Blog

In modern times, the gods still roam the Earth, disguised among mortals. In this reality, there was Orion, a young demigod known not only for his courage but also for his arrogance. The son of Ares and a mortal woman, he had inherited the strength and pride of the god of war, but his ambition far exceeded the limits even Olympus could tolerate.

Orion believed he was destined for something greater than the other demigods. He declared himself the most powerful of his generation and began gathering followers, both mortal and immortal, who also believed the gods of Olympus had ruled for too long. His goal? To dethrone Zeus.

One day, at dawn, in a grand square in Athens, Orion issued a public challenge. He raised his voice, attracting a crowd, and declared his intention to confront the king of the gods. “Zeus!” he shouted, clenching his fists toward the sky. “If you are truly the strongest, then face me! Let’s see who deserves to rule!”

The clouds above stirred, and thunder echoed in the distance. For a moment, there was silence. Orion stood firm, confident in his superiority. He had prepared for months, training tirelessly, even with the most powerful creatures he could find. He was ready to face the father of the gods.

Then, from the sky, Zeus appeared. But instead of descending with lightning and thunder, he floated with a calmness that was almost unnerving, a glint of cunning in his eyes. His expression showed little interest in Orion’s challenge, as if this was just a trivial distraction.

“Do you really think you can challenge me, boy?” Zeus asked in a voice as potent as thunder but with a calmness that sent chills down the spine.

“Yes! I am the future. You no longer have control over this world!” Orion growled back.

Zeus merely sighed, a faint smile forming at the corner of his mouth. He wouldn’t need thunder or his most famous weapon, the lightning bolt. Instead, he decided to show Orion the true extent of his power—not just brute strength, but total control over the reality around him.

Without saying a word, Zeus extended his hand toward Orion. But instead of throwing a bolt, he closed his eyes and activated an ancient power, little known even among the gods: the telepathic manipulation of matter. He focused on the area of Orion’s stomach, controlling the substances within the demigod’s body with surreal precision.

Orion, who had initially prepared to feel an electric shock or a crushing wave of power, suddenly felt growing discomfort in his guts. His face twisted in confusion. Then, before he could do anything to control it, his stomach began to churn.

Orion’s eyes widened, and the crowd also began to notice the change in his posture. The demigod, who minutes ago appeared confident and unbeatable, was now hunched over, with a look of panic on his face.

“Zeus… what are you…?” Before he could finish his sentence, the inevitable happened. A shameful sound echoed through the square, and the proud hero found himself unable to stop the disaster. His legs trembled as he, quite literally, “soiled his pants,” his armor stained, and an unbearable smell filled the air.

The crowd, perplexed for a second, burst into laughter. Orion’s pride dissolved in that moment. He, who had dared to challenge the king of the gods, was now humiliated before everyone, his body betrayed by his own intestines under the control of the supreme god.

Zeus, floating in the air, looked at Orion with a mixture of disappointment and amusement. “You may be the son of Ares, but remember, boy… you are still only half a god. Perhaps one day you’ll understand that true strength lies not only in battle but in control.”

With nothing more to say, Zeus disappeared into the clouds, leaving Orion alone, demoralized, and covered in shame. The demigod vowed never to challenge the gods so recklessly again, especially Zeus, whose power was beyond mortal—or even divine—understanding.

And thus, the legend of Orion did not spread because of his heroic deeds, but because of the day he dared to challenge Zeus and ended up paying the most humiliating price possible.

Epilogue

The very night Myrne broke down thinking of Blake, Isobel waited for her to sleep and then called Adrian in to send word to Hale and have the young prince brought to Kingsboro. From Kingsboro he would come to join them, and the next morning, Isobel, Myrne, Linalla and Adrian set out for the city of Yrrmarayn.

In the city, Anson greeted the Queen of Westrial, and Cedd came to her and explained what he had done.

“To be a High King, he must be a King, and he will be ruler in Kingsboro. I have reigned, and my reign is done. I am sorry, my dear for no longer being King.”

“But there is no need for Isobel to cease being Queen,” Anson said to her. “She is still a princess, and she is still the mother of the Prince and Princess.”

“And they will not be deposed?” Cedd said to his brother, and Anson said, “They cannot be, for who would replace them?”

And it was then that Ohean looked at the Prince Cian and the Princess Arsennon and said, “You cannot dispossess them, Anson, for they are your children.”

Anson and Essily looked at him.

And then Isobel said to Anson. “My Lord, may I have a word with you?”

And Anson, Isobel and Ohean withdrew, and the Queen said, “Forgive me, but only know I did what I thought I must.”

“Queen Isobel,” Anson said. “Please speak.”

And then she said, “Shortly after I was made Queen, I went to Sussail to visit my mother for a time. She spoke of dreams she had had, and they were much like mine. We went to the Rootless Isle.”

“It was in the time when you were isolated on the small island,” Ohean said. “Nimerly and I sent Isobel to you. She was the woman who came to you in the dark so that, when you came into your own, your children would already be born of a Queen and born to the rule of Westrial.”

And then Isobel fell to her knees and said, “Forgive it, Lord.”

But Anson said, “Isobel rise, there is naught to forgive.”

---

The first morning of July the sky was clear and nearly cloudless. What clouds remained, were pearly and bright as the crystal stones that lined the parapet, and the glinting windows and turret tops of the towers and palaces rising up from the white and silver walls of the city of Yrrmarayn. Beneath the city, the water was clear, green blue, and across the Bight of Dauman, toward the quay, sailed a swift boat with a great black mast and the orange, roaring head of Banthra, the Tiger. White and green banners waved with the same tiger head, the banners of Solahn, and on the boat were the new King and the new Queen.

As the ship drew in to the harbor, trumpets and drums announced them, and soon, at the head of the gang plank, there stood, in green robes of state, his black hair crowned by a golden circlet, Rendan, First of that Name, and as he extended his hand, there, all in Solahnese white shot with silver, and a matching circlet on her auburn hair, was his Queen, who winked. They descended the plank something like regal, and when they reached the quay, they both gave a small bow to the King of Westrial and Queen of Chyr. In black doublet, his own short, golden hair topped by a silver crown mounted with a diamond, Anson nodded with a crooked smile and touched the sword at his side while Theone reached out and caught the Queen and King of Solahn’s hands, kissing them quickly. Beside her, all in black, a crooked grin on his face and a gold star on his chest was her husband, and he kissed the new Queen of Solahn and then she said, “Not bad for your old kitchen girl, eh, Master Soren?”

He smiled at Mehta and raising an eyebrow said, “I do not think you were ever my kitchen girl, not really. And I am sure I was never your master.”

“You should have seen her,” Rendan said, amazed. “She actually commanded an entire ship. And then, in battle, well, she wasn’t like a queen or a kitchen girl.”

“Please stop,” Mehta said.

“I won’t. My uncle, that Bellamy! He actually made a stab for my mother. He nearly had her. Well, Yarrow was down below on the field, commanding the battle, a real battle maid, and Mehta saw Bellamy carrying Mother off. What does she do? She literally, and I wish I almost wish I’d done this, but I don’t know that I could have. He was my father’s brother no matter what he did. Well, she takes this battle axe and sends it through the air and well, to make a bloody story very short, she brought an end to him.”

They all looked at her. Cooly, Mehta nodded, and Arvad said, “Much more than a kitchen girl indeed.”

“Really,” said Mehta, “I did it from a distance, and in great rage. The truth is I’d rather not think about it. A few weeks on a pirate ship and there are many things a girl can learn.”

“You will be a legend,” Anson said. “Queen Metandil, who with an ax blow did away with the tyrant!”

“You will all be legends I’m sure,” a cool voice said beside them.

“This is all very well, and I hate to interrupt tearful meetings,” Ohean said from beside Anson, “but other people are coming off of that ship, I’m sure.”

And so they were, and as King Rendan and Queen Metandil parted, and Theone, Anson and Soren moved aside, coming down the steps together were two others, and beside Arvad, who was embracing Mehta and looking over her in disbelief, Kenneth dropped his sword and began to tremble. The approaching woman was terrible and beautiful, strong and ageless. Beside her was a wild, dark, black haired man with almond eyes, an Easterner, and his face was like a cat’s.

“Do not tremble,” the woman said, “and do not wonder. Do not doubt.”

And as Kenneth shook, Cayanne took his face in her hands in wonder.

“You were dead. You were dead and the Lady brought you back to me.”

Arvad and Maud were looking at Kenneth and Kenneth was still shaking, his eyes unfocused.

Maud said, “My Lady, I think your son needs to be alone with you. I will lead you away if that pleases—”

And then she stopped.

Her eyes went to the deck of the ship now, and Arvad, standing beside Maud and Kenneth, took her hand from Cayanne’s shoulder saying, “Lady Maud, do not worry. I will lead them away.”

And Maud nodded dumbly as Arvad led Kenneth and his mother from the quay back into the city.

Cheers were erupting now. Here was their prince. This was the one who had disappeared long ago at the request of Ermengild to find what was lost until he himself was lost. Everyone knew him. Maud knew him, and even the Kings and Queens on the quay separated for her as she came to the gangplank and Ethan came down to her, catching her face.

“My brave Maud,” he said.

Her face trembled. It never trembled. All the years, all the loss, all the waiting, the doubts, the days when she knew that, yes, he was dead after all, fell upon her and she didn’t care who saw. She let her shoulders shake, she let her face melt, she let the hot tears run down, and Ethan kissed her head and his eyes were full of tears too, and he held Maud and everyone knew what that was like, the long parting, the resurrection after you knew something was irrevocably dead, and so everyone watching them was full of joy.

---

In the Blue Temple, all holy things happened in the night. Theone had seen few temples, let alone a Blue one, and she wasn’t the only one who didn’t know quite what to make of it. Mostly she felt honored. A short time ago she’d just been a girl on the run and now she was, more than the Queen of Chyr, a friend invited to this very holy and, for the Blues, very strange event.

Ohean was there, and Anson as well. Inark blessed the evening with her presense as did Essily.

“This is nothing like our old Blue Temple,” Gabriel Rokamont noted. “And yet… it is not unlike it either.”

In the Crystal City, the sapphire bright temple stood out, and in the night its courts were full of starlight and torchlight. Gabriel, Matteo, Lorne and Cal, Quinton and many of the Blues who had traveled with them, bore white candles as they walked ahead of Connleth Aragareth who, for once and possibly never again, wore a white robe and had shaven his head to a fine golden buzz in the night. He recognized his sister and Obala and Sara and many he had not seen in ages, including his brother in law Jon who dandled one of Conn’s nephews on his knee. He bore his own white candle as he arrived at the altar where, also in white, flanked by Soren and Kenneth, his fellow Gozens, was Derek Annakar.

Abbot Fero stood before them and he spoke ancient words and Conn repeated them, and then he handed the candle to Derek, and Derek circled him seven times in the night, saying the same words back. They held hands and together, Conn bearing the candle, they circled seven times a little pillar beside Fero, which Theone realized was a great unlit candle, and then, together, they lit it,  and Derek’s face was full of joy and love. How often had he dreamed of the day he and Conn could finally spend some time together and a little house, just the two of them, far away from everyone no matter what they might choose to do later. They had given themselves to so many, and they were still young and their missions over and they had their whole lives and oh, see! Fero took a thin blue cord and wound it lightly about their wrists, and they kissed.

---

They journeyed from Yrrmarayn, and the great barges took them into Kingsboro where the people, Queen Isobel with her companion Francis and her children, the Prince Cian and Princess Arsennon, had awaited their King. The last coronation had taken place while an old king had lived and funerals and wars obscured. Cedd and Anthony came down from their estate in Pembroke to Purplekirk, and Queen Bereneice was there with her king as well as Hermudis and Raoul and even Morgellyn. This time they filled Purplekirk with the royalty of all Ossar, the dark skinned, the chocolate and caramel skinned lords of Ossarian, Rheged and Elmet, of the Far Isles and even lords from Itzum. If Caedmon felt a jealousy for this he did not say so, and it was not on his face. When Theone and Rendan and Mehta came into the city, the people of Kingsboro marveled at the splendor of these foreign lords. How impressive was the Queen’s husband, Soren, Archon of the Gold Star and beside him Kenneth, Dominar of the Silver Star. Kenneth rode with a handsome red headed man, and then came a fiery, caramel skinned woman, Inark, the chief enchantress of Chyr. Also, the people of Kingsboro had seen few Zahem, save the Buwas, and they had certainly never seen the Prophet of the Zahem, so young and fair, and young wheat haired lady beside him must have been… well, she was too young for a wife.

Plain, but strangely compelling, all in black, short haired, face like a mahogany mask, rode Senaye, the Wandering Woman, Mother of Ohean, but full of majesty, and now given the name of Queen, all in silver and gold, so youthful she could be the King’s sister and not his mother, came Essily, Anthal’s wife who once had saved the nation from plague, but been banished for its lack of gratitude. Fair and wonderful she was, and the daughters of the Queen who had succeeded her looked on her in wonder. Queen Essily was followed by many fairy women, and it was rumored that, though she would stay for a time, she would, in time, ride off with Senaye as wandering was her delight too.

The choir processed the great length of the abbey, passing the assembled people, high and low of all lands and bowing at the altar before separating in two lines and moving past it to their stalls. Following them, long cloak trailing the stone floor, came Anson, who knelt at the altar as the hymn was finished, and even Pol, Conn, Derek and the other Blue priests who had born his train left him kneeling, his hands folded before him on the kneeler while, at the altar, acolytes opened the great book for the Archbishop and he came before Anson while the hymn ended.

Not in this land alone,
But be God’s mercies known
From shore to shore:
Lord make the nations see
That men should brothers be,
And form one family
The wide world over.

Abbess Hilda, who had led the entire service with—to the shock of many, and the delight of Cal, Gabriel, Matteo and Quinton—Abbot Fero stood before the people at the marble altar, and now she came not to the disgruntled Archbishop Cardalan, but to Ohean who wore both white robe and white mantle, and a silver circlet on his head. A golden key hung from his throat to match the golden key hanging from the throats of Nimerly, Essily and Theone. Solemnly, Hilda took the crown from the Archbishop’s hands and raised it over Anson’s head, then called out in all four cardinal points:

“Behold, in the east, Iffan, your undoubted King. Behold in the west, Iffan, your undoubted King. Behold in the north, Iffan, your undoubted King. Behold,” her voice rang, “Iffan, your undoubted King.”

And then, in the silence of the great high abbey, Hilda bowed to Ohean, and placed the crown in hands, and now he spoke.

“My people, I here present unto you Anson, your undoubted King. Wherefore all you who are come this day to do your homage and service, are you willing to do the same?”

Anthony had looked to Cedd, and was surprised to see tears in his eyes, but then he saw that, head bowed, Anson’s eyes were wet as well. Cedd rose up, shouting with the rest:

“Aye!” and Anthony saw Queen Imogen beside King Idris brush her face with the back of her hand. 

And as Ohean still held the crown, the Archbishop read: “Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the peoples of the Kingdom of Westrial and Locrys according to their respective laws and customs?”

And Anson replied: “I solemnly promise so to do.”

“ Will you to your power cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?

“I will.”

“Will you to the utmost of your power maintain the ways of all people and all faiths with respect to none and respect toward all? And will you preserve the memory of the sacredness of this living land and all in it?”

“All this,” Anson said, “I promise to do.”

But Anson, King Iffan, did not read from the book when he completed his vow. He turned from his sister, Ohean and the Archbishop to his people.

 “The things which I have here before promised, I will perform, and keep,” his voice was like a lion’s roar.

“So help me, my people—”

But here, many interrupted, unable to stop themselves, crying, “We will! We will!”

And there was much clapping and stomping and Anson found himself smiling so hard it hurt, his eyes full of tears so that finally, once the crowd had settled, he declared:

“All this I promise to do.”

THE END

---

Thank you, all, for joining me in the journey. This long one has ended for us, but others will follow.

As I stood there waiting in the old, smelly basement office of the restaurant after my shift, Richard the restaurant manager typed on his laptop keyboard from behind the old wooden desk, silently fulfilling my request for my much-needed paycheck. The air in the office was chilly and stale, and I crossed my arms and shivered a bit as I put away thoughts of us being all alone this late at night. Richard had been casually flirting with me since I started the job a few weeks earlier, and I had been able completely ignored him, but that night something happened. Something that I couldn’t ignore. Something that would change everything.

With my freshman year of college about to begin, I knew I would need to get started early If I wanted to find a part-time job for the semester. After a few days of walking around the whole campus and filling out applications to several of the bars and restaurants around the area, I was eventually hired on the spot at a gorgeous Historic steak house that stood alone on a quiet city block slightly off the beaten path.

  That afternoon when I walked into the front door of the dark restaurant I had been trekking up and down the busy streets of the city all morning long, and my face was a mess. My white polo shirt and khaki pants were dripping with perspiration, and it took a minute to wipe the sweat from my forehead and adjust my eyes, when I saw him.

He had a pleasant smile and looked around 40 or so, with a medium bearish dad bod tucked under his clean black dress shirt. He wore an expensive watch and several silver rings, and his face was clean shaven, showing off a decent tan. He had a crop top of blond hair on his head, and a big thick silver earing in his left ear. When he looked me over with his piercing blue eyes, I felt myself blush a bit, and wondered if he had even noticed with all the sweat beading off my cheeks. “Hi, I’m Richard” he said, and I told him my name as I took his big hand and shook it. Being only 18 and standing about 5’10’’ I weigh only 120 lbs wet, and at that moment I felt small standing there in front of him for the first time. “When can you start?” he said after I ask if they were hiring. “As soon as possible” I answered excitedly.

  I was immediately ushered into the restaurant and introduced to the bartender Al. Al was a much older handsome black gentlemen, and he showed me around and gave me a brief rundown of the place. It was a fine dining establishment that had been there for nearly a century, and after a few questions I was thrilled to see that he was already writing my name on the schedule.

That weekend I showed up and started working with another host named Danielle. I learned the table numbers and how to take reservations, and seat the guest, and after the first few nights I started to get the hang of it. It wasn’t long before I was drinking at the big mahogany bar with the older staff members after the restaurant had closed.

One night, when almost everyone had gone home, I ask Al, after having quite a few drinks at the bar, when we were supposed to get our Pay-checks. “Ask Richard, I think he’s downstairs in his office” he answered, and pointed me towards the back corner of the restaurant. I got up off the barstool and stumbled through the dark dining room to brightly lit narrow wooden staircase that led down to an old hallway.

  When I called out Richard’s name, I was walking down the stairs, and I felt a little unsure. With the history of the place I thought I might see a full apparition appear, but it what was more likely is that I was just tipsy from all of the after-hours wine that I had been drinking. 

I heard Richard call back from a room that was down a few feet from the bottom of the steps, and I anxiously walked down the hallway into the old office. When I walked into the dark dingy office I saw him behind the desk, and he briefly glanced up from his computer and knowingly gave a smile. “What can I do you for?” he said, making an old wore out joke that he’d made the first time we met, and I thought to myself if only he knew.

“I was hoping I could get my check?” I said with puppy dog eyes, and he waved his hand up in the air still staring at the computer screen and said “Sure, no problem, just give me a minute”

  As I stood there in the small room with my arms crossed waiting for him, I started noticing all the old boxes stacked around the room, and the mess of papers strewn about the desk. There were two green upholstered leather chairs in front of the desk, but I elected to stand, hoping that I would only be there for a few minutes.

 When I heard the printer start off to my right, a sigh of relief came over me. “There that should do” he said, standing up and carefully stepping over to the printer to pick up the freshly printed check from the tray.

 He walked around the maze of boxes, and sat on the edge of his desk in front of me with the check still in his hand. He smile at me and crossed his arms, and said to me in a managerial tone “I think I want you to pick up a lunch shift or two this week and train on the floor waiting tables” Feeling a little self-conscious when I saw how he was looking at me, I looked down at the floor and replied “I’ll be starting school here pretty soon, so I don’t know if I’ll have the time” I uncrossed my arms and started to fidget awkwardly with my hands as I looked up and made eye contact. “That’s right you’re starting as a freshman this year. You must be excited” he said still holding the check to his side with his arms crossed, looking me up and down, obviously a bit under the influence. “Definitely” I answered awkwardly.

Uncrossing his arms and placing them to his sides to brace himself on the edge of the desk, he widened his legs to show me his large manly crotch and shifted his butt back a bit more to sit fully on the desk “I was Just hoping I could see more of you” he said and reached over to rub his crotch while he looked at me with like I was a sweet piece of meat.

“Oh, I’ll still be here for the weekend shifts” I said, smiling at him knowingly, and feeling a stir in my pants. “You know you can always come to me if you ever need anything” he said, and I smiled and looked around at the open door then back at him “Richard what are you doing?” I said in a breathless whisper as I saw him undo his black dress belt, unzip his fly pull out his nice big dick right there in front of me. “Oh my god!” I said when I saw at least 7’’ of very thick cock hanging out of his pants as he waved it at me. “Richard!” I said teasingly “What are you going to do with that!?” I slowly walked right up to it, staring at it in amazement. Unable to control myself I  took it in my hand and looked at him guiltily “It’s so big!” I said feeling it grow in my hand, my stomach full of butterflies as I stroked it, and shivered, overcome with lust thinking about what we were doing.

I crouched down in between his legs and looked up at him for approval ‘That’s it” he moaned as I got it rock hard while I sucked on it, barely fitting it into my mouth. “Oh my god!” he said when I got going, taking it deep into my throat while holding it at the base and working his underwear down so I could have more in my mouth. I choked on it a few times, drooling and spitting back onto it and then stroked on it while I caught my breath “Richard, it’s so fucking big!” I said and then continued to choke it down as I thought of how hot it must be for him to have an 18 year old college freshman twink sucking his cock like a crazed porn star, and how hot it was for me to be sucking my boss’s big fat dick, in his office. I’d secretly fantasized about this very moment many times at my various jobs. Getting forced to stay late and then forced to suck the boss’s cock I thought was every young mans dream. 

I continued to slobber all over it, going up and down on with my sweat little whore mouth until I felt him start to tense up and squeeze my head, and then put his hands back on the desk to brace himself and let me take over. “Oh, my fucking God!” he said as I felt him explode into my eager throat. I managed to swallow it all as he released, sucking the whole dick up from the base to the head, and stroking it as it filled up my mouth and began to run down my chin.

 When I was sure he was completely finished, I got up and wiped my mouth with my hand and smiled at him as he got off the desk and tucked his massive dick away and then zipped up his pants “Damn you are amazing” he said looking a me in a daze “Thanks” I said blushing “now can I have my check?” I held out my hand and he reached over to the desk and took the check and before he gave it to me, he said, “Don’t you dare say a word about this to anyone” and I smiled “Don’t worry Richard I won’t tell” I said taking the check with a smile and walking out the door.

Since that one crazy night in the office with Richard the manager, I’ve started going to school full time. I have only been able to work weekends, but when I think about what happened that night It makes me extremely horny. I just hope that he is thinking about me as much as I am thinking about him. Maybe next time I’ll get to be on the desk, or over the desk. It’s hard to know for sure with my new college schedule. 

I’ve always been politically active coming from a family of die-hard liberal, union supporting, civil rights champions. My parents were always speaking up and speaking out on all kinds of issues, often times gathering at right-wing political rallies to shout at the opposition. Well, the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. At 20yo, I was already following in their footsteps. 

Some might call me a nerd. I definitely fit the profile. Six feet, a stringy 140 pounds, glasses, and on staff at the college newspaper. I’d come out in my teens knowing I had a supportive family. While I embraced my sexuality, I hadn’t acted on it as I was too shy and had terrible body issues. Being very thin when my peers were working out and filling out left me feeling less of a man. I didn’t have much facial hair or body hair. 

Well, as it happened, J.D. Vance was coming to our campus to do a rally in a couple of days, and I was picked to cover it for the paper. I was very conflicted about covering the story as I wanted desperately to protest with my crew, but journalism is there to report the facts. 

On the day of the rally I wore a button down shirt and slacks that were way too big for me, but I needed to look professional with my press pass and I was too embarrassed to shop in the boys department. I took my pen and pad with me and hoofed it over to the press box which was cornered off from the general public. 

Vance came on stage to a mixed crowd, mostly boos heard between the supporters. When he began speaking I looked up and behind him was one of the hottest guys I’d ever seen, but he was wearing a red MAGA hat. It was difficult to pay attention to the speech because I was smitten by this hunk. He looked like a good ‘ole boy, tall, blonde, blue eyed, trimmed blonde goatee, and huge biceps that were struggling to stay contained in the short sleeves.  I was so distracted as I imagined myself below him, servicing his cock. 

Vance finished his speech and was taking a few Q & A’s from the media. Since our school was hosting him, I was given the first question. 

“Thank you for coming to our campus today, your speech was very enlightening. My question is, what are your thoughts about the escalating costs of college tuition in our country and why haven’t you supported President Biden’s student loan relief program?”

Mr. Vance attempted to answer my question, but the blonde bull glared at me with hatred in his eyes. The scowl on his face was frightening and I was so turned on by it. To think my question caused such a strong reaction made me feel quite smug.

The rally finished it was time to get back to the office and type up the article. As I made my way there, I felt a hand push me from behind and I fell to the ground.

”Hey, you liberal piece of shit! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I turned around and it was him. He spit a wad from his mouth from his chewing tobacco that landed on my cheek.

i must have looked dazed.

”Yeah, I’m talking to you, commie faggot! All you liberal do-gooders are fucking up this country. When Trump wins you’re all gonna get locked up for treason. You’ll see!”

I picked up my glasses from the grass and tried to stand up and get away. 

He overpowered me again and pushed my chest and I was back on my butt again.

”Did I say you can leave, lefty? I ain’t done with you. You pieces of shit will give away free shit to all these illegals coming here. I just can’t have that.”

After a second larger spit ball hit my forehead, my MAGA tormentor continued.

”You’re part of the problem you know. You write nothing but lies, fake news. Fucking pansy, look how pathetic you are, you’re not even fighting back!”

The thing was that the angrier he became, the more i got to see his heaving frame in action, my dick was hard as brick. I couldn’t let him see my cock tenting in my loose slacks so I quickly moved my hands to my crotch. In hindsight this probably brought more attention to my cock betrayal problem.

”Move your hands, commie boy. What’s going on in there.”

I refused to move them and now he squatted and placed his large hands on mine and pushed them off.

SHWING! I was at full mast!

”Oh fuck. No way, dude. You’re one of those liberal gay faggots! You know what I think about gay marriage? I’ll tell ya. I think you’re all going to hell. Fucking sodomites. Fucking groomer!”

A swift kick to the nuts had me hunched over and sick to my stomach.

”My papi once told me when he was my age he had himself a tree-hugging cocksucker. He said you fuckers ain’t meant for making babies, but you’re good for something. Wanna know what else he said, bitch?”

I was still massaging my balls and didn’t answer him, so he slapped my cheek, a swift backhander.

”Hey, you look at me when I’m talking to you. You know after this election when you’re behind bars, you’re gonna get a lot of this. My people fucking hate you assholes. Writing lies, brainwashing our country. You’re gonna get what you deserve. My papi said guys like you were made to service real men like us.”

”I’m not going to blow you, man!”

”ohhh, now you start talkin’, we’ll just see about that!”

Another hard open-faced slap to the face and I froze.

”We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either way, my dick is going down that homo throat. I’m gonna shut your fucking mouth up once and for all. Open your mouth, bitch!”

I practically creamed my pants. Deep down, I knew I wanted his dick down my throat since the moment I saw him, and now it was happening!

I opened wide and watched him pull his snake from his shorts and stuff it into my mouth. Damn, he was thick and his huge hairy balls hit my chin. He didn’t shave them nor trim his pubes. He was all pure man. He grabbed a handful of my hair and began to pump relentlessly his cock growing well beyond eight inches, cut. I was choking and drool poured down my face.

He continued to skull fuck me hard.

”Yeah, you homo. Take my MAGA dick. You fucking liberal cocksuckers are all the same. Too soft. You are where you should be, the only liberal agenda on your mind right now is making me come. Isn’t it, faggot!”

He wasn’t wrong. I did want that alpha seed down my throat.

He was right on the edge when he shouted, Make America Great Again”, and his cock erupted right into my mouth. I soiled the front of my jeans with a sticky puddle, too.

So much cum filled my mouth it oozed down the sides of my face. I was drowning in it, and not complaining.

“Well, I guess my papi was right. You socialists are good for something. Why don’t you write about that?”

And just like that, my blonde MAGA man pulled up his shorts and left me there. The remnants of his load still sticking to my face. 

Yes.

“Okay, so that makes…fourteen shows next week then.” Amy confirmed.

“Oh, add the one I’m doing for Vida. Makes fifteen.” Tyler added, reminded Amy of the show they promised at the Lions’ Den.

“Fuck, that means we’ll have to move the gig on campus.” Amy checks the book. “Unless you think we can get all the way up to MLK in ten minutes.”

“We can make it work, have Kaylee do a longer set. We can do both.” Tyler goes through his own schedule to make sure he isn’t missing anything. “I’ve got a lunch shift the next day though, so I’ll have to leave right after.”

“You’re quitting soon right?” Amy asked as she penciled in some more things and typed away on her laptop.

“As soon as I can.” He replied.

“You know, considering we now don’t have a lot of bills – thank you Clark – we can both afford to quit our jobs. I’m put my two weeks in next Monday.” Tyler gave Amy a look at the reference.

“I still want to make sure I’m carrying my weight.” Tyler assured. “I had to fight Clark tooth and nail nearly to pay the water bill. Do you know how much a water bill at The Avenue is?”

“No.”

“Triple digits Amy, triple digits.”

“How much do y’all fuck in the shower?”

“Not as much as you’d think actually?” Tyler rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink.

“Oh? Trouble in paradise?”

“Actually a little.” Tyler groaned his frustration. “Ever since we fought over the whole Jason debacle, and him being wrapped up in some big project at work, we’ve been arguing almost every day. Well, the days we see each other anyway. By the time I’m getting home from work, he’s getting up for the day. Then I’m off to work at the restaurant before I go out until three am, and repeat and repeat and repeat.”

“Have you tried maybe not arguing about it?” Amy tried to diffuse.

“Amy.”

“Sorry, I just – I really don’t know how to help you here. I get your frustration about him shoving money at you, but I don’t at the same time. Let him be your sugar daddy sis.” She closes the books and laptops.

“It’s not about the money really. At least not all about the money.” Tyler leans back in his chair and lets out a long breath. “I feel like he’s put a leash around me, or bought me from a department store. He’s given me things that, yes I truly appreciate, but also make me feel smothered. Like I have to stay because I owe him, not because I love him.”

“But you do love him right?”

“Of course I do, it’s just this fear, this ball of anxiety I’ve got in the bottom of my stomach that…that I have to stay with him, not matter what because he bought me a car, bought me this apartment.”

“Technically he bought me this apartment.”

“Not the point, he just keeps opening doors for me that I don’t know if I deserve to walk through.”

“Imposter syndrome, I heard about it on a podcast.” Amy nodded. “Look, Ty, he bought you a car. Yes, insane of him to do. He bought this apartment; I will say not as insane however because it was also a business decision on his end. But this also kind of how relationships work, the people take care of each other.”

“But what do I do? Contribute? How do I take care of him?”

“I hear you give great head.”

“Amy I’m serious.”

“Do you love him?” Her tone gets serious and Tyler nods. “Then maybe that’s all you need. He needs.” She corrects. “People require different things; they offer different things. Maybe to him, an equal partnership is him spoiling you, and you giving him the best head.”

“Amy.”

“Sorry, but you get my point right?”

“I suppose, but it’s just…what if I can’t?” He asks.

“Can’t what?”

“Accept his ‘style’ of love.”

 

*****

 

Tyler and Clark sat in the shade in Zilker Park. Clark had brought them here on his day off and it was such a nice day. He’d prepared a picnic. Sandwiches, chips, sodas. Grapes. He thought it would be cute to feed them to each other. It had been. It had been sweet. The date had been wonderful, it had made Tyler forget the argument they’d had the night before.

“I love you.” Clark said. He had been staring at Tyler, and Tyler hadn’t noticed. Until now.

“I love you too.” Tyler responded, turning his attention away from the parents playing catch with their children nearby. “Are you staring at me?” He asked.

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re beautiful.”

“I know I am.” Tyler rolled the compliment away with a joke. Clark still sometimes made him uncomfortable with his adoration. “You are too, not as hot as me. But still quite the looker.” He reached over and pinched Clarks cheek playfully. Clark caught Tylers hand before he took it away.

“I love you.” He repeated, squeezing Tylers hand. Running his fingers over his.

“I know.” Tyler stated, he saw something in Clarks eyes. “I love you too. What is it?”

“Do you know why I love you?”

“Uh…because I have a big, juicy ass and a tight gorilla grip puss puss.”

“I’m being serious.” Clark reached over and tucked some of Tylers hair behind his ear.

“Then I don’t know.” Tyler conceded.

“Because you are kind, funny, sweet, and way more forgiving towards me than you should be.” Clark said. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“Clark…” Tyler didn’t know how to respond, Clarks ushy gushiness in the moment made him a tad uncomfortable.

“Why do you love me?” Clark asked. “Seriously.”

“Uh…because…because you love me.” Tyler said. “You don’t love me for some superficial reason. You’ve never made me feel any type of way because of my weight. I know I don’t talk about it. It’s not something that gets brought up a lot, but you don’t talk about it and that’s what I mean. I also love you because you are kind and sweet. And as much as it irks me sometimes, you’re supportive. Sometimes too much.” Tyler laughed a little. “But most of all I think I love you because you’ve shown me I can be loved.”

“Of course you can be.” Clark grabbed Tylers hand and squeezed.

“You’ve kind of been my first boyfriend Clark. I’ve never dated anyone before you.” He tells the man he loves.

“Well I hope I’m the last too.” Clark says. Tyler felt a strange stir. “I’ve got a few things I need to say now, and I need you to wait until I’ve said them all to respond okay?”

“Okay.” Tyler says slowly.

“I know I’ve been working a lot recently. My father has made me the head of a project we are about to start in Seattle. Which means…I have to move to Seattle for a bit. Three months, maybe more.”

“Three months?”

“I know, but uhm…I need you to know I’m going to fly down as much as I can. And you can fly up too. I’ve got tons of miles we can uses.” Clark leans back and fishes something out of the basket. “Also, I know we just argued over me buying things, but I need you to hear me out-”

“Clark-”

“I said hear me out, hear.” Clark cut Tylers rage off by giving him a piece of paper. “When I come back, this is my next project.” Tyler took the paper and looked over it. It was a plot of land on a map, circled and starred.

“What is this?” He asked, a warm feeling swelling in him.

“I bought us that plot of land…for this.” Clark repositioned himself to be on one knee now. Tyler froze as the feeling that been building in him popped. Clark produced a ring. “Tyler Kenneth Harris, I love you. And I want-”

“Clark.” Tyler cut him off. “What are you-”

“Tyler Kenneth Harris,” Clark cut him off back. “I love you and I want to spend my life with you. I want to build a home with you. I want you. Forever.” Clark started to tear up. He pushed the ring forward, hoping above all hope that Tyler would take it.

“Clark…” Tylers voice was small and it wavered as he started to cry himself. “You can’t take this back you know.”

“I know.” Clark laughed softly. “I didn’t plan to.”

“I…” Tyler wanted to shout yes, jump onto Clark and kiss him until the sun burnt out and the final ray of light touched the earth. He wanted nothing more than to die old and grey with Clark, but he was frozen in fear and anxiety. What if it didn’t work out like his parents? What if they couldn’t stop arguing over every little thing? “Yes.” Tyler choked out.

“Yes?” Clark made sure.

“Yes,” Tyler confirmed trough the fears in his head. His heart answered. Not his head. His heart loved Clark; he loved Clark. He’d die by his side. “yes!”

“Yes!” Clark put the ring on Tylers finger and pulled him into a deep kiss, people nearby had seen the exchange and were cheering and applauding. Giving their congratulations. In the kiss, Clark started to grow hard, he wanted to take Tyler here and now. “You know,” he said pulling out of the kiss. “this is were we had our first like real date you know. And it’s where we…”

“For the first time.” Tyler finished the sentence, understanding and feeling what Clark was getting at. Tylers own cock started to grow as well, and he could feel his hole longing for Clarks dick to penetrate him. They cleaned up the picnic and made their way to the car the way they had before. Clambering into the backseat and undoing pants in the process Tyler quickly took Clark down his throat. Consuming his growing cock in one swift motion.

“Fuck.” Clarks head fell back as Tyler started to work his way up and down. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and wet them good and slick then reached over and started to probe Tylers pussy. “Oh, fuck baby. Right there.” He groaned as he inched his fingers inside Tyler, loosening him up. The windows started to fog quickly as Tyler kept bobbing up and down, swallowing until he could feel Clarks pubes tickle his nose.

“Fuck…” Tyler moaned coming up for air. Clark kept stretching him open. “Fuck I need you in me.” Tyler groaned as he repositioned and straddled his fiancé. The two started kissing as Tyler moved his hips up and down, feeling his cheeks grab Clarks tool and massaging it as he went up and down. The two moaned into each other’s mouths as Tyler felt Clark continue to finger him. “Fuck me Clark, fuck me.” He moaned, begged his fiancé to penetrate him.

“If you insist.” Clark grabbed Tylers round cheeks and lifted him up as Tyler grabbed his cock and light it up with his pucker. He pushed up as Tyler lowered down slowly. Wanting to feel every moment and every inch. He lowered all the way down and could feel Clarks balls against his ass now. Tyler started to squeeze and sway back and forth, giving Clark as much pleasure as Clark was giving him. “Oh, fuck baby. I love you.” He moaned into Tylers ear as he grinded up into him.

The two continued to make love until Clark was spent and Tylers hole could take no more.

 

*****

 

One week later…

“I was so happy to get the invite Clark.” Janet said to her son.

“Actually, it was Tylers idea for us all to come out for dinner.” Clark stated. He reached over and squeezed Tylers hand. They had taken the rings off waiting for the announcement to put them back on. Clarks father of course knew, but he was the only one at the table who did other than the two affianced. Amy and Violet sat by each other at the circular table, Abraham and Janet by each other, then Clark and Tyler.

“Well, regardless of whose idea it was. Thank you for the invite.” She smiled. Amy wanted to stab the bitch; she still didn’t like her. Not after what she’d heard at thanksgiving. Clark nodded at this mother while he sipped his wine. Tyler had been somewhat nervous; he didn’t know how Clarks parents would react to their engagement. He liked his parents, but something about this dinner felt tense. Tyler felt the energy weigh heavy.

“I was just glad to get out of the office, this damn Seattle project will be the death of me.” Abraham complained, drinking his old fashioned.

“Well daddy, you could always cancel it. Do you really need another office?” Violet stated.

“In the Pacific Northwest? Yes, of course. It’s a growing area. I want to be there when we expand from construction to property management, to even bigger things.” Abraham laughed gruffly.

“Clarks already got a head start on that.” Violet remarked under her breath, Clark shot her a look as his mother caught the interaction.

“I’ve got a big gig on campus next month.” Tyler announced, trying to divert Janets next question.

“What does that mean Violet?” She asked, Tylers ploy had failed.

“Oh, you didn’t know mother?” Clark shot daggers at her from his seat. “Clark bought an apartment complex, four actually.”

“Wait, four?” Tylers brows raised and he directed his attention to Clark.

“Thanks Vi.” Clark smiled as Amy held her laughter in. She was loving this. “Yes, I purchased a few business, some small ones.” Clark explained.

“Why?” Janet asked.

“Well…I thought at the time that maybe I wanted to leave the company. So I…diversified my income.” Clark explained. Tyler was mildly annoyed at Clark for withholding that he had purchased more businesses without telling him, he was also annoyed that Violet had decided to bring all this up. Causing more tension; but he was also thankful she had. Now he knew the truth.

“Well why would you want to leave the company?” Janet asked.

“Mother, at the time, I believed it to be the best decision. But I’ve since had a change of heart. I’m staying.” Clark explained further, not revealing the whole truth. Clark had never expressed to Tyler that he wanted to leave the company. He’d mentioned it once in the heat of an argument, but then never again.

“Well why the change of heart?” His father chimed in now. “Why not talk to your old man about it?”

“Because, dad, I now have a reason to stay. A pretty big, important one.” He reached under the table and grabbed Tylers hand. Tyler squeezed Clarks hand, sensing he needed some support in this moment. Clark then gave his father a look and his father gave a knowing nod.

“I see.” He took another sip of his old fashioned.

“Well I don’t, what reason do you have to stay now?” Janet asked, annoyance growing in her voice.

“Thanks so much Violet.” Clark directed some anger at his baby sister.

“No problem big bro.” She grinned and took a sip of her wine, her and Amy smiled and winked at each other. Tyler wanted to smack Amy upside her head for this.

“We were gonna wait until after the dinner to announce this but…” Clark reached into his pocket and put his ring back on and gave Tyler his. Tyler put his one. “We’re engaged and I decided to stay with the company for the financial stability. I’ll need it to support our family.” Clark squeezed Tylers hand and Tyler smiled softly at him.

“You’re getting married!” Janets face nearly split. Tyler caught her expression before she fixed it. It sent a strange feeling over him.

“OH MY GOD!” Amy exclaimed in excitement.

“L’chaim!” Violet raised her glass. She’d figured out that Clark wanted to marry Tyler at thanksgiving when she caught the way he looked at him.

“Are you guys Jewish?” Amy asked at Violets outburst.

“No, but I love that word.” She responded.

“Yes we are.” Tyler confirmed.

“Are those your grandparents rings?” She asked.

“Yes they are.” Clark answered.

“Did you know about this?” Janet turned to Abraham as he was the only one who could’ve given them to the two.

“Yeah, what’s the big deal. They’re in love.” Abraham shrugged.

“They’ve been together less than a year, and Clark bought the boy a car. Bought the apartment he lives in-”

“Wait, how do you know about that?” Clark interrupted. Tyler remained silent, sensing that it was the best thing to do in the moment.

“I…that’s not what needs to be discussed right now.” Janet tried to deflect.

“How is it not?” Clark continued. “Did you look into my finances?”

“I had Tom check in on you after thanksgiving.” She said plainly, as if she’d done nothing wrong.

“More like you had him look into Tyler.” Amy mumbled as she sipped her champagne.

“What?” Tyler spoke now.

“Yes, what?” Janet asked.

“Oh please, I overheard you telling your husband how you thought Tyler was a gold digger.” She said.

“Amy, why didn’t you-”

“I asked her not to.” Clark cut Tyler off.

“You knew about this too?” Tyler pierced Clark with his eyes.

“I didn’t think you needed to know.” He defended himself.

“You didn’t think that I needed to know that your parents thought I was a fucking gold digger!” Tyler was angry now.

“To be clear, I adore you. I never thought you were a gold digger and told Janet to drop it.”

“Well, thanks Abe.” Janet swatted his shoulder.

“Oh, no mother. Don’t blame him, you had Tom look into me? Called Tyler a gold digger.” Clark spat at his mother. “I love him, and he is the farthest thing from a gold digger.”

“Clark, you barely knew him and were bringing him home to meet us. He came from a…certain background. You’d bought him a car, then you bought his apartment. What else have you bought him.” Janet insulted Tylers upbringing now. She thought little of him. He saw that now. “I just don’t see why you couldn’t make it work with that Bryant boy you dated before him.”

“Nothing, not that it’s your business. And I couldn’t make it work with Bryant because he was boring and cheating asshat.”

“You could’ve just asked me.” Tyler spoke in a flat tone now. His anger had boiled over to a hollow point.

“Tyler-”

“No, Mrs. Price.” Tyler stood up. “I love your son; I don’t need his money. In fact every time he spends it on me, it makes me want to vomit. We’ve had countless arguments over the subject. If you think I’m just some gold-digging tramp, fine. Go ahead.” Tyler pushed his chair in. “But I think your son deserves some privacy from the overbearing mother I see that you are now. I am going to marry your son, and you can come – if you can stand being around someone from my background that is.” Tyler nearly set the tablecloth on fire from his rage. “And I do hope you’ll like the fucking appetizers.” Tyler stormed out.

“Tyler!” Clark got up quickly. “Thanks mother.” He shot at her.

“Clark-”

“Janet let it go.” Abraham told her. “You’ve done enough.”

Clark followed Tyler outside the restaurant. Tyler didn’t know where he was going, he was just walking the tears catching up with him now. Anger subsiding.

“Tyler, slow- Ty! Slow down!” Clark caught up to him.

“Why didn’t you tell me that your mother hates me?” He asked, turning around in anger.

“She doesn’t hate you. She just…I don’t know, but she doesn’t hate you.” Clark said.

“You sure about that? She seemed pretty straightforward in there, calling me a gold digger-”

“She was just looking out for me.” He tried to defend his mother though he knew she was wrong.

“Looking out for you! She had ‘Tom’ look into me. You? You don’t see how toxic that is? Jesus fucking Christ Clark, you know my family is fucked. But at least I recognize it, own it.” Tyler spewed.

“Hey, my family isn’t fucked. My mother is overprotective, but they’re not-”

“Like mine?”

“That is not fair, and it is not what I was going to say.” Clark said threw gritted teeth.

“Isn’t it? We are nothing alike. Our families…us…two different worlds.” Tylers insecurities spoke, being ignited by Janets’ insults.

“Where the fuck is this coming from Tyler, you’ve never brought this up. And you know I don’t care about that shit.”

“You’re right, I know.” Tyler took a breath, calming himself. “I just…”

“Tyler…” Clark reached out and took Tyler into a tight hug.

“Your mother fucking hates me and I can’t compare to your ex.” Tyler cried into Clarks chest.

“You don’t need to compare to him.” Clark assured, rubbing his back. “Bryant was a fucking asshole, cheated on me and gave me chlamydia.”

“Chlamydia?” Tyler pulled back and looked up into Clarks eyes.

“Yeah, my dick burned like I put it in a fucking waffle iron. Doctor said it was worse because I was uncut.” Clark chuckled.

“It’s cleared up now right?” Tyler joked. Feeling comfort seep back into him because of Clark.

“I hope so, I tried this online remedy where I rubbed garlic on my piss slit.” He laughed and Tyler swatted him playfully. “Hey, look at me, I don’t care what my mother says or thinks. I love you.” He grabbed Tylers face and stared deep into his eyes. “I love you.” He repeated softly and kissed Tyler.

“I love you too.” Tyler responded.

“Hey, mom says she’s sorry and will call you tomorrow. Dad paid the bill.” Violet said, joining the two men. Amy in tow.

“Why the fuck did you bring all that up in there.” Clark asked her.

“Because I knew mom was snooping and that you wanted to marry Tyler.” Violet said. “I was also bored and wanted someone to put mother in her place.” She turned to Tyler. “You should have seen the look on her face. ‘I just hope you’ll enjoy the fucking appetizers’.” She repeated Tylers words, giggling.

“So this was a game to you?” Tyler asked.

“No, and sorry for the way things went down, but like I said. Mother needed to be put in her place. She looked into this guy I was dating a while back, he got spooked and dumped me. Mother can be…rude I think is the word.”

“I was gonna say cunty.” Amy said.

“She’s still our mother. Even though she’s…well cunty is actually the right adjective.” Violet agreed.

“I don’t want to argue about this anymore and I need a drink.” Tyler said.

“Bear traps two streets down.” Amy says.

“I love a good bear.” Tyler nodded.

“Rawr.” Clark laughed as he growled into Tylers ear.

“Down boy.” Violet commented.

This story of punishment and humiliation follows on from ‘Eric’s Revenge’ chs 1-16, and ‘Eric’s Revenge: the bungalow’ chs 1-6.    

I lured Eric to my dungeon and tortured him.  He confided to me that he was gay and I sexploited him in terrible ways, beating him sadistically, making him worship me (including drinking my piss and licking my unwiped asshole), and I fucked his tight ass without lube, turned on by his screams.  To make matters worse for him, when he was finally driven to complain, I lied and I was believed.  No one believed him and I was let off.  Eric was damaged and completely humiliated.  

A year later, I was caught doing something similar to another 18 year-old and sent to a specially harsh prison where I was forbidden outside contact.  To my horror, on the day I arrived, I discovered that Eric, still only 19, was a guard there.  He told the guards and the inmates what I had done and the kind of person I was.  They let him run a special regime for me, with the help of several younger inmates.  It was endless torture, brutal punishments, mental cruelty and vile humiliation.  I have described the three years of Eric’s terrible sadism in the ‘Eric’s Revenge’ series.    

When he became the senior guard, Eric finally went too far with me with a vicious dog – I had to drink the dog’s piss and eat its shit, and it was trained to attack me.  He also beat other younger inmates severely, and the news got out – screaming and bleeding was normal in that prison when Eric was in charge.    

One day, the police raided. 

When he realised that his revenge and his whole sadistic regime were all over, before he was led away, Eric quickly whispered that he wanted a deal.  I would withhold evidence and he would become my slave.  This was something I couldn’t resist.  I kept all the evidence against him carefully, but I didn’t use it in court.  Several of his accomplices went to prison, but not Eric.   

A day after the end of the trial, Eric knew exactly what he had to do to stay out of prison.  He knocked on the door of my house, superficially unremarkable but isolated, which I had bought with my compensation money, and I let him in.   

Eric stood on the doormat and he stripped naked.  He knelt and kissed my feet.   

I led Eric to the basement where his life as my slave would begin.  

I don’t really know what Eric expected when he came to be my slave.  I am sure he expected to be made to do unpleasant chores, and he probably reckoned he’d get beaten, mistreated and fucked.  Deep down, he probably felt that that was what he deserved for the three years of continuous cruelty he had imposed on me in prison.  And, although he was a sadist, I knew he was also a sexual sub and enjoyed being beaten by his friends and worshipping their feet and asses. 

He wasn’t expecting what confronted him when I pushed him down the narrow stairs to my basement.    

At the bottom of those stairs, Eric stopped.   He was naked and extraordinarily beautiful.  His six-foot tall, slim and elegant frame, with strong but not over-muscled arms and legs, his gorgeous well-proportioned slightly rounded buttocks, his bigger-than-average – but not too big – cock and balls, his beautifully smooth skin with only the lightest line of blond hair leading to his perfect pubes and deep in his ass-crack, his handsome face with soft lips, beautiful hair and a welcoming dimpled smile.   

Eric wasn’t smiling now.  

He just stopped at the entrance to the basement.  This was the exact moment when he realised that his ‘deal’ with me was a terrible mistake, and that it was also too late to do anything about it.   

Eric’s lovely soft mouth opened and closed in silent terror when he realised what I had devised for him.  

Eric’s saw all the restraints and torture equipment you could imagine.  The basement was as big as my house and full of everything for causing pain, especially to a naked young man like Eric.  From canes to candles, from a whipping bench to a spike-mat, from pliers to whips, from electric wires with sharp pincers to chains with terrifying weights.  He also saw some doors leading off the main torture chamber into horrors he could only guess at.    

Eric saw my two assistants, two boys from the prison.  There was Jez, dark-haired, fresh-faced, with an almost permanent blush of colour in his cheeks, quite short but pretty strong, now 19, and there was Jonny, also now 19, tall and thin, pimply and greasy-haired, and, as Eric well knew, horribly sadistic.  The boys had black tee-shirts with ‘punishment’ written across the front, black shorts and black trainers.  These were the same sadistic inmates who, under Eric’s instructions, had enjoyed making me mix dog-shit into my gruel and who had whipped me enthusiastically when I had to crawl naked over broken glass.  They had watched and laughed when Eric had burned and tortured my dick and asshole and penetrated both of them with barbed wire.  They had applauded when Eric caned me time and time again until my ass was scarred permanently and bled freely.  Jonny particularly loved it when I had had to eat his shit. Now Jonny and Jez had another victim. 

I had of course made a deal with the two boys and paid them well.  Now they stood with their hands crossed, smiling in anticipation.   

It took Eric a little longer to notice the big screen on the wall facing him.  The screen displayed the whoring-out webpage for Eric.  Soon, there wouldn’t be just text but photos of his naked body: nothing about him would be hidden from punters.  His face and name were there, already well known from the coverage of his trial, and there were places for close-up pictures of his dick, his asshole, and his whole body.  But this was not just for ordinary public sites, where people might want to pay to fuck him and maybe spank or cane his ass.  This was for a special corner of the dark web …  

Punters were invited to choose their punishments and tortures, sex-acts and humiliations from a long list.  Everything had a price -’fuck mouth’, ‘fuck ass’, ‘cum on face’, and so on.  Then each body-part had a punishment-price and a higher torture-price – ‘cock-outside’, ‘cock-inside’, ‘one ball’, ‘both balls’, ‘one nipple’, both nipples’, ‘ears’, ‘feet’, ‘ass’ and so on.  The prices also varied according to more ordinary punishment methods such as ‘cane’, ‘paddle’, ‘scrubbing brush’, ‘pinwheel’ or torture methods like ‘pincers’, ‘barbed wire’, ‘electric shocks’, ‘weights’, ‘forced exercising’, ‘rack’, and according to severity, like ‘bruising’, ‘welting’, ‘squeezing’, ‘crushing’, ‘blood’.  People who wanted to spank Eric could choose from many implements and the number of strokes from 100 in an hour up to 1,000 over a few days.  

Then there was the eye-catcher section of ‘Specials’.  These included an introductory visit to the basement, when the customer could use Eric for sex and also beat him, and ‘get to know the slave’.  At these introductions, there would be a discussion, of course in front of Eric who would be gagged, about which special tortures his customers would like to come back and use on him.  The ‘specials’ included piercing, burning, cutting and slicing, internal torture (via a choice of holes), and the most painful possible removal of a finger or toe (extra payment if Eric was to be made to eat it afterwards).  The price varied according to the amount of time required – the burning of the anus or a testicle, for example, using  methods like chilli, acid, cigars and candles, for two hours, was cheaper than the amputation of a finger or a toe which could be stretched out to last for a week and be combined with lots of other activities, all very painful for Eric! 

All punishments and tortures could be combined with raping Eric in any way.  Suggestions included oral, anal, upside down (with or without head in piss-bucket), and as many variations as anyone could imagine. 

Customers could add humiliations ranging from making him drink his customer’s piss and eat his own or his customer’s shit or cum (or the boys’ shit or cum if preferred) to repeatedly dipping Eric’s head with his mouth forced open into human vomit, the boys’ diarrhoea, piles of dog-shit or rotting pig-slurry in my special sewage tank. 

Eric shook and his knees started to knock.  He couldn’t move.  

The boys walked up to Eric, grabbed his wrists and handcuffed them behind his back.  They pushed, shoved and finally kicked him into a ridiculously small cage in a corner of the room set over a drain.  He sat on the bars at the bottom of the cage, which must have been incredibly uncomfortable, with his head pushed forward over his pulled-up knees.  He was naked, handcuffed and a picture of misery.  He whimpered slightly when he hit his head on the roof of the cage, when the iron bars crunched into his buttocks, ass-crack, knees and elbows, as they were designed to do.  He cried out as he started inevitably to get agonising cramps which he was helpless to relieve.  I got the boys to beat any part of his body he managed to get through the bars , mainly his toes and fingers – they did it with relish – judging by the scream, I think Jonny broke one of Eric’s knuckles with a wooden paddle.

There were two large buckets next to the cage.  Eric could only watch while the two boys took a bucket each and went to a tap in a corner, where they filled them with cold water.  Without saying anything, but smirking, they emptied both buckets over the naked Eric, jammed into his cage, his new home, and totally unable to move.   Jez and Jonny spat on Eric and then laughed and walked up out of the basement. 

I stayed behind for a minute.  ‘Fucking slave’, I said, ‘did you think you were going to get it easy?’  I walked across the room and pissed on Eric, aiming for his eyes.  ‘The boys are going to pour water over you every hour this evening and tomorrow morning – yes you’re staying in there all night – and you’re going to be my fucking piss-pot’.  Then I turned the temperature down, switched off the lights, and joined the boys.    

While we ate, we could hear Eric crying and then yelling, pleading and begging.   We raised our glasses.   

When we’d had a good meal and quite a few drinks, we went back to the basement.  Eric of course had had nothing to eat or drink, and we had no plans to feed him till the next day anyway.  He had largely dried off but was shivering, so the boys poured two more buckets of cold water over him – ‘Keep him cold and wet’, I said to the boys.  I thought about my plans for him for the next day, and added ‘Piss on him and cum on him if you feel like it, but leave off shitting on him till tomorrow’. 

I’ve never been so angry in my life! My face long ago morphed to purple with rage. The tires on my car let out an ear-splitting squeal, as I cut a corner short and slammed on my brakes to park. The few people in the parking lot at 3:10 a.m. scuttled quickly toward their destinations without looking up, probably because they feared making eye contact with a crazy person. To emphasize my anger, even though no one in the parking lot cared, I slammed the car door so hard the vehicle shook and stomped across the street to the entrance to the police station, where a policeman eyed me warily. I grunted in his direction and charged through the door. Blair, my teenaged son, was inside. He’d been arrested!

@@@@@

I’m a 45-year old single father of two boys — Blair, 19, and Connor, 18. My boys, young men actually, have been the focus of my life for almost two decades. I’ve made lots of sacrifices over the years from breaking off promising relationships to potential new jobs in other cities. I didn’t mind these sacrifices, because I loved my kids and wanted them to have a better life experience growing up than me. (I was subjected to parental alcoholism and frequent corporal punishment.)

Anyone can tell my boys are brothers. Both are good looking (I’m prejudiced, of course). They’re smart, getting straight A’s in high school, even in their college prep courses. They’re also good athletes. Blair ran track in high school and, even now that he’s graduated, finds time to run most days. Connor is a talented swimmer on his high school team and wins most races. He’s earned a swimming scholarship to college next year. As you can tell, I’m proud of them. 

The biggest difference between the boys is that Blair is more adventurous, spontaneous, and non-conformist. Plus, he has the innate ability to make friends almost instantly. He’s always trying new things (he’s going through a “nudist phase” around the house now! Last year, it was dying his hair red or yellow or white.), willing to change plans at the “drop of a hat,” and ready to participate in new adventures. After high school, Blair opted not to go to college like his friends but to take a gap year to “horse around,” something Conner would never think of doing. A few days after graduation (long enough time to recover from a drunken all-night graduation party), he and three buddies took a two week trip up and down the coast “seeing the sites” (meaning, I think, getting drunk most nights and “bedding down” random young ladies). Soon after getting home from his bacchanal, he got a good job at a toney downtown restaurant where he makes great tips. (I’m sure his good looks and engaging personality help with the tips.) He’s applied for, and been accepted to, college next year.

Connor’s more mentally focused and calm than Blair. As I said, he’s already been accepted to college. No gap year for him! He gets better grades in high school (4.0, rather than Blair’s 3.7) because he concentrates more on his studies than Blair. Connor also involved himself in a myriad of social activities outside of school (volunteering to deliver meals to the elderly on Sundays and doing odd jobs at a homeless shelter, although he gave that up his senior year). Connor’s not as spontaneous as Blair — he makes meticulous plans ahead of time and sticks to them. Connor may not have the quantity of friends that Blair has, since Blair is the type that knows everyone, but Connor’s friends are quality kids. 

We’re three guys living in the same house for 15 years. Although we each have household and yard chores, many times the dusting and vacuuming slides for a while (weeks maybe!), the dishwasher doesn’t get turned on until we’re down to the last dinner plate and spoon, and the laundry doesn’t get washed until somebody has only one clean pair of underwear. But, we rarely argue, have good senses of humor, pitch in to help each other, and love and respect each other as only a family can.

On a typical morning, I’m up a little before 5:00 a.m. (I know) and out of the shower and into the kitchen by 5:30, making coffee. (On days I’m not teleworking, which is half the time, I like to get to the office by 7:00.) Connor is down at 5:45, wearing only his speedo. He prepares a large breakfast and I help. (He’s a swimmer, meaning he consumes lots of food.) After eating, Connor heads back to his room to dress for practice (t-shirt and sweatpants). He carries his books and school clothes in a backpack. A neighbor lady, who has a son, Vince, who swims and is Connor’s best friend, drives them to practice.

I must admit, and it’s a terrible admission to make, that I look at my sons with some degree of desire! They are handsome with great bodies. Both have wavey almost curly black hair piled on top of their heads and shorter hair on the sides. (I think teens refer to this as the broccoli cut.) Both stand six feet tall, but Blair is slightly taller. They have smooth chests, flat abs, piercing dark eyes, and are developing some muscles. I try not to stare but, lately, it’s hard not to with Blair’s naked body on full display around the house, including a large dick flopping around, while Connor’s dick is bunched up inside a skimpy speedo protected only by the suit’s thin fabric. And, both have butt cheeks as smooth as marble. (The “gene-pool god” must have made visits on their conception nights.) There is lots of masturbation in my bedroom at night, followed by waves of guilt about my disgusting thoughts, plus promises not kept to never have lustful thoughts about my sons again.

@@@@@@@@@@

In the police station, I sat on a concrete-hard wooden bench defaced by scores of initials from people who’d sat here before me. My temper had abated somewhat, although it was still boiling beneath the surface. I kept asking myself a variant of the same question, “How could Blair be so irresponsible?” Michael Meade, my friend and attorney, who has some pull at city hall, sat beside me. We paid the bond to get Blair out of jail and now twiddled our thumbs, waiting for a policemen to bring him to the waiting room. The charges against Blair, made my head spin — driving under the influence, speeding, running a red light, failing to yield, and destruction of property (as he was being stopped by the police, Blair’s car destroyed a trash can, which had a “Drive Safely” poster on it, according to a bemused cop.). Michael was concerned that Blair could be in some “hot water.” He thought the minor charges could be negotiated away but maybe not the drunk driving or destruction of property charges. From experience with these cases, he anticipated community service and AA meetings. I had a throbbing headache, thinking about the potential negative implications of a police record on Blair’s future. Finally, about 6:30 a.m., an officer led Blair into the room.

“Here’s Johnny Walker,” I growled sarcastically. Blair reacted with a pained look on his face. At least, Blair appeared mostly sober after sitting in a holding cell for about 7 hours. “My car’s outside. Let’s go!” I said sharply.

“I’ll be in contact when I hear something from the city attorney,” Michael said. I nodded. Blair looked at the floor.

Once in the car, Blair sat in the back seat. Blair hasn’t sat there since he was young. I suppose he did so to avoid me! He could tell I was pissed. We drove home in silence.
Connor met us at the front door with a look of concern on his face. He was wearing a tiny red speedo with blue side panels, because he had a swim meet at 9:00. Usually, that sight caused my heart to skip a beat, but not now. Connor said, “I made some eggs and bacon, if anyone’s hungry. There’s coffee and juice too.”

Both Blair and I muttered “Thanks.” Blair can speak! Since I wasn’t really concentrating on the ensuing back and forth between the kids, I didn’t hear everything, but I heard Blair say something to the effect that, “You’re a good driver. You can chauffeur me around town when I’m drinking!” 

I fucking lost it! I turned in anger and slapped Blair across the face — slapped him hard — for trying to be funny at a time like this. Instantly, I knew it was a terrible mistake. Despite the poor judgment Blair had shown, he didn’t need his father to lose emotional control. The anger that produced my slap became horror, as I watched Blair’s face melt in a nanosecond, turning from the slight smile brought on from his attempt at humor with Connor, to watery eyes and a wavering chin that indicated Blair was on the verge of tears. He backed away from me, said “Fuck you,” sprinted up the stairs to his room, and slammed the door. I started to follow him, but Connor grabbed my arm and stopped me.

“Don’t,” he said. “Let him be. He doesn’t want to see you now!” Wisdom from the mouths of babes!

Connor and I ate in silence, with Connor radiating waves of disapproval in my direction. After breakfast, Connor and I did a little clean up, before I drove him to the swim meet. Connor’s team won the meet, although the score was close and the races exciting. It did me good to watch a hundred or so teenage boys in speedos and tight jammers, many with great bodies, walking around the pool deck. It gave me a chance to think about something other than last night, my gross overreaction to Blair’s joke, and my exhaustion. I was awake enough to notice that when wet, Connor’s red speedo was partially see through, as the darkness of his ass crack was plainly visible as well as the contours of his cock. Hmmm, perhaps something to distract me from thoughts of Blair in the privacy of my bedroom tonight?

At home, we noticed that Blair hadn’t come down from his room to eat the leftovers stored in the refrigerator. By evening (and after I took an hours-long nap that somewhat relieved my weariness), we still hadn’t seen him.

“Why don’t I go up to his room and persuade him to eat,” I said.

“No, dad! Chill out! Why don’t you leave the house for, say, a couple of hours,” Connor said. “Maybe, with you gone, I can get him to come downstairs.”

“Really? Ya think ya can get him down?”

“I’ll try! Just leave!”

“Well, I guess.” Connor comes through again.

While serving my banishment, I ate at my favorite restaurant and reflected on my role in this long and terrible day. Because I didn’t want to be like my father, I’d promised the boys when they were 4 or 5 years old that I would never physically punish them — no hitting or spanking — if they did something “wrong.” I kept my promise for a decade and a half until I messed up today. It was a promise that I should’ve never broken, and I regretted it. As an adult, I should have the maturity and discipline to control my temper. My sons are the most important things in my life. Yes, Blair showed abysmal judgment but, maybe even worse, so did I. I resolved to apologize for my behavior, if Blair would let me. 

When I returned home, Connor was in the family room playing video games. My first question was, “Has Blair come down yet?”

“Yes. He ate. We talked.” 

“About ….?”

“He wants to apologize to you for what happened.”

“Should I go up now?”

“Yeah, now would be good.” I started to leave the room, but Connor asked, “Can I spend the night at Vince’s? I’ve already got his mom’s permission. Too much drama here!”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

@@@@@

A few moments later, I tapped on Blair’s door. I was rewarded with a “Yeah.” I opened the door and saw Blair lying on his side on his bed completely naked, scrolling through his phone.

“We should talk,” I said.

Blair sat up and swung his feet off the bed so they were on the floor. Blair looked at the wall on the opposite side of the room for a long moment, before turning his attention to me and pouring out his apology. “I’m so sorry, dad. I didn’t mean none of this. My friends and I we were just gonna buy movie tickets. Larry texted us about a party. We ditched the movie and went. I was there for like an hour and a half and had only a beer and then someone brought out the hard stuff for shots. I knew I was drinkin way too many, but it was fun and we were laughing so hard and flirting with girls and it was fun and I got drunker and drunker. And, and, I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Barry, he, he wasn’t drinkin, drove us back to the theater parking lot and we all got in our cars. I shouldn’t ah drove. I know better but …. I was just stupid, so stupid. I’ve never drove drunk before, I swear. Ya got to believe me! Drunk drivin is wrong. I know I let you down. And, I cussed at you. That’s wrong. I let myself down, but letting you down is the worst. I …., I …. can’t ever make this up to you, but I’ll try. I was so stupid. I wasn’t thinking.” During his soliloquy, Blair got up and walked toward me, closing to within a few feet. I could see tears in his eyes, as his glances moved between my face and the floor.

“There’s something I need to say too. I’m sorry for slapping you. I let my anger take over. That was really, really stupid. I broke my promise to you — a father should never break his promise — that I’d never hit or spank you and for that I am sorry. You and Connor are the most important people in my life and, and, I can’t believe I failed you so completely today when I shoulda been helping.” 

We embraced. Tears flowed down Blair’s cheeks, which caused my eyes to water. Blair mumbled again and again, “I’m sorry.” I responded over and over with, “That’s okay, son,” and “Today’s a learning experience for both of us.” I eventually moved an arm up and tousled his hair.

“Dad, you’re messing up my hair!”

“I know, but that’s part of my job as a dad.” Blair smiled — a million dollar smile. And, I smiled back.

Since shortly after our embrace, I’d felt a hard poke at my groin area! After the exchange of smiles, I discretely rearranged my feet, creating maybe an inch of space between our bodies for a second or two. I looked down the narrow gap and was treated to an overhead view of Blair’s erection — a purple head with a dollop of pre-cum sitting on his piss slit staring back at me. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I resumed the hug, pressing our bodies together. I was perplexed about what to do or think. Why did Blair have a boner? Should I keep hugging Blair until his boner goes away? Should I say anything? 

In an instant, although it seemed like 10 minutes, I realized I had an escape from this embarrassing situation. “What do you think is an appropriate punishment for your actions?” I’d always required Blair and Connor to determine punishments for their misdeeds as kids. They’d been fairly honest in coming up with penalties (less TV, more chores, grounded for a week). Many times the penalties were tougher than ones I would’ve imposed.

Blair’s response was shocking. He disengaged from my arms and dropped to his knees in front of me! Before my sleep-deprived mind had a chance to process what was happening, he pulled down my shorts. “What are you doing?” I gasped.

 Blair didn’t answer. Instead, as my shorts fell to the floor, Blair started pulling on my underwear. Within a second or two, my cock was exposed!

“This is for you, dad! My punishment!” His tongue made contact with the head of my dick, which instantly started to chub up. (I didn’t know blood could travel so fast!) Then, he lapped his tongue around and around my cock head, bathing it with his saliva. I should’ve objected immediately and demanded that he stop, but the incredible feeling of his tongue on my cock was beyond description, heightened by the fact that it’d been months since anyone had sucked my cock, further heightened by the fact that this was my beautiful son. I was soon rock hard. After a minute or so of tongue action, Blair thrust his head forward and a couple of inches of my seven-inch cock disappeared into his mouth.

“No, no, no! What are you doing?” Blair didn’t answer; his mouth was engaged in other activities. “Stop it now! This isn’t necessary.” Blair kept sucking. Since I must be weak willed, I gave in to the situation.

It wasn’t the best blow job I’ve ever received. In fact, it was the worst. (Once my cock was in his mouth, Blair hardly used his tongue. Rather, he just sucked air in and out over my cock head barely even letting his lips touch my shaft.) But, Blair was earnest and energetic, so I decided not to interrupt him with instructions on how to perform a proper blow job. If anything, I should’ve forced him to stop, as our actions as father and son were highly inappropriate, but I was overcome with lust due to my fantasies over the last many years about Blair and Connor.

Even Blair’s poor attempt at a BJ bore fruit eventually, mainly because his hand was stroking the portion of my cock not in his mouth. I could feel my cum gathering in my balls. Blair kept blowing air and my cum soon started to move quickly up my shaft. “I’m cuming!” I gasped. At the last instant, Blair pulled my cock out of his mouth. I grabbed his head and positioned it directly in front of my cock. (I have a fetish about cuming in the mouth or, at least, on the face.) My load shot out; the first several ribbons of sperm landed in his hair, while subsequent blasts coated his lips and nose and left cheek.

Instant awkwardness. I didn’t know what to say. Maybe that was because there was so much to say! I finally settled on, “Let’s call it a night.” Blair remained on his knees, using his hand to wipe off his face, as I rapidly fled the room.

@@@@@

Early in the morning, there was a knock on my bedroom door, and it opened before I could say anything. It was Blair naked, as usual. He almost tiptoed across the carpet to my bed. “Where’s Connor? I don’t see him anywhere.”

“He spent the night at Vince’s.”

“No wonder I can’t find him.”

“I think he wanted to get away from the drama between us.” I paused before continuing.

“Son, about last night. I think we need to talk.”

“What about? It’s just a BJ.”

“Well,19-year-old, heterosexual sons don’t usually give their fathers blow jobs.”

“I thought you’d like it. I decided that should be my punishment.”

“Why’d you think I’d like it?”

“I see how you look at me. And, Connor. I see how you look at guys when we’re out somewhere. And, you used to forget videos in the DVD player. With guys having sex! There are no secrets in this house.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions! I ….,” but my response was cut off.

“I bet you’re hard right now!”

“Again, not true,” I protested, as I tried to rearrange sheets to more thoroughly hide evidence to the contrary.

Blair was too fast. He ripped the sheets off me, tossing them to the side of the bed and exposing my nudity and semi-hard cock.

“Looks like I have more work to do,” Blair grinned.

“What? No! It’s not what it looks like.”

“It’s not? It looks like a boner to me. With your son in the room!”

Blair sat by my knee, leaned over, and licked my cock head. I moaned. “See, ya need another blow job.” 

“You don’t have to do this. Last night was more than enough.”

Blair ignored my protestations and again took a couple of inches of cock into his mouth. Like last night, he mostly sucked air. I blocked his hand as he tried to move it to my shaft. “No!” I said.

“No? You really want me to stop?”

I paused but then said, “As long as you’re giving out BJs, you should learn to do it right! Don’t just suck air in and out. Clamp your lips down on my shaft! Use your tongue to bathe my cock head! Oh, that feels good. Move your tongue all around the head and use it on the piss slit. God, yes, that’s it. Now, move your tongue up and down the shaft too. Careful with your teeth!”

Blair still didn’t have more than a couple of inches of cock in his mouth, so I gently pushed down on his head. That, maybe, got another inch in, but that was enough for now. With my head propped on my pillow, I could look down my chest to see Blair’s head bobbing up and down and feel his tongue everywhere on the head of my cock. I also saw the downy skin of Blair’s naked torso lying on his side. Letting my gaze wonder further down his body, I saw most of a rigid cock sticking straight out from his groin. God, what a sight!

Blair ministered to my cock for many minutes. It still wasn’t the best BJ, but he did more than inhale and exhale air. When I was close to cuming, I told Blair, “Lie on your back.” When he did so, I scrambled around and straddled his torso. I masturbated. It didn’t take more than a few strokes before I blew a huge load, practically urinating cum over Blair’s chin, lips, nose, forehead, and hair. A last glob of semen fell on Blair’s closed right eyelid. For me, it was one of the most erotic visual scenes ever! 

“Don’t open your eyes,” I said. I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and returned to the bed to dab the semen off Blair’s eyelid. By this time, the cum on Blair’s face was turning watery and running down the sides of his cheek and forehead. Oh, man, that image caused me to stay semi-hard.

As I slowly cleaned his face, I said, “Ya know, son, I call ‘bullshit’ on your reason for giving me a BJ. What’s the real story here? I’m your dad. Be honest.”

There was no immediate response. When I finished cleaning, Blair slowly opened his eyes and sighed. I could tell he was struggling with what he wanted to say. Finally, he said, “The trip. The post graduation trip. With my friends. All four of us stayed in one room to save money. I shared a bed with Barry. We got hammered the first night. I woke up like 3:00 – 4:00 o’clock. Barry’s hand was on my dick. I was hard. And, his hand kept moving around on my crotch, and I liked it! A few days later we didn’t go out with the other guys. Barry and I were so burned out from drinking every night that we just crashed. We’re laying on the bed just talking, ya know, and I mentioned that his hand was massaging my crotch a few nights before. We talked. Barry was embarrassed but admitted he was gay. It blew my mind cause I’ve known him since first grade. I never realized. We talked more. One thing led to another and, well, my cock was soon in Barry’s mouth. And, I liked it! I creamed all over myself. After that, most nights we made up an excuse to get away from the other guys. We’d go back to the room and jack off together or Barry would suck me off. And, since I got back from the trip, that’s what I think about — boys and BJs.“

“You’re always so curious. Always trying something new,” I said. It made sense to me that he would try something different sexually.

Blair immediately shot down my theory. “It’s more than trying something new. I’ve been thinking for the last two or three years that I’m bi. But, I may be gay. Right now, I’m not thinking much about girls.”

I was momentarily speechless. Blair was gay or bi! I’d missed all the signs. Like father, like son?

 Blair continued, “I wanted to learn how to do a real BJ. So, I thought you could teach me.”

“Your father could teach you? That’s odd, don’t ya think? You never got a BJ from a girl?”

“Yeah, a couple of times, but girls ain’t born knowing how to do it either. And, why is it odd? I knew you liked to look at guys.”

“How bout learning from porn?”

“That shit’s boring. No!”

After some moments of quiet, I said, “I can teach you. We could start now with another BJ, except I have that important community meeting this afternoon about where to put the new swing set. But, don’t worry, we’ll get to it!” During our long talk, Blair’s cock had mostly deflated. I reached out and massaged it until it was rock hard. I leaned over and ran my tongue up his shaft and did a tongue dance on his purple cock head. Blair’s moan was music to my ears. My tongue and mouth worked over Blair’s cock. A few minutes later and he was spewing cum all over his chest and stomach.

“Now,: I said, “That’s the way to suck cock.”

@@@@@

Monday morning early. Connor and I were sitting on bar stools by the kitchen island. Connor was dressed in his red speedo (now my favorite) and chowing down. I was sipping coffee, listening to news on TV, and wearing an old pair of cutoffs. A bleary-eyed Blair stumbled naked into the room.

“Oh, good,” Blair said. “I need coffee.”

“You need pants,” said Connor, pointing at Blair with his fork.

In response, Blair gyrated his hips, causing his cock to dance. “I’ll never be able to unsee that,” Connor announced, covering his eyes. Connor bused his drinking glass and plate to the sink and rushed upstairs to dress.

Blair and I looked at each other and exchanged smiles. “Hope you’re mouth is ready for a learning experience,” I whispered.

“Can’t wait!” Blair whispered back, licking his lips provocatively.

Connor raced into the kitchen, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “My ride’s here. Gotta go. See ya later.” Connor shot out the door and moments later we heard the neighbor’s car drive away.

I immediately dropped my cutoffs to the floor and sat back down on the barstool. “Now, get me hard.”

“Yes, dad!” Blair immediately leaned over and took my cock in his mouth. My cock hardened quickly.

“Take all of it in your mouth,” I said, as I hoisted myself up to sit on the island, so Blair didn’t have to bend over as much.

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You can do it easy. You’ll be surprised.” 

“Well . . . .” Blair only slid a few inches of my cock into his mouth.

“Like yesterday, use your tongue to bathe my head and shaft.” Blair followed my directions, causing me to moan with pleasure.

“Okay, now, I’m going to gently push your head down so you take more of my shaft.” 

Blair grunted something unintelligible. I took it as permission and started pushing on the back of his head. More and more of my cock disappeared down his throat. Blair began gagging and snuffling with about an inch of my cock remaining to go into his throat. Maybe, I should’ve stopped pushing at this point, but I couldn’t help myself. I was horny; I wanted Blair to take it all. I kept pushing until Blair’s lips reached my pubic hair. Heaven for me! Hell for Blair, as he gurgled out a huge wad of saliva onto my pubic hair. I stopped pushing and Blair’s head bobbed up a couple of inches. He gasped for breath. More phlegm rolled out of his mouth.

“When you feel ready, go down all the way again,” I instructed. “Do it without my help.”

Blair slowly started, and I mean slowly, to swallow my cock. It took a bit, but my entire shaft disappeared into Blair’s mouth without my assistance. My groan was long and loud. The warmth, the tongue action, the sucking, the fact that it was my son’s mouth; the feeling was indescribable. Of course, Blair gagged, sending a near constant stream of phlegm onto my pubic hair and balls and eventually dripping on the island. I now applied some pressure on the back of Blair’s skull not letting my son come up for air. The muffled coughing, the hacking, the frantic attempts to contort his body and free his mouth from the invading organ made me wild with lust. I kept complementing Blair on his success, “Atta boy,” “Doing great,” “Feels good.” I withdrew my cock a little and started thrusting deep into Blair’s throat. Soon, I could feel jizz pouring into my shaft. I redoubled the pace of my thrusts.
“I’m gonna cum!”

I erupted, flooding his mouth and throat with my semen. It was another great orgasm. I kept shooting and shooting. Every muscle in my body shuddered, as if each muscle was contributing to the orgasm. I kept yelling to Blair not to move, while invoking God’s name.
Finally, my cock stopped spurting. Blair’s first oral load! I let my cum and saliva-covered cock slide out of his mouth. “Now, son,” I said, “Swallow!”

Blair gave me a wide-eyed look of shock like that was something he didn’t contemplate. “Yes, swallow. Your dad wants you to.” My son hesitated, I nodded at him, and he swallowed with his eyes closed, as if he was drinking poison.

“Not so bad, is it?” I said. “You’ll survive, right?”

Blair gave me a look, as if he disagreed. “It’s salty and got sort of a slimy texture,” he said. 

“Do you want to be a good cocksucker?”

“Yeah.”

“Then, you’ll need to get used to it.”

@@@@@

The following evening Connor and Vince planned to attend a basketball game against a rival high school. That would leave Blair and I alone for at least two to two and a half hours. Blair and I gave each other occasional knowing looks, as the clock ticked toward Connor’s 7:00 departure. I felt guilty, counting down the time until my younger son left the house, but I was horny and Blair and I had plans.

A few minutes before 7:00, I peeked into Connors room. “Have a good time at the game tonight.”

“I will.”

“Is the other team good?”

“They’re in first place in the conference, just like their swim team. We have to beat them in something. Oh, Vince and I and some of the guys are going out to eat after the game. That’s okay, isn’t it?

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

I went into my bedroom, stripped, and got hard while laying on the bed. I heard Connor leave and, soon after, Blair’s bedroom door opened. Moments later, Blair walked into my room naked and erect. What a sight! Blair had a magnificent erection. His cock, like mine, stood seven inches tall with a purple glistening head. It was probably a little thicker than mine. His balls hung nice and low and, as he walked toward my bed, their swinging temporarily mesmerized me.

“What’s the plan for the next two hours?” Blair asked.

“I thought we’d watch square dancing from the nursing home on the community cable channel.”

Blair snorted, “Like that’s not happening!”

“You’re dripping precum.” As I said this, Blair rubbed a finger on his cockhead and slurped the precum into his mouth. “I see you’re practicing on your swallowing techniques.” Blair frowned, as if my little joke wasn’t funny. “Let’s try something a little new,” I said.

“I like the sound of that!”

“Somehow, I knew you would. Lie on your back across the bed. Now, move toward me a little, so your head droops over this side. Yes, like that. You’ve got it. Do you know what’s going to happen?”

“Not sure. But, I think I can guess.”

“This position allows me to slide my cock deep into your throat. Your throat is totally open. I can really face fuck you now.”

“Face fuck?”

“You’ll see.”

“I’m not sure I like those two words together!”

I immediately moved into position over him. Blair looked like he wasn’t sure about this. He probably was thinking about yesterday morning and the problems taking my seven inches in his mouth.

I anticipated his trepidation and was honest with him. “This may be more difficult than yesterday, but you’ll love it in the end. And, so will your dad.” 

“I guess I need to learn. Let’s do it!” 

I bent my knees slightly and pointed my hard cock directly toward Blair’s open mouth. My cock inched past his lips, slowly continuing with no problem until it reached a point near the back of his tongue. Then, Blair coughed slightly. At this juncture, I eased forward even slower until Blair’s gagging reflex kicked in. I stopped momentarily before resuming the push forward. Lots of coughing and gagging now. Finally, I was fully in, every millimeter of my cock contained in his oral cavity. I employed a few gentle thrusts at first but soon started increasing my pace. Blair’s hacking and gagging only intensified. Some phlegm started rolling out of his mouth. 

“What do you think of face fucking?” Blair responded with a gurgle and wide eyes. Without warning, I slammed into Blair’s throat with a powerful thrust; only physical impossibility kept me from burying my cock even deeper. Again and again, I rammed in as far as I could. As I continued to punish Blair’s throat, Blair let out one long wheeze/gag/hack, as a tidal wave of phlegm poured out of the corners of his mouth; the phlegm traveling past the sides of his nose into his eye sockets and, when they filled, continuing across his forehead lodging in his hair. At times, when my cock was fully buried in Blair’s throat, I’d fall forward to lie on Blair’s body, ensuring that my cock remained buried until I could feel Blair actually start to choke and his chest to heave in search of air. Over and over I slammed in. Finally, after subjecting Blair to this oral assault, and with Blair’s face covered with phlegm, his eyes sealed shut by saliva, and his hair hosting big gobs of goo, I unloaded deep into Blair’s throat, unleashing blast after blast of milky cream. When the last of my jism dripped from my cock, my body collapsed one final time on Blair’s torso, this time in exhaustion, and my spent cock slipped from his mouth. Blair swallowed the small amounts of my semen in his mouth.

“I need a towel,” Blair gasped. Rather than heading to the bathroom for one, I grabbed my t-shirt and gently scooped saliva from his eye sockets so Blair could see again. Then, I wiped the rest of his face.

“Did I overdo it?” I was feeling a little guilty. Maybe, I still had some residual anger from Blair’s arrest.

“Nah. I took it, didn’t I?” 

“Not a ringing endorsement but you took it and I’m proud of you!” As Blair was about to roll over, I stopped him. “One more thing,” I said. “Clean my cock! Get all the saliva and cum off!” 

“Jesus, dad! Really!”

“The guy you blow will like it.”

“That makes me seem like some sort of slut.”

“No. It just makes you a good cocksucker.”

Once again, my cock slid back into Blair’s mouth. After Blair’s ministrations, my cock emerged with a shiny, clean head and shaft. We sat for a minute or two, catching our breath.

“Fuck it!” Blair said. “Let’s do it again!”

“Jesus! Really?” I parroted Blair. “You liked it?”

“I liked it!” I’m not sure Blair was telling the truth, but I let it slide.

This time, Blair knelt in front of me and my semi-hard cock disappeared into his mouth. Blair sucked vigorously and enthusiastically. He had to work for my load but, eventually, I rewarded him with a series of creamy blasts. After I withdrew, Blair kept his mouth open displaying the evidence of my orgasm. Then, he closed his mouth, swallowed, and reopened. My cum was gone, sliding silently into his stomach. He cleaned off my cockhead until it was sparkling without me asking.

 “Pleased?” asked Blair.

“Pleased!”

(to be continued)

“No way!” I said, my voice filled with excitement as Alocan and I ambled back towards the castle, our horses’ hooves echoing softly on the cobblestone path.

“I swear on my life,” he replied, his cheeks flushing a bit.

I was once again amazed by how Alocan’s physical presence could so starkly contrast with his demeanor. 
He was a towering figure, with muscles that rippled beneath his clothes and and an aura of power that seemed to make him a natural leader. Yet, as soon as he spoke, his soft-spoken nature and lack of confidence were glaringly obvious, like a wilted flower on a mighty oak. It was something that had caught my attention when we were both children playing in the castle gardens. Back then, he was already bigger than the rest of us, but his shyness had made him interesting to me.

My father, King Aldric, had always placed a high value on physical strength. In the kingdom where our castle loomed, it was the currency of power. From the time my brother Landon and I were young, he had us both trained rigorously in combat and strategy, pushing us to be the epitome of masculine might. 
He had looked at me with a mix of disappointment and confusion as I remained small and slender despite the training, while Landon grew into his role as the heir apparent with ease. It was as if my very being was a rejection of his ideals.

Landon, had taken after father in every way. He was a hulking giant, with muscles that seemed to have been chiseled by the gods themselves. His laugh boomed through the castle halls, and his presence was always felt, commanding attention wherever he went. And yet, for all his brawn, he had the kindest soul. He was my protector, my confidant, and the one person who never questioned my sexuality, even when it was as clear as the sun in the sky that I was different from the other boys.

Father’s words, though, had left an indelible mark on my young psyche. Every time he spoke of the importance of strength, every time he praised Landon’s burgeoning biceps and scoffed at my slender frame, a part of me shrank further into myself. But it also sparked a yearning, a fascination with the very thing he revered. I found myself drawn to the men who embodied the ideal he had set forth, those who were strong and powerful, like the knights in the books I read in secret.
It hadto be the reason why, as my tastes grew and my sexuality bloomed, I found myself particularly attracted to muscular, hulking figures.

In the years since, I had become quite adept at blending in. Being the second son of the king meant I had certain privileges, but it also meant I was subject to the same expectations and pressures as any other member of the royal family.

Since father had lost interest in my skills that didn’t involve brute strength, he allowed me to spend my days with my nose buried in books or riding my horse, Whisper, across the vast fields surrounding the castle. I never questioned why he had let me escape the rigorous routine that Landon endured, but now, as the castle bustled with the preparations for the week-long festivities, I had a suspicion.

“Remember? I have sweet talked to her for at least a month now,” Alocan went on, his eyes lighting up with the memory. “And you told me I only wasted my time whenever I did,” He added, trying to prove a point, and recalling the numerous times I had teased him for beeing smitten.

“Well, heaven knows I’m happy for you,” I said, a smirk playing on my lips. “I’m finally free from listening to your endless pining.”

Alocan rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face was unmistakable. “You know how hot she is, dude!” He said, his voice filled with the excitement of a boy who had just snuck into the royal kitchen for a midnight feast. “It was like winning the jousting tournament, but better!”

I chuckled. “So, what was it that finally tipped the scales in your favor?” I asked, curious about the tactics he had employed to win over the fair lady.

Alocan’s eyes darted away, his cheeks reddening even more. “Well, I did what you told me to do,” he mumbled, looking down at his hands.

“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow, the smirk growing on my lips. “Do tell, what was this grand advice of mine?”

Alocan looked back at me, his eyes a mix of embarrassment and something else. “You said I should be more assertive.” He took a deep breath. “So, I did. I told her straight out how hot she was and that I wanted her.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s it?”

Alocan laughed, “And that wasn’t even the best part!” He exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “She was so head over heels for me, she couldn’t wait. We ended up going at it right there in the hallway!”

“No way!” I exclaimed, slapping Alocan’s broad shoulder in astonishment, barely able to contain my laughter. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

“No, I swear!”

I shook my head. “Well, who would have thought that a Lady, the epitome of chastity and grace, would hop on your dick that quick?” I teased, disbelief lacing my words.

Alocan shrugged, his face a picture of innocence. “I guess she was tired of waiting for the right knight,” he said with a wink.

I couldn’t hold back my laughter anymore. It bubbled out of me like a fountain, and soon Alocan joined in, his deep chuckles echoing through the quiet we were passing through. Our horses seemed to pick up on our mood, prancing lightly and tossing their heads. It was moments like these that I treasured the most, where the weight of the castle and its expectations felt a million miles away.

We continued our banter as we made our way back to the castle, leaving our horses with the staff at the stable, before walking over the castle grounds towards the side entrance. The guards lining the perimeter nodded respectfully as we passed, their eyes lingering briefly on Alocan before shifting to me, their expressions a mix of deference and curiosity. It was a dance we had performed countless times, a silent acknowledgment of my royal status and the whispers that surrounded my personal life.

As much as Alocan fit the mold of what I found attractive in a man, with his powerful build and chiseled features, the spark of romance had faded long ago. Our friendship had grown too strong, too comfortable, for me to tarnish it with unrequited love. He was like a brother to me, and I knew that pushing for more would only serve to complicate things.

He accompanied me up the grand staircase, the heavy tapestries that adorned the walls whispering stories of battles and conquests. The rushing staff members, with their arms laden with decorations and supplies for the impending festivities, stepped aside to let us pass, their eyes darting towards me before quickly looking away.

“See you at lunch,” Alocan said, his hand resting on the heavy oak door to my chamber. His gaze held his usual warmth, a carefreeness that could always hightened my mood.

“Looking forward to it,” I replied, matching his enthusiasm.

As the door to my chamber closed behind him, I let out a sigh. I knew I was probably reeking of sweat and horse, a scent that lingered from our impromptu ride. I called for a servant to prepare a bath for me, the thought of sinking into warm water infused with fragrant oils and herbs washing away the earlyday’s grime and stress was incredibly tempting.

The tub was already filled with steaming water when I entered the adjoining bathing chamber, scented with lavender and rose petals. The tapestries on the walls depicted scenes of ancient battles, their vibrant hues bled into the misty air. My attendant, Tuff, a burly man with a gentle touch, had anticipated my needs and had the bath ready in minutes. He hovered outside, waiting for my call.

I peeled off my riding clothes, feeling the sticky fabric slide off my skin. The stench of horse and sweat clung to me like a second skin, a stark contrast to the opulent surroundings. The bath was a sanctuary, a place where I could shed the expectations of being a prince for a brief moment. I stepped into the water, the heat enveloping me, and sighed as the tension began to melt away.

As I lounged in the tub, my thoughts turned to the festivities that awaited me. My heart grew heavy with the weight of the impending week. The castle was already alive with the buzz of preparations, and the air was thick with the scent of ambition. It was a week where alliances were made and futures were decided, often without the consent of those whose futures were being bartered.

I sank deeper into the water, feeling the heat seep into my muscles as the bubbles popped against my skin. For a second, I allowed myself to consider the possibility that my father had been planning this all along. It would explain his sudden lack of interest in my combat training, his willingness to let me spend my days reading and riding instead of in the training yard. Maybe the festival was his way of showcasing me to potential suitors, a way to secure political alliances without the burden of his “weak” son as a sargent next to the throne.

But then, I dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. It was too much like a plot from one of the courtly romances I read in secret, too dramatic and too… degrading. Surely, even in a world where power was king, a prince would not be treated as a commodity to be traded for land and gold. I was his son, not a prize heifer to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.

Yet, as I lay in the tub, the warmth of the water doing little to ease the cold dread that had settled in my stomach, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that my father had something up his sleeve.

Deciding to stop overthinking, I stood up, the water sloshing around me. I knew that stewing in my fears would only make the week worse. Instead, I resolved to face the festivities with an open mind, to make the best of the situation. I was determined not to let the whispers in my head ruin the fun I could have. After all, I had always enjoyed the festivities in the past, and there was no reason to assume that this year would be any different.

As the day grew long, the shadows danced on the castle walls, hinting at the approaching evening. I made my way towards the great hall, the thoughts of the morning long forgotten in the whirlwind of preparations and gossip that had filled my day. The castle was a maze of bustling activity, tomorrow’s ball being the central topic of every whispered conversation.

My heart thudded in my chest as I approached the heavy wooden doors of the hall, adorned with intricate carvings of battles long past. The sound of laughter and the clank of silverware against plates grew louder with each step. The scent of roasting meats and sweet desserts wafted through the corridors, setting my stomach to rumble.

The two guards standing sentinel before the entrance snapped to attention as I approached. Their faces remained stoic, but I caught the flicker of curiosity in their eyes as they recognized me. They knew the whispers, the rumors about the prince who didn’t quite fit the mold. Yet, they held their tongues, respectful of my status, if not my person.

With a nod, they pulled open the door, each one taking a side as if they were presenting the grand stage of my fate. Their biceps bulged under the strain of the effort, the fabric of their uniforms stretching tautly over their muscles. The sight of their brute strength never failed to stir something in me, a mix of arousal and longing that I had learned to overplay over the years.

I took a second to appreciate the guards’ imposing figures as they held the doors open for me. Their chests were like carved marble, each breath causing their pectorals to flex slightly under their tightly woven shirts. Their arms looked like they could crush boulders with ease, the bulging biceps and forearms hinting at countless hours of training with swords and shields. The fabric of their trousers strained against their powerful thighs, which I knew were as solid as the castle’s foundation stones. Their boots were polished to a mirror-like shine, the leather stretching tautly over their thick calves.

As I passed through the doorway, my eyes lingered on the very visible bulges in their pants. It was not uncommon for guards to be well-endowed, but these two seemed to be in a league of their own. The fabric of their uniforms stretched tautly over their crotches, leaving little to the imagination. A small part of me felt a thrill at the thought of such power and masculinity being at my disposal, if only in my fantasies.

I stepped into the great hall, my eyes scanning the sea of faces. The room was a tapestry of colors, with lords and ladies dressed in their finest silks and velvets, their jewels sparkling like stars in the candlelight. The long tables were laden with food that looked too exquisite to eat, the aromas blending into a symphony of flavors that made my mouth water.

As I walked through the throng of guests, my gaze was drawn to the head of the table, where my father sat. His usual stoic expression was replaced by one of forced joviality, as he held court with the nobility from distant lands. The chandeliers above our heads cast a warm glow over the scene, but it did little to warm the cold dread that had taken root in my stomach.

I recognized a few faces from the nobility that had arrived early for the week-long festivities, but most of the guests were strangers to me. They had come from distant lands, their names and faces etched into the annals of our kingdom’s history through battles and treaties. They were the cream of the crop, the ones my father had handpicked to ensure the most advantageous matches could be made.

As I approached the high table, my eyes searched for my brother. There he was, sitting on our father’s left, his broad shoulders straining against the velvet of his tunic, his blond hair gleaming in the candlelight. The chair next to him was empty, reserved for me, a silent reminder of my position. I took my seat, the cold wood a stark contrast to the warmth of the room.

“Joshua,” Landon said, his deep voice carrying over the din. He flashed me a grin that made his blue eyes twinkle. “You’re just in time. Father was about to regale us with another one of his war stories.”

I sighted. Alocan’s family, seated a few tables away from the high table, but he was too engrossed in his own conversations to notice me. His broad back was to me, and the distance between us suddenly felt like a chasm that I had no hope of crossing.

My fathers voice began to boom over th table, he began with one of his usual storys that had been told so many times that even the wallpaper seemed to yawn in boredom. I picked at my food, the succulent meats and flavorful gravies holding my attention more than his recount of the Battle of Redmere.

I endured through my father’s story, when he finally concluded, the nobility erupted into applause, the sound echoing off the high vaulted ceilings. As the clapping died down, the conversations grew more intimate, the lords and ladies sharing their own tales of valor and triumph. Their voices, a blend of pride and ambition.

It was then that the topic of conversation shifted to my brother. The room buzzed with whispers of his strength, his tactical brilliance, and his unmatched skill on the battlefield. The air grew thick with the scent of adulation as they recounted his numerous victories and the ways in which he had brought honor to our house.

Landon, like the gracious prince he was, took the praise in stride, his cheeks flushing slightly with each compliment. His eyes, however, never left the crowd for long, always searching for approval from our father. It was a dance they had performed since childhood, one that I knew all too well.

But what surprised me was when the topic suddenly switched to his second son, me. The buzz of conversation grew hushed, and theyer eyes turned to me. I felt the weight of their gazes. It wasn’t like with Landon, where the air was electric with excitement and anticipation. When it came to me, there was a palpable curiosity, a question they all wanted to ask but dared not voice. And when it did come, it was from one of the braver nobles, his voice carrying across the table like a knight’s challenge.

“And what of Prince Joshua?” he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of disbelief. “Why is it that we rarely see him at the tournaments, or the field?”

My father took a sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving mine. “Ah, my youngest,” he said, his tone patronizing. “Joshua prefers the company of his books and his horse. He is not cut from the same cloth as his brother.”

The weight of their stares bore into me, their curiosity piqued by my father’s words. I felt my cheeks heat up, the sting of his implication clear. It was as if he had thrown me into the lion’s den and was watching with a smug smile, waiting for them to devour me whole.

“Your Highness,” a lady with a neckline that plunged dangerously low began, her eyes glinting with a mix of intrigue and challenge. “What is it that you contribute to the kingdom, then? Is it diplomacy, perhaps, or the arts?”

The tabel grew quieter, the clinking of silverware against plates the only sound as everyone waited for my response. I took a deep breath, my heart hammering in my chest. This was it, the moment where I would have to defend my very existence in the face of those who saw me as nothing more than a weak link in the royal chain.

“My purpose,” I began, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands, “is to serve the kingdom in my own way.”

The lady’s eyebrow arched, a smug smile playing on her lips. “And what way is that, Your Highness?”

Her words were like a gauntlet thrown before me, and I knew I had to respond with poise and confidence, or risk becoming the court’s laughingstock. I took a deep breath, drawing strength from the very core of my being. “I contribute through my knowledge and understanding of the world beyond our borders, Lady Catherine,” I said firmly. “Through the books I read, the languages I learn, and the strategies I study, I am preparing to be an asset to my brother’s reign.”

The table remained silent for a beat, the weight of my words hanging in the air like a sword poised to fall. Then, a smattering of applause began, growing louder as others joined in. I felt a surge of relief, but also anger. Why did I have to justify my existence to these people? Why was I not allowed to be me, without the constant scrutiny and judgment?

My father’s eyes bore into me, his expression unreadable. He had thrown me to the wolves, and now he sat back, watching me squirm. But I would not let him win. I would not let them all see me as the weak link, the one who could not live up to his legacy.

I knew my father’s intention was to let me suffer before he “saved” me, but I was good with words, and I wouldn’t do him the favor of letting him see me squirm. 
The conversation and dining continued for what felt like an eternity, the air thick with the weight of expectations and unspoken judgments.

If it was for me, I would have left the table, but I knew that would be the very thing my father wanted. So, I remained seated, sipping my wine, and engaging in small talk with the guests. My tongue danced around their probing questions, turning their scrutiny into a game of wit and charm. Each time they thought they had found a chink in my armor, I parried with a well-placed compliment or a disarming smile. It was a dance I had learned from watching my brother, one that kept me safe from their barbed words.

As the hours dragged on, the conversation grew stale, and my mind wandered to the books and scrolls that awaited me in my chamber. The etiquette of the royal court was a cage as unyielding as the castle walls themselves. It dictated that no prince could leave the table before the king had risen from his seat. So, I remained seated next to Landon, who shot me furtive glances filled with pity. He knew i wasn’t built for this, that I was a square peg in a round hole of warrior kings and political machinations.

Finally, the moment came. My father’s boisterous laughter faded to a gruff nod, and he announced his intention to retire for the evening. The room stiffened, the nobles quickly pushing back their chairs and bowing as he stood, the heavy fabric of his robes whispering against the stone floor. He was a towering figure, even among giants, and his presence was felt like a storm cloud that had just passed. The relief that washed over me was palpable as I watched him stride out of the great hall, his entourage of advisors and guards trailing behind him like a shadow.

I waited a few more minutes, not wanting to let them know that I was eager to escape. The nobles took their leave one by one, their voices echoing in the now almost empty hall. When time felt right, I stood up, my chair scraping against the stone floor. I looked over to Landon, his eyes met mine with understanding.

“I’m going to turn in early,” I said, my voice low. “It’s been a long day.”

Landon nodded, his gaze lingering on me for a moment too long. “Of course, little brother,” he said, his voice filled with the weight of his own unspoken concerns. “Rest well. We’ll need our wits about us tomorrow.”

With a sigh of relief, I turned away from the table, my eyes scanning the room for the quickest escape route. The great hall was vast, the shadows cast by the flickering candles playing tricks on the walls.

As I approached the same grand oak door that  I had passed through earlier, one of the guards stepped forward. His eyes, usually filled with respect, now held a hint of curiosity. “Your Highness,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “The king has requested your presence in his chamber.”

Surprise flickered through me, and I paused. “Now?” I asked, my voice a shade higher than I would have liked.

The guard nodded. “Indeed, Your Highness. He said it was most urgent.”

My stomach churned with a mix of dread and curiosity. What could my father possibly want from me at this hour? As I followed the guard, the castle’s corridors grew quieter, the whispers of the festival outside my father’s chamber the only sound echoing through the hallowed halls. The guard halted before the heavy oak door, its intricate carvings telling the story of our ancestors’ reign. He rapped three times before opening it and stepping aside, allowing me to enter.

The room was dimly lit, the flickering candles casting long shadows across the floor. My father sat at his desk, his broad back to me, his silhouette framed by the towering bookshelves that lined the walls. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and the faint whiff of pipe smoke. He didn’t turn as I entered, and the silence stretched taut, as if waiting for the strings of fate to be plucked.

“Father?” I asked tentatively, my voice a mere whisper in the cavernous room.

King Aldric turned slowly in his chair, his expression a mask of seriousness that sent a shiver down my spine. “Ah, Joshua,” he said, his eyes sweeping over me in a way that made me feel like he was sizing up a prize stallion at the market. “Come, sit.”

He gestured to a chair opposite his desk, and I obeyed, my legs feeling like lead as I approached. The chair creaked under my weight, the sound echoing through the silent chamber. His gaze never left me, and I could feel his scrutiny like a physical weight.

“Joshua,” he began, his voice heavy with the weight of his own importance. “You know why I’ve called you here.”

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. “No, Father, I do not,” I replied, hoping my voice didn’t betray my fear.

King Aldric leaned forward, his hands steepled before him. “Your performance tonight was… adequate,” he said, his voice like a knife sliding from its sheath. “But let us not forget, son, that your true value lies in your ability to produce an heir. And as a prince, that means you must marry.”

My heart sank. “Father, I’ve told you before, I’m not interested in taking a wife,” I protested, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

“I don’t care what you’re interested in,” he said, his voice a cold slap to my face. “What I heard tonight was a son playing the fool, trying to charm his way out of his duties. You think your books and your wit can replace a son’s legacy?”

My heart hammered in my chest, my palms growing slick with sweat as I met my father’s gaze. “But Father,” I began, “my intelligence, my understanding of diplomacy and strategy-“

“Pah!” he interrupted, his hand slashing through the air like a sword cutting down my words. “You think that makes you fit to stand beside your brother? To counsel him when the time comes for battles and alliances?”

The anger in his voice was like a storm that had been brewing all evening, finally breaking through the dam of his patience. “Intelligence is a tool, Joshua,” he spat out the word like it was a piece of rotten meat. “But without the strength to wield it, it’s as useless as a sword in a scholar’s hand. And what I heard tonight was a son who thinks he’s clever, playing with words instead of weapons.”

My heart was a hammer in my chest, each beat echoing the fear that he would never understand me. “But Father,” I protested, my voice straining to stay level. “What do you expect of me? To be a copy of Landon?”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. “I expect you to be a prince,” he said, his voice like a whip crack. “A man who can stand beside his king and offer counsel in times of war and peace. Not some… some… court jester who thinks his words can win battles!”

The anger in his voice stung, each word a barb that pierced my soul. “But I am a prince,” I insisted, my voice quavering with emotion. “I am your son, and I wish to serve the kingdom with honor. You can’t force me to act like a substitute for what you wish I was.”

“You think I don’t know what you are?” His tone grew harsher, the words cutting through the air like sharpened steel. “You’re not a warrior, not a leader. You’re a… a decoration, a plaything to be paraded around for the amusement of the court. If you were a women, I could marry you off and be done with it. But as a man, you’re a liability. You’re a prince, and yet you refuse to act like one.”

My eyes narrowed, the heat rising in my cheeks. “I may not be a warrior, but I am still your son!” I retorted, my voice shaking with a mix of anger and hurt. “And if being a man means marrying for power and playing these games, then maybe I don’t want to be a man!”

My father’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching. “You dare speak to me like that?” he thundered, slamming his fist onto the desk. The candles flickered, casting jittery shadows across the room. “You ungrateful whelp! I’ve given you every opportunity to live a life of luxury, and this is how you repay me?”

The room grew hot, the air thick with tension. “I’ve never asked for luxury,” I shot back, my voice trembling with rage. “I’ve asked for your respect, for you to see me for who I am, not what you wish I could be!”

My father’s eyes narrowed, but there was a glint of something else in them. Something darker, something that made my stomach twist into knots. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?” he sneered. “But let me tell you something, boy. Your precious books and scrolls can’t teach you the ways of a real man.”

“And what is a real man, Father?” I spat back, my temper flaring.

“You know nothing of the world,” he slammed his goblet onto the desk, the dark liquid spilling over the edges and staining the parchment. “Your kind,” he sneered, “My father, your grandfather, taught me that you are nothing but whores, to be used by real men when they tire of their wives. If it was for him, you’d be in the stables, serving the knights and squires.”

His words hit me like a blow to the chest, stealing the breath from my lungs. The room grew hot, the candles casting a hellish glow over his face. “I am not a whore,” I spat back, my voice trembling with rage. “I am your son!”

He laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that echoed off the stone walls. “You’re acting like a fool, lusting after these men,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “You think I don’t see it, but I do. You want to be part of their world, their battles and conquests. But you’re not made for that, are you? Instead, all you want is to warm their beds.”

The room spun around me, my heart hammering in my chest. “Father,” I began, my voice strained, “you’re wrong. I’m not like that.”

But his smile grew crueler, and before I could protest further, he called out to the guard who had been standing at the door. “You,” he barked, pointing at the stoic figure. “Come here and remove your belt.”

The guard’s eyes widened, but he did as he was told, his movements stiff with surprise and confusion. My heart raced, knowing what was coming, and I could feel the blood rushing to my face. “Father, no,” I whispered, but he silenced me with a glare that could cut glass.

“You want to know what a real man is?” he sneered, gesturing to the guard, who now stood before us.

My stomach twisted in knots as the guard obeyed, his eyes on the ground. I could see the muscles in his forearms flexing as he unbuckled the thick leather, and the way his legs tensed as he pushed his pants down, exposing his bare flesh to the cold room. The room was silent except for the sound of fabric against skin, the heavy thump as his pants hit the stone floor.

“Look at him,” my father barked, jerking his chin towards the guard. “This is what a man looks like, not some simpering child playing with words and silks.”

The guard’s eyes remained on the ground, his cheeks reddening. I could see the veins in his neck pulsing with tension, and I knew that he was as uncomfortable with this situation as I was. But he remained silent, his loyalty to the king unquestioned.

My father leaned back in his chair, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips. “You see, Joshua,” he said, gesturing to the guard’s exposed body. “This is what true strength looks like. This is what a man should be.”

I felt a chill run down my spine, the weight of his words like a boulder pressing down on my chest. “What do you want from me?” I asked, my voice angry but trembling with fear.

My father’s smile grew colder, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “Make a choice, Joshua,” he said, his tone a mix of challenge and contempt. “Either you show me that you can be the man I need you to be, or you show me your true colors and admit what you really are.”

The words hung in the air like a noose, tightening around my neck with every breath I took. The guard’s eyes flickered up to meet mine for the briefest of moments, and in that instant, I saw something that chilled me to the core: understanding and a strange glint of excitement. It was as if he knew what was coming and was eager to prove his own worth. He began to harden under my horrified gaze, and my father’s laughter grew, the sound like nails on a chalkboard to my ears.

“See, even he knows his place,” my father said, his voice a gruff chuckle. “Now, let’s see if you can be a real man, too.”

The guard stepped forward, his cock now fully erect, a clear sign of his willingness to participate in this twisted game. My stomach turned, but I knew that I couldn’t back down now. There was no way I could prove him that I could be what he wanted. And the only thing that was worse than degarding myself by sucking a man off, was proving to my father that I was everything he thought I was, by doing nothing at all.

So, with a deep breath, I bent my knees before the guard, his manhood standing tall before me. The smell of him was faint but present, and I had to fight the urge to gag. The room was silent except for the sound of my own ragged breathing and the crackling of the fireplace. I reached out, my hand trembling, and wrapped my fingers around his shaft. It was hot and hard, and I felt a wave of acceptance wash over me.

I took him in my mouth, tasting the salt and sweat of his skin, the musky scent of his arousal. The guard’s eyes closed, a soft groan escaping his lips as I began to move my head in a rhythm that was both practiced and forced. My father watched with a smug expression, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes gleaming with victory.

I tried to act like a prince, but as soon as I took the guard’s cock into my mouth, it was clear that in my father’s eyes, I was nothing more than a whore. The salty taste of his flesh filled my mouth, and I had to suppress a moan. I couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through me as I began to move my head in a rhythm that was as natural as breathing.

The guard’s eyes remained closed, his chest rising and falling with every breath, his hand resting lightly on the back of my head. I knew he was enjoying this, that he was getting off on the power play, the thrill of using the prince as his personal plaything. And as much as I hated it, a part of me reveled in the depravity of the moment.

I began to suck him with more enthusiasm, my cheeks hollowing as I took him deeper into my mouth. I ignored the fact that this act was a perverted version of the very thing my father wanted to prove about me. I was a prince, not a whore, but in this twisted game, he forced me to play, I had to win on my terms. I closed my eyes, blocking out the sight of my father’s smug face and focused solely on the guard’s cock, feeling it swell with each bob of my head. I had always loved the taste of a man, the feeling of his power in my mouth, and as much as it disgusted me to do it for my father’s amusement, I couldn’t help but feel a spark of arousal deep within me.

The guard’s hand tightened on my head, guiding me faster, his hips bucking slightly as he grew closer to climax. My father leaned forward in his chair, his eyes glinting with excitement as he watched the scene unfold. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Take it like the little whore you are.”

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, but I pushed down the humiliation, focusing instead on the power I had in this moment. The guard’s muscles tensed under my touch, his breath coming in ragged gasps as I worked him over. With each passing second, I could feel him getting closer, his cock swelling even more in my mouth.

And then it happened. My father leaned back in his chair, his hand gesturing to the guard, who took the cue and grabbed the back of my head, pushing himself deeper into my throat. I gagged, but I didn’t stop, my eyes watering as I took him all in. The guard’s hips began to thrust, his movements growing more urgent as he used me for his own pleasure.

“Look at him,” my father said, his voice low and dark. “Look how eager he is to serve. Perhaps you are more of a man than I gave you credit for.”

The guard’s grip on my head tightened, and he began to thrust into my mouth more forcefully, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that had me gagging and fighting for air. But I didn’t stop. I wrapped my hands around his massive thighs, feeling the muscles tense and release with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, and the taste of him grew stronger, mixing with the bitter taste.

My father’s eyes never left the scene, his smile growing wider with every moan that was torn from the guard’s throat. “At least you know your place,” he sneered, his voice filled with a twisted sense of triumph. “You’re not fit to marry a lady, but perhaps you can still be of use to the kingdom.”

The guard’s hand tightened on the back of my head, his strokes growing more aggressive. His breathing grew ragged, and his cock swelled even further in my mouth. I could feel the warmth of his seed building, the pressure in my throat as he neared climax. And then, with a roar that seemed to shake the very stones of the castle, he came, his hot, sticky release filling my mouth and throat.

I swallowed, the act feeling like a betrayal to my own identity, but also a strange victory. The guard’s grip loosened, and he stepped back, his chest heaving with satisfaction. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, the taste of him lingering. My father’s eyes never left me, his expression a mix of disgust and triumph. “Good boy,” he said, his voice cold.

“Guard,” my father barked, the man’s eyes snapping to attention. “You have served your king well tonight. Take tomorrow as a day of rest, and I will inform your superior of your… dedication.” His words were a clear threat, and the guard nodded, his eyes flicking to me before he pulled up his pants. “I expect you to keep this between us,” the king added, his voice a warning growl.

The guard didn’t dare to speak, he merely bowed before retreating from the room, the sound of his footsteps echoing down the corridor. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me kneeling before my father’s desk, the bitter taste of the guard’s climax still lingering in my mouth.

My father leaned back in his chair, his expression one of smug satisfaction. “Now, that’s what I call a prince serving the folk,” he said, his words clearly taunting me. “But fear not, you showed me tonight that you truly understand your place. I will not force you to marry a woman. Instead, I shall grant you the privilege of marrying a man.”

The words hit me like a sledgehammer. “What are you saying?” I managed to ask, my voice hoarse from the guard’s use of me.

“I’m saying,” my father leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction, “that I see you now for what you truly are. And as your king, I shall grant you the mercy of marrying a man who knows how to handle your kind.” His voice was like a serpent, slithering around the room, filling it with venom. “I have invited a few esteemed guests to the festival, men of high standing who share your… preferences. If you get them to want you for marriage, you may choose one to be your husband. If not,” his smile grew wider, “I shall choose for you.”

The revelation hit me like a punch to the gut. Marriage was still a prison, but now it was tailored to my despised nature. I was too stunned to speak, my thoughts racing like a wild steed galloping through a minefield. I wanted to scream, to argue, to tell him that he was wrong, that this wasn’t who I was. But my tongue felt thick and useless in my mouth, and no words came out. The silence was deafening and my father took it as my acceptance.

He waved his hand dismissively, his smile fading back into the cold mask of a king. “You may go,” he said, his voice a chilly dismissal. “Think on what I’ve said. Your performance tonight was… informative. Perhaps tomorrow you’ll be more amenable to the idea of serving your kingdom in a more traditional way.”

I stumbled to my feet, my legs wobbly from the kneeling and the weight of his words. I wanted to contradict him, to shout that I was not a whore to be bought and sold, but nothing came out of my mouth. My thoughts were a tangle of anger, disgust and strangely, a hint of excitement that I couldn’t ignore. 

John was nice. Kind. A good listener. 

His post said he was a top. I told him all my crazy, perverted fantasies. I’m middle aged and have not tried much of this at all. I’ve hidden my perverted desires my whole life. Anyone else like that????

I brought a pink skirt and a top that a teenage girl would wear to her first dance. Knee high socks and pink tennis shoes. I slicked my hair back and put on some pink lip gloss. When I opened the door to let him in, he greeted me with a smile. Still being very kind. In his hands were a duffle bag which he dropped on the floor, and a thick, heavy leather studded dog collar. As soon as the door closed behind him, he leaned in close, kissed me on the cheek, slipping and buckling the dog collar around my neck, and said: “You look awesome, sweetie. I’m going to the fuck the shit out of you today, you slut bitch.”

I got hard in my tight little pink frilly panties.

“Kneel on the floor, bitch.” He ordered. I quickly obeyed.

Inside the duffle bag were more leather items. Thick leather hand and ankle cuffs. He quickly and expertly buckled them on me.

“Good little bitch. Stay still for me. You like it when you’re bound and helpless, don’t you, you slut?”

I wasn’t really sure if I did. Even though I’ve dreamed of it forever. I shyly nodded.

My hands were cuffed tightly together in front of me. While attaching the cuffs to my wrists and ankles, he didn’t mind grabbing and groping me. He grabbed me in all the places one should not be grabbed. With one hand on the back of my head, holding my head back with my hair, and the other hand with probing fingers was pushing up between my ass cheeks, I let out an “Oh fuck, John!”

“Yeah. ‘Oh fuck’ is right, you cunt.”

The moment overtook me. I was in a bit of a daze. Not sure what to think, or do, or say. Was this actually happening? He led me down the hall to my bedroom. I followed without even a second thought. What the fuck? Once in the bedroom, with the door closed, and me kneeling on the floor. It began. He buckled the cuffs putting me in a helpless position. My wrists and ankles both cuffed together. I could barely stay upright. I was feeling a bit apprehensive. “Maybe we can take this a bit slower?”

“No, but let’s keep you quiet for a while, bitch.”

He went to his duffle bag again. I’d never seen a more terrifying mouth gag in my life! And I’ve seen a lot them on porn shopping and bondage sites. This was a panel gag. A large leather square panel with two wide straps used to wrap around the victims head to hold it tightly place covering most of the lower part of the face from below the nose to the chin. A tight little chin strap keeps it from sliding up. The terrifying part was the mouth piece attached to the inside of the panel. Hanging from the inside area was a extra fat, purple veined rubber dildo.  When i say extra fat, I mean it. It was as big around as a can of beer. And about as long, too. It had bulging red and purple veins all up and down the girth of it. Half way up the gross, nasty shaft was a big bulge the size of a tennis ball. The tip was pointed, looking like it might be just right to easily force open a reluctant mouth, or worse yet, a tight virgin butt hole like mine. 

John must have seen my eyes widen when I realized what was in front of my face. he just laughed. “You’re going to make some pretty great pathetic sounds with this in your slutty mouth, fucker.”

Before I could say “Fuck you!” It was in my mouth. He pushed until I couldn’t stop it’s intrusion. It slid deep inside my sloppy, drooling mouth. Spreading my lips and opening my jaw as far as I think it’s ever been opened. The soft silicone cock wiggled and smooshed as it filled my reluctant mouth. The fat bulge in the middle puffed my cheeks out. The straps were tightened behind my head and the chin strap adjusted very snug as well. The thick leather panel was pressing firmly against my warm, nervous skin. It was squeezing against my cheeks, but the thick rubber cock was pushing them out. I looked around my room. No one was coming to save me. The stranger was looking through his bag and poking around my room. All I could do was kneel there in the middle of my bedroom, catching a glimpse of myself in the wall mirror. I’m dressed like a faggot, cuffed and helpless. Gagged so fucking tight no one would ever hear me crying for help, or mercy.

I was fucked.

Final Chapter 

“What God Writes, No Man Scribbles”

[6 months earlier]

“Jesus, Uncle John.” Lucas chuckled.

“Shut the fuck up and come here,” John demanded. Lucas rushed for the chair and hopped into his uncle’s lap, who enveloped the boy in his arms. “He deserved it. Fucking arrogant prick.” He groaned, stuffing his face inside Lucas’ neck and kissing the boy. “How the fuck are you?” He questioned.

“I’m Bored. And it’s barely starting,” Lucas whined, pulling away from his uncle’s embrace and standing up. He seemed restless as he wandered around the room, brushing his fingers over everything. His uncle’s eyes followed his every move.

“Is it true?” The boy asked.

“What is?” John replied as he lit a cigar.

“That I look like him?” The boy elucidated. John smiled.

“Yes.” He responded. There was a nostalgic tone to his answer. It came layered with what seemed like buried happy memories. “He was stunning.” He stated. “And cocky. The fucker knew it.” He added.

“Well, I don’t think I’m like him. At all…” Lucas stuttered, stopping just before a small mirror above the liquor cabinet. “I don’t think I have that confidence.” The boy mumbled.

“You’re pure, Lucas. Which makes you better than any of them,” John said. He then took a long drag, leaned forward on his chair, and blew the smoke from his mouth, spewing a cloud of intense smoke around the room. “Don’t let him change you, kid,” he said. His words sounded ominous, like a warning of sorts.

The boy turned to his uncle and smiled, but John seemed distracted.

“See ya later, Uncle John,” Lucas uttered before walking out the door.

“I didn’t take you for one of those people, Bo. Lurking behind doors, listening to other people’s conversations.” John asserted, his eyes latched on the smoke room’s doorway. A few seconds later, Bo emerged from behind it, slightly tipsy.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” the stud clarified. John motioned for him to approach, taking his finger and gently tapping his cheek. Bo chuckled, walked over, and leaned down, kissing him. “Hey, Uncle John…” he greeted before letting his muscular body fall over the chair in front of John’s. But as he did, John stood up, slowly stepping over to the window, stopping as his eyes scoured the crowd around the pool.

“I can’t even remember the last time I attended one of these parties,” John commented as he looked back at his nephew.

“You’re not missing much. They’re still rotten.” Bo sighed. “Can I get you a refill?” He asked, pointing his chin to John’s glass.

“Sure,” John said, extending his arm. Bo stood up and took the glass from his uncle. The raven hunk’s eyes lingered on Bowie’s hands as he did. “That’s funny…I never noticed,” he said.

“What?” Bo questioned as he turned around, walking towards the minibar.

“We have the same hands,” John commented as he stared at his own. “My dad’s hands…” He added with an underlying nostalgia before he shifted his attention back outside. “Speaking of which, look at that.” He stated as Bo returned with his whisky. He grabbed it, and the stud returned to his chair, sitting on one of its armrests. “The way they parade your brother around like a fucking trophy. Father would be proud…” John expressed, his words sagging with disappointment.

“You mean the Warren guy?” Bo questioned, his eyes on his uncle’s figure, which loomed over the window, creating the most beautiful shadow that fell over the stud. “He’s alright…” He murmured with an unconvincing tone.

“He’s a piece of shit.” John fired. His voice reverberated across the room. It was sharp and guttural. “Your brother made a new friend, it seems.” He added. Bo’s head immediately shot up, making John’s lips stretch with tamed amusement.

“I should go.” The stud announced, his whole body language changing. He seemed suddenly distressed, trying to mask an abrupt haste.

“Bo, keep an eye on Lucas,” John stated, his voice piercing Bo’s aloofness. The stud chuckled sarcastically.

“Sometimes I wonder if he even needs me.” He muttered as his head fell between his shoulders.

“He’ll always need you. Trust me.” John noted, his voice lingering.

“How can you still come here? You know he hates you, right?” Bo uttered, pausing as he stared at his uncle. But he seemed serene as if Bo’s words had bumped into an invisible wall he had erected to protect a different truth.

John’s lips stretched into a smile, bringing a gentle breeze of old memories.

“Being the older brother is a lifetime commitment,” John stated resolutely. “Now get the fuck out of here.” The raven hunk playfully ordered.

Bo obliged, leaving John alone. His silhouette was hidden behind the window as he watched William, his soul beaming with yearning and devotion.

Later that evening, after Lucas’ performance and as the party died down, John took the opportunity to try to leave the party unannounced. He was ambling down the driveway towards his car when a voice called from behind him.

“I saw you clapping for Lucas,” William hollered, his voice bustling. He seemed eager to stop John from leaving. William’s usual cold expression melted as he turned around, and a lustful glint erupted from under it.

“He’s remarkable,” John said. You should be very proud of both your sons…” He added, a gentle smile pushing through.

“I am…” William acquiesced before pausing, his mouth wavering as if he struggled to say something. “Come with me to London next week.” He blurted out.

“What?” John replied, squinting. William began to walk up to his brother slowly.

“I have a couple of business meetings. You could come with me…we could…spend some time together. Catch up.” The blonde hunk suggested.

“Why not take your wife?” John provoked.

“I would rather not.” William calmly stated that a strange benign tension was building.

“Oh right, I forgot…you just married her to spite me.” John teased, a playful yet tangible jealousy spewing from his every word. William smirked.

“You’re so fucking hot when you get like that. I could suck your cock right now.” William mumbled.

There was a brief silence before they both broke into laughter. A wave of euphoric nostalgia and joy rushed through them, bringing with them recollections of a happier and simpler time.

“I can’t. Go to London, I mean. I have an appointment.” John explained, his giggles still palpable.

“At the district?” William taunted, his charming and playful nature showing, which was only reserved for John.

“With a doctor. I’ve been having these migraines…they won’t go away.” John clarified.

“Stop drinking.” William mocked.

“Funny…” John replied as the rush of their joyous moment subsided. His smile wavered, and he took a few steps back, turning to his car door. “Enjoy the rest of your night.” He said, waving before springing inside.

He started to back the car into the metal gates when he heard William’s voice calling.

“John!” The blonde hunk hollered, rushing down towards his brother’s car. When John turned to look, William was reaching his opened window. The blonde hunk glanced around, ensuring no one was watching, before leaning into John’s seat, sliding his head inside, and kissing him passionately. He could feel John’s lustful groans enter his mouth, the unforgettable taste of his brother’s spit, and the scent of his breath enveloping him. “I miss you…” William whimpered, his vulnerability flaring like wildfire. He could feel John’s tongue sliding deeper inside his mouth, eager to own him, and soon, his brother’s hand was crawling up the back of his head, pulling it in, aiding his tongue in diving even deeper. William’s lips hugged John’s, sucking on them as they pulled apart, both their mouths now flushed red.

They loitered there, eyes latched and twitching with desire.

“Fuck…” John mumbled.

“I know…” William whispered back.

They chuckled in unison, aware that whatever they had stowed away and tucked deep into the recesses of their hearts was still there, very much alive. And it had thrived and flourished despite the imprisonment it had been subjected to.

William glanced around one more time. Then, without missing a beat, he slid his arm inside the car, his hand squeezing inside John’s pants.

“Will…what the…” John uttered, unable to cage his giggle as he felt William’s finger gently rub against the tip of his cum soaked cock, pulling his foreskin back. Then, the blonde hunk pulled back his hand, taking his cum covered fingers into his mouth, moaning as he eagerly sucked on them. John chuckled. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” He stated, his eyes on William’s soft lips, grinning at him.

“I’ll call you when I get back. You better fucking pick up!” William warned.

“I will,” John replied as he backed the car, William’s hand still floating in the air, seemingly incapable of letting go of him.

William watched his brother drive away, his heart beaming. But as those metal gates closed behind John, as they had once before, a profound sadness took hold, and Blanche’s words came flocking back into his mind.

“I see a white silk sky floating over you and your lover. Your bodies are enveloped in a ritual of binding. But… there’s a shadow looming.”

[Present time]

“What is it?” William asked as he gazed through the window of John and Shannon’s kitchen into their small patio, where his brother lay, his eyes meeting a sizable green field beyond it.

It was a modest home, very much contrasting with the comfort and wealth that had been part of John’s early life. Yet, as William looked around the small room, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace, comfort, and warmth, qualities he could never emulate in his own house.

“It’s stage 4 glioblastoma,” Shannon explained as she stood behind William, her hands leaning against the wooden counter. Her tone was unexpectedly soft and accommodating, of someone who understood the weight of her words. “By the time we found out, it was too late.” She disclosed.

“You should have told me. I could have gotten him the best doctors in the country.” William argued with subdued bitterness.

“He asked me not to. I think he didn’t want to be a burden,” Shannon revealed. William could sense her discomfort. She disagreed with John’s decision. “It wouldn’t matter, anyway. We’ve been to seven doctors. There’s nothing to be done,” she stated as her words lounged in sadness.

“How has he been?” William asked, his hands concealed inside his pockets. His fingers drilled into his skin, confining his despair.

“Most days, he seems fine. Every once in a while, he’ll wake up in so much pain that he can’t even get out of bed that day.” Shannon informed. “But recently… he just wakes up and sits there for hours…staring into nothing, like he’s searching for something.” She said, walking over and standing next to William.

“Searching for what?” The blonde hunk questioned.

“Himself, I think,” Shannon replied, glancing to find William’s eyes glistening with tears.

“Thank you for telling me,” William uttered, his voice struggling not to crack. You didn’t have to,” he conceded.

“I don’t regret telling you. It’s what he would’ve wanted. Even though he would never admit it.” Shannon affirmed as she stepped back, walking up to one of the cabinets and grabbing a ceramic cup. She placed it on the counter and poured hot tea into it, adding a couple of drops of milk from a bottle. “My only regret is that I couldn’t give John what he wanted the most. A child.” She uttered, denouncing her first signs of weakness. William’s eyes froze. “Perhaps you’ll be able to help him find whatever he’s looking for. What he lost… before…” She mumbled.

“Before what?” William asked, finally facing her as she sipped her milked tea.

“His mind is slipping away. I’m afraid that soon, there won’t be anything left of John inside that man out there,” she said.

They lingered there, gazing at each other. They stood in that small and humble kitchen, two people who had been strangers to one another for most of their lives, now bound by the most intimate recognition. In this shared silence, Sharon conveyed her truth to William: she had loved John for half her life, but what he now needed rested in William’s hands, not hers.

“Would you like some tea, William?” She calmly stated, her eyes diving down as she concealed her watery eyes from him.

“That would be lovely, thank you,” William replied softly, appreciatively.

As Shannon began to prepare his tea, William turned, taking a deep breath before walking to the door facing the patio where John sat and opening it. As he did, a fresh spring breeze rushed through him, his eyes closing in momentary delight. Strangely enough, the closer he got to John, the calmer he felt, and it wasn’t long before his hand landed on his brother’s shoulder, his fingers brushing against the soft cotton jumper he wore. John lifted his eyes, recognizing his brother immediately.

“Will…I was starting to think you wouldn’t come,” John said. Right away, it was clear that he struggled with his speech. William smiled, laboring to hide the profound anguish of seeing John’s spirit hijacked by this insidious ailment.

“I’m here.” He replied, slowly sitting on the edge of John’s sunbed, facing him.

John smiled and brushed his fingers over William’s blonde silk hair, a mundane gesture he had done countless times but now bore the weight of a past galloping further away from his mind.

“When are you cutting your hair?” He questioned as if William’s long blonde locs still skated between his fingers.

“I don’t know… I kinda like it like this.” William countered playfully, emulating their old banter. “John, I was thinking…it might be nice for you to come spend a few days at the beach house with me. What do you say?” William proposed. John’s eyes squinted as if his brother’s suggestion triggered a sudden brooding.

“I don’t know. Dad hates it when we sneak off like this,” John said. William sighed softly, trying his hardest not to denounce John’s evident mental deterioration through his expression.

“Don’t worry. I talked to him. It’ll be fine.” He appeased, winking.

“Okay, then,” John replied, smirking jovially, his face morphing into a reflection of his old self.

William cordially sipped his tea for a few minutes before taking John to the car and driving toward the beach house.

He purposefully neglected to tell his brother that Lucas and Bo were on the other end of town, getting ready to meet them later that day at William’s request.

For the last few days, the boys had been busy packing several suitcases, excited for the upcoming trip to Europe they had been planning.

“I was thinking of Milan, Verona, Venice, and Trieste.” Lucas excitedly framed, his knees balancing on a chair facing Bo’s desk as the stud packed his bags. The boy’s finger traveled along a large map on the wall, his body dancing with anticipation as he planned their route. Bo occasionally glanced at him, beaming, his eyes shifting between Lucas’ hands and his bubble butt, which seemed to inadvertently tease his cock. “Then we can rent a car and drive to Madrid, Toledo, Seville, and Granada. Maybe an early flight to Berlin, and I was thinking of Portugal next…? I’ve heard the men there are hot as fuck.” He teased.

Bo’s hands, entertained by pushing clothes inside his bag, suddenly stopped his dark, piercing eyes locked on Lucas.

“Are you thinking about fucking other men on this trip?” He questioned, one of his eyebrows lifted.

“Only if you join me…” Lucas teased, wiggling his ass. Bo chuckled, tossing his bag to the side and rushing for Lucas. He grabbed his brother, yanking him off the chair, and threw him on the bed, immediately spreading his legs and sliding himself between them. “Are you excited?” Lucas asked, his face the embodiment of joy.

“Can’t you tell?” Bo groaned.

“About the trip, silly,” Lucas asked, giggling as Bo’s hands slid under him. The stud’s fingers grasped the waistband of his brother’s shorts and pulled them off.

“You know I am.” The stud moaned, unzipping his denim jeans and pulling his precum-soaked cock from inside, already rubbing the boy’s taint with it.

“Do you think we should leave Dad alone? I mean…” The boy rambled. But Bo pulled him, Lucas’ smooth body sliding across the silk sheets.

“Lucas…I’m trying to fuck you.” Bo groaned, his voice brimming with lust.

“I just…oh fuck!” The boy hollered, his loud words bursting out unannounced as he felt Bo’s thick, 9-inch dick enter him. And that was enough to quiet Lucas’ unsettled spirit. “I’ll shut up now.” He whispered, his face squinting with pleasurable pain.

“Good boy,” Bo uttered, falling over Lucas, their bodies locking as the fabric of their shirts rubbed together. Bo’s trousers slowly fell to the floor, his muscular asscheeks now squeezing as he pumped his cock into his brother’s hungry hole. He looked into Lucas’ eyes that disarming vulnerability waiting for him. “Never gets old…” The stud muttered, his lips diving inside Lucas’ neck.

“What?” Lucas questioned.

“The way your hole feels,” Bo whispered as his mouth climbed over to his brother’s ear. Lucas’ arms circled Bo, his hands sliding down the stud’s muscular back and landing on his ass, squeezing its naturally tanned skin.

“If I fucked some hot, Portuguese guy…” Lucas whispered. “Would you watch…?” He questioned, provoking Bo’s cock with every word that fled his mouth.

“As long as he didn’t fuck you.” The stud answered. His tone was getting deeper, less soft. He pulled up, his hands holding the delicate, pulpy skin around Lucas’ hips, and started thrusting his pelvis back and forth, the boy’s hole queefing gently.

“Oh my God…” Lucas moaned, the feeling of Bo’s cock fucking him making his eyes roll to the back of his head. “Why?” He whimpered as his curls bounced up and down.

“Cause I don’t want anyone inside you,” Lucas replied, snapping his head back, his long hair flying with it. “I’m the only one who gets to fuck you.” The stud groaned, his words fueled with piercing authority, making every blonde hair on Lucas’ body prickle with rapture. “Did you fucking hear me, Lucas…hum?” He asked. Lucas began to nod his head, slowly at first. But as Bo’s thrust deepened, hitting his magic spot, his head began bobbing to the sides.

“Yes…Bo…my hole is yours…” Lucas whined, his arms stretching outwards as his fingers gripped the sheets around him. “All yours.” The boy repeated as Bo grabbed his knees, locking them together. He swung Lucas’ legs to the side, pulling his ass to the edge of the bed.

“Fuck!” Lucas hollered as he felt the tip of Bo’s cock pinch his prostate. Seconds later, his brother’s hand came down, covering his mouth.

But suddenly, he halted, chuckling to himself. He was so used to hiding and numbing their love that the gesture of subduing his brother’s pleasure had become second nature to him. So, he slowly pulled his hand away from Lucas’ mouth and smirked.

“Ah, fuck it. We’re gonna be out of here anyway.” The stud stated. He pulled his right leg up, his right foot on the edge of the mattress, and began punching his cock into Lucas’ hole at such an angle that the boy’s screams of enjoyment burst from his mouth like a shotgun.

That was the last time Bo fucked Lucas in that house. Their uninhibited, unbashful, and unapologetic wails of love traveled across those halls, the stage of so much sorrow, like a vibrant song of passion. And they lingered there indefinitely, like stains of time on the walls.

About an hour later, Lucas was cramming their bags inside the jeep. Upstairs, Bo looked around his room, his eyes bidding farewell to what had been his home for most of his life.

“I knew one day I’d be standing here, watching you leave,” Aibee’s voice uttered from under the doorway.

“Aibee…” Bo muttered, his somber expression immediately changing. His whole countenance was now beaming. He walked over and hugged her, her head nestling inside his chest.

“I’m…so proud of you. Of the man you have become. Of what you…overcame.” Aibee stuttered, caging her tears.

“You raised me right,” Bo replied, his hands brushing against Aibeleen’s thick grey hair. “Aibee… Lucas and I have been talking…once we get back, we’re taking you out of here.” The stud stated, pulling back and staring into her eyes. They were soaked in tears.

“Don’t think about that now. Enjoy your trip,” she said, her hand coasting on Bo’s shoulder. As she did, Bo smiled, his love for her growing more potent.

“I love you, Aibee.” The stud professed.

“And I love you, my sweet child,” Aibeleen replied.

Bo grabbed his backpack and rushed past the hall and down the stairs, his chest tightening as he caged his tears inside it.

It had been a week since William and Nora’s confrontation. Since then, the Wilde household had been submerged in a deep gloom. Nora would now spend most of her days secluded inside her bedroom. But in the evening’s silence, Aibee would frequently find her wandering around the house in the dark, always carrying a full glass of dry martini in her hand.

A familiar voice broke inside the living room as Bo ran for the door.

“It doesn’t matter what you do…or how far you run from who you are. Trust me, I know.” Nora stated, her tentative figure crossing the void that filled the room. Despite everything that had happened and her drunken state, she looked flawless. Bo halted, his body slowly coming to a stop before he turned to face her.

“I’m not running away. I’m just trying to find happiness. You should do the same.” Bo calmly stated. He marveled in silence, realizing this was the first time he didn’t feel anxious in Nora’s presence. She chuckled sarcastically, taking a generous sip from her drink.

“I did…once. It didn’t really work out the way I planned.” She declared as her eyes discreetly glanced at Bo’s backpack. “When you’re born from the gutter like us, you don’t dream. You survive.” She stated, her words bringing with them the shadow of her grievance. But as Bo’s pity for her filled his eyes, Nora saw her own sad reflection inside them, and after years of neglect, she finally acknowledged him. “You’re still my son. You’ll always be my son. And I’ll always be your mother.” She remarked.

But it was too late. She had slowly carved herself out of her son’s heart until nothing was left of her inside it.

“You were never my mother. You were just the person who gave birth to me.” Bo stated. He swung his backpack over his shoulder and gently closed the door behind him.

Outside, Lucas waited for him near the car, his beautiful emerald eyes beaming at his brother. And in that moment, a wave of warmth and love filled Bo’s spirit. He was finally free. He rushed for the car, and they drove through the metal gates, their hands holding across their seats.

And as they drove away, Bo never looked back. Not once.

About an hour later, their car pulled up the beach house driveway. William was already waiting for them, his hand holding one of his usual Cubans.

“Are you sure about this?” Lucas questioned as the car finally stopped, his hand still holding Bo’s.

“Yes.” The stud replied, his eyes locked on William. He opened the car door and hopped out, with Lucas following behind.

“Hey, Dad.” Lucas greeted, walking over to William and kissing his cheek. He could immediately feel his father’s tension.

“This might not go as we planned,” William stated.

“What do you mean?” Bo questioned.

“He doesn’t seem to remember anything from the past 25 years. It’s like he’s stuck back there.” William endeavored to explain.

“Where he was the happiest…” Bo mumbled. William’s glistening eyes glanced at him. I should talk to him alone,” Bo suggested.

“He’s upstairs,” William informed.

Bo bolted inside, walking up the steps to the first floor and across the small hall. He stopped before the bedroom door, taking a deep breath before opening it. It felt peaceful inside as if time flowed differently there. His eyes scoured the empty room, stopping on the large glass window that gave access to an ample balcony. John sat on the other side, a scotch in his hand as his eyes scoured the tamed ocean before him. Bo strolled across the room to meet him.

“Do you mind?” Bo gently asked as he stepped inside the sundeck, waiting for John’s head to turn. But it didn’t. The stud walked over, leaning down next to his father’s chair. As he did, John finally turned, his green eyes wandering around Bo’s face.

“Who are you?” John asked, his eyes squinting. He didn’t recognize Bo’s face.

The stud smiled, his compassion immediately enabling and healing his father’s discomfort.

“I’m Bowie… but everyone just calls me Bo.” The stud said, stretching out his hand and holding his father’s.

“Nice to meet you, Bo…” John muttered, his eyes glancing down where they lingered. Suddenly, he took his other hand and slowly skated his fingers over Bo’s skin, scanning every inch of the stud’s hand. “Your hands…” He uttered.

“They look exactly like yours.” Bo interrupted, drawing a soft, tender smile with his lips.

“I take after my father, you know. He has rough hands.” John said, sighing. “I bet he’d hate for people to point that out, though.” He added, his face frowning as if he searched for his memories and words, one at a time.

“I never knew who my real father was,” Bowie replied.

And at that moment, as John peeked inside his eyes, Bo understood just how callous a curse destiny had placed upon them. That he would finally allow them to meet as father and son, only for life to pull them apart yet again. But from under this despairing realization, Bo’s unwavering spirit pushed through. Like his father, he persevered. And he forgave. Even the cruelest of fates. It was their nature. His and John’s.

“That’s a shame. I never had any children myself, but…You seem like a kind young fellow. I’m sure any man would be proud to be your father.” John stated, his eyes pivoting to the ocean as the sun descended over it.

Bowie leaned in and hugged John, his face nestling into his father’s neck. The stud lingered there, and in those few moments, those seconds, the life that could have been flashed before his eyes. One where he and John had been given a chance to love each other and where their souls hadn’t been plagued by the longing for affection.

“Oh…” John uttered, surprised. Yet, despite his initial reaction, his body language showed no discomfort or awkwardness. It seemed as if the boy’s touch seemed right—meant to be.

“Thank you, John,” Bo whispered into his father’s ear.

Everything went silent, and John’s hand climbed up the stud’s back, melting into his neck. Bo felt John’s body fall into him, his chest trembling as he began to sob.

Bo held his father in the comforting embrace only a son could provide, and their silence was filled with all the sweet words they never got to say to each other.

Their untold story was ushered away with the dying sun. To be held for eternity beyond the sea, where it would live, like a vivid dream.

Bo tucked John into bed, the exhausting emotional encounter taking a toll on him. Moments later, the stud returned to the living room, where William and Lucas waited.

“We should go, or we’ll miss the flight.” Lucas cautiously warned, aware of how deeply emotional the last few days had been for Bo.

“Yeah,” Bo replied, grabbing his backpack from the couch. But suddenly, he lingered, his eyes on William.

“See you, Dad. We’ll talk when I get back,” the boy asserted. “I’ll be in the car,” he whispered to Bo as he walked out.

As the door closed, a deep silence landed.

“Did he…recognize you?” William questioned, his voice eerily soft.

“No,” Bo replied. I think… we shouldn’t tell him,” the stud said, surprised by his one word. But there was resolve in his heart and a sense of responsibility for John’s well-being. “It would just be adding to his suffering. He deserves some peace of mind,” he concluded.

“Yeah,” William replied, his voice cracking. Bo turned to leave. “Bo…wait.” William blurted, stopping the stud in his tracks. “I…” The blonde hunk stumbled. He wanted to say so much, but his guilt prevented him.

“It’s funny…” Bo said, his voice so low that William had to lean in to listen. But as the stud lifted his head, his tone became less murky. “I can still feel you inside me,” Bo said. I think I’ll always will.”

“Bo…” William mumbled.

“But I don’t know what I feel for you anymore,” Bo said, his eyes glistening. “It’s like…where my love for you was…there’s just…loss.” The stud struggled to explain. “Maybe, one day, who knows…I’ll be able to find it again.” Bo hoped.

William’s legs trembled, a profound sadness bathing over him. He thought how deeply he had hurt that boy and how ashamed he felt. He finally realized that the dream he thought he had built for him and Bo, that dome that shielded their desires from the outside world, had been Bowie’s prison—and his own.

“I hope…you can. One day.” William replied, his head dropping between his shoulders. He couldn’t bring himself to look up, his face shrinking with misery as he felt Bo’s feet moving away from him.

But the fainter they got, the lighter William’s heart became. Not because he felt less guilty but because he knew that the further Bowie was from him, the higher the chances were that the boy he had cared for, and the young man he had learned to love, could one day find true happiness. And that was worth every ounce of pain he would endure for not having Bo in his life.

For the next few days, William lingered around the house, John’s mumblings of discomfort echoing through it. He nursed his brother, holding his hand through the worst of his pain until he finally fell into a deep respite. During that time, William’s memories became his only companions, his soul’s whispers his only friends. For those few days, as his soulmate rebounded from the worst of his illness, William experienced what a simple life could have felt like. A life free from pressures and obligations. Slowly but surely, he felt the world’s noise and the insidious voices that had plagued him for so many years finally begin to soothe. No meetings, dinners, or parties to entertain. Just him, John, and an infinite ocean before them. Could it have always been like this, he thought? Could his life have been happy if he had only kept his heart open?

Or was Blanche right, and his life been nothing but a series of predestined choices leading up to this?

On the morning of the third day, as William entered John’s room, he was faced with the answer.

“I zoned out again, didn’t I?” John asked as he sat on the edge of the bed. He seemed depleted, but as he lifted his head, William saw his brother’s vibrant soul staring at him.

“John…?” William uttered, cautious. Internally, he was screaming with joy.

“Fuck…” John muttered, ashamed as if he had gone through this before.

“Hey, it’s okay.” William calmed, rushing to John’s knees.

“She called you, didn’t she?” John questioned, his tone changing.

“Doesn’t matter.” William appeased. He would’ve used this to his advantage any other time in the past to keep John’s soul bound to him. But everything was different now. He was different. William now understood: this was no longer about him.

William squeezed between John’s legs, their emerald gaze merging once again.

“I dreamt of you…” John whispered as William held his brother’s face in his hands. “How long have you been here?” he asked.

“A while,” William uttered in the most soothing tone. John’s eyes fled for the window, where the tamed sea awaited him.

“I love this place so much.” He stated.

“I know.” William acknowledged, leaning into John, his nose scavenging for his brother’s scent.

“I haven’t showered…” John whispered, chuckling.

“Even better,” William replied, pushing his lips against John’s. Their mouths blended effortlessly in a passionate kiss that echoed years of restraint and sacrifice. But as their tongues dove deeper inside, all the hurtful past, the tribulations, and painful moments faded away, leaving nothing but their hopeful spirits that had waited, patiently underneath their surface, for this moment to arrive.

“Hazelnut and cocoa butter…” John whispered as his tongue grazed William’s lips, their mouths lingering inches from each other.

“John, I love you.” William whimpered, his vulnerability viciously crawling its way out. “You’re the love of my life.” He finally professed.

John pulled away, his whole soul radiating from within. The vestiges of his illness rinsed away before William’s eyes.

“I waited my whole life to hear that,” John stated.

And inside his soulmate’s eyes, William finally understood how strong his love for John could be. And then, those faithful words echoed inside his head.

“If you’re here… it means you already made the choice…But… You’ll have to understand why you made it.”

“All these years wasted…” William stuttered, dropping his head down as tears plunged down his cheeks.

But suddenly, he felt John’s hand grab his chin and lift it. His brother, his soulmate and the love of his life was there to greet him with a lenient smile.

“Then let’s make up for the lost time. Let’s love each other…” John proposed.

“Like we were meant to,” William added as their smiles met.

John paused, his expression shifting.

“Stand up,” he uttered. William smirked, excited for what was to come. Now, take your clothes off,” he ordered. William kicked his shoes off to the side, a particular urgency in him. But rushing things wasn’t in John’s plans. “Slowly,” the raven hunk demanded with the calmest and most profound tone.

William froze, his heart beating faster as John’s gaze began to shred through his shell, uncovering his true nature. It only took one look.

William began to open his shirt, his fingers plucking one button at a time, slowly unveiling his chest. It wasn’t as smooth as John remembered, the golden fuzz now filling the space between the pecs before dissipating outwards. William was also bulkier, his slimmer physique now overtaken by a powerful, muscular man. The blonde hunk pulled his shirt off and tossed it on the ground, exposing his flawless physique, which immediately began to tease John’s cock. He could feel it pulsating and slowly engorging inside his robe. William’s hands began to skate along his torso, with John’s eyes following his every move. And with each inch of skin his fingers plundered, he was helping John remember. He unbuckled his belt and pulled the waistband of his pants down, his hard 11-inch cock pushing through his white undies. John smiled, allowing William to slide them down, finally unveiling himself.

“Are you nervous?” John questioned, his cock throbbing and his eyes glistening with emotion. William’s lips stretched, and his head tilted slightly to the side in the most adorable way.

“Not this time.” The blonde hunk whispered as the light coming from the balcony descended over his naked body, turning his pale complexion into the most beautiful silver gray.

“You’re exactly as I remembered,” John mumbled. “Perfect.” He declared in awe.

As he stared at his brother, John learned that the cunning, sharp, and incredibly wise young man he once knew still resided inside this mature man. So, he peeled away his robe and stretched his arm, welcoming William into his lap.

John fucked William with searing passion that night. A passion only rivaled by their first night together. And William relinquished his body to the only man ever to gaze at the magnificence of his vulnerability. Overwhelmingly rare, a gift bestowed as a token of the most profound adoration. They loved each other, their bodies surrendering to every second of it, determined to make up for all the moments they had missed over the years.

And after two hours of the softest, tender, most disarming, and intimate lovemaking of their lives, their tired bodies collapsed over each other, laying in bed, facing one another as their hands held in a tight grip.

“I don’t want to lose you, John. I can’t.” William whispered, his voice faltering. Every inch of that once cold, stone-hearted man stripped down to a thin layer of who he once was. And in John’s eyes, the reflection of who he was meant to be.

“You won’t. I’ll always be with you and always be around,” John whispered back.

“You promise?” William prayed.

“I promise,” John swore.

They exchanged vows of eternal love inside the prophetic white silk sky that shielded their souls—a love unbound by time and space. That night, John’s words gave William the hope he needed because he knew that even in death, his brother would keep his promise.

John C. Wilde passed away peacefully in his sleep three days later. Nestled inside William’s embrace.

Those three days were the happiest of William’s life.

[6 months later]

“What’s wrong?” Lucas questioned as he looked at Bo, who stared back at him perturbed, his hand dropping his phone in his lap.

“That was Aibee. He’s been missing for 3 weeks.” The stud informed.

“What do you mean?” Lucas questioned, their expressions suddenly matching. They had sat in their car in the airport parking lot for over 15 minutes, dumbfounded by William’s unexpected disappearance.

“After the funeral, he met with the lawyers. He signed a living inheritance. Some of the money was transferred to one of his accounts. Then he just vanished into thin air.” Bo replied, chuckling nervously.

“Hmm…” Lucas mumbled, reclining in his chair. I think I have an idea,” he uttered, signaling Bo to start the car.

About one hour later, they parked in front of the beach house.

Inside the house, everything seemed just as it always was. The beds had clean sheets, the fridge was empty, and there was no trace of William’s presence. They scoured the house, rummaging through every nook and cranny with no lead on his whereabouts.

“He didn’t take anything…not even a piece of clothing,” Lucas said as he closed William’s large wardrobe sliding doors, sporting a puzzled tone before finally turning to Bo. “I don’t think he’s coming back,” he added.

They walked down the stairs into the living room, and Bo strolled to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Lucas was about to follow him when he suddenly stopped. His eyes latched on an oil painting hanging above the record player.

“I wonder…” Lucas whispered, approaching the wall and carefully pulling the frame out. Behind it, a built-in metal safe was hidden.

“Pfff…you’re never going to get that opened,” Bo jested, leaning against the living room doorway as he chugged his water bottle.

Lucas stretched his index finger out and punched an 8-digit code into it. Seconds later, a soft click broke from inside, the door gently sliding open.

“Da fuck.” Bo exclaimed.

“Before we left, while you talked to Uncle John, he gave me the code,” he explained, glancing back at Bo, who frowned. “In case anything happened, he said,” Lucas stated, turning to the wall and opening the safe’s door.

Inside was an old vinyl record and a leather file folder, which Lucas proceeded to pull out. He opened it, lingering for a moment as he read it. He could hear Bo’s anxious feet tapping against the wooden floor.

“So?” The stud questioned impatiently.

“He left me in charge of everything,” Lucas mumbled.

“Well…that’s not really breaking news,” Bo replied, walking over to the couch and letting his body fall over it.

Lucas closed the file folder, his green eyes already scouring the safe.

“There’s a letter.” He informed, noticing a small envelope tucked deeper inside.

“Well…read it,” Bo suggested. But Lucas seemed reluctant to, and after a few seconds, the boy turned to face his brother, a soft smirk on his lips.

“It’s…not for me.” He revealed, extending his arm.

Bo paused, his deep, dark eyes staring at the white envelope. He leaned forward and gently pulled it from Lucas’ hand. He turned it around to find his name written on the back, with William’s signature handwriting. And that was all it took to get his heart racing. He slid his finger under the corner and ripped the top off, pulling the folded paper from inside.

“My sweet Bo,

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. Hopefully, somewhere new and exciting, trying to find whatever is left of who I once was. Maybe I’ll follow my mother’s advice and try to keep my heart open this time.

But I wanted you to know how much you meant to me. You were the light in my darkest moments and the joy in my saddest. My saving grace. And I will forever be grateful for those beautiful moments we shared.

You really are your father’s son. He was the kindest, most beautiful, compassionate, and loyal man. And I know, like him, you would rather die than break an oath.

Which is why I’m setting you free, just as you once asked me to. I only ask one thing in return. One final promise. Never let go of what you and Lucas share. Respect it. Embrace it. Love your brother, as brothers are meant to be loved.

I’m leaving you half of everything I own, along with my most prized possession. Make good use of it.

Love,

William

A sudden sob broke from Bo’s mouth as he tossed the letter over the table, the paper now completely smudged in his tears. As Lucas rushed to hold him, his trembling body fell into his brother’s. But gradually, his tears turned into joyous laughter, filled with nothing but beautiful memories.

In a final act of compassion, William gifted Bo with an incalculable treasure: to know that he had been loved, after all.

The stud slowly pulled away, stood up, and walked to the safe, his fingers still rubbing the tears off his eyelids. He pulled the old vinyl from inside and opened the glass lid of the record player, carefully placing the disk over it. He moved the needle and smiled. And as he turned around to face Lucas, music began to play.

(Music playing in the background)
“Some day, when I’m awfully low,
When the world is cold,
I will feel a glow just thinking of you,
And the way you look tonight.”

Bo stretched his hand, inviting his brother to dance. Lucas chuckled, his pale cheeks reddening with embarrassment. As he grabbed Bo, the stud pulled him up, their bodies bumping together. Lucas’ arms crawled around Bo’s neck, taking hold of it as they kissed softly before their foreheads finally coasted together.

(Music playing in the background)
“Yes, you’re lovely, with your smile so warm
And your cheeks so soft,
There is nothing for me but to love you,
And the way you look tonight.”

Their chests merged, and they wavered there, dancing to the rhythm of William and John’s love song.

(Music playing in the background)
“With each word your tenderness grows,
Tearing my fear apart,
And that laugh that wrinkles your nose,
It touches my foolish heart.”

“Will it always be like this?” Lucas whispered, his head dipping into Bo’s chest, the stud’s heart pulsating inside his ear.

“Yes.” Bo softly stated with overwhelming certainty.

“How do you know?” Lucas questioned.

“Because…I have a promise to keep.” Bo answered, holding his brother’s head with his hand, his presence steering away Lucas’s doubts.

(Music playing in the background)
“Lovely, Never, ever change.
Keep that breathless charm.
Won’t you please arrange it?
Cause I love you, Just the way you look tonight.”

Lucas smiled, his eyes glistening with sentiment as his head rested on his brother’s warm chest. And he felt his soul finally fill with contentment and fulfillment.

Because he knew, with all his heart, that Bo meant it.

[A few months later]

“Can you get me another dry martini?” Nora requested, sitting on one of the sunbeds near the pool.

The once vibrant Wilde household was now a shadow of its former self. Everything had become neglected. The pool had turned green, the grass grew untamed, and most rooms were locked, with no one to occupy them but the mold blots. With William’s disappearance and Lucas’ new modern and progressive direction for the family businesses, the court of public opinion, specifically the conservative circles, had deemed Nora a “persona non grata.” At her request and in a forgiving gesture on his part, Lucas had allowed her to remain in the house, providing her with a symbolic allowance. Not nearly enough for her to maintain her former lavish lifestyle. As such, she was forced to cut down on staff and maintenance. And as time moved on, the few remaining servants left except for one.

“There’s not much left. Maybe enough for two more,” Aibeleen replied from the other end of the bog-looking water.

“Didn’t Lucas bring some the last time he was here?” Nora questioned, embarrassed.

“I think he forgot, Mam,” Aibeleen responded, her hands crossing over her belly.

“I see…” Nora uttered, her glistening eyes hidden behind her huge sunglasses. “They think they can break me by leaving me alone. Loneliness doesn’t scare me…” She commented as if trying to garner the attention of a packed room. But as she looked around, she realized there was no one to convince. “…You may as well join me, Aibeleen,” Nora suggested reluctantly.

“Are you sure, mam?” Aibee questioned, squinting.

“Yes…” Nora assured. Aibee could feel Nora’s underlying plea as her loneliness screamed from under her cold facade. Aibee walked up the steps to the house, and a few minutes later, she was sitting down, their glasses skimming together in a toast.

“I noticed Miss Agatha stopped visiting,” Aibee commented, her soothing voice opening a doorway between them.

“They all did. They didn’t come here for me. They came here for the money, Aibeleen.” Nora explained, chuckling sarcastically before her faux smile melted into a soulless expression. “I know Lucas has been trying to get you to go live with them,” she commented.

“Yes,” Aibee confirmed, her eyes on Nora.

“Why haven’t you?” Nora asked.

“I thought you might appreciate some company…mam,” Aibeleen answered. Nora stammered, turning her face to the side. But even then, Aibee could see her lips trembling. There was a brief silence before she finally composed herself. Then she turned, pulling her sunglasses off and revealing her glistening dark eyes.

“How long have you worked in this house, Aibeleen?” She asked.

“53 years, mam.” Aibee disclosed proudly.

“53 years…my God,” Nora uttered. Aibeleen noticed her fingers nervously fidgeting with the fabric of her skirt. “Well, tell me a little bit about your life, Aibee…to keep me distracted, ” she muttered, her voice weakening as she finally opened up.

Aibee smiled and began to speak about her life. They stayed there the entire afternoon, with Nora’s unwilling giggles starting to fill the void left around her.
 

[2 years later – Somewhere in the south of France]

“Can I get five diet vodkas, please?” The attractive young man ordered as he pushed his chiseled stomach against the 5-star beach bar counter. “Five…with tray…” He mimicked, his arms flailing around at the waiter, who looked at him from the other side, his whole face shrugging.

“Cinq vodkas light pour la table douze. Le groupe bruyant à l’arrière.” A deep voice worded from two chairs down.

“Oui, monsieur William.” The bartender replied, smiling.

“Thank you, Renier.” William graciously expressed before glancing at the young man. He took the Cuban out of his mouth and lowered his glasses, his emerald eyes inspecting the stud.

“Thanks.” The young man uttered, awkwardly lifting his hand in greeting before brushing his beautifully lush raven hair away from his face, his naturally tanned complexion and thick beard being touched by the sunlight.

“Are you enjoying your stay?” William asked.

“Yeah. I’m with a group of friends,” the stud said, pointing to a particularly loud table in the back.

“I know. I’ve heard them.” William countered, turning to face the bar again.

“Do you live here?” The young man questioned, fidgeting as he leaned further into the counter, desperately trying to keep the blonde hunk’s face in his line of sight. William smirked, knowing full well what was about to happen.

“I live in my boat.” He responded.

“Where’s your boat?” the stud asked. William took the cigar to his mouth and blew the largest cloud of smoke into the air before swirling his chair and pointing at the colossal yacht stationed at the dock. “Jesus…” the young man mumbled, his chin slightly dropping.

“I’m…” William introduced, extending his hand in greeting.

“William, I heard.” The stud interrupted, trying not to look at William’s intimidating, verdant gaze, which seemed to drill a hole through his forehead. Aren’t you going to invite me on your boat, William?” he suggested, his chest punching forward recklessly. William chuckled, his perfect whites finally showing as he stretched his lips into the most alluring smile.

“Are you bringing your loud friends with you?” He teased.

“No…” The stud mumbled. His focus was now on William, hooked on his charming presence like an addict.

“That’s Good. I usually take it out around 7 a.m. Don’t be late,” the blonde hunk said, standing up.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there.” The young man immediately answered, following William with his eyes as he unhurriedly walked away. But as he was about to leave, the blonde stud halted, turning back.

“Hey…you never told me your name?” William asked.

“I’m John.” The young man replied.

A breath of air flew from William’s lungs, bursting out of his nose. He felt his body stumble forward momentarily before he swiftly regained his footing.

“Will you be around later tonight, John?” He questioned.

“Oh…I’m always around.” John replied, stepping into the light and allowing William to notice his green gaze for the first time, glowing excitedly at him.

William smiled, turned around, and walked down the beach, his bare feet punching the warm, velvety sand. As his eyes set on the horizon, a delicate whisper hauled by the ocean’s breeze echoed through him.

“What God writes, no man scribbles.”

THE END