.2 million. The house itself was a 1,000-square foot fixer upper. The value was in the waterfront lot in an upscale ocean resort. Even at $1.2 million, a buyer probably would be interested in knocking the house down and building a mansion. Nelson had indicated a house that small was fine with him.

“Who is Mr. Hopkins?” Nelson asked.

“He’s the head of Peach State Homes, the Realty company handling the property.”

“Yes, then please call him.”

“I’ll go to the head when I do so, if you don’t mind.” Jacobs would want to let Hopkins know who they were dealing with and he’d prefer doing it out of the young tennis player’s hearing.

While he was gone Nelson went over the transaction in his mind. Did he still want to do this? The money wasn’t the issue. He’d done well during the last two seasons on the pro circuit, although he’d gotten a late start, having played collegiate tennis for two years before going pro. He’d only won a couple of minor tournaments, but he’d made it to round two in two majors, which paid very well. Most of the money had come endorsements. Major companies, in pursuing political correctness, sponsored him because he was openly gay—and extremely photogenic.

He languished in the high thirties in ranking, but considering how many were trying to make it as pros, that was good. He’d put half his earnings aside for two years to buy someplace he could call home. He’d been surprised when he’d seen the Tybee Island property listing. He was interested for nostalgic purposes.

When Jacobs came back, he said, “For cash, we could let the property go for one million. It’ $1.2 million if financed, with $200,000 up front to the seller. But I want to be sure that you understand that it’s small and needs a lot of work. The value is in the lot. There’s no need to go out there and inspect it if you know up front it’s not what you want.”

“I understand. I’m still interested. Who is the seller?” Was it Marty? Marty had been his first tennis coach. That’s how Chaz knew about the property already. He’d been there before. But Marty was in prison now, incarcerated for how he’d messed around with the young male tennis players he’d coached, one of whom committed suicide, which brought it all into the public spotlight. And from what Chaz had heard, Marty was sick with heart problems and probably would never come out of prison.

“The seller wants to remain nameless,” Jacobs answered.

“That’s OK, I don’t need to know,” Nelson said. But I certainly would like to know if Marty was the one getting this much money he’d never be able to spend for a property he’d never again be able to use. But, he thought, that was being catty. At twenty-one, he’d made his peace with his past relationship with Marty Fowler years ago. There was both bad and good and he could only feel sorry that Marty probably would never taste freedom again. He’d been a great coach despite all the rest of it. Nelson wouldn’t have been where he was in tennis today without the training he’d gotten from Fowler. Would he have been openly gay, though? One didn’t know the answer to that one.

“Yes, I’m still interested in the property,” he reiterated, “paying cash. Can we go see it now?”

“Yes, of course,” Vince answered. “Here, let me get this tab.” One million was five times what they were hoping to make out of this. Covering a lunch tab was peanuts. “I didn’t ask. Where are you staying in Savannah?”

“I’m booked at the Foley House Inn.”

“Great place,” Vince said.

“Yes. I was told it was gay friendly and it has proven to be that.” There, that established that, Chaz thought, if the man hadn’t already figured out who he was and that he was gay. Vince exhibited as gay himself: good looking, nice build, dress style conscious, a bit effeminate, maybe. If gay, he probably was a submissive. Chaz wondered if Hopkins had chosen Vince to be the Realtor for the Tybee Island property for Chaz because he knew Chaz was gay and a top.

As a matter of fact, yes, Hopkins had done so. Hopkins was not one to overlook any possible advantage in this transaction. He had even known that the property belonged to the imprisoned tennis coach, Marty Fowler, and that Chaz Nelson had been coached by Fowler. Knowing this, he’d made sure that Nelson found out the property was for sale.

Vince had been engaging in some signaling that he was a gay submissive but was unsure Chaz had gotten the message—until they left the pub and were getting in Vince’s car. Chaz opened the driver’s door for Vince, who touched him on the forearm as he came around to enter the vehicle. The gesture of opening the door in itself was a declaration of dominance, but to drive the act home, Chaz palmed Vince’s buttocks before the Realtor slid into the driver’s seat.

* * * *

“So, what do you think?” Vince Jacobs asked after they’d been through the property on the ocean near the intersection of Butler Avenue and 7th Street on Tybee Island. He knew what Chaz should think. He should think that the building should be razed and something new built here—and he should lose interest in spending a million dollars this way, assuming the young guy really did have a million dollars to spend this way. Jacobs wasn’t convinced this was the case yet.

The house really was small, but then so was the lot. All it had going for it was that it did have a wooden walkway in relative good condition floating over two waves of dunes and down to the ocean beach. The house was a story and a half, clapboard, built probably in the 1950s, with a hallway entrance on the street side. When entering, there was a bedroom to the left and a bath and kitchen to the left. This then opened out to a dining room area, then a living room, opening out onto the deck facing the ocean. The living-dining area was a story and a half high under a sloping roof. A loft area over the bedroom and kitchen provided a second bedroom area with bath. The kitchen opened to the dining area with a counter. The condition of everything could be characterized as “a bit sad” and certainly outdated.

How could a young tennis pro be attracted to this? Jacobs wondered—especially at a cost of a million. And the Savannah area didn’t have any professional tennis facilities near it. Why did this guy even make the trip out to look at the place? But then he paid attention to how Nelson reacted to everything he saw while he slowly walked through the small house and then out onto the deck, staring out to the ocean.

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” he asked, coming up to stand next to Chaz on the deck.

“Yes, a few years ago,” Chaz answered. This was where he’d lost his virginity to men. And that hadn’t been all bad—it had, in fact, released him from frustrations he would have had even if Marty Fowler hadn’t been his demanding coach. Demanding more than just discipline in the playing of tennis. It hadn’t all been bad here. Not bad at all, really.

He didn’t provide a further explanation, but Jacobs didn’t really need one. He could fill in the blanks on his own. As they stood there, Chaz put an arm around Vince, and the Realtor leaned into him. The two of them had increasingly warmed to each other during the drive out to the ocean. Jacobs knew the Foley House Inn on West Bull Street, near Orleans Square, catered to gays. He’d used this understanding—even where he’d chosen for them to meet, at the Rail Bar, which was gay friendly—to signal his interest. Nelson was a blond god, in great shape, as he’d have to be to succeed in tennis on the pro circuit. Smaller, darker, lithe, Jacobs thought the two of them would be a perfect fit. Nelson’s responses to his signaling had indicated he thought that as well.

“Yes, I’ll take it,” Chaz said.

“For?”

“I’ll pay cash.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“I’ll have to get with Mr. Hopkins. He’ll make up the paperwork. He said he’ll want a cashier’s check if you chose cash. I could get him to—”

“No, that will be fine, if you’ll let me know how to do that.” Chaz was a tennis player, not an accountant. He had no idea what the various options and pitfalls of payment mechanisms were.

“Well, what do you want to do from here?” Vince asked.

“You mean today? Tonight? Well, this place has been stripped. No beds.”

Vince laughed, somewhat nervously. This was the first strong signal Nelson was giving back to him. He went with it.

“We could do dinner here at a seafood house to celebrate. Then we could go back to Savannah and take in the show at Club One. You know about Club One?”

“A gay nightclub? Drag Shows? Yes, I’ve heard of that. I was hoping to check it out. Then maybe back to where I’m staying, the Foley House Inn?”

“Yes, of course, if you’d like.”

“I’d like.”

* * * *

They drove down the island in Vince’s rented Porsche to Tybrissa Street and Bernie’s Oyster House restaurant.

“You’ve been here before?” Vince asked.

“Yes, several times,” Chaz answered, looking around, dredging up the memories.

“Has it changed?”

Chaz laughed. “It hasn’t been that long ago.”

“Can you talk about it?”

After they’d ordered, Chaz did talk about it—about how he had worshipped Marty Fowler, who was teaching him to be an excellent tennis player and who had taken him under his wing after an uncle and aunt were more than willing to get him off their hands. He was just beginning to be a burden for them in his moodiness and lack of response to their trying to fit him into the heterosexual world. His parents had died years earlier in an auto accident.

“Is it true, though, what has been charged about his relationships with his male tennis students?” Vince asked.

“Yes, it’s true,” Chaz answered. He said he was already leaning gay when Marty took him under his wing and to a Orlanda, Florida, tennis academy Marty was affiliated with. The coach owned this house on Tybee Island, where he liked to go to “get away.” For a couple of years, he brought Chaz with him.

“I doubt I have to spell it out for you,” he said to Vince as their meal arrived. And then he added, “I won’t say the memories of that were bad. It opened a whole new world for me.”

“No, I guess the memories weren’t bad if you’re buying the house.”

“Thanks for understanding. Here’s our food. Looks delicious, as always. Shall we tuck in?”

They did concentrate on the meal and kept their conversation focused on the food while they ate.

After they’d finished, Vince said. “I wonder . . .” but was finding it hard to continue.

“You’re wondering where we go from here?” Chaz asked.

“Yes, sort of. I wonder if we can drop the Realtor and client relationship for the evening and maybe do some clubbing in Savannah. I’d mentioned Club One and you seemed interested.”

“You mean go on a date?”

“Yes, I guess that’s what I mean.”

“Sounds good to me—on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“That maybe we drop the Realtor and client relationship for longer—have it extend over the night.”

Vince smiled.

They caught the early show at the drag queen Club One near the river and then went on to the Club 51 Degrees gay nightclub for dancing and drinking.

They wound up, a bit tipsy, electrified, and holding each other up in Chaz’s Foley House Inn room on West Hull Street. No one had given them a second look or challenged Chaz taking a man to his room as they mounted the stairs.

The room was one of the smaller ones at the inn, one meant for single occupancy. The bed was a double four poster, with strong corner posts. From the marks on the corner posts, they’d obviously been used for restraints before.

Acknowledging his position as the submissive, Vince went down on his knees in front of Chaz as soon as they entered the room, unzipped and freed him, and opened his mouth to the tennis players half erection. The two of them peeled down their clothes while Vince serviced Chaz’s shaft, bringing him to full erection.

When the were both naked, their clothes intertwined on the floor around them, Chaz lifted Vince and half walked, half carried him over to the bed, laying the smaller man’s butt on the edge of the mattress at the foot of the bed. Vince lifted and spread his legs, pressing his feet to the corner posts on either side.

“Please. Our belts. My ankles. I like it bound.”

Chaz laughed. He went back and retrieved their belts from their trousers. Coming back he lashed Vince’s ankles to the corner posts on either side, leaving the smaller man’s legs raised, spread, and captive. Then he went down on his knees at the foot of the bed and, initially, took Vince’s shaft in his mouth until that was hard and then moved to eating Vince’s hole out and spreading it open, while Vince moaned, arched his back, and reached down to cup Chaz’s head between his hands to hold him in place.

Satisfied that Vince was open enough, Chaz rose, crouched over Vince’s prone body, put his erection in position with one hand while gliding the other one up Vince’s undulating torso, stopping briefly at Vince’s nubs while Chaz rubbed his cock head over Vince’s hole. The hand moved up to clutching Vince’s throat, holding his head to the mattress, while working his cock inside the spreading hole. Vince moaned and egged Chaz on as the tennis player fucked him and fucked him and fucked him.

Later in the night, Chaz moved a moaning and completely pliable Vince up onto the bed after untying the belts trapping the Realtor’s ankles. Higher on the bed, he retied Vince’s wrists to the intertwined corner posts at the head of the bed, put Vince’s ankles on his shoulders, and gave him another good fucking.

The coupling was sensual—slow, both men fully involved in the rolling and rocking of their hips, both of them whispering, “Yes, yes. Just like that.” Each of them totally into reaching for and achieving mutual pleasure in each other’s bodies.

Even later Chaz freed Vince, turned him over on his side, moved his right leg over Vince’s legs, found purchase of cock in hole, and fucked them both into exhaustion and sleep.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, Vince rose, showered, dressed, and left. His note said he’d let Chaz know when closing on the house was and that they’d try to keep the transaction as simple as possible. “No need for a bunch of lawyers and a ceremony at the lawyer’s office,” the note said.

The note didn’t say how much Vince had enjoyed the sex, although he certainly seemed to be in full approval while it was happening. Chaz had felt this good, this sexy and satiated, in sex before. He wanted to hook up with Vince again—and he maybe wanted more than just a one-night stand.

There would be opportunity at closing on the house, Chaz assumed.

* * * *

Chaz Nelson was in Qatar unexpectedly in the third round of a tournament there when notice came through on closing on the Tybee Island house. It came in a voice mail. Chaz turned his phone off for the day of any pro match until it was over. The call was sent by Vince Jacobs, suggesting April 2nd, at the Tybee house for taking care of all of the closing documents.

“Say 3:00 p.m. in the afternoon, if you can make it. We could ditch the lawyers and go into Savannah for a repeat of the last time, if you’re interested.”

Chaz didn’t answer that evening until late, which was still morning in Georgia. He had some celebrating to do for having survived the third round at the Qatar Open. He did send a brief message agreeing to the time and place. He would have texted more but he had a hot date in his hotel room—in his hotel room bathroom, taking a presex shower—and there wasn’t time to text more.

The next morning another voice message was waiting for him when he woke up, messed around a bit more with the guy in his bed, and had seen the guy off, showered, dressed, and checked his phone.

“Hello, Mr. Nelson. This is Hank Hopkins of Peach State Homes. We need to change the closing on the Tybee Island house, if you can manage. How about April 1st at 3:00 p.m. at the Peachtree Plaza Hotel in Atlanta? You can ask for the room number under my name at the reception desk. We’ll do all of the document signing then. Please remember to bring a cashier’s check for the one million.”

Chaz remembered that Hopkins was the decisionmaker at the Realty company handling the Tybee house. He checked his schedule. He could be in Atlanta that day. He still wanted the house, so he’d do what was needed to be able to get to closing on time. He called Hopkins back, getting him on the phone, and they pinned down a closing date, time, and place. April 1st at 3:00 p.m. in a Peachtree Plaza Hotel room in Atlanta, Georgia.

Without thinking further about the transaction because suddenly his tennis results were improving—he was getting deeper into each tournament he entered—Chaz got the cashier’s check and flew into Atlanta on the morning of April 1st. He had a ticket to fly back out from there that night to get set up for the Barcelona Open tournament that he had a court date for in Spain on April 7th.

He made the closing meeting in Hank Hopkins’s room at the Peachtree Plaza Hotel—if, indeed that was the man’s name. No one else was in the room. Hopkins had some fancy documents presigned by everyone supposedly involved except for Chaz. He got Chaz’s signature on the documents and took the cashier’s check from the tennis player, Who simultaneously was hitting a snag on his room reservations in Barcelona and was on the phone on and off during the meeting to Spain. Chaz didn’t pay much attention to the house transaction, just doing everything Hopkins told him he had to do to get the deal closed.

He was in the airport before he realized that he hadn’t gotten the keys to the Tybee house. He tried calling Hopkins’s phone number—and Vince Jacobs’s too—and both were out of service. He went on to Barcelona, once more made it through the third round, and didn’t have time to try to touch base with Peach State Homes again until he lost in the fourth round. He was happy, though. The payoff for making the third round was quite good.

Crickets. He could find no trace of either Hopkins or Jacobs—or, for that matter, Peach State Homes—anywhere.

Chaz skipped the next tournament he could have gone to and flew into Atlanta, the supposed registered location of Peach State Homes, and contacted the police department there. A detective reviewed the documents Chaz had, declared them worthless junk paper, and informed Chaz that a cashier’s check’s history after it left the tennis player’s hand was virtually untraceable.

The man said, “Shit,” as he looked through the paperwork.

“What? What do you see?” Chaz asked, a note of hope in his voice.

“Everything is dated and signed on April 1st,” the detective said. “Son, you’ve not only been scammed out of a million dollars but these guys have rubbed your nose in it—making it an elaborate—and very expensive for you—April Fools Day joke. Sorry, son, the house isn’t yours and you’re out your money. I seriously doubt these scammers had permission to sell the house at all. And you don’t go to closing on a house in a hotel room with just the Realtor present; you do it in a lawyer’s office with both parties represented. Don’t you know that?”

“I know that now for all the good it does me,” Chaz said.

Shit was right.

* * * *

Chaz had such a whirlwind experience in tennis success spiraling up during the spring and early summer that he had little time to think of the million dollars he’d lost and the house he wanted but didn’t get. He did, on occasion, think of how good the sex with the Realtor, Vince Jacobs, had been and to mourn the loss of him in the scam. That was the biggest surprise to Chaz—that Vince had been part of the scam and had just been playing an April Fools Day joke on him—an extremely costly one.

He had been taken on by a tennis academy near Miami, which provided him with coaching, physical conditioning, and a manager. He also was provided a studio apartment on the academy grounds. His corporate sponsorships covered the cost of this. He was a handsome devil, with a great smile, and thus was coveted for corporate advertisement.

His wins at the lower levels rose and his prize money did as well. He peaked by reaching the semifinals at the Washington, D.C., tournament in late July and early August, taking home $98,000 in prize money. Soon thereafter he cracked the top 30 in the men’s rankings and was accepted into the U.S. Open tournament in New York. Here, in his first major tournament appearance, he made it through the second round before meeting a top-ten opponent and going down to him, although the TV commentators praised Chaz’s skill and potential. He earned $130,000 at this tournament. If he continued to rise in the rankings like this, he’d be able to completely forget about the Tybee Island April Fools Day scam.

But he didn’t think he could forget Vince Jacobs and how well they had hit it off.

Vince called him an hour after Chaz’s loss at the U.S. Open, while the tennis player was dressing to go back to his hotel, his ears still buzzing from listening to the recording of the match he’d just played and to the praise of the tennis stars of yesteryear commentators of his play even in loss. So occupied was he with this that he didn’t look at who was calling him; he just connected on the phone.

“Hi, Chaz. It’s Vince Jacobs. Remember me from Tybee Island?—and please don’t hang up, I need to talk to you.”

“Vince?” Chaz asked. “Yes, I remember you. You walked off with a million of my hard-earned dollars.” Chaz paused. Yes, Vince still was continually in his thoughts. This isn’t how he wanted to be talking to him. The money—the scam—hadn’t mattered as far as Vince was concerned. “Look, sorry, Vince. Yes, I remember you. What is there to say, though?”

“I had no idea it was a scam, Chaz. Hopkins hired me with me thinking he had a real Realty company and a legitimate contract to sell that house. I’m sorry you didn’t get the house, but I’m down here in Mexico getting what I can of your money back. We had closing set for April 2nd. We’d meet at the Peachtree Plaza Hotel, but Hopkins said we’d go to the lawyers office from there. I thought it was all legitimate. Then he swept in and changed closing to the 1st and he met with you and took your money without giving you anything in return—and without telling me what he was doing. He cut me completely out of the deal too. I’ve spent all this time tracking him down to Cancun.”

“Your phone got turned off, just like Hopkin’s did,” Chaz said. “You were part of it all.”

“No, I wasn’t. That was a phone that Hopkins had provided. As soon as it went dead, I began to connect the dots. I’ve been tracking him down ever since. I couldn’t get all of your money back, but I have $700,000 I can give you. Sorry, I can’t get you the house you wanted, though.”

“Seven hundred grand. How did you get it?”

“I hired some goons down here when I found him. They beat it out of him. He’s been punished at least for what he did to you and how he used me. We’ve got to meet. I’ve got money to give back to you.”

“You could just wire me the money . . . if that’s the only reason we have for meeting.”

Vince could hear the clutch in the tennis player’s voice.

“Is that the only reason you would have for meeting?” he asked. “No, it isn’t mine. I regret what we didn’t—”

“So do I,” Chaz said. “I’m sorry I said that. I regret what was cut off in our getting hooked up more.”

“So, you’d be willing to meet me again?”

“Yes. Do you still have a key to the Tybee Island house?”

“Yes, but—”

“We could meet there.”

“Hopkins didn’t have the contract on selling that house, Chaz. That house is out of the mix now.”

“No, it’s not,” Chaz said. “Marty Fowler, my former tennis coach, owned the house. He died in April. He left the house to me. It’s my house now. And I didn’t really regret having paid for it when I inherited it for free. I wanted the house, but I was done with Marty. I really didn’t need knowing I had it because he gave it to me. Having paid money for it made me feel better about having it.”

“So, that April Fools Day joke is really on Hopkins and me then,” Vince said.

“Well, on Hopkins, at least. Do you want to meet at the Tybee Island house? It is furnished now. There are a couple of very nice, new beds we could initiate.”

“Any day, any time I can get there,” Vince answered.

My relationship with my dad was always good, we were close and he was someone you can go to when you needed someone or something. He did not fail to remind us that he is still the father and we are the sons. I have other 2 brothers and they’ll probably say that he’s always there for you. My parents have been divorced for almost over 3 years now and our mom only took our sister and left all three of us boys with our dad. I’m 19 and youngest of the bunch, freshly out of school taking a gap year before going back to start with Uni. My dad is 6”2, good built, hunky and beefy. He’s pretty chill and likes his rugby.

Dad came in the room and announced that he will be moving to one of the other islands for 4 months.

“You should go with him” my older brother demanded.

“No” I replied dreading the thought of being stuck with dad for 3 months without a social life.

“You’re having a gap year anyways dude, make yourself useful” my brother scolded me

Growing up in the Pacific, family always comes first. It doesn’t matter how old you are and what you have accomplished in life, family will always come first.

I figured this would be a good experience anyways, a different island and heck some cute girls or dudes to fuck.

Dad and I moved and settled in to our home for the next 3 months. A two-bedroom apartment, nice little living room area and a kitchen with lots of windows.

After a few days, I realize how chill and open my dad was, he would walk out to the kitchen in his underwear. I guess it was mostly because we were just two guys now but he wasn’t fully this free when we were all back home.

One morning I woke up before him, put the kettle on and came to see what he would want for breakfast. I walked in his room, I was a gaped with the sight of his morning wood. He was wearing only his boxers and a tee.

I stood by the door, he was lying asleep lost in another world. I stood and watched not realizing that I am slowly getting aroused. I try not to move much or make any noise focusing my gaze at his crotch.

I can see the outline of his thick dick. I’ve seen his dick before but not like this. It was throbbing and needed to be released from his boxers. I stood observing some more before I called him.

He woke up, put his hands in his boxers and adjusted his meat before he pulled the blanket over to cover himself.  I could see his hairy balls tangling when he did. The sight turned me on I was throbbing standing at the door.

I was a dumb twenty-two year old kid. A skinny, short haired white kid with glasses that blended in with a lot of crowds, skaters, gamers, emos. Occasionally I’d cruise on Craigslist and check out older guys, I hadn’t done anything yet, but I was in a different city today. 

No one knew me, so that, coupled with a little alcohol and I found myself driving to some sixty year old stranger’s house, someone old enough to be my grandparent, after talking to an older guy on Craigslist.

I pull up and he’s waiting on his porch. This guy met the general feel I had almost expected. Older, bearish porn addict with a thing for younger guys that look slightly feminine. As we get into the house he tells me to stop and strip, the kink was already discussed and I was down. 

I take off my t-shirt, my jeans, underwear, socks and shoes. I hand them to him and he holds onto them. 

He starts walking away, telling me he’ll be back. About ten minutes go by as I’m standing fully exposed in direct line of the front door. Like I said, we discussed kinks, one of his was humiliation, well, I’m the example of the kink in this scenario. 

I had never thought of myself as submissive, but as I learned throughout that day, well, turns out I have a submissive streak, a cross dressing fetish and a daddy kink. 

Another ten minutes go by and “Daddy”, as he’s telling me to call him now, comes back. He has a collar with a leash attached, a wig and Spencer’s/Sex Shop style school girl costume, and a vibrating dildo. As Daddy is going to sit on the couch he bends down and suctions the dildo to the floor, covering it in lube.

He sits on the couch.

He then starts watching me putting on the fishnets, then the socks, the skirt and the top. I attach the collar and put the wig on. He waves me over, calling me a “good whore” who “knows their place”. I hadn’t bottomed, but I had played with toys and plugs to this point, so Daddy puts me on my knees and watches my face twist as the dildo goes up my ass. 

As I start to rhythmically ride the dildo, Daddy turns the vibration on and pulls on the collar and sends my face into his crotch, cock already out, hard and erect. I start kissing and licking the tip, slowly starting to swallow it to my tonsils, then in my throat, all the while saying how he’s glad I “know how to act like a proper bitch” and that I act more “like a good wife” than his did before she left him. 

I’ve cum, limp, at least three times by now, he’d come four, once on my face, once in my mouth, and two times down my throat. We’d spent two hours. Taking pictures of the earlier two as “trophies”.

After that he let me use his bathroom to clean up. I showered and when I got out, my clothes were clean and folded on the sink. I dried off and thanked him for my first time, and I’m still a fem leaning guy with a a submissive streak for older guys and a fetish for Cross Dressing. 

The second night at the Gay Clothing Optional Resort, the word got around that I would be naked and exposed in a well lighted room with the drapes completely open so that any man walking by my room could tap on my window and order me to Masturbate Blindfolded in front of them and their buddies.

I was awakened only once the second night around 10:30PM.  I could hear the sounds of several men outside my window as I humiliated myself by masturbating blindfolded for their pleasure. For some reason, the men appeared to come and go all night long tonight as I could hear men outside my window for hours.

I must have been a sight to see as I was playing with my cock all night long.  I was even fingering my ASS and could hear cheers as my left hand fingers entered and exited my ASS.  My right hand continued stroking my cock and I ended up several times with my cum in my right hand while still blindfolded; I licked my own cum off my right hand hearing loud cheers from the men outside my window. 

One man was heard saying, “we’re going to force this FAGGOT to Masturbate Blindfolded for us all night long as we sit in these chairs and watch the FAGGOT humiliate himself”.  

Another man was heard saying, “Hey FAGGOT MASTURBATOR, I have a put Honey Bun on a plate and all of us are going to shoot all of our hot creamy cum loads on the Honey Bun. In the afternoon tomorrow, you will be asked to get on your hands and knees and eat the Honey Bun off the ground in front of everyone like a dog, around the pool area to humiliate and degrade yourself.

A third man was heard saying, “from this moment forward, we are going to force you to become our FAGGOT PISS SLAVE in the afternoons so get ready to lie on your back spread eagle on the grass wearing the blindfold. We don’t want you to know who is piss showering you.  You will even piss shower yourself whenever your body needs release. 

So now you fucking Faggot you are going to to be our Faggot Pis Slave during the day and Faggot Masturbator at night. 

I arrived at a gay clothing optional leather and kink resort for a weeks stay in a room by myself. My first night there I met these four guys into PISS PLAY.  I’ve always been curious about Piss Play so we talked about it for awhile and they invited me to a PISS PARTY at a private home.  

Dominant: “Have you ever been pissed on by another man?”

Me:  “No. but I’ve always been curious about it.”

Dominant:  “Would you like to try it tonight?”

Me:  “What’s expected of me?”

Dominant:  “It’s purely consensual. You will start out by stripping naked inside the resort. We will give you a yellow jock strap to wear that has our weeks worth of dried cum and piss on it. You will also wear your own sandals. That’s all. You are to get into our car outside the gate and we will drive you to the private home of the piss party.  Once inside the front door of the home, you will be told to remove your sandals and jock strap so you are completely naked and exposed.  You will put a sign around your neck that reads, “PISS SHOWER THIS FAGGOT” and put on a blindfold.  We will lead you to the Kiddie Piss Pool in the middle of the home living room already half full with yellow piss. You will lie in the pool and soak up some of the the piss already in the pool. You will be piss showered by lots of men throughout the evening and you will be pissing on yourself when you need to pee. Your body will smell like a raunchy used urinal. You will be forbidden to take a soap and water shower for three days. We want to to savor and get used to the smell of men’s urine on your body.  You will only be allowed piss showers and everyone near you will know you are into receiving piss showers”.

Dominant:  “When we are ready to return to the Resort, you will step out of the piss pool, lie on the tile floor naked and spread eagle until your entire body is piss dry.  We will again lead you to the front door where you can remove your blindfold and sign around your neck. You are to put on our yellow jock strap and your sandals and get into our car for your return drive back home. You will begin to savor the raunchy aroma of piss with each breath you take”. 

Dominant:  “When we arrive back at the resort you will remove our yellow jock strap and hand it back to us so we can add more of our piss and cum to it for next time. We will give you a baby bottle and blindfold to take to your room. Once inside your room, you will leave the drapes to your room open all night and all the lights in your room will remain on. You will sleep naked and exposed blindfolded on your bed in a spread eagled position throughout the night.” You are never allowed to use the toilet at night to pee. Instead, you will piss in baby bottle we gave you, and you will use your left hand to hold the baby bottle in your mouth as you suck on the nipple to drink your own piss.  You will pee into the baby bottle every time you need to relieve yourself as you are ordered never to leave your bed because you are our FAGGOT PISS SLAVE.  To add yo your humiliation you will use your right hand to masturbate yourself during the night”.

Dominant:  “You will address any one of us always as “SIR”.  “Starting now, you will be called FAGGOT PISS SLAVE”  “DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT WE EXPECT OF YOU?”

Faggot Piss Slave:  “Yes Sir”

Dominant:  “Remember FAGGOT PISS SLAVE when anyone asks you your name, you are to respond, “FAGGOT PISS SLAVE, SIR”.  “That said, what is your name Boy?”

Faggot Piss Slave:  “Faggot Piss Slave Sir” 

Dominant:  “Are you ready to be our Piss Slave”

Faggot Piss Slave:  “Yes Sir, This Faggot Piss Slave is here to be used as a men’s urinal.” My cock is rock hard just thinking about what I’m going to do tonight.

Dominant:  “Here’s your piss and cum stained yellow jock strap to put on. Be sure to put your sandals on too and meet us inside the car just outside the gate.  

Faggot Piss Slave:  “Yes Sir”

We drove to the home of the Piss Party and once inside the front door, I removed the yellow jock strap and my sandals, put the sign around my neck and blindfolded myself.  From that point on the men who invited me did exactly what they said they would do with me.  The moment I arrived at the Kiddie Piss Pool, men were there eager to piss shower my body.  

After several hours, the Alpha’s who brought me ordered me out of the pool to dry my body for the ride home.  Once dried, I was led to the front door again where I removed the sign around my neck and blindfold. I pup on the raunchy used yellow jock strap and my sandals and got into the car for the return trip to the resort.

The Alpha’s took the yellow jock strap when I was inside the resort. I removed and carried my own sandals as I walked to my room just inside the gate. I was handed a baby bottle and blindfold to use in the room, Once in the room, I followed the instructions given to me earlier. I lied on the bed spread eagle with the baby bottle held inside my mouth.  The drapes to my room were wide open and lights to the room stayed on so any man walking by my room could see my predicament.  I was ordered to masturbate blindfolded with my right hand to further humiliate and degrade myself in front of any men who walked by my room.

During the night several food delivery men made their way into the resort to deliver food to some of the rooms. I’m sure most of the delivery guys were straight but straight or gay chances are they stopped to observe my predicament. 

Have you ever wanted somebody so much that it consumes your every waking moment? Every thought you have involves them. Every dream, every fantasy, every minute of every day. All of it is filled with him, and there’s not a single thing you can do about it?

I spent my days wondering how I could get closer to him. Wondering if there was some way that I could convince him to feel for me, the same way as I felt for him. It was infuriating, because as much as I was obsessed with him, he hardly knew I existed.

You might think I’m talking about some hot college jock, or some beefy gym bro, but the person whom I was so madly fascinated with, was my best friend’s father.

Tom was everything I could ever want in a man. He was handsome, rugged, and as masculine as one would expect a man like him to be. He had stubble around his sharp jawline, which was beginning to turn grey in places. His jet black hair was also showing signs of his forty years, but all of that only made me want him more.

Adam had no idea, of course. In fact, Adam was still convinced that I was straight, and that’s exactly how I wanted it to stay. I would never do anything to risk not being able to see Tom again, but up until that point, just seeing him was all I could do.

We played soccer every Saturday morning, and Adam lived closer to the soccer fields so I stayed over in his almost every Friday night. It had become something of a routine, and I enjoyed it for many reasons.

Tom and his wife didn’t like each other, and anybody with a set of eyes could see that from a mile away. Adam told me about it a few times, but he didn’t like to discuss it too often. They almost always slept in separate bedrooms, and from what I could tell, she treated him like shit, anyway.

I’d just turned eighteen, and Adam was a couple months older than me, so we still had to use fake ID’s to get beer. His dad knew what we were doing, but he never said anything to us as long as we stayed up in Adam’s room.

Neither of us were particularly seasoned drinkers, so it didn’t take long before the two of us passed out on Adam’s bed. Usually, that was how our Friday night would end, but something woke me that night, and I’ll forever be thankful that it did.

It was late, and the house was silent. My mouth was dry from the beers, and my head was already pounding, so I got up from the bed as quietly as I could and headed for the kitchen to get a glass of water.

It felt strange to walk around Adam’s house alone at night. It felt like I was intruding, but I was too parched to care. I tip toed downstairs, walked through the hallway, and stopped dead outside the living room door.

The door itself had two glass panels in it, so I didn’t even need to open it to see what was going on. Tom sat on the armchair with a beer bottle on the table next to him. His pants were around his ankles, and in his hand, a large, greasy cock with a glistening purple helmet.

I gawped at it. My own five inch cock became stiff immediately, and my mouth watered as Tom pumped his rod and stared at the television.

I didn’t want to take my eyes off the wonderful sight, but I stole a glance at the screen and my eyes widened even further. I had expected some old school, retro porn from the eighties. Something soft, and boring, but what I saw, shocked even me.

A young woman was crawling on her hands and knees. She was naked of course, but that wasn’t the most alarming part. She had a hook over her head which held her nostrils back so she looked like a pig. Her face was covered in sperm, and the man next to her, who was also naked and sporting a huge boner, slapped her repeatedly across the face. He crouched down, spat in her face, and began to thunder-fuck the shit out of her throat.

Tom watched eagerly as the graphic, BDSM style scene unfolded. More men entered the frame, and cocks of all shapes and sizes were rammed into the woman as she whimpered and drooled. I’d never seen anything as kinky in my life, but I was violently aroused.

I wasn’t even remotely interested in women, but knowing how depraved Tom was made me leak into my underpants. I swallowed a lump in my throat and tried to consider how best to go about this. I hurried to the kitchen, quietly got some water, and, with my heart racing, returned to the door.

Either Tom was going to explode in a fit of rage, or this was about to be the best night of my life. Either way, I couldn’t not try to seduce the man of my dreams.

“Hey Tom” I said, knocking quickly and pushing open the door.

I’d never been the most confident person, and this was certainly unlike anything I’d ever done before, but the alcohol from earlier had given me some courage, and I wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass me.

Tom scrambled with his pants, and knocked his beer onto the floor in the process. He dragged his underwear up, punched the remote control until the television went blank, and then glared at me with fire in his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Noah!” He snapped, still trying to get his pants up, “I thought you were both in bed!”

“I… I was” I gulped, “I’m real sorry, Tom. I… I was just coming down for some water and I um… I just wanted to say goodnight”.

“Goodnight?” He spat, looking furious, and I was beginning to think that I’d made a terrible mistake.

Tom calmed down after a moment and rubbed his head. Even that was hot. He walked by me and into the kitchen, and returned a moment later with paper towels.

“I can clean that” I told him, as he began to mop up the beer, but he ignored me and continued.

“Goodnight, Noah” he said, sharply, and dumped the wet towels into my hand. “Take those to the bin on your way to bed”.

The man turned and walked back across the room, and without thinking about the next thing that would come from my mouth, I spoke, and Tom gawped at me.

“I saw what you were watching” I told him, my voice shaking, “I like that, too”.

His eyes were wide with confusion, and then slowly, they narrowed. His jaw tensed, his nostrils flared, and I was almost certain that he was going to get mad again.

“Go to bed, Noah” he said sternly, “and forget about what you saw tonight”.

I remained in place. I don’t know why I didn’t just listen to the man. It was his house after all, but something told me to keep pressing.

“What if I don’t?” I asked, placing the wet towels back on the table. “What if I can’t?”

Tom looked up at the ceiling and shook his head before wiping his hand over his mouth. I imagined the stench of his own wet cock on his palm, and wished that it was my mouth that he was covering.

“Are you drunk, Noah?” He asked, eyeing me seriously, “is that what this is?”.

I had to chose my words carefully. I needed this man to understand that I wanted to be the woman in the video for him. I wanted him to use and abuse me the way they’d done it to her. I needed it.

“No” I said quietly, “I’m not drunk, Tom”.

He watched me closely as I walked towards him. I’d know in just a moment if Tom was picking up what I was putting down. I expected a slap in the face, or to be escorted roughly out the front door, but when I stood inches away from him, looking up as he looked down, I knew that I’d been right.

“I want to be like the girl in the video”.

His perfect face remained stone like as he stared at me. He had a good poker face, I’ll give him that. I looked into his dark eyes, and waited for him to respond, and when he didn’t, I reached for the buttons on his shirt.

“Don’t” he said, and his voice was low and powerful. I stopped mid way, and lowered my head.

“I have a wife, Noah” he said, “whatever it is you’re feeling, is perfectly normal, but I’m not the one you want to do this with”.

“You are” I told him, feeling stupid and embarrassed.

I turned on my heel and hurried toward the door, and was stopped in my tracks by his strong hand on my shoulder. He spun me back around and took me by the chin.

“You wouldn’t be able for me, boy“.

My breath froze in my throat. Was he playing with me? Was he trying to humiliate me even further? His strong thumb pulled my chin down until my mouth opened, and I finally let out the breath.

Tom’s lip curled to a wry smile. He moved his thumb further up, pulling on my lower lip and rubbing his fingertip back and forth as my cock sprung to life in my pants.

“Does Adam know about you?” He whispered, exposing my bottom teeth as I shook my head. “Does anybody?” I shook my head again and Tom dragged me closer to him.

I could smell the beer from his breath, but I could also smell the intoxicating scent of him. Sweat, musk, a hint of cologne. It was a delicious cocktail of fragrances that I wanted to inhale deeply.

“You’re very cute, Noah” he told me, sliding his finger across my cheek, “but you’re young enough to be my son”.

He let me go and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, but no”.

“I’ll let you do whatever you want to me” I blurted, desperation now taking over as my cock ached and my hole clenched. “Anything, Tom, anything you say, I’ll do”.

He massaged his temples, and shook his head again.

“You’re the same age as Adam” he said, more to himself than me, “it’s not right”.

“Who cares?! I won’t tell anybody. It’ll be our little secret”.

“Don’t say that” he warned, “this can’t happen. You need to go to bed, now“.

I was running out of options. It was clear that Tom wanted this, but I still had to push him over the line. I took a deep breath as he sat back down and looked at me, and then I did something I never thought I’d do.

I peeled my t-shirt over my head and dropped it onto the floor next to me. I was lean, slender and completely smooth, and Tom’s eyes trailed me from head to toe.

“You’re teasing me now, Noah” he said, breathing deeply, “that’s not a good idea”.

“Oh yeah?” I whispered, hooking my fingers into the waistband of my pants, “what are you gonna’ do about it, daddy?”

He shook his head again as I slowly slid my pants down my legs. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, his eyes darted to my skin tight briefs, and he held his chin.

“Are you gonna spank me, daddy?” I asked, my voice seductive as I shuffled around to reveal my plump bubble butt, “are you going to punish me, daddy?”

“Stop it, Noah”

“Are you going to treat me like a naughty little whore, daddy?“

The man was on his feet in seconds. For a guy of his size, he moved with surprising speed, and before I had a chance to blink, I was pinned against the wall with my pants around my ankles.

Tom’s stubbled cheek rubbed hard against mine as he inhaled my scent into his lungs. He held me in place by my throat, but he wasn’t choking me, not yet, anyway.

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to play with fire?” He growled, holding me tight, “don’t you know what happens when you play with fire, boy?”

I held his wrist, but couldn’t even get my fingers around it. I was breathless, and hard.

“You get burned” he slithered.

His teeth clasped around my earlobe, but he didn’t bite hard. Just enough to make me wince and suck air through my teeth.

“What if I want to get burned, daddy?” I whimpered, feeling his bulge against my stomach.

Before Tom could answer me, the floorboards above creaked, and Adam opened his bedroom door. Tom stepped back quickly, grabbed my t-shirt and threw it at me, and I just managed to dress before my best friend appeared.

“What’s going on?” He asked, rubbing his eyes and yawning, “I thought I heard something”.

“Nothing, son” Tom smiled, wiping his forehead, “your friend here was just getting a drink of water, isn’t the right, Noah?”

I stared into the man’s serious eyes. He raised a brow, quietly demanding that I play along, and I smiled at him.

“Yeah” I said, “just getting some water”.

Adam nodded and yawned again before leaving the room. “Are you coming?” He asked me, and I followed him, but not before looking back at Tom.

“Next time” he mouthed, and my cock stiffened again.

Lecherous Smiles

The next day I entered the kitchen, where I knew Alec would be having breakfast, totally nude and hard, with a hand on my dick and clearly masturbating before him.

-Good morning, Alec. I wanna keep on masturbating now, would you mind?

-Sit down and have your breakfast, Jonah. And as being naked and jacking off before me, well… I think yesterday I became what you wanted me to become: your closest buddy, but if I’m not your best friend yet, I’ll show you now allowing you to be naked before me as often as you want, or even masturbate before me whenever you feel like.

-Thanks, Alec, but I wanna tell you that I did wank over your dick and over you last night, can I tell you?

-The way you’re looking at me now with that lecherous smile is arousing me so don’t be shy, Jonah and just be yourself.

-You’re hard now, Alec. Could I see your exciting dick one more time as I tell you that I did wank over your dick?

-Ok, I’ll whip it out.

He was totally hard now and I told him to masturbate again, please. I wanted to see that sexy dick my father has having fun again. And he started.

-It was a rush of adrenaline to do something a son should maybe never do: masturbate thinking of his father’s dick but oh how it turned me on to remember the shape of that wonderful cock I’m happy to watch again and how exciting to picture it masturbating and cumming. But since a dick had unexpectedly turned me on so much, I had to imagine it was my hand that started masturbating you and you moaned really happy and thanking me.

-How brave you are, Jonah, and how I love you.

-Now I came but I fancied a second masturbation remembering everything in your perfect body.

-I love the lecherous way you have of looking at my dick now and I’m also looking at yours with lust. Hope you’re comfortable.

-Really comfortable. Well, I still haven’t finished. When I was beating off remembering your perfect body, I imagined my hands touching your entire skin and I had to imagine it, and you don’t know how fiercely I masturbated now.

-Imagine what?

-I gave you a blowjob and you don’t know how much fun I had in that moment. It’s a picture I wanna have in all my night masturbations now. The taste of your cock was really scrumptious and it was moving that you were allowing your son to suck your cock.

-You’re gutsy, Jonah. I will also fess up that inevitably I had to wank over you too. But I’m sorry I never did anything with your dick, just beat off remembering your naked body, your masturbations, your ejaculations, how naturally we talked about sex yesterday and how I desired becoming the best buddy of that sexy son I have. I’m cumming, Jonah.

And I was fortunate to watch a new load spurting from my father’s dick, the image I needed to cum next.

-Perfect, Jonah. Now I’ll get dressed and go to my job. I hope this afternoon, we watch porn again naked together.

-I’d love to, Jonah.

I stood up then and kissed Alec’s mouth.

-Forgive me, dad; I felt like kissing you.

-Don’t excuse yourself. I’ve loved it.

-Perfect, Alec.

Then I went to my room, got dressed and left for my job. And in the middle of my work today, I had to find a toilet and wank over Alec Belrose one more time.

I returned at three and he was already there.

I went straight to that hot man’s mouth and kissed him and he just told me.

-Perfect, Jonah, whenever you want; I’m your closest buddy.

As we were having lunch, I asked my father please to also watch porn naked today. He agreed with me and seemed as horny as I was for he finished his lunch soon. After I had also finished, I told him to strip here before we went to his bedroom.

After having seen each other naked yesterday, we were not shy today to strip before the other and he was as hard as I was and I added.

-That’s how I always want to see my closest buddy, proud to always be that erect before me.

-Just as erect as you are, Jonah. Ok, I’ll do it too.

And it was him then that approached his lips to mine and kissed me fondly.

-Now we can head again to my room, Jonah; today it will be you who chooses the movie you prefer.

After a while searching, I chose a twenty-minute movie in which you could see two girls having sex with each other and we both started wanking madly again before the other. Soon both girls were inserting dildos in their cunts. I started thinking whether real lesbians fucked themselves with dildos, for they liked girls, so they didn’t like cocks and therefore: would they really like playing with phallic things or was it just scenes made for heterosexual men to masturbate with? I started then to be curious about lesbian sex but meanwhile was jacking off like crazy, same thing Alec was doing beside me and we were lustfully commenting on the girls we were watching.

That first movie ended and now I chose a movie where you could also see actors and my mind and of course my cock began to be divided for I looked horny both at cunts and at dicks. That’s when I started thinking I was bisexual, often focusing on the hot image of my father’s dick so close to me. I could not control myself and kissed Alec’s mouth again and he responded sweetly and lecherous. But the fire I was feeling in my lips increased when I felt a sudden need in my hands to touch that hot man, my father, erotically, so I started touching everything of him but he answered.

-Your lecherous smiles again as you kiss and touch me are driving me crazy, Jonah, my wonderful son, and yes, my sexy son -he added as he also started to compulsively touch me. And in that moment I knew what my real desires were. It was not only something I would need hereinafter in each of my nightly masturbations. It was a pressing need to touch that dick and masturbate my sexy father.

-Now you can send me to hell if that’s your wish, but if you don’t, I’ll go on jacking you off.

-I promised you, Jonah, that I’m your best friend now and if you also want to play with daddy’s dick, you can do as you please.

And after saying those words, he also grabbed my dick and also masturbated me.

-Tonight in my room I won’t jerk myself off imagining I’m whacking off my wonderful son, but with the memory that I have already done it.

Our first masturbation! I still think about that day totally horny for the moment I had realized I was bisexual and started desiring playing sexually with my father, he was such a wonderful man that he understood me and respected me, allowing to go as far as I wanted with him and returning me the same incestuous lust. That first masturbation couldn’t be long. The fire in our dicks was equal to the fire in our hands grabbing a family dick and of course we both came too soon.

He let me choose a new movie but I don’t remember which. It was again heterosexual porn, but my eyes could only focus on Alec’s dick and soon we were touching, kissing and masturbating each other again. This second time we resisted for twenty minutes but constantly spoke to tell the other how we both loved playing sexually with each other. After our second cum, my father was about to put his clothes back on and looked at me as if sorry that I had to get dressed, but I told him.

-I’d rather be totally nude all day, dad. I feel like sitting on the couch and watching some more of your vintage magazines.

Alec agreed with me and didn’t get dressed either. He went to his room and handed me three of the vintage magazines as he said he would make coffee. Soon later he asked me to go to the kitchen and have coffee with him. He often told me.

-Nothing to worry about or to feel guilty about, Jonah. If you like it with your father, I also allow you. I’m also feeling an inextinguishable fire because of you and correct or not, you wanna go on, so I’ll also go on. I’ve become your closest buddy and all I want is your happiness.

I stood up and went to the living room, sat on the couch and started wanking looking again at a new girl in one magazine. She was hot but I was missing the hotter image of Alec’s dick. But fortunately soon came my naked father totally hard, holding also an erotic magazine in his hand, he sat next to me and kissed me intensely.

-These girls are sexy, but your body is sexier, Alec. -I told him somewhat shy.

-Hush, Jonah. What you need right now is incest and I’m your best buddy and you’ll always have whatever you want from me -and with no more words, he started a new masturbation to his son.

Of course I did the same, all the time touching the incredibly sexy body of Alec Belrose, in constant kisses, both of us where we wanted to be, on each other’s dicks, for I could perceive he was not only helping me but felt the same incestuous desire.

We came and came that horny afternoon and I don’t remember how many times we masturbated each other. All I remember is that dinner time came and again we ate naked and masturbating each other and once again he told me.

-Don’t worry, Jonah, this incestuous intimacy, this lust, this sweetness, we will have every day.

My last cum that day and after kissing my father with real passion, I headed to my room. My balls were not so tired that I couldn’t have at least two more masturbations, of course thinking only of my father now.

Professor Andrew Roberts meets Ben’s parents.

“That’s the car I’d have”.

“Ben you can’t drive”. I replied.

It had been like this ever since Ben and I had left Manchester. That car is so cool. Look at that Lorry, we must go there sometime, where are we now? Ben was excited that we were going to see his parents. He had been trying to persuade me to accompany him for over a week. I had been reluctant to go at first, it had even caused a falling out, which led to Ben getting out of and walking away from the taxi we were sharing, which then led onto Ben getting mugged on his way home. I realized then, that he was more important to me than I thought. I’ve realized he is more than a friend. So here we are driving up the M6 towards the town of Penwortham near Preston in central Lancashire, about an hour’s drive from Manchester.

“I know, but I think old Landrovers are so retro, you could teach me to drive Prof”.

“Erm I don’t think so, I wouldn’t have the patience. Don’t get me wrong, I think learning to drive is a good idea, but me teaching you, no, no way, over the years a driver picks up too many bad habits to be a good teacher, and as you know I’ve very little patience”.

“All the same I think that at least you could sit in with me while I practice, couldn’t you Prof, hmm”. The last bit was said with Ben sidling up to me and putting his hand on my thigh.

“Ben, I’m trying to drive, stop distracting me, even if you are a very nice distraction, not whilst I’m driving”.

 I couldn’t help but smile as I said it. After our kiss in the middle of Manchester yesterday, Ben had been more hands on. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, I like it now Ben is very much hands on, but It had taken an awful lot of persuasion and willpower not to have sex last night, I might have wanted to, but we were up early this morning to drive up to Penwortham, so we could beat the traffic. So sex was out of the question. Ben, though, slept really close all night with an arm and leg wrapped around me like a blanket. I could hardly move. Weeks ago, it would have been unthinkable that I’d be in this position. It still is. I’m only in this position with Ben. Absolutely nobody else. I’m still that introverted, grumpy 52 year old I was before. I’m just more comfortable around Ben, for some reason.

“You would help me practice though”?

 “I would consider it, but learning to drive in and around central Manchester would be a nightmare. We’d have to drive out to Salford, Urmston and into the countryside beyond”. 

“Cool, think of the freedom I’d have. I’d be able to come see mum and dad anytime I want to without relying on others or the train. It would make it easier for me to research in Preston or anywhere else for that matter. And also it would give you time on your own, Which you keep telling me you enjoy so much”.

That last bit struck a chord, ok I do enjoy my time on my own, is he implying something, or isn’t he? Anyway I ignored it and said,

 Why now though? It can’t be the journey up this morning”.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, years even, it’s something I’ve always wanted to do but being a student for so long I’ve never had the money for a car, now I’ve got  a career and my apartment sorted so I can think about learning to drive”.

“But don’t forget though once you’ve got your car, you need to take into account the running costs, like, fuel, insurance and repair bills. And old Landrovers may be retro but they’re expensive to maintain and run, slow and uneconomical on fuel, think about a smaller hatchback, like a Volkswagen Polo or a Vauxhall Corsa.

“You sound like my mum. She’d say a sensible thing like that”.

“Good, I’m glad someone has their head screwed on in your family”.

“You Cheeky sod Prof, I have my head screwed on as much as the next guy. How many young single men are going home to visit their parents at Easter, instead of tripping the light fantastic down canal street”?

“Yes, you’re right, as usual, and I’m glad we’re going, really I am and I apologize for previously being an arse about it. It’s just that I felt uncomfortable about our age difference, and being so far out of my comfort zone. Now I realize that our age difference doesn’t matter, we’re good for each other, we have a connection, which I have never felt before. As for my comfort zone, then I need to buck up as my old mum would say when I was a child”. 

“You don’t need to keep being sorry. It’s water under the bridge now, I’m excited to be going and I’m so happy you’re here with me”. Ben said, with an unusually firm voice. 

The day was cold and sunny with a stiff breeze coming out of the east, which kept a lid on the outside temperature, both Ben and I had bundled ourselves into hats and coats before we left. We traveled on in silence for a distance, me concentrating on the road in front and Ben staring out of the window, seemingly lost in thought, I left him to it, I decided that if he wanted to tell me his thoughts then he would tell me, it isn’t for me to ask. As we neared our final destination I grew more nervous, we were by now off the motorway and traveling up a busy tree lined dual carriageway, with roads veering off at traffic lights to some small village or other. 

I glanced at Ben, his eyes were still black, his bruised body was still sore, he took some co-codamol this morning and I made us a bowl of porridge oats each for our breakfast, the doc had told Ben to increase his fiber intake, he wasn’t enamored with the porridge at first, but in the end I think he quite enjoyed it. I am determined to help him get through this in any way I can, I wondered what his parents are going to think when they see him.

We turned left into Penwortham proper. Going up a hill and past shops of all kinds and sizes ranging from a huge supermarket to small shops like a hat shop, hairdressers and even a micro pub. We turned left at the water tower down cop lane past a school and houses of varying styles, and finally after just over an hour’s drive turned right into Belgrave avenue, Ben’s mum and dad lived in number 35.  At first glance 35 Belgrave avenue was an unusual design, in that the roof had a very high and narrow pitch and a dormer window on the right hand side. The upper half of the gable was painted white, there was also a window in the upper half and one below in the lower half of the gable end which faced the road and was faced in stone, then there was a small grassed area on the right. 

 We pulled into the drive and got out of the car. We left our bags in the boot  and approached the front door, which was on the side of the house near a garage which I later found out was used for storage. Ben knocked.

I was standing behind Ben, when shortly the front door was opened by a woman, by her looks in her mid 50s.And slim, she was about Ben’s height with dyed blond hair, and the same color eyes as Ben, with a few wrinkles around her eyes, which added to her appearance of mature beauty. She was wearing white slacks and a purple jumper. I could see where Ben got his looks from. 

“Hi Mum”

“Benjamin, I’m so glad to see you”. She hugged her son, not paying any notice to me. “It’s been far too long. I’m so sorry to hear of your misfortune, how are you feeling? Do you need any painkillers? Oh I do apologize, come in, the both of you”. We followed her into the hall which was decorated in magnolia with a brown carpet. She took our hats and coats. 

The stairs were opposite the front door and a mirror was on the left hand wall, a ticking clock was on the right. The through lounge was on the left, the dining room on the right, and a small galley type kitchen was at the end of the hall.

She ushered us into the dining room, a brown dining table that seats 6 dominated the room with a cabinet and radiator along one wall, the other wall was bare, the walls were decorated with a subtle floral pattern wallpaper, with the odd family portrait hanging here and there. The carpet was gray and a window looked out into the garden. She then left the room saying she would make us a pot of tea.

I seated myself in one of the chairs, Ben set the table with mats ready for the tea, he then sat next to me. I felt nervous. Ben obviously noticed and rubbed my thigh, I turned and looked at him, I smiled weakly, my stomach was doing somersaults. Ben smiled back, he spoke quietly.

“You ok Prof? You look nervous.

“Yes I’m nervous, I’m not sure if your mum likes me”.

“She doesn’t mean any harm, that’s just her way, just you wait she will introduce herself and then ask you loads of questions. But remember she takes silence as guilt, she’s headmistress at the local girls school”. Ben warmed to his topic and carried on.

“When I was little, a friend of mine threw a stone at a neighbor’s window, he then ran off leaving me to take the blame. I was dragged by the ear back home, mum and dad questioned me, I stayed silent, for some reason I didn’t want to get my friend into trouble. So by mum’s reasoning I was guilty and punished with being grounded for a month and forced to apologize to my neighbor”. 

“And your friend”?

I never spoke to him again, but a few weeks later he did the same thing again, but this time he was caught. But it didn’t get me off the hook, because then I was accused of lying, and grounded for a further 2 weeks. But it was during those final 2 weeks I found books and started reading. One of those books was a children’s history book, called the Oxford children’s book of world history. I was hooked, it even had pictures in it. History came alive, I read it from cover to cover and I’ve loved history ever since”.

Ben’s chatter was interrupted by his mother coming into the dining room with a tray, Carrying a ceramic teapot, 3 small cups and saucers, sugar, milk and teaspoons.

“Well here we are, a nice pot of tea”. She placed the tray gently on the table and gave us all a cup and saucer, then she put the rest of the things on the mats Ben had got out previously. And sat at the head of the table.

“So Benjamin, tell me all about your mishap”. He glanced at me and I at him, then related his story leaving out the part about us both arguing and him leaving the taxi to find Greg or Seb. As Ben talked I looked at his mother. She looked on impassively at Ben, seemingly ignoring me altogether. I sat quietly, feeling out of place in this neat little house occupied by Ben’s parents, while the tea brewed in its pot. 

When Ben had finished speaking. It was silent for a couple of seconds. Then she spoke.

“Help yourselves to a cup of tea, it should be brewed enough by now”. Ben stood and picked up the tea pot and poured a cup for his mother, one for me and finally one for himself. 

“Thankyou Benjamin. He’s always been such a nice, happy and polite boy”, she said looking at me for the first time, she helped herself to milk and stirred her cup placing the teaspoon on the side of the saucer with a clink. 

Ben and I did the same, I added milk and one sugar, Ben milk and no sugar “ She took a sip of her tea, placing it back on the saucer she looked at me.

“ I’m Muriel Slocombe, Benjamin tells me your his old History Professor from University, we were both so proud of him attending university, though he wasn’t the first, I went to Durham university to study English, got my degree then my masters, I then went onto be an English teacher in Preston then finally I became Headmistress at the local girls school, where did you study Professor”? 

“Oh erm Warwick, that’s where I got my degree, and masters then I attended Manchester where I got my phd, they offered me a part time lecturing job and I accepted. That was so many years ago, it’s a career I love, mentoring the students in the many fascinating periods of history”.

“And what do you specialize in”?

“Early 20th century history and I also lecture in the English civil wars, of King Stephen and Matilda and of course Charles 1st and the parliamentarians”.

Muriel looked at me as I spoke, her face was unreadable. Her face still. I was unsure as to why I was so nervous of her, she seemed pleasant enough, I don’t blame her for wanting to protect her son. Ben kept quiet either looking at his tea cup or glancing at whoever was speaking at the time. 

“Have you always loved History”?

“Yes when I was young I was always reading about heroes of the past, then when I was 14, a History teacher taught us about the 1st world war. I was hooked on history from that day. He encouraged us to explore and research our own way, and not follow the text books blindly. I spent many hours in the school library reading about the 1st World War.

 “I was always reading and learning even when I was very young, I lived out in the countryside on a farm,  my few friends were miles away, my 2 sisters were older than me so I made my own fun, that fun consisted of reading history and fantasy books by Tolkien, Donaldson, Mervin Peake and others”.

“Were you proud of my son when he was a student”?

Ben looked sharply at his mother then at me then looked straight ahead, obviously nervous.

I was slightly taken aback by her change of questioning. I said nothing for a moment gathering my thoughts, but remembering Ben’s words, Silence is taken as guilt.

“Yes I was, he’s one of the brightest students I’ve ever had, he was always so curious and he asked the most awkward questions. He was confident and bright. He was popular but always studious. Oh yes I was very proud of him when he got his degree. He could quite easily have gone on to do a phd. Though I understand why he didn’t. Being a student isn’t cheap, I’m glad he’s followed you into your chosen profession”. 

Ben glanced at me, blushing slightly, with a slight smile on his face, he patted my knee. The glance didn’t go unnoticed by his Mother.

“Teaching isn’t easy Professor, kids have so much technology to hand nowadays, it’s so easy to find the answers to questions, all they have to do is google the answer. In my day, like you said it meant a trip to the school library. I try to discourage it but I’m fighting a losing battle I’m afraid. Do you have that problem Professor”?

“Lecturing isn’t the same, google will only say so much, to find what’s behind the answers you have to delve deeper. Find the transcripts and books that aren’t easy to find. Then put your own spin on it. I go for depth of knowledge not the answers themselves. You teach them knowledge. I teach them to teach themselves, you teach, I guide”.

Muriel looked at me over the brim of her teacup, she placed it down with more force than was necessary. 

“ You seem to have a very high opinion of yourself, Professor”.

“I apologize, anyone who knows me, knows I’m the opposite, I have a low opinion of myself, without you I couldn’t do my job, I can’t guide, if the students aren’t taught. I didn’t mean in any way to offend you”.

“So eloquently put and apology accepted Professor, but what I’m driving at is that an esteemed man such as yourself, to accompany my son who is 20 odd years younger than yourself here to his parents home, is questionable, I see by the way you glance at each other it’s more than what Benjamin told me on the phone”.

Ben stood up “Mother how could you say that. While you and dad were sunning yourselves in Tenerife over Christmas, I was alone in Manchester. The professor said I could go with him to his family so that I wouldn’t be alone. Then when I got mugged he came to me in hospital and helped me however he could, he’s been nothing but kind,  courteous and helpful from the beginning. I reciprocated by inviting him here when he would be alone over Easter. He’s a quiet studious man popular among his contemporaries and students alike. The very least you could do is to show the same hospitality his family offered me. I can now count his family as my friends, maybe we should have gone there instead. At the very least we would have been made welcome”.

Ben was angry, his blackened eyes and bruised features couldn’t contain his angry look. I sat in stunned silence as did Muriel. It wasn’t like Ben to lose his cool. The silence was palpable. I drummed my fingers on the table nervously, I was quietly shaking, my nerves slowly getting the best of me,I didn’t like the tension. I sat and said nothing, waiting for one of the others to speak. 

Ben sat back in his chair and looked directly at his mother and spoke quietly. 

“Mother, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said we should have gone to the professor’s family. But it doesn’t alter the fact that you of all people. Who I’ve looked up to all my life. Who has always been so kind to my friends when I’ve asked them round, even the ones I shouldn’t have been friends with. Has been so discourteous to the man who mentored me, been a friend and an advisor. Let me into his life like nobody else has in my short life. I asked him to come. The prof didn’t want to but I persuaded him to. I won’t apologize for that ever, so don’t ask”. He took my hand. And placed it on the table.

“Yes I’ve fallen for a man who’s a lot older than me. Wasn’t it you who told me to follow your dreams wherever they go. To ignore the complaints of others. To hold my head up high when all others want to tear you down, who accepted my homosexuality without hesitation. This is my dream, mother, yes he’s older than me Andrew has reservations about that himself. But to me it’s my heart I’m following. His intelligence, his honesty and his reserved quiet nature means more to me than any other beautiful face or body that flaunts themselves at me”.

Again silence, I said nothing. My hand felt clammy in Ben’s, but I didn’t let go. Muriel was the next to speak, her voice was quiet, stern and determined.

“And how do you feel about this professor”?

I was nervous, shaking, I’ve never been good at this love thing. But I was determined not to let Ben down, if ever he needed me, it was now.

“Let me be candid. It’s taken me along time to accept how Ben feels, we’ve both spoken at length about our relationship, it’s still new, up until 24 hours ago I was determined that Ben and I were friends only, but then Ben got mugged, we could have lost him, if that passer by hadn’t been there, then I dread to think what would have happened. Seeing Ben in that hospital, so weak and fragile, made me realize how I felt. I’m 52 years old, I’ve never had a relationship, I’ve locked myself away, in my work, research and writing. If there’s anyone in heaven, and that someone wants me and Ben to have a relationship. Then I won’t stand in the way, I want to try and make a go of this relationship, whether it’s with your acceptance or not doesn’t really matter, Ben is 25 he’s an adult he makes his own decisions in life and nobody will change that fact”.

My voice, quiet at first, became stronger with each sentence, like I was on the podium giving a lecture. At that moment I stood up for what we both believed in and to hell with the consequences.

“My son has always been headstrong, he gets that off me, he was right in what he said about chasing his dreams and not letting anyone or anything stand in his way. I believe that, always have, always will. If this is what you both want then I won’t stand in your way. I don’t have to like it, but I won’t stand in the way. I don’t know what your father will think, Benjamin”.

With that she gathered up the tea things and placed them back on the tray. And walked out of the door. 

“Well that was interesting,” I said. 

“Could’ve been worse I suppose” replied Ben.

“So what do we do now then”?

“Let’s go and see dad”.

“And where is he then”?

“He will be on his allotment. Come on, let’s go”.

Ben stood and walked out of the dining room door. I followed closely behind him. 

“We’re off to see dad”. Ben shouted from the hall as we put on our coats and hats.

“Ok Benjamin. He’s on his allotment”. 

“Bye mum”.

Penwortham West allotments is a hotchpotch of  sheds and greenhouses, some neat and well maintained others abandoned with plots overgrown with weeds, but most of them were neat and tidy capable of growing all sorts of vegetables, even flowers were being planted to help with the pollination, then they will be taken home for the wife to put in a vase. We found Ben’s dads plot without too much hassle. When we found him he was sitting in a chair, his coat hanging on a spade, a grubby hat perched on his head and he was smoking a pipe lazily. Watching the world pass by his plot.

“Hi dad”. Ben shouted.

His dad looked over to us.

“Son is that you, it’s so good to see you”. He said standing up, he met his son halfway, they hugged. He spoke again.

“I’m so glad you’re here, have you seen your mother”?

“Yes we have spoken to her. Dad, there’s someone I want you to meet. This is my old History lecturer from uni, this is Professor Andrew Roberts”.

I had been standing behind Ben while they said their hellos. Ben stood to one side.

“Professor it’s so good to meet you at last, Ben has told us so much about you, how are you, have a good journey up I trust”?

The man I was looking at was in his early 60s, with gray balding hair and brown eyes hidden behind smudged glasses, he had a grandfatherly look about him, he seemed happy and jovial. I can see where Ben got his cheerfulness from, I liked him immediately. We shook hands vigorously.

“I’m fine thankyou, Mr Slocombe, the journey was ok thanks, we set off first thing to avoid the traffic, hence being a bit early”.

“My dear professor, call me Geoff, set off early then? That’s why you’re a professor, eh. Always thinking ahead. So what brings you to Penwortham then”?

“I was alone with no plans except writing and research, and as a thankyou for helping Ben over Christmas he invited me here. And I’m glad I came, it’s good to meet you at last Geoff”.

Ben was standing by my side, his face split by a happy smile, the same as his dad. 

“Dad, there’s something else I. Well I mean we need to tell you.”

“What’s wrong son? I heard about the mugging from your mother. Nasty business, you look awful, I hope you feel much better soon”, 

He said, hugging his son again. I couldn’t help but notice the contrast between Geoff and Muriel. Geoff seemed laid back, jovial and relaxed, Muriel meanwhile seemed more tense, and maybe a bit of a snob.

“No it’s not that Dad, though thanks for asking. It’s just. Well I mean we”.

“Out with it son it’s not like you to mince your words son, come on out with it”.

Ben took my hand, he was shaking, if Geoff noticed he didn’t say anything.

“Me and the prof here, we’ve, well, we’ve fallen in love. Mum’s not happy, I thought it best if we came down here and told you personally”.

“Is that all? The way you were mincing your words I thought you’d murdered someone. Im glad you’ve found someone at last, I’m happy for you both”.

He shook our hands again.

“You’re not angry with us. Even with the age difference”?

“Age difference. Why should I be? There’s 10 years between me and your mother. I remember when I asked your grandfather for Muriel’s  hand in marriage. He kicked up a right fuss. Accused me of being a cradle snatcher. But your grandma talked him round in the end. How’d your mother take it anyhow”?

“Not well, let’s say there were words. Though I think in the end we agreed to disagree. She said she wouldn’t stand in our way, but she didn’t have to be happy about it”.

“That sounds like you’re mother, I’d have thought she’d be happy welcoming a professor into the family. But you never can tell with her”. He suddenly shivered “It’s cold, let’s go into the potting shed, out of this dam wind”.

We followed him into the old shed. He picked up his pipe and chair, and opening the door walked into the shed with Ben and me trailing behind. 

The shed was small. A small table with trays of seeds in the middle of being planted was along the far wall. And on the walls were different kinds of spades, rakes and hoes, everything a keen gardener needs. Geoff who had carried the chair in with him sat, Ben leaned on the table and I stood and leaned in the doorway, the door still ajar.

“A keen Gardener, are you Geoff”? I asked

He said nothing for a moment, he just concentrated on relighting his pipe, when satisfied his pipe was well and truly lit with smoke soon filling the small space. He spoke. Gesticulating with his pipe.

“I try, but with spring late this year everything is slow going, at least I’ve got plenty of seedlings in the green house, and the weathers dry, with luck and there’s no frost I can start planting potatoes next week, and my peas as well, although everything is still wet due to all the rain since October”.

He carried on in this vein for a while, occasionally stopping to puff on his pipe, at length he showed us his greenhouse with the seedlings in trays, and he showed us where the tomatoes were going to be grown. Then he showed us his plot. Most of the soil had been turned over with manure and compost being added into the soil to help the vegetables grow. I know next to nothing about gardening and admitted as much. Neither Ben nor I shared Geoff’s love of gardening. 

Presently we said our goodbyes to Geoff. He said he’d be home later and that they’d  take us for a meal to the Rams head. As we walked away. We noticed that Geoff had turned and started chatting to the man on the next door plot. 

“It’s a wonder dad gets anything done, always puffing on that pipe of his and chatting away to someone or other. He only has his allotment to keep out of the way of mum. She won’t allow his pipe anywhere in or near the house”.

“Small wonder”. I replied. Ben laughed and held my hand as we walked back up the hill.

End of chapter 3

The Gardeners 

There were over 30 porn stars in the stable, from barely legal skinny twinks, to Muscle Marys, hairy bears and greying Daddies. The script writers had their work cut out thinking up original and authentic stories. A dungeon had been built for more hard core stuff, but it did nothing for me.

Many evenings, guys would rock up at the bungalow, heaping their worries on George, who was like an old mother hen to them. I kept out of the way, couldn’t be doing with that shit. I was meant to be professional, not having any liaisons with the guys, which I didn’t, apart from Zac and Caleb, who I had grown fond of during the making of Role Reversal. Occasionally, one or the other would pop in of an evening, usually just for a chat and a glass of wine (alcohol was prohibited in their rooms). They were only meant to have sex in front of the camera, so now and then they enjoyed intimacy with us, without a director and cameras around.

Zac, whilst not as big as Caleb, was still a good 8″ and looked bigger because he was shaved. (Lucky George got to do the shaving) . He was also charming and just a pleasure to be with. Our love-making seemed so natural.

I kept myself in shape, I didn’t want to look out of place! I was rewarded by being an occasional ‘extra’. Apart from being fun, it increased my salary.

One day I was called to the office. They had a story line about 2 gardeners coming to do some work, having sex, whilst the owner watched them and wanked. Could they use the bungalow’s garden and could I be the owner? Rhetorical questions. I suggested they used Zac and Caleb. Their contrasting complexions were very photogenic and we did a good job previously. It was agreed and the following day the boys and the director came round so we could plan the action.

Filming day arrived and the guys arrived wearing tatty vests and ripped denim shorts. I was asked to wear shirt and slacks with no underwear. I showed them a hedge that I wanted trimmed and a border that needed weeding. Caleb had shears, I gave Zac a little trowel and a pat on the bum. I lay on a lounger, supposedly reading a book, but actually watching the lads. Caleb got up some small steps. Zac looked up at his sack hanging just above the hem of the shorts, He cradled the balls and then unbuttoned the shorts and pulled the zipper down, allowing the shorts to drop to his ankles. Caleb’s bum was encased in a jockstrap, with his growing penis already poking out of the side. Zac was stroking him as he climbed off the steps and they kissed. I slid my hand inside my flies. Zac had soon lost his shorts. He had a tiny thong on, with his dick out the top, pre cum glistening in the sunlight. I was playing with myself. Caleb ripped Zac’s vest off and went down on him, swallowing his cock and easing a finger past the thong into his hole. With his left hand he was stroking his impressive tool. I had to stop playing with myself. I’m meant to be the last to cum. Zac put his hands on the top of the small steps. Caleb ripped the thong off, pulled Zac’s cheeks apart and ate ass. Zac was moaning and shouting DO IT, DO IT. A cameraman took a close-up of Caleb’s knob sliding in, still with the jockstrap on. Caleb is brilliant at playing to the camera. He’d take it out, get Zac to lick it, shove it back in, right out and in again. Fuck slow, fuck hard. Then he laid on the ground. Zac lowered himself down. Again a cameraman filmed it disappearing. Zac was facing me and bouncing up and down, wanking. My hand was stroking my dick again. Zac climbed off, laid on his back and pulled his feet up toward his head, so his ass was in the air Caleb re-entered him and fucked him hard, Zac shot all over his face and into his mouth. Caleb pulled out and covered Zac in jets of cum. I shot my load. They would just have to edit it and put it in at the end. They had a cummy kiss, swapping cum from mouth to mouth. The director shouted CUT! I thought that was the end of it, but one of the cameramen came over and shoved his dick in my mouth. I sucked till he took it out and  wanked till he coved my face and shirt with his juices. I licked him clean. 

The director and crew left, so I invited the boys to shower in the bungalow. They grabbed what few clothes they had and followed me. I got out of my cum soaked clothes and put jogging bottoms on and poured beers for us. Zac was first out of the shower, walking into the room naked, he accepted the beer, before embracing me his tongue swirling into my mouth, I could feel his hardness growing. Caleb joined us, already erect again. They carried me into the bedroom, stripped me and put me on all fours, Zac entered me, my own dick growing again. I was licking Caleb’s shaft and balls. They turned me onto my back and swapped round. Zac’s dick slipped down my throat easily, but Caleb caused a searing pain and made my eyes water. Pain was replaced by a warm glow. Caleb built up speed and was thrusting deep into me. I was hard and wanking. Zac pulled out and my face was covered in semen again. Caleb pumped harder, I felt him pulse inside me. I even managed to cum again, filling my belly button and matting my pubes. They carried me to the shower and cleaned me up. We needed a beer after that.