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This is my first full length story, so I hope you enjoy it! Please email me ([email protected]) any feedback. Enjoy!

All characters are entirely fictional besides Byron, whom has given me his express permission to include later in the book. Please follow him on Instagram (@byronrosekelly)!

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Boys’ Night Out

Harry adjusted his shirt in the mirror of his ride-share, his strong fingers working with surprising delicacy to ensure the hem of his turquoise boxer shorts peeked out just enough above his low-rise black jeans. The calculated flash of color against the dark denim created exactly the visual impact he sought—a deliberate wardrobe malfunction that suggested casual indifference while actually being meticulously planned. He knew exactly what he was doing; every detail of his outfit, from the precisely distressed jeans that hugged his massive thighs like a second skin to the fitted black V-neck that struggled to contain his upper body, was calculated for maximum attention. The careful dishevelment of his platinum blonde hair, the subtle cologne applied to strategic pulse points, the gleaming watch that drew attention to his thick wrists—nothing was accidental in Harry Schett’s presentation.

The car pulled smoothly to the curb outside The Velvet Stag, a trendy gay bar in the next town that had become something of a weekend institution among the more cosmopolitan crowd. The establishment was known for its sleek, moody lighting scheme that cast everyone in the most flattering possible glow, its neon signs that provided perfect Instagram backdrops, and its cocktails with names that made even the most seasoned drinkers raise an eyebrow in amused confusion. It wasn’t really Harry’s scene—he preferred places where the music didn’t swallow conversation whole and where the drinks didn’t require a translation guide—but Jase liked it. It was their little ritual, developed over years of friendship: Jase on the perpetual lookout for someone genuine amid the sea of superficial connections, Harry playing the supportive wingman whose very presence guaranteed they’d never lack for company.

Harry spotted Jase immediately upon exiting the car, his best friend leaning casually against the outside wall of the bar, scrolling through his phone with practiced nonchalance. Dressed in perfectly fitted grey jeans that hugged his athletic legs and a black V-neck that revealed just the right amount of his developing chest, Jase looked effortlessly cool in the way only someone completely comfortable in their skin can manage. His physique wasn’t massive by any objective standard—not compared to Harry’s colossal development—but he was solid, athletic, with the subtle hint of his pecs visible beneath the fabric’s dip, the suggestion of definition without overwhelming mass.

“Oi, lover boy,” Harry called out as he approached, his voice carrying easily over the muted thump of bass escaping whenever the bar door opened.

Jase looked up from his screen, a smirk playing across his features as he pocketed his phone in one smooth motion. “Took your time, didn’t you?” he replied, his eyes performing a quick, appreciative scan of Harry’s appearance. His gaze lingered momentarily on Harry’s chest, straining against the fabric as always, then dropped lower, taking in the carefully exposed waistband of the turquoise boxers. Jase knew exactly why Harry dressed like this, understood the deliberate performance of it all, and played his part in their well-established dynamic without missing a beat.

Harry shrugged broad shoulders that stretched his shirt to its absolute limit, the casual gesture belying the years of dedicated work evident in every ripple of muscle. “Had to make sure I looked good enough to be your plus one,” he responded with mock seriousness, as if the concept of Harry Schett not being the visual center of attention wherever he went was somehow conceivable.

With theatrical flair worthy of the West End, Jase gasped in exaggerated offense, slipping his arm through Harry’s with flourish and adopting an over-the-top, camp boyfriend strut toward the entrance. “Don’t worry, babe,” he declared loudly enough for nearby queuers to hear, “I’ll keep the vultures off you. They’re all so desperate tonight.” The performance was perfect in its knowing parody, simultaneously playing to and subverting expectations.

Harry laughed, a genuine sound of amusement, rolling his eyes at their familiar routine. They’d done this for years, ever since Jase had come out during their university days, this comfortable dynamic evolving naturally between them. Jase was the sarcastic, dry-humored charmer who navigated social waters with effortless wit, while Harry played the role of cocky, muscle-bound distraction, drawing attention like a lightning rod and allowing Jase to observe and select from those whose gazes eventually returned to him.

As they entered the crowded space, the reaction was immediate and predictable. Heads turned, conversations paused mid-sentence, eyes tracked their movement through the press of bodies with the instinctive attention commanded by exceptional physical presence. The effect rippled through the crowd like a wave, people nudging companions, whispering behind hands, recalibrating their postures to appear more noticeable.

It happened every time without fail.

Harry was entirely accustomed to it by now—the whispers, the stares, the double takes when people thought he wasn’t looking. The weight of constant observation had been his companion for so long that its absence would have felt more uncomfortable than its presence. He didn’t even need to flex or pose anymore; simply existing in a space was enough to create a gravitational pull of attention. His body did the work without conscious effort, each movement a display of controlled power that drew the eye regardless of intention.

Jase, still clinging to Harry’s massive arm in their practiced charade, gave an exaggerated sigh of put-upon suffering. “Ugh, babe, they’re staring at us again,” he lamented with perfect comic timing. “We’re just trying to have a quiet night!” The complaint was delivered with such conviction that a nearby patron actually looked momentarily embarrassed at being caught watching them.

Harry grinned, the expression lighting up his classically handsome features, making him appear momentarily boyish despite his imposing physique. “Can’t help it,” he responded with practiced humility that fooled no one. “Must be your bubble butt. Told you those jeans were too tight.” The teasing was comfortable, familiar, the back-and-forth of two people who knew each other well enough to play at the edges of potentially sensitive topics without causing actual offense.

Jase released his grip with a playful shove that would have sent a smaller man stumbling, laughing as he regained his own personal space. “You’re insufferable,” he declared without heat, already scanning the bar area with the practiced eye of someone who knew exactly how to navigate these waters. “First round’s on you for that comment.” Without waiting for a response, he headed toward the crowded bar, knowing Harry would follow, knowing the sea of bodies would part to let them through simply because of the physical presence Harry projected without conscious effort.

---

They found a corner booth eventually, after collecting their drinks and navigating through the packed dance floor where hands seemed to find reasons to brush against Harry’s arms, chest, and lower body with suspicious frequency. Harry took up far more space than was reasonable in the curved seating, his broad frame filling what was designed as a spot for two average-sized people. His massive thighs spread naturally wide, taking up territory like a physical manifestation of confidence, while his upper body created a landscape of curves and planes beneath his stretched shirt that drew glances from passing patrons regardless of their usual preferences.

Jase slid into the booth opposite him with considerably less spatial impact, setting down their drinks on the small table between them—a simple beer for Harry, who maintained the fiction that his physique was built on nothing but clean living, and something colorful and complicated for himself that came with both a garnish and a story from the bartender who had made it with particular attentiveness.

“So,” Jase said, leaning back against the cushioned seat and taking a sip of his elaborate concoction, “How’s life in the glamorous world of pizza?” The question referred to Harry’s current employment—a stop-gap job at an upscale pizzeria that somehow managed to be both beneath his qualifications and perfectly suited to his natural charm.

Harry groaned dramatically, rubbing a hand over his face in a gesture of genuine exasperation that seemed at odds with his usual confident demeanor. “Mate, I swear if I hear ‘where’s my extra pepperoni?’ one more time, I’m gonna start launching pizzas at customers like frisbees.” The complaint held the weight of real frustration, a rare glimpse of Harry’s life beyond the carefully curated image he typically projected.

Jase snorted into his drink, nearly causing a minor cocktail disaster. “At least you’ve got a future in competitive pizza tossing,” he countered with the easy humor of someone who truly enjoyed his friend’s company. “Not sure I can say the same for this whole building-site thing.” His own job—recently secured at a construction company that was slowly but steadily utilizing his engineering degree—was still new enough to be mentioned with a certain tentative pride.

“You enjoying it?” Harry asked, genuine interest breaking through his usual facade of casual indifference. For all his self-absorption, he paid attention to the things that mattered to those he cared about.

Jase shrugged, but the gesture couldn’t quite hide the satisfaction in his expression. “Yeah, actually,” he admitted, taking another sip of his drink. “Finally doing something with that degree, unlike someone I know.” The gentle dig carried no real criticism, just the familiar teasing of their long-established friendship.

Harry smirked, flexing one massive arm in an exaggerated display that made the seams of his shirt protest audibly. “Listen, mate, I took one for the team,” he declared with mock solemnity. “Couldn’t have both of us being boring engineers. Someone had to maintain the entertainment value in this friendship.” The joke landed as intended, playing on their different life choices without judgment.

They caught up properly then, the conversation flowing easily between them as it always did, covering the familiar territory of their intersecting lives. Jase was still casually seeing some lad from Grindr, though nothing serious had developed—”Great in bed, bit dim otherwise,” was his succinct assessment. Harry, as usual, had nothing substantial to report on the romance front beyond the countless admirers who seemed to materialize wherever he went, none of whom had managed to hold his interest beyond the initial flattery of their attention.

Then, as the evening progressed and their drinks emptied and were replaced by fresh ones, the conversation shifted into the gossipy territory that often emerged after the preliminary updates were complete. Harry, finishing his second pint with a satisfied exhale, leaned forward across the small table with the air of someone about to share particularly juicy information, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, you’ll love this,” he promised, his voice dropping slightly though still audible over the pulsing music. “So the other day, I was out with my dad, right? We’re at The Chapel, having our usual Thursday thing, and this kid behind the bar—Ethan, some nervous student who’s covering shifts—just completely loses his composure.”

Jase raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?” he prompted, always ready for stories that involved Harry’s equally impressive father, a man who featured prominently in many of their conversations despite being kept at arm’s length from their actual socializing.

Harry grinned, warming to his story. “Mate, he’s flustered as hell from the moment we walk in, overfills the pint, spills beer everywhere, can barely string a sentence together without stuttering. And then later, when we’re eating, he pours an entire jug of cheese sauce down my dad’s shirt.” He recounted the incident with relish, his hands gesturing expressively to illustrate the magnitude of the disaster.

Jase burst out laughing, the mental image striking him as particularly hilarious. “Jesus Christ,” he managed between chuckles. “The poor kid must have wanted to disappear on the spot.”

“Yeah, and my dad just sits there with this sauce all over him, sighs like he’s contemplating the meaning of life, and is like, ‘I can’t get on the bus home like this,’” Harry continued, doing a passable impression of his father’s deeper voice and resigned expression. “So deadpan, like having dairy products spilled on him is just another Thursday inconvenience.”

Jase wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye, his laughter subsiding into occasional chuckles. “Poor kid. I mean, to be fair, I wouldn’t say no to your dad.” The comment slipped out with the casual honesty of someone slightly buzzed and very comfortable with the person they were speaking to.

Harry’s face froze mid-laugh, his expression shifting into a comical cringe. “Oh, mate. No. Shut up.” The reaction was visceral, the natural recoil of someone confronted with the concept of their parent as a sexual being.

Jase smirked, taking a deliberate sip of his drink with zero shame for his comment, his eyes twinkling with the satisfaction of having provoked exactly the response he’d been aiming for. The moment passed, conversation drifting to other topics, but the seed had been planted for later developments.

---

Several rounds later, the atmosphere between them had shifted subtly, altered by the alcohol in their systems and the late hour. The bar had grown more crowded, the music louder, the lighting somehow more intimate. Jase was leaning back in his seat, drink in hand, his eyes half-lidded from the pleasant buzz of good cocktails and easy company. His usual sharp wit had softened around the edges, his posture more relaxed, his filter less vigilant.

The playful banter that characterized their friendship had taken a predictable turn—Jase flirting with Harry after one too many drinks, the behavior so routine that neither of them questioned it anymore. Harry, for his part, had fallen into his usual response pattern, flexing ‘accidentally’ at strategic moments, stretching in ways that showcased the impressive musculature of his arms and chest, playing along with the game that always remained safely in the territory of joke rather than genuine proposition.

Harry smirked, catching Jase staring a moment too long at his chest after a particularly deliberate stretch. “Mate, you’ve got to stop falling in love with my muscles,” he teased, the familiar line delivered with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how attractive they were without being entirely obnoxious about it.

Jase, more affected by the drinks than he might have admitted, waved a dismissive hand that made a slightly wobbly trajectory through the air. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he retorted with the indignation of someone protesting too much. Then, after a pause during which some internal debate seemed to conclude, he confidently added, “But I wasn’t joking about your dad earlier.” His finger extended to probe Harry’s thick pec as he spoke, the physical contact landing somewhere between friendly and something more charged.

Harry raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by the persistence of this particular topic. “Seriously?!” he asked, his tone hovering between amusement and mild horror at the direction of Jase’s thoughts.

Jase leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table between them, his eyes holding Harry’s with unusual intensity. “Dead serious,” he confirmed without a hint of teasing. “I mean, look at him. The man’s basically you but with more…gravitas.” The description was unexpectedly thoughtful coming from someone who’d had as much to drink as Jase had.

Harry, deciding to play with this unexpected development rather than shut it down, adopted an expression of mock offense, laying a hand dramatically over his heart. “Wow. So you’d pick my dad over me? I’m hurt. Devastated, actually.” The performance was deliberately over-the-top, a clear signal that he was treating this as an extension of their usual banter rather than a genuine proposition.

Jase, not realizing that Harry was winding him up rather than seriously questioning his preferences, nodded with drunken solemnity and zero hesitation. “Mate, I’d do anything you asked if it meant I could have a go on that,” he declared with unexpected candor, his finger returning to prod Harry’s massive pec with deliberate pressure, lingering longer than strictly necessary for emphasis. The touch carried a weight of intention that their usual playful interactions typically avoided.

Harry tilted his head slightly, genuinely intrigued by this new dynamic between them. Jase had flirted before, certainly, but always with the implied understanding that it was performance rather than genuine interest. This felt different—more direct, more honest in its intoxicated candor. Curious to see just how far this might go, Harry shifted slightly in his seat, his massive thighs spreading wider in the booth, filling the space with an even more imposing physical presence. “Maybe it’s me who likes being told what to do,” he suggested, watching Jase’s reaction closely, testing the boundaries of their usual interactions with deliberate provocation.

The effect on Jase was immediate and unmistakable. His eyes widened perceptibly, pupils dilating in the dim light, and for the first time that night—perhaps for the first time in their entire friendship—he looked genuinely flustered rather than coolly composed. “Uh—” he began, then seemed to lose his train of thought entirely, reaching for his glass with unusual haste. “Right. I need another round.”

Without waiting for a response, he downed the last of his cocktail in one determined swallow and practically bolted for the bar, weaving through the crowd with the single-minded focus of someone fleeing an uncomfortable revelation.

Harry remained seated, grinning to himself as he watched Jase’s hasty retreat. Something had shifted between them tonight—something small but significant, a recalibration of their dynamic that might fade with sobriety or might develop into something neither of them had anticipated. Either way, Harry found himself unusually curious about where this might lead, a novel sensation for someone generally content to be admired without deeper engagement.

---

The night air bit with unexpected chill as they finally emerged from the warmth of the bar, the temperature having dropped significantly during their hours inside. Jase, now fully drunk after several more rounds that seemed calculated to avoid further meaningful conversation, pushed himself under Harry’s huge arm for warmth, his body seeking heat with the unself-conscious directness of the thoroughly intoxicated.

“Fuckin’ freezing,” he muttered, his words slightly slurred as he huddled closer, seemingly unbothered by the way this pressed him against the solid wall of Harry’s side.

Harry accepted this development with easy accommodation, draping one massive arm around Jase’s shoulders in casual protection. It wasn’t unusual for them to be physically close—their friendship had never maintained rigid boundaries about personal space—but tonight carried a different energy, a charged awareness that made even familiar contact feel somehow new.

As they waited for their ride home, standing beneath the neon glow of The Velvet Stag’s elaborate signage, Jase’s hands began to wander with the uninhibited curiosity of someone too intoxicated to maintain normal social restraint. His fingers dragged slowly over Harry’s torso, tracing the impressive contours visible even through his shirt, before settling on his lower back in a touch that lingered just at the boundary of casual contact.

Then, voice thick with the combined effects of alcohol and something that might have been desire, Jase murmured, “Mate, I’d love to worship your physique.” The word choice was unexpected, carrying connotations beyond simple admiration.

Harry blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Worship?” he repeated, the term unfamiliar in this context despite his extensive experience with being admired.

Not wanting to appear clueless or unsophisticated, especially when Jase seemed to be operating with knowledge Harry lacked, he covered his confusion with a confident smirk. “You’re welcome to,” he offered with the casual generosity of someone accustomed to being the object of attention.

Jase didn’t hesitate, didn’t second-guess the permission he’d been granted. His hands moved with surprising purpose given his intoxicated state, sliding lower to grasp more substantial territory. His fingers spread wide to appreciate the full extent of what they encountered, massaging, squeezing—gripping with an intensity that suggested reverence rather than casual appreciation, as though handling something truly precious.

Harry stood motionless, uncharacteristically thrown off balance by this development. For all his confidence, for all his comfort with being admired and touched, this felt different—more intentional, more meaningful than the casual appreciative contact he typically encountered. He experienced a rare moment of awkwardness, unsure how to respond to this level of focused attention from someone whose opinion actually mattered to him.

The moment stretched between them, suspended in the cold night air, before the headlights of their approaching cab broke the spell. The vehicle pulled to the curb with impeccable timing, its arrival providing a natural conclusion to a situation that had veered into unfamiliar territory.

Jase released his grip reluctantly, swaying slightly as they moved toward the waiting car. By the time they settled into the back seat, the alcohol had caught up with him completely. He passed out within seconds of the car pulling away from the curb, his head falling heavily onto Harry’s massive chest as consciousness deserted him entirely.

Harry sighed, shaking his head with fond exasperation at his friend’s state, before draping a protective arm around Jase’s shoulders. The simple gesture felt charged with new significance after the evening’s developments, though Harry couldn’t have articulated exactly what had changed between them.

As the cab navigated the quiet streets toward home, Harry found himself unusually contemplative, his thoughts circling around the concept Jase had introduced. Worship. Such a loaded word, carrying connotations of devotion, of reverence, of power dynamics he’d never consciously explored despite benefiting from them in countless casual encounters.

The steady rhythm of Jase’s breathing against his chest provided a counterpoint to these thoughts as Harry gradually surrendered to his own fatigue, drifting into a drunken sleep filled with fragments of the evening’s conversations and the lingering sensation of hands appreciating him with unprecedented intensity. Tomorrow would bring sobriety and probably awkward avoidance of the subject, but for now, suspended in the liminal space between consciousness and dreams, Harry allowed himself to wonder what it might mean to be truly worshipped rather than merely admired.

After splitting with my husband I got back on the apps and got chatting to a guy who was looking for a sub to use. After not too long he came over, it was late and he was horny as fuck. He walked into the hallway and immediately grabbed me by my throat, gripping me tight he ‘guided’ me to the bedroom. He pushed me down to my knees, now with his hands on my head…shoving my face into his crotch before unzipping his trousers and taking out his seriously face cock. I opened my mouth and rested his cock on my tongue, the tip of his dick just millimetres from my mouth. 

“I need a piss boy” he barked at me, just then he completely released his bladder, I quickly closed my lips around the end of his dick so not to spill any…I swallowed furiously gulp after gulp until he finally finished pissing. 
what happened over the next 3 hours was some of the most brutal skull fucking and arse fucking I’ve ever had. When he was finished with me he informed me that I was now his boy and he now owned me.

Ever since he took control of me he has used me whenever he was feeling horny, he also got off on letting other men do their worst.

I get texts and calls from him at random times to tell me to get ready as he’s sent someone over to fuck me. I’m not allowed to refuse any man or anything he wants to do to me, I have to be naked bent over the end of the bed and submit fully to any man sent over. 
so far I’ve been used by different men usually 3 to 4 men a week who let themselves in and use me like a cheap whore.

my owner then checks with the men to make sure I was obedient and satisfied their needs, he gets very angry if he doesn’t get entirely good feedback.

im loving my new life 

Hi everyone, This is Jason, your favorite dom jock.

The party that has been thrown in my name in the resort that is owned by Noah Smith. Well actually, by his father who is one of the trustees of the college, and the students of this college have gathered in the big resort house, and are going wild. I had an exciting agenda for tonight. Had many drinks and some food already. And a few minutes ago, fucked an Indian caterer cutie quite wildly in the basement near the back of the house.

We both are coming back to the front of the house now, following the same path we went to the basement. The boy is walking a bit weird because he just got fucked by my thick cock and had exhausted his body by cumming hands-free for the first time. There I gulp down some neat whiskey the first chance I get and hand a couple drinks over to the indian twink, whose name I got to know was Pran. His family moved to the US a couple years back and he does the catering job for some side income during high school. And has been working for the catering agency that manages Mr. Smith’s parties, hence his familiarity with the big house.

Leaving him behind to his duties, I come to the front lawn again, and directly jump into the pool. What better place to properly clean my dick and undies. In a few minutes, the guys are getting naked again and jumping into the pool, and chugging chants are happening all around again. I chug some beer with the boys too.

Some drinking games start around the pool, with lots of dancing with loud music on speakers. I rock an intense game of throwing ping pong balls into glasses and gulp down a couple more drinks. I start to buzz a little, but I know how to handle myself of course. 

It has been an hour since I fucked that Indian boy, and I already have 2 girls in both of my arms as now I am standing in the pool on the side, with the rest of the jocks and chicks all talking and laughing. Lyla on the left has one hand on my chest, and in the other she was holding a drink we were both sipping from. On the right side, was a slutty Chinese friend of Lyla that I was meeting for the second or third time only. And she was slutty because my right hand was on her ass under the water, with her bikini string pulled to the side, I was stroking her hole and the lower part of her pussy in turn. Both of us were drunk enough to not mind. My meat was rising again, thankfully under the water. Well it was time to fuck again and it was only 11 pm. The party is only getting started. 

I spotted Mark in the crowd too, who now seemed drunk enough to leer at me. There was a touch of jealousy in the way he was looking at the girls I was holding on my body. I remember how slutty and cock-hungry his handsome face was last night when I started fucking him from behind. That carelessness and lack of poise was back on his face because probably he was that much drunk now. Then he was slowly maneuvering his way towards the pool. He started to undress himself to get into the pool. 

That was new. The people in the pool right now were your typical hunks, dumb jocks, ripped sportsmen, their girlfriends and some other slutty girls that wanted to get down with any of the hot boys.

Mark while being tall and lean-muscular could have been counted as a jock, but never counted himself as one. He was the head of the student’s council and scored top of the class, and that put him separate from us in his mind. But now he was getting down to our level, being in his neat skin-tight undies, with that korean skin of his, getting into the pool, all the while looking at me every few seconds to kind of say that he was doing this for me somehow. I could notice the slutty way he was moving his body, with his fit ass sticking out, his smooth milky body glistening with the water dripping from it as he slowly descended into the pool and swam gracefully a bit and then stood on the side of the pool directly opposite to me. That right there is a slut’s awakening. He knows what he wants now, and that was to just let me use him.

From the corner of my eye I caught Ryan who was sitting with his legs in the pool on grabbing the attention of a couple of his pals and signalled towards Mark. 

“Well, aren’t we lucky tonight that the personal guard of the dean himself has graced us with his presence. Mark, isn’t the water of the pool too corrupted by our bodies?” Ryan shouted at Mark mockingly, grabbing everyone’s attention. A couple agreeing shouts from behind Ryan. Ryan was the captain of the basketball team. A full-on jock, almost as tall as me, and muscular but not as bulky as me. He had a tight shirt with only 2 lower buttons fastened, which made his well-defined pecs and the promise of a set of chiseled abs visible. While wearing only underwear his well-defined legs were visible too. I had seen him making reels while being shirtless in the gym several times when we sometimes worked out at the same time after our respective sport’s practice, he had an aesthetic build. To match that fit bod, he had a clean smooth face with sharp jawlines that gave his face a masculine hunk vibe. And so overall, as you can imagine, he was second only to me in appeal, because I was slightly taller but more muscular than him. And while there were other hot jocks around the pool, he stood out because he too was a leader among his team and friends. Which made him cocky and a troublemaker. And He also had some beef with Mark because once Mark had imposed some interdisciplinary actions on the basketball team for using their indoor court for random parties.

“Well, I assume the water gets cleaned every day. Besides, I must have built a tolerance for your corruption by now.” A fitting reply from Mark. Some people chuckled.

“Who are you calling corrupt, you korean shit?” Ryan said, gulping down some beer, and releasing his gf from his hands to step ahead to the middle of the pool in Mark’s direction.

“Woah, that’s not cool bro.” I said, on the racist comment, taking one step ahead just in case. Ryan seemed a bit drunk.

“Dude, you called yourself corrupt? Look, I have no business fighting anyone here. We came here to party, let’s party” Mark started to cool Ryan down.

“Oh you think you can even land a punch on me much less fight me, you skinny bitch?” Ryan with his belligerent behavior was at it again. He undid his last two buttons and took off the shirt. He wasn’t exactly flexing because he knew he didn’t need to flex to establish that he had a significant advantage of muscle over Mark. 

“Look man, I came here to just take a dip, not to deal with a dipshit.” Mark remarked. Some people laughed. You can always count on him for witty words. Ryan could never win with Mark with words. The dumb jock jumped into the pool towards Mark in an attempt to swim up to him and land a punch on him or something. But before he could reach, I took a quick dip and grabbed his leg and pulled him back. He flapped one of his legs for a couple seconds before realizing that his other leg was stuck. More people laughed at his futile efforts. I had no intention to humiliate him but he needs to calm down. 

“Calm down, man. The pool is for everyone.” I said, releasing his leg while he landed his feet in the pool a safe distance away from Mark. I would not see one scratch on that pretty Korean face. Nor a bruise can I see on that milky body. Mark was my slut now, and there is no point in being an alpha if you can’t protect your sluts from other men. Plus this party was thrown by me, and I didnt need unnecessary drama that edged toward bullying.

“Why the fuck do you care, Jason? You remember how he put a stop to those parties on the basketball court. You attended some of those too, I remember.” Ryan was facing me now, trying to scare me into backing down. Near the end of the words he was saying, I could sense the hesitation in his voice however.

“He put a stop to it because your stupid ass started a bonfire in the middle of the court, lighting benches. Your stupid ass didnt even think of the spectators of your own game. Do you have no respect for your own sport?” I said asserting my authority over him, with stark expressions on my face, and muscles flexing naturally hard. Everyone around could sense the tension between us, and everyone knew that if Ryan moved a muscle against me, he would end up unconscious in this pool. They all have watched me play football and rugby. They all know what all I can do. The question was did Ryan have the inkling of this fact, in all of his drunken rage. He didn’t. 

Ryan flicked his hand in front of me in a dismissing way and tried to take another leap toward Mark. I think Ryan thought that I was only trying to avoid a scene at my party, and if it would come down to it, to Ryan showing Mark what’s what, being a jock myself, I would not go against another jock. But he obviously didn’t know that I had promised Mark that I would take care of him, and that apart from being the jockiest jock of the college, I was also an alpha master to some faggot sluts and Mark joined that club last night.

Before Ryan could take another step, I grabbed his neck from behind and plunged him into the pool. He tried to land some punches on me as he went down, some landed but didnt really hurt much, and some only punched the water around. I landed a strategic punch on his stomach while he was going down. 

“Ooo”s were heard from the crowd of college goers as if they had excitedly anticipated this. Ryan has been known to be a troublemaker and sometimes even a bully.

His girlfriend along with some of the basketball players came rushing. I left Ryan floating and took a few steps back raising my hands.

“I think he has had too much to drink tonight. Can you guys arrange some coffee for your captain or maybe a bed?” I said, smirking at his teammates. Two of his bros held him upright and prepared to walk him out of the pool.

None of them would challenge me. They were smaller than their captain. I could easily handle 2 of them. Besides, my teammate buds were ready to jump into the pool if they moved toward me.

They grabbed Ryan who had his breath knocked out of him, and was having a hard time balancing himself up and took him.

Mark walks towards me and starts to thank me in a Bro way. We both exit the pool.

I grab a couple of drinks from the table nearby and walk into the house, with Mark meekly following. To everyone else it was us walking off to relax from a scene. Only Mark and I knew the carnal urges that were flowing in us. I just saved my slut from a beating and asserted my dominance in front of all, the lustful implications of that in the mind of an alpha male, such as me, were very powerful and I needed to release those feelings on the slut. On the other hand, Mark could feel that he has become the slut of the master of the college, and serving me is a matter of envy for many sluts around him. To serve his savior, his master, is to fulfill the purpose of his life. 

People in the house have noticed the panicky situation that took place in the pool, and knew somehow that I beat up the guy who was making noise. Some of them stepped aside to make way for me in a fearful way, as if I might beat up someone else as well. Some of this crowd doesn’t know that I was not their typical dumb jock. I would rather fuck ass, get some use out of a tenacious faggot’s immense subservience toward me, than bully people unnecessarily.

I knew the way to the corridor towards the back of the house now, and thats where I was headed, with Mark following. That corridor also gave way to rooms where people of the party might not have already passed out in. I checked in a couple of the rooms, they either housed someone already or were locked from inside. The fourth room I tried had no one in it, that I let Mark enter, and locked the room behind him.

Mark turns around and faces me with his hands folded in front of him. I walk up to him rubbing my hardening dick that had been having blood pumped into it the entire way to the room as I took sips of the mild drink I had in my hand. I definitely had a semi-erection while I was walking through the mild crowd, now that I think of it. Mark’s attention has now entirely focused on the raging hard-on that my underwear was not able to handle because of which I had to rub it and adjust the cloth around it. As I stop right in front of him in the middle of the room, Mark lowered down and kneeled. He knew where he fits in this whole picture. He knew what he came here for. I gently cup his face with my large hand. He looks into my eyes, with his pretty eyes. The feeling of a picturesque face – the likes of which you would see on those billboards of high-end fashion that feature Korean models for diversity’s sake – staring up at me, admiring me, feeling safe under me and being ready to receive whatever action I might inflict on him, be it pain or pleasure, is what I get with boys, that I can never get from girls, no matter how submissive a girl might be. More I have blissful moments like this, where I turn good natured boys into hungry submissive sluts, the more percentage of my bisexuality I declare for the boys’ team.

My dick is flaring by now half out of the briefs I was wearing. I droop down a bit and smooch Mark to make his mouth wet, with a couple of bites on his lower lip, and then push his face into my crotch. He immediately grabs my cock-head with his tongue, moving it around on it. I stand there watching a curious face that is excited to this new-found passion, sucking a beautiful dick. I let him go at it, standing, looking up into the ceiling. Mark licks half of my dick that is out of the confines of my V-shaped underwear. Then he grabs it and pulls it out of the underwear. He tries to deep-throat, while choking on it. Trying his best to avoid the gag reflex.

“I guess it will still take a few more sessions to properly train your throat. But let me give you a demo of what is expected out of my slut, now that you have decided to become one” I said, looking at his face with eyes stretched up to look at me. Then I grab his head with soft silky hair to touch, and make him choke for real for half a minute. But as I see teardrops rolling smoothly down his cheeks, I stop the practice session. Will continue this training in the future when I will have more patience and less liquor in my stomach. I pull him up to stand and go wild on his face, neck, nipples with my tongue and teeth, while grabbing his ass and upper back in my hands in a tight grasp. The ass that was smooth and fluffy, and just slightly wet right at the hole, which didnt dry yet. It eased my task anyway, and if Mark’s ass is recently douched then the wetness inside will be enough to get my fingering game going. After kissing and biting his upper body with some visible dark hickies, I go to deeply smooch Mark again, in the same motion I enter my middle finger into his hole using the wetness from the pool mixed with wetness inside the ass. 

“You did indeed douche your ass a couple hours ago or so? I can feel the wetness of it”

“Yes, … yes, I did. I had to …. learn how to do it ….. online”, he says in between his writhing body and moaning caused by the penetration of my finger mixed with me eating his mouth. The confirmation of having Mark as a successful conquest caused a wave of testosterone running through my body and dick, the dick that was pulsating between Mark’s soft thighs heaving and leaving precum on them. 

Mark’s hands are both helplessly holding my upper arms in a show of resistance but backed by no power as the fag wanted nothing more than to simply be of some use to his man, Me. To be in my arms right now is what Mark must have manifested for this night.

“Good boy. I guess whatever happened last night when I took you, half seductively, half forcibly, had definitely made you realise a few things about yourself?” I grabbed his jaw to pout his mouth in a cute way to look into his gorgeous eyes. I guess he has already been struggling with these feelings, internally for a while but needed a push for them to be out there, Push from a Man. 

And lucky for me to be that man, as to right now, I have in my arms, a korean slut with a pretty face I am smooching right this minute through the soft moans as the faggot juices are forming on the walls of his hole as i made my finger comfortable in the tight space. With the other hand, I am probing and squeezing the lean muscles of his helpless body that is trapped between my strong arms with him standing on his toes to ensure my dick stays between his thighs. As I go back to chewing on his small dark pink nipples, I start to think that it was not a sustainable position to keep the boyslut in, as I was planning to insert a second finger, and as tight as this korean boy pussy was around one finger, it will be better if the slut is in a good position with something to quiet him down. So I take one last look at him as he was left standing with both hands on my hand that was clasping his ass with the finger pussing deep inside, a hungry face that wanted more. His face combined with his lean muscles he looked similar to Jackson Wang (look him up) in that moment. I also admire the masterpiece I painted in red and brown on the smooth milky canvas of his skin around the neck, shoulders and upper chest. Then I take a couple steps toward the bed while the slut jumps on his tip-toes with ass pulled out with the finger stable inside, and sit on the edge of the bed, while Mark gracefully goes on all four on the smooth carpet, with his eyes set on the prize, that he takes in his mouth in one smooth motion, no instruction needed.

I take out the finger from his ass, and let him lick it up too, to familiarize the slut to the taste of its own ass juices and to also make them extra wet as next I start to insert the two fingers in.

With other hand I stroke his face as he moans sluttily licks on and around my dick, trying to deepthroat the second time. With the slut horned up enough and fingers doing their job of opening a slut up for some rough fucking, I start to properly fuck his mouth with the other hand.

As you can imagine, with my long hands and big body it was comfortable to reach my fingers deep into the ass, while being upright getting the pleasure fucking the mouth of a passionate boyslut that is fighting its own gag reflex. After some rounds of tears being visible on the Korean jock’s face, I simply turned him around. He obediently did a 180 turn on all fours on the floor. Now the beautifully round, naturally smooth milky ass was right in front of my wet dick. The dick was pumping in new waves of blood every second as its favorite kind of hole was just inches away, the boy pussy of prime beauty. I felt some urges to eat the pussy but then stuck to my rule which is to test a faggot a couple of times first as checks to see he knows how to douche then only eat ass the third time. A mishap can give you years of trauma.

I throw these thoughts out and focus on the beauty of the ass with the strong back and a petite thin waist. I hit a good spank on the left globe, give a couple of hard squeezes on both.

“I took the risk of protecting you in the pool because you have let me inside you. You were my bitch for more than an hour the previous night. That jerk, Ryan will give me trouble for what I had to do to him. But its all worth it since I knew this ass would be mine from now on. Mine to do whatever with, isn’t that right Mark?” I said spanking hard again and grabbed his neck to pull his face up to get an answer from him.

“Yeah, man. I thought I would be beaten up for a second out there. Fuck me however you want. I took the risks only to feel your dick deep inside me again,” he managed to say. 

“Good slut. Now push yourself back on my dick. I need to know you really want it. It does seem that you want it badly. But I want to see it up close. Fuck yourself on my dick”

Mark puts a hand back to lead my dick to poke his hole. His pussy was shut as the hole really was tight. It took some backing up of Mark through jabs of pain he seemed to be feeling, to penetrate the thick head in. Then inch by inch, the fag takes the whole dick of 9 inches in. And starts to fuck himself. Meanwhile I start to caress and squeeze parts of his smooth back. After a few half strokes, I grab his hair and dictate the moves, going all the way at the tip to all the way in. then in a matter of a minute, I increase momentum. The faggot motor is on, where Mark’s upper body is moving back and forth, with the four limbs stable on the carpet, with me sitting still on the bed. 

In this way of letting the fag dictate the speed and power behind a stroke I prepare the boy pussy well without stressing much on it. Mark sets up a good rhythm with me guiding it with one hand grabbing his hair and the other having a firm hold on his lower back. The tightness gave a great suction and it was just the right wetness too. 

“Thats the pussy I know”, the grand spectacle was in front of me again. A tight asian pussy, rubs well an entering dick and resists an exiting dick, which combined creates just the best fucking. Obviously the best would be when I would be in charge of the fucking but its the next best thing.

The thoughts drive me crazy and I just decide to not delay it anymore. I get up and out of Mark’s ass and grab the drink I placed on the nightstand, I knew it was the stronger of the two I brought to the room. I take a sip and rest I let Mark gulp down. He was tipsy for sure but it would help him to have some more liquor in his belly for the next part of the night. I grab him by his neck with another hand shutting his mouth and slouch a bit on his body to enter his ass as he was still on all fours on the carpet. Without losing any moments, I start the Alpha engine. Dick going balls-deep with some power and my weight put behind each back-shot, the guts of the faggot that I was hitting definitely resisted but were soon rearranged to accommodate my dick. In a couple strokes only I reached my Max force and Max speed, with hands to ensure the screams of the faggot do not leave far from the room, and other hand holding his neck and shoulder firmly so that the faggot doesnt drop down or move away. Mark was taken by surprise and started screaming in a muffled way as soon as I hit the walls that I only grazed in his ass the last night I fucked him. I knew It was painful for the faggot but I knew he would soon be able to distinguish the carnal pleasure in this assault on his guts in this drunkenness. I knew he wanted this and came prepared for it. I just didnt have time to be wasted for increasing the intensity of my fuck progressively. I knew it would take a lot of hard drilling for me to cum since I was dried up already by an Indian twink, so that meant Mark was going to be broken in, literally. Sooner rather than later. The pressure of the walls of Mark’s ass felt amazing against the girth of my dick and every stroke while gave me a wave of pleasure, it also pulsed Mark’s beautiful body with a new jolt of faggot pleasures. And in a matter of minutes of the continuous hard fuck the muffled screams ceased, and I removed the hand from the faggot’s mouth, and lo and behold, a moaning faggot, making carnal noises that would make a high-end prostitute blush. I spanked the jiggling ass hard and firmly grabbed his thin waist to support my position, just so that I could fuck with renewed rigour, pushing extra hard as I went deep in the juicy ass, and with that Mark moaned ever louder and more desperately. 

After 10 minutes of continuous fucking like this, I was sweating profusely and knew this position is not sustainable for me, and maybe neither for Mark. I lifted the faggot up, that was lost in his urges and looked at me dazily. He thought that I cam in his ass or something. As he stood and faced me, and for the first time my gaze went toward his dick, it was a small limp nub that despite not being hard was dripping loads of pre-cum. I knew that even if it was hard, it wouldn’t be much of anything. Mark started to embrace me in a hug, well, because he actually did think we were done. I grabbed his neck and slapped that tired yet pretty face and brought it back for a smooch where I basically chewed both of his lips and then looked at him.

“Look down and tell me if that’s a dick that just ejaculated” I pointed his neck down to my throbbing dick that stood straight out from my body, all 9 inches. The veins were popping and the ass juices were shining. Mark instinctively knelt down and started feasting on it. He took well to the taste of his own ass juices. I start to choke him on it for a good minute then I raise him up while placing a spit on his face on his way to the bed. He drops on the bed And then I jump on him as he lay on his stomach. My dick went right into that wet gaping pussy, no hands needed, and the faggot had the audacity to scream out again. I grabbed both of his hands and interlocked his fingers with mine, with my torso lying on his and started fucking just as hard as before. To take advantage of the position, I dug my teeth into that milky skin around the shoulders. The faggot adjusted himself under my body weight and graciously took the drilling. Muffling his own screams and slowly realizing that it has been a pleasure all along to be fucked by a real man and then start moaning in that feminine way but with a lot more slulttiness than what even girls could manage. 

“Ahhhhh …. Yessss…..ahhhh…. Fuck me….oooooo… Fuck me, Jason, …  man” Mark was screaming on top of his lungs this time and I didn’t mind at this point. Its a big house and there is a wild party going on. No one would mind a loud slut moaning with the sounds of hard thighs hitting silky ass globes, and then I really looked at Mark’s ass. It was Red as fuck, from all the hard fucking, it was almost as if he was getting spanked with every stroke.

Mark was at this point either worn out or was in some other realm of pleasures as he was probably drunk too. His eyes were shut and every hard stroke that I was still delivering, he responded with a sharp moan. His ass was definitely crafted for some peak fucking pleasures, i was sure now. After several minutes of this, I sense something distant building up in me. 

I grab Mark’s thighs and lift them to have his ass lifted up properly supported by his knees on the bed, then I pull on his leaking dick and collect it to be facing me alongwith his balls and then close his legs together. The view of a helpless faggot with the beautiful gaping hole staring into the ceiling, with an arch going down to strong shoulders, with smooth leanly built legs pushed together and a penis dangling and witnessing a real throbbing dick preparing itself for the ass, sends a wave of horny electricity though my body. Its one thing to fuck a twink, small and slender. And a whole different thing to fuck a sizeable dude when you put him in these slutty positions.

Now, with my hands putting his upper body down to support my weight, I start pushing the faggot hard with my dick going all the way in effortlessly, and yet the pressures of the pussy walls are intact. I jump up and down on Mark’s ass as a jolt goes into Mark’s body which makes the faggot moan inside the bed and the pillows. New walls are hitting the tip of my dick as it was a different position where my dick went in a different direction. But soon they too start to adjust to my needs as the slut endures the hits with his hands clasped tightly and toes curled up and a sharp moan at every alternate stroke. At every other alternate stroke, Mark lowers his ass to not raise it again, and is rewarded by a hard spank on the ass-cheeks followed by me raising the ass back up. The faggot will eventually learn to keep the position I set him in firm. Alongwith all of this, the singular mark of faggot’s manhood, his sorry penis flops around in all directions, which is the only sign that this was indeed a faggot I was impaling and not some cheap whore earning her bread in some random motel. Yes, indeed, such whore you won’t even find with loads of money. This welfare is only awarded to Men like us that arouses this faggotry in the hearts of faggots. A faggot taking pleasures in getting impaled, assaulted and truly used for the pleasures of an Alpha man is probably when he is his happiest. Mark has started to realise that it seems as he now knows the rewards of his endurance. After some five minutes of continuous pinning him down with my dick, Mark has stopped flinching at every stroke and ceased any attempts to lower his ass now. He was simply there existing beneath me and moaning seductively and maintaining his ass’s position as I kelt the drilling on. 

“Yesssss….. Fuck … me … Cum… in …. Mee….deep…. In ….me … Jason” The faggot enunciates singular words with every moan. He was a faggot, I thought and is indeed enjoying himself but at the same time wanted me to breed his ass as soon as I liked. He was still calling me by my name, for one thing, instead he should have yet accepted that He was my faggot now, which automatically means I am his master. But I am not just any master that asks their sluts to call themselves master while grabbing their throat. I let my sluts feel that on their own and accept it at their own pace, like I did with my other faggots. A true master knows every faggot has different journeys.

“Oh its coming, faggot. I remember last night you were not bred by me. Tonight you will feel it” I said through breathing hard and i kept drilling on and the release was coming closer now. So while maintaining the force by which I was fucking, I decreased the speed, and again grabbed the faggot’s hands and lowered my upper body toward Mark’s face to be able to grab him in a smooch. Mark desperately twisted his neck at a chance to kiss his master. He knew Master only does it when Master is happy with his faggot. I was happy as now everytime I entered the raised ass with a hard thump so as to take maximum pleasure out of every slow stroke, the faggot relished it and waited for it and responded with a thankful moan through the smooch. Breaking the smooch, I push the faggot’s pretty face back into the pillows and prepare for the avalanche of pleasure waves through my flaring hard legs and strong thighs that were flexing hard and glistening with sweat, as the waves reach my loins to explode in the forms of burning jizz filling the deep-ends of Mark’s ass with every stroke. As the last bits of my semen is deposited in the ass I slowly put my weight down on Mark as I allow him to lower ass in the same motion. I lie there on the faggot for a couple more seconds before twisting Mark’s head toward me again for a smooch. The faggot turns his body around under me and I grab his face properly as I eat his mouth properly for a minute. And then I let the two sweaty bodies depart from each other. 

“I would advise you to wear something on your body unless you want to sell a story of getting groped by a bear or something” I say as I get my underwear on. Mark is lying on his stomach like a satiated faggot, and gape in his ass had started to close itself. 

Then he got up in one slow motion. 

“Yes, I will find something to wrap around. You might not see me outside. I will probably go have one drink and go home” and stumbled toward the washroom.

I nod. And I walk slowly out with a calmness in me and soon seek the best action. 

My team and their girlfriends and their girl friends are now all gathered around the living room. The couch and the big dining table are occupied with a few of my buddies with their girls sitting between their thighs or on one lap. There are other groups around the kitchen and stairs and in the lawn. Some cheering party noises are coming from the pool as I could imagine some other fun group had taken over the pool. So the party is still going strong and it was only midnight. I enter the living area and some faces shift toward me and Lexo handed a whiskey bottle toward me. 

“Woah brother, where have you been? Did you just get some action somewhere?” he said. Lexo was one of the younger bros on my team. He was from LA and had been doing some modelling on the side. He definitely had the looks for it and a sleek body to top it off. I noticed his smoking hot girlfriend, Blaze, on his lap ogling at my body. My body was surely pumping at this moment. Some more girls checked me out during the slow sipping of their drinks. 

“No, judging from the sweat on his body Jason probably gave some action” Blaze said smiling at me which I flashed right back at her. Sweat was indeed budding on my pecs. Lexo’s girl was the only among my buddies’ girlfriends that flirted with me. Probably because Lexo was a secure guy with the smoking looks he got going on. Or because she was a horny girl and wont mind a threesome with me involved, coz Lexo wouldn’t mind me showing him a couple of tricks one can do on a girl. He knew I made chicks crazy loud as we shared a wall in the dorm room, and would often ask me for advice and would always serve me things or would wait for me or would compliment me on my body while saying that I am his goals. He basically is my beta, if you will. 

Anyway, I settled myself on the main sofa where 2 single girls were seated with lots of space left between and beside them. With one girl on each side and a bottle in my hand, I soon got the music a bit louder and lights a bit dimmer to take this party a step further.

As I took a couple of sips of neat whiskey, some girls felt compelled to get some sexy dancing going as they eye-fucked me and me receiving it all with wide smiles. I simply sat their man-spreading with girls beside me getting comfortable too and I would occasionally offer sips from my drink. Then some more girls started dancing around us with a couple of guys on the other side of the living room hooting at them. Slutty drunk people dancing with lights dim is what this party was missing, i thought. 

I could feel myself relax and rejuvenate. Started talking to my buddies, Lexo and Kenny, with some flirting with girls in between. Kenny was my other bro. We were also batchmates and he was the other strong guy on my team. 

Blaze pulls his boyfriend, Lexo onto the dance floor. Couple more guys get into it right away, probably to take shots with the girls already dancing. The girls sitting beside me seem to be getting into the idea of dancing as well. I guess I would be dancing in a couple of minutes. As I get up after they persuade me to get up with them, I remind myself of the plans of tonight and not to tire myself too much by going crazy on the dance floor. I knew my bitch boy was waiting for me. And I was waiting for him too. Tonight in many ways was arranged in a way to climax with Noah in my arms. The 19 year old boy that is set to become my prized possession. Picturing his smooth body quivering under me and that cutest face looking all tired and satiated last night, I lose myself to the beat with both my arms grabbing girls’ waists as they dance around me, waiting for the time to recharge myself and think through all the things I will do to that poor boy.

This is my first full length story, so I hope you enjoy it! Please email me ([email protected]) any feedback. Enjoy!

All characters are entirely fictional besides Byron, whom has given me his express permission to include later in the book. Please follow him on Instagram (@byronrosekelly)!

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A Long Day at Work

Max exhaled sharply as he set his phone down on the polished wood counter, the device landing with a little more force than strictly necessary. Another message from his salesman—out sick for the day with some vague ailment that sounded suspiciously like a hangover poorly disguised as a stomach bug.

“Brilliant,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face with the resignation of someone facing an inevitability rather than a setback. He loved running the store, genuinely enjoyed the independence of being his own boss and the satisfaction of building something successful through his own efforts, but doing the stock take alone while simultaneously handling customers was a particular kind of retail hell. He rolled his massive shoulders to release some of the tension already building there, stretched his arms outward in a motion that made the fabric of his shirt protest audibly, and resigned himself to the long shift that stretched ahead with no relief in sight.

Max was dressed in what had become his standard work attire—mid-blue gym shorts so perfectly fitted to his lower body that they resembled lycra more than conventional sportswear, clinging to every curve and bulge of his magnificent physique with dedicated attention to detail. His shop-branded polo shirt—specifically ordered in the largest size available, though still woefully inadequate to its task—strained across his enormous chest and arms like fabric under siege, the material pulled so taut that the outline of his pectoral muscles created a topographic map visible from across the room. On his feet, a pair of brand-new white trainers completed the look with their pristine cleanliness, a small concession to professional presentation in an otherwise provocatively casual ensemble.

The morning passed in a blur of minor but time-consuming tasks—checking new deliveries against order forms, logging recent sales into the inventory system, reorganizing stock displays that customers had disturbed with their browsing. He worked methodically, finding a certain meditative quality in the routine movements that had become second nature over years of retail management, though the quietness of the shop made the hours drag with unusual sluggishness. His thoughts occasionally wandered to the previous evening at The Chapel—the incident with the cheese sauce, Ethan’s nervous fumbling, Harry’s knowing smirk. He had almost convinced himself the whole episode had been nothing more than an awkward accident when the front door’s electronic chime pulled him back to the present moment.

He barely glanced up at first, too focused on the inventory spreadsheet open on the tablet before him, mentally preparing the standard greeting he offered to all customers. He bent forward to reach for another box of stock beneath the counter, the movement causing his shorts to stretch even more dramatically across his glutes, when he felt it—a tentative brush against his massive bicep, so light it might have been imagined if not for the unmistakable electricity of human contact.

“Excuse me,” came a quivering, young-sounding voice from somewhere to his left.

Max straightened and turned toward the sound, expecting to encounter just another nervous customer intimidated by his size—it happened frequently enough that he’d developed a deliberately approachable demeanor to counteract the unintentional intimidation his physique often caused. Instead, his gaze landed on a face he recognized immediately, a face that sent an unexpected jolt of something indefinable through his system.

Ethan—the student barman from The Chapel, the source of last night’s dairy disaster—stood before him, looking simultaneously terrified and determined, like someone who had spent hours gathering courage for an encounter they still weren’t fully prepared to navigate.

Max’s eyes performed an automatic assessment, a habit born from years of observing people’s physical presence, before he registered with mild surprise that Ethan’s gaze wasn’t focused on his face at all. Instead, the younger man’s attention was locked onto his massive posterior, specifically the way his gym shorts clung to the sculpted curve of his glutes with such dedication that they might as well have been painted on. The direction of Ethan’s stare was so obvious, so unabashed in its appreciation, that it momentarily threw Max off balance—most people were at least somewhat discrete in their admiration, maintaining the social fiction that they weren’t visually consuming his body even when they obviously were.

Max cleared his throat deliberately, the sound finally pulling Ethan’s attention upward to connect with his own gaze, though the younger man’s cheeks immediately blazed with color at being caught so blatantly staring.

“Something I can help you with?” Max asked, raising an eyebrow slightly, his tone deliberately neutral despite the unusual circumstances of their reunion.

Ethan’s face turned an even deeper shade of crimson, the flush spreading down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his simple t-shirt. He stammered incomprehensibly, words tumbling over each other in an unintelligible jumble that communicated nothing beyond extreme embarrassment. Fragments emerged from the verbal chaos—something about how he shouldn’t have come here, that he was sorry for the previous night’s incident, that he was just going to leave now—before he turned abruptly as if to flee the scene of his humiliation.

Max, acting on some instinct he couldn’t immediately identify, reached out without conscious thought. His huge hand wrapped completely around Ethan’s narrow wrist, stopping him with gentle but unmistakable authority. The contrast between them was stark—Max’s massive, tanned hand completely engulfing Ethan’s pale, slender wrist with fingers to spare, a visual representation of their physical disparity that stirred something unexpected in Max’s chest.

When Ethan finally turned back, his expression a complex mixture of embarrassment and something that might have been hope, Max surprised himself by offering a genuine smile rather than the professional mask he typically presented to customers.

“Sit,” Max said simply, dropping himself down onto a nearby bench positioned in front of a display of running shoes. The wooden seat creaked audibly under his sheer size, his massive glutes threatening to swallow half the available surface as he settled his substantial weight onto it. He patted the spot beside him with casual invitation, encouraging Ethan to join him in the small moment of privacy afforded by the empty shop.

Ethan hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clearly caught between his desire to stay and his instinct to escape an uncomfortable situation. After a moment that seemed to stretch interminably, he finally sat, perching on the edge of the bench as though ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. His eyes, however, betrayed him completely, immediately locking onto Max’s pecs with the dedicated focus of someone studying a particularly complex work of art.

Max, feeling a playfulness he rarely allowed himself in professional settings, flexed slightly—a subtle, deliberate contraction that made the thick slabs of muscle beneath his polo bounce with controlled precision. The movement was minimal, nothing like the exaggerated displays his son often performed, but more than enough to achieve its intended effect.

Ethan let out a soft, barely audible gasp, the sound escaping before he could contain it, his pupils visibly dilating at the display. The reaction sent a surprising thrill through Max’s system—he was accustomed to being admired, of course, had built his entire life around his physical presence in many ways, but there was something different about this particular interaction that he couldn’t immediately name.

“So, what brought you here?” Max asked, his voice deliberately casual, as though they were simply two acquaintances continuing a conversation rather than near-strangers navigating an unusually charged interaction.

The bench wasn’t built for someone of Max’s dimensions, and sitting this close meant their thighs pressed together by necessity rather than choice, the massive bulk of Max’s quad making Ethan’s leg seem almost childlike by comparison. The younger man seemed acutely aware of this contact, his gaze dropping to the point where their bodies connected, his hands trembling slightly where they rested on his knees.

Max reached over with natural ease, placing his much larger hand over both of Ethan’s, steadying them with gentle pressure. “It’s alright,” he said, his voice dropping to a lower register that somehow felt more appropriate for this unexpectedly intimate moment. “You can talk to me.” The words emerged with a sincerity that surprised even him, an openness he rarely offered to people outside his closest circle.

Ethan inhaled deeply, visibly gathering his courage, his chest expanding with the effort as though physically pulling strength into his lungs. “I… I’m gay,” he finally said, the admission sounding more like a confession despite the fact that it would have been obvious to anyone with functioning observational skills. “Obviously,” he added with a small, self-deprecating smile.

Max nodded, saying nothing, understanding that this moment required patience rather than response. His hand remained covering Ethan’s, offering silent support through physical connection.

“I just… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the night at the pub,” Ethan continued, his voice barely above a whisper, as though sharing a secret too precious for full volume. “About you,” he clarified, though the clarification was unnecessary given the circumstances.

Max leaned back slightly, his massive frame adjusting on the bench, already anticipating what would come next. He had heard variations of this speech before—so many times that he could practically recite it from memory. The nervous admiration, the stammered compliments, the eventual request for something that ranged from a simple photo together to far more intimate propositions. Usually from women, occasionally from men, but always following the same basic trajectory—admiration leading to desire, desire leading to request. He braced himself mentally for the familiar pattern, already deciding how gently to let Ethan down without crushing his obvious infatuation.

But instead, Ethan surprised him completely.

“I was wondering… if Harry’s single,” he said, the question emerging in a rush of words. “And if you could maybe pass him my number?” The request hung in the air between them, so unexpected that Max temporarily lost his usual composure.

Max blinked, his mind momentarily short-circuiting as it attempted to process this unanticipated direction. For perhaps the first time in his adult life, words failed him completely. “I—Harry? I mean, uh, I don’t—” He paused, running a hand over his face in a gesture of genuine confusion. “I don’t think he’s gay,” he finally managed, the statement emerging more as a question than a definitive answer, his usual confidence noticeably absent.

Ethan frowned, his brow furrowing as he studied Max’s reaction with unexpected perspicacity for someone so young. “What do you mean?” he asked, his head tilting slightly to one side in genuine confusion.

Max hesitated before exhaling sharply, a sound that contained unexpected emotion. “This just… doesn’t happen to me,” he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice unfamiliar even to his own ears.

Ethan blinked, clearly puzzled by this response. “What doesn’t?”

Max looked away for a moment, his gaze fixing on a distant point as though the answer might be written somewhere on the shop’s walls. “People don’t come to me for someone else,” he explained finally, the words emerging with a frankness he hadn’t intended to reveal. “It’s always about me. It’s always… I don’t know. Expected.” The admission hung between them, more honest than anything he’d said to a stranger in years.

Ethan, surprisingly, seemed to gain confidence from this unexpected vulnerability. He leaned in slightly, his initial nervousness transforming into something more assured, his fingertips grazing Max’s thick bicep with deliberate intention. The touch lingered, became more definite—a squeeze that tested the density of the muscle beneath fabric.

“Max, are you kidding me?” he asked, his voice carrying a new warmth that hadn’t been present before. “You are literally the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.” His fingers traced a path along Max’s forearm, following the contours of muscle and tendon with appreciative precision. “Your arms alone could crush someone,” he continued, the admiration in his voice unmistakable.

Max scoffed lightly, shaking his head in dismissal of the compliment, but his heart skipped a beat at the unexpected praise. Something was stirring inside him, a response he hadn’t anticipated—a switch flicked in some deep recess of his consciousness, allowing something long buried to surface.

Ethan’s exploration continued, his confidence growing with each moment that Max allowed the contact. His hand trailed across Max’s broad shoulders with deliberate slowness, his voice dropping to an intimate murmur. “Your chest…” He pressed his palm lightly against one of Max’s pecs, feeling the dense muscle beneath the fabric with obvious reverence. “Insane,” he breathed, the word emerging as though involuntarily extracted by the sheer magnificence of what he was touching.

Max barely breathed, caught in a moment that felt suspended between his normal reality and something entirely new. He had been admired before, countless times, had grown accustomed to appreciation of his physique to the point where it barely registered as noteworthy. But this felt different—more direct, more honest, more…personal somehow.

Ethan’s fingertips danced over Max’s thick thighs with increasing boldness, his eyes locked on them with unconcealed fascination. “And these?” he continued, his voice barely audible. “Jesus.” The reverence in the single word communicated volumes.

Then, he exhaled and smirked, a transformation coming over his features as though he’d made some internal decision. “But I’ve saved the best for last,” he declared, his newfound confidence a stark contrast to his initial nervousness.

Max frowned slightly, uncertain of Ethan’s meaning, but before he could formulate a question, Ethan patted his leg with unexpected assertiveness.

“Get up,” he instructed, the directive so unexpected coming from someone so much younger and physically smaller that Max complied before his conscious mind had fully processed the request.

He stood, towering over Ethan, his massive frame casting a shadow over the seated figure. Ethan’s eyes immediately dropped, his gaze fixing on what Max suddenly realized was the true object of his fascination all along.

Ethan let out a slow, unsteady breath, appreciation written clearly across his features. “Your ass, Max…” he murmured, his voice thick with admiration.

His hands rose with almost reverential slowness, and he gripped the massive globes of muscle with surprising confidence, squeezing, feeling, exploring. His fingers barely made an impression against the sheer density and size of Max’s glutes, the muscle unyielding beneath even firm pressure.

“People don’t talk about this enough,” Ethan murmured, completely lost in the moment, his attention wholly focused on his exploration. “They don’t appreciate how perfect this is.” The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, the admiration untainted by artifice.

Max’s mind seemed to blur at the edges, reality shifting into something dreamlike and unfamiliar. He wasn’t just being admired—he was being used in a way he had never experienced before, his body handled with a proprietary confidence that bypassed his usual defenses. And to his immense surprise, he loved it. The realization struck him with unexpected force, a truth he had perhaps always known but never fully acknowledged even to himself.

Ethan continued his unhurried massage, his voice taking on an almost dreamy quality. “Everywhere you go, people stare at you, but they don’t see the real you,” he observed with unexpected insight. “They think they know you. But I see more than that.”

Max swallowed hard, something new awakening inside him with each passing moment, each confident touch. The dynamic between them had shifted so completely from their initial interaction that it felt as though they had entered an entirely different reality—one where the relative size and strength of their bodies meant nothing compared to the confidence with which Ethan now handled him.

“You’re more than just a body, Max,” Ethan continued, his grip tightening slightly as he spoke, the pressure of his fingers more deliberate. “You’re a real man. And I think—no, I know—there’s so much more inside you than anyone realizes.”

Max barely had time to process these words, to examine the strange effect they were having on him, before Ethan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. His number, handwritten in neat, precise figures.

With slow, deliberate movement that spoke of absolute confidence, Ethan slid the paper into the tight pocket of Max’s gym shorts, his fingers lingering on the massive thigh beneath, the touch communicating far more than casual interest.

Then, without hesitation or permission, Ethan’s hands slipped under the hem of Max’s polo, fingers tracing over the impossibly thick slabs of pec muscle beneath, kneading and caressing as though memorizing every inch through touch alone. The fabric stretched to its absolute limit as his exploration continued, the seams groaning in protest at this additional stress.

Max stood motionless, towering over this young man who had somehow, in the space of a few minutes, completely upended his understanding of himself. He looked down at Ethan, meeting his gaze with an expression that contained equal parts confusion and awakening. His long-suppressed desire to cede control was being realized in this unexpected encounter, with this unlikely person, in the most ordinary of settings.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, Ethan pulled back, grinning up at Max with newfound confidence. He winked—actually winked—with the audacity of someone who knew exactly what effect they were having.

“Call me, stud,” he said simply, the directive delivered with complete certainty that it would be obeyed.

And with that, he turned and walked out, the electronic door chime marking his departure with cheerful indifference to the significance of what had just transpired.

Max remained standing in the center of his shop—a godly statue, unmoving, still processing everything that had just happened. His entire body seemed to hum with unfamiliar energy, his mind replaying Ethan’s touches, his words, the confidence that had transformed him from nervous boy to commanding presence within the space of a single conversation.

For the first time in his adult life, Max had been handled rather than merely admired, directed rather than praised, used rather than worshipped. And the revelation that thundered through him, impossible to ignore or deny, was that he had never wanted anything more in his life.

This is my first full length story, so I hope you enjoy it! Please email me ([email protected]) any feedback. Enjoy!

All characters are entirely fictional besides Byron, whom has given me his express permission to include later in the book. Please follow him on Instagram (@byronrosekelly)!

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The Morning After

Jase groaned as consciousness crept in with unwelcome persistence, his head throbbing with the unmistakable vengeance of a night thoroughly overdone. His body felt impossibly heavy, each limb weighed down as though gravity had chosen to single him out for particular punishment. For several disorienting moments, he couldn’t determine whether he was still drunk or merely catastrophically hungover, the line between the two states blurred by the relentless pounding in his temples. He cracked one eye open and immediately regretted the decision—the room tilted violently around him, the dim morning light filtering through unfamiliar curtains seeming to slice through his skull with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel.

With a pained grunt that originated somewhere deep in his chest, he swung his legs off the bed, but something felt fundamentally wrong about the movement. His feet connected with the floor as expected, but the usual layout of his bedroom seemed altered, rearranged in a way his alcohol-fogged brain couldn’t immediately process. He frowned, rubbing a hand over his face in a futile attempt to scrub away the nausea that rolled through him in sickening waves. The urgent pressure in his bladder demanded immediate attention, driving him to stand despite his body’s vehement protests.

He stumbled toward where his bedroom door should logically be, muscle memory guiding him across what felt like unexplored territory, only to stop short when his outstretched fingertips met the hard, unyielding surface of what was unmistakably a wardrobe. His stomach lurched violently—not just from the alcohol still circulating in his system, but from the creeping realization that he had absolutely no idea where he was.

Heart suddenly pounding with an anxiety that cut through the hungover haze, he spun around, the motion causing the room to tilt alarmingly. His eyes darted across the unfamiliar space, trying to assemble coherent thought from fragments of observation. Clothes lay scattered across the floor in haphazard abandon, the lingering scent of sweat, beer, and something indefinably masculine permeating the air. Various unfamiliar objects occupied shelves and surfaces—protein supplements, a collection of weights in one corner, fitness magazines stacked in precarious piles. His gaze finally settled on the bed he’d just vacated, the sheets tangled and rumpled from a night of restless sleep.

And then he saw it—a sight that sent a jolt of recognition through his system like an electric current.

Two massive mounds rose from the mattress, squeezed into a too-tight turquoise fabric that strained to contain their impressive volume. They stood proud and unashamed, barely shifting with each slow, deep breath of their unconscious owner. Jase’s throat went instantly dry, his pulse hammering against his ribs with sudden, panicked force.

Harry’s ass.

Harry’s impossibly huge, perfectly sculpted, world-class glutes—currently presented to him with the unintentional provocation of someone deeply asleep and completely unaware of the crisis they were causing.

The realization hit Jase with the force of a physical blow, the fragmented memories of the previous night suddenly coalescing into one inescapable fact:

He had spent the night in bed with Harry.

His best mate.

His very straight, muscle-obsessed, cocky-as-hell best mate.

Jase’s breath caught painfully in his chest, panic wrapping around his lungs like a vise, constricting his ability to draw sufficient air. What the fuck had happened last night? The question screamed through his mind with urgent intensity, demanding answers his memory refused to provide.

He searched desperately through the fog of alcohol-impaired recollection, but where the events of the night should have been, he found nothing but an unsettling void. He could remember the bar, the drinks flowing with increasing abundance, the teasing banter that had characterized the early part of their evening. He recalled Harry flexing—of course the bastard had flexed, he never missed an opportunity—and then… nothing. Just a gaping emptiness where the remainder of the night should have been.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry as sand and tasting faintly of mortality. Had they…? The unfinished question hung in his thoughts, too terrifying to complete even in the privacy of his own mind.

No. No way. Harry wouldn’t. Would he?

The Harry he knew was aggressively, almost performatively heterosexual, despite his comfort with Jase’s orientation and his willing participation in their often flirtatious banter. But alcohol did strange things to people’s boundaries, and Jase had a vague, unsettling recollection of saying something particularly forward, something about Harry’s dad that had shifted the dynamic between them…

Jase staggered backward until his calves hit a small seating area, his heart slamming against his ribs with such force he half-expected Harry to wake from the sound alone. His eyes remained locked on the monumental display of muscle before him, a sight he had admired countless times from a safe, platonic distance, but which now carried the terrifying implications of potential intimacy.

He needed answers. Fast. Before the panic overwhelmed his ability to think rationally. Before Harry woke and they had to face whatever had or hadn’t happened between them. Before his bladder made good on its increasingly urgent threats.

But first, he needed to pull himself together, to gather whatever scraps of dignity might have survived the night. He straightened his shoulders, took a deep, centering breath, and tried to assemble his features into something resembling casual nonchalance rather than existential terror.

Whatever had happened, he would face it with as much composure as he could muster. After all, if anyone had made a drunken mistake last night, it was far more likely to have been him than Harry “Women Throw Themselves At Me Daily” Schett.

With that uncomfortable but steadying thought, Jase carefully navigated around the bed, giving Harry’s sleeping form a wide berth, and continued his quest for the bathroom—this time with the proper bearings and somewhat clearer purpose, if not any less anxiety about what revelations the day might bring.

“Breathless, tangled, and ruined… my stories will leave you undone.”

Welcome to my corner of twisted temptations, where raw passion meets unrelenting desire, where pleasure dances with pain, where whispers become moans, and where lust isn’t something you avoid — it’s something you crave. I’m CrimsonVelvet — a weaver of wicked whispers and forbidden fantasies, a storyteller who thrives in the shadows, writing tales that leave your skin tingling and your mind spiraling.

My stories are not for the faint-hearted — they are for those who know the ache of desire, the burn of curiosity, and the thrill of surrender. My tales bleed with tension, tangled limbs, and breathless cries; a place where dominance dances with surrender, and pleasure teeters on the edge of pain.

I write for the ones who crave intensity, where bodies tremble, breaths falter, and control is lost in the heat of the moment. Whether it’s a lover’s dominance pressing down or a vulnerable gasp caught between laughter and restraint — I write to make you feel.

Step closer, and you’ll find stories carved from dark cravings, intoxicating obsessions, and the sweetness of surrender. Here, lust is loud, laughter is sinful, and love is anything but tame.

Curious? Stay.

Brave enough?Read. 

Hungry enough?Let me show you just how far desire can push you.

I’ve been wearing mom’s panties and other stuff forever. And it seems like no sooner was I bold enough to pull on one of her stretchy Playtex girdles and longline bra, I was looking for some way to tie or bind myself too. For me, those two activities were one and the same. 

The tighter the rubbery bra and girdle fit, and the more secure I could tie myself up, the harder I  would cum all over myself. This was my obsession. 

Long after I moved away and made my own life, the more elaborate I could get with the lingerie and bindings. Soon I realized unless I was in some sort of lady’s vintage foundations, and secured to a bedpost or kneeling with my legs strapped together and a pair of worn panties taped into my mouth, I just couldn’t enjoy myself. 

Of course, eventually I graduated into using a scary looking black and pink rubber dildo up my ass. Squatting on it, bouncing up and down like I was being ass raped while bound, gagged and helpless. 

The idea of being discovered as a sissy crossdressing faggot scared the shit out of me, and excited me to no end at the same time. My mind raced through different scenarios of being caught, kidnapped, taken, forced to suck a big hairy cock like a slave, as I was pleasuring myself. 

Then along came Jake. He was like a brother to my. We were great friends in high school. We reconnected when he moved back to town. He spent a few nights when he was looking for an apartment. After a bit I decided to invite him to stay. We still got along well. I never asked what brought him back home. I had room and he was glad I asked. So here we are. 

after a while we realized neither of us were dating. We ended up hanging out watching TV together a lot. His presence did stifle my jerk off time a little bit, but it was nice having a friend around. Well, as you may have guessed, he did walk in on me one time. I had my hands wrapped together with a leather belt and a pink pair of panties stuffed in my mouth and tied in with one of my neckties. I was so into my stroking I didn’t notice him there in the open doorway. Of course, when I did, I almost peed myself. He just laughed and turned away. 

A few days later he asked me about it. There was a lot of uncomfortable silence. I’d hoped he had forgotten about it or had the decency to leave it alone. But no. 

“I guess I like the feeling of being helpless and vulnerable. Like a submissive.” 

I wasn’t even sure that was the right explanation. But it was all I had. 

“So you’d like to be bound up more than that? That makes you enjoy jerking off even more?”

The lights were off in my room. He was right beside me sitting on my bed. 
His hands took off my shirt. I was cold and shaking. His hands slid down from my shoulders to my arms and around my wrists. He gently pulled my arms back. I allowed it. My wrists were crossed. Something was wrapping around them. I wiggled. His breath was in my face. 
“ Relax, Billy”

The strap around my wrists tightened. 

As soon as he walked in the door, Ben was immediately hit with Melissa, draping herself all over him, physically and verbally, asking in that cutesy voice he hated, to go right back out and spend the evening at the mall with her, shopping with her for the baby gift she needed to buy for Sarah’s shower this weekend. They could eat dinner out at that pizza place in the mall she liked.

Ben’s immediate refusal was the spark that fully ignited Melissa’s long-simmering anger.

Ben, a good-looking, athletic, twenty-something had just returned home from a long session at the gym. That in itself — these outrageously long amounts of time he spent working out lately, almost daily now — had kept her seething almost the whole while she’d been alone in the apartment. So, her anger having been primed like that, it was no wonder she flared up loud and bitchy instantly, like a struck match, when he pleaded exhaustion from a seriously tough workout.

This deep, explosive, all-consuming anger of Melissa’s had been brewing for a few weeks. It wasn’t just him neglecting her so much, choosing the gym over her, it was more and more about the boy, this now-regular work-out partner Ben found last month, the boy Melissa was obsessed with now because Ben was obsessed with him now.

She’d been trying to allay her suspicions, telling herself lots of dudes into serious fitness like Ben had gym buddies, but that rationalization had rung increasingly hollow.

The time they spend together now — Ben and this teen-age boy! not even a dude his own age! — was suspicious enough to Melissa, but Ben was also way too effusive about the boy, talking about him so excitedly, so often — especially when he’d rave about “how damn ripped” the “sexy-ass” dude’s “smoking hot body” was, all that “hella hot muscle.”

So Melissa decided to lace her tirade that afternoon with cheap, leering, innuendo-drenched aspersion, taunting Ben, sneeringly wondering just why it might be that he was spending twice as much time lately with his work-out buddy — a boy in his teens! — than he was with her. 

“You sure seem a hell of a lot more interested in him than you do in me, Ben! You talk about how hot his body is constantly! And you two aren’t just doing gym dates all the time any more, now you’ve even started going out with him after your workouts! Been wondering for a while now if there’s anything you’d like to tell me. Hmmmm, babe? You boys started fucking yet? Can he suck your cock as good as your girlfriend?”

Ben got furious, bristling with shame — she was kind of right, of course, but that wasn’t really the point. So what if he loved the thrill he got, being physically intimate while training with Hart? And of course he’d admit it was a sexual thrill, lusting after him in the gym and the sauna and shower, but that’s what made it so bracing and addictive. But he’s never made a pass at Hart, of course, nor has Hart ever made a pass at him.

So can’t he just enjoy the incredible rush of pleasure he gets from having his first really close, intimate, personal male friendship? One made so much stronger because it was a male closeness based in the body, in working their bodies, admiring each other’s body. That was something he’d never had before with another male, and it was magnificent.

The sad truth was that what Ben had found with Hart — bonding over men’s bodies and beauty together — just that was decidedly a far more fulfilling a physical friendship for Ben that what he’d had for the past half-year with Melissa. They ogle each other and worship muscle and talk about their bodies, the bodies of the other dudes in the gym or the bodies of the boys in the bar they go to all the time now, after their workout. It’s amazing talking about boy’s beauty with a gorgeous young gay boy — insanely exciting. To talk frankly about handsomeness, about boy’s faces and bodies and cock and ass and muscle — things Ben thinks about al the time. These have been some of the most exciting weeks of Ben’s life.

So sure he’s spending a lot of time with Hart. Amazing time.

Lately they’ve been hanging out together, after the gym, at this amazing gay bar Hart likes to go to, for a beer or two after their workout. Ben loved going there — cool space, and the dudes there were all into muscle — it was like going from gym to gym. Ben loved being a hot straight dude in a bar full of hip, hot, good-looking, hard-bodied gay hotties. Complete rush for him. Ben loved that Hart wanted to turn him on to place, loved that they’ve agreed to make it their regular thing after a workout.

So Ben was pissed. Knowing she wasn’t even half-right. He’d found an amazing, once-in-a-life time bud. And the stuff they did together was bro-stuff — working out and knocking back a few. He admits the sexual charge, as well — dudes are sexually complex, what else is new? And Ben’s obsession was almost chaste, it was so pure. Just starry-eyed bro-worship. But even with it being non-sexual, it was far more meaningful, physically, than what he had with Melissa.

He had every right to a great friendship, and he wasn’t going to be made to feel guilty for enjoying it and spending as much time with his bro as he could.

He sneered at her, proper-pissed.

“You’re just jealous of my body, of how good I look. Hot enough to attract a super-fit young dude, into serious muscle, into being my work-out partner.”

Indeed, Ben did look good — fitness-model handsome, with blonde hair he kept close-cropped, a permanent beard-scruff accenting his rugged features, and a physique of hard, rippling muscle he’s carved to lean perfection. His obsession with his body, with sculpting it to the classic male ideal of beauty, has made him a gym regular, one who loves the stares he gets all the time from the other guys in the locker room and showers.

So, stung that she’d tease the secret of his same-sex attraction, but refusing to even try to defend himself, dignify her low insinuations by trying to explain the complexity of his feelings for Hart, and suddenly not wanting to spend any more time with her right now, in her weird, mean mood, Ben stormed out, without even changing out of his sweaty gym clothes, heading straight to Hart’s place for consolation and another chance to spend some time with his bro — and hopefully a place to spend the night while he and Melissa cooled off.

Ben was very into his friend Hart — a ridiculously handsome, excitingly out gay male. Ben had never seen at all what importance Hart’s sexuality would have to Melissa, and so the issue had never come up. Besides, who even cares about that any more? 

It was such a kick, too, that Hart was so much younger — nineteen, just out of high school, but already supporting himself doing HVAC work. For a young’un, the boy’s life was a lot more together than Ben’s currently was.

It was very cool and natural the way they’d met. Ben noticed this good-looking dude one day at his gym (tough guy not to notice, his body is exceptional). From that day, he started seeing him around all the time. Hart must have noticed him, too, because the two young men started nodding to each other. Hart came up to him one day, while Ben was lifting, and struck up a conversation, pointing out how they seem to work out same time, same days.

The two guys clicked instantly, and Ben suggested they finish the rest of their routine together that day. Then they both hit the sauna together, where each remarked on how beautifully toned the other’s body was. They started complimenting on specific areas each felt the other had sculpted to perfection, making almost ridiculously perfect-looking. It was so cool that day, for Ben, talking so descriptively and excitedly about another boy’s body, trying to capture his his powerful beauty in words.

As they both grew more confident in their talk that day, alone in the steamy intimacy, Hart acknowledged, as off-hand as he could, the impressive size and shape of Ben’s cock. 

Ben immediately returned the favor. If he’d never commented on the beauty of another boy’s body to him before, he’d never dared talk about another dude’s dick. But Ben had found it no problem at all — a pleasure, in fact — to praise what a long, thick, uncut beauty Hart was packing.

By that time Hart had made it clear he was gay, so Ben grinned and added, “Bet the dudes really go for a stud-cock like that?”

Hart smiled shyly and admitted they did indeed.

Their talk turned to the gym and their schedules and their routines. Each boy smirked to see the other boy frankly ogling his muscle and cock while they chatted.  Ben confessed he’d been looking to up his training to five days a week, so he could really target specific muscle groups, start getting even more ripped. Tuned out Hart had had the same idea.

They decided at once to train together daily, both excited to have a work-out buddy to keep them focused on their training. Their shower that day was amazing, one of the best gym-showers ever for Ben.

And ever since then, Ben looked forward to watching his young friend soap up that gorgeous body of his, and his days had been flush with the thought of working out with this amazing dude on a daily basis.

Their intense friendship formed immediately. They loved being around each other, loved looking at each other.  That exhilaration in each other’s company had quickly led to beers at Miss John’s after their workout and getting together on the weekends, when they wouldn’t see each other at the gym.

These past three weeks had been the best — they’d started distance running together, did a great bike ride along the river last weekend, and had gone out for dinner a couple nights and a movie once. Ben could see why Melissa was getting angry — because they were changing, their relationship was changing, and it would have to adapt or die.

Melissa’s problem was that she didn’t have a friend like Hart, that was part of her jealousy — envious of the deeply satisfying bro-mance her boyfriend has found, with a very cool, very good-looking young muscle-stud.

But every dude needs a best bud, right? A running buddy? It was so damn hip and exciting Hart was gay. Ben had never hung out with a gay man before, hadn’t realized what an interesting, energetic, masculine aura a young gay jock like Hart had. It was sort of intoxicating. They’d laugh and joke all the times, after talking about how hot a dude’s body was, salaciously describing what kind of scorching-hot sex they’d like to have with him. Ben loved it, loved role-playing man-on-man sex like that, got such a rush from it.

He imagined raunchy sex like that with Hart all the damn time now. It was easy to have vivid j/o fantasies of his bro, in bed at night after Melissa fell asleep, because Hart was so vividly, so memorably good-looking.

He had a sort of dusky-bronze tan, with an intense, bad-boy surfer sexiness, helped by a scruffy blonde chinstache, which Ben thought looked awesome. His long, dirty-blond hair hangs to his shoulders, in a fashion-model, gay-preppie way that Ben finds handsome as hell.  He’s always got it pulled back in a pony tail when he lifts.

His physique is amazing: he’s been lifting since he was fourteen and has a lean, perfectly chiseled body, with an eight-pack Ben envies. And Ben can never take his eyes off Hart’s cock in the showers or sauna. It’s about the same size as Ben’s, seven-plus inches, and while they’re both uncut, Ben’s foreskin covers about four-fifths of his cockhead, while Hart’s hood covers his whole head, a half-inch or so drooping over the tip.

His styler, sense, too, is very gay sexy — tight Ts, tight jeans, and bracelets of silver and leather and cloth. For someone so young, he’s erudite as hell — he can talk knowledgeably about art and politics, always giving off a heady, intellectual vibe, to which Ben really responds (one of the the things he could never get over about Melissa was how vapid she could be). 

Ben loves that his running buddy is even hotter-looking than he is. The two of them are always the best-looking dudes wherever they are. The hot young waiters and older muscle-stud bartenders at Miss Johns, as well as the hot muscle-dude receptionists at the gym, always assume they’re a couple, which always gets Ben hard.

Sometimes Hart will even do things like put his arm around his friend’s waist when they’re walking, turning to him, smiling. Ben loves it, loves being able to be so physical and intimate with such a hot-looking dude. It’s not at all sexual. Like the shoulder rubs he’s started giving Hart, which his friend really loves.

Ben had never yet been to Hart’s place, they always left separately in their trucks from either the gym or the bar. He was excited to see it, excited to see his friend. He texted his bro as soon as he found a space on the street to park. Hart told him to come on up.

Hart opened the door for his friend wearing just sweatpants, no shirt — no jock even, Ben immediately noticed. 

He told Ben he’d been just about to do some yoga stretches, after they’d pushed each other so hard during their work out earlier, but he’d put them on hold.

Ben was tingling inside with what was happening here, his coming over like this, where they can be alone together. It marked such a cool, new stage in their relationship. Hart looked excited, too.

Ben immediately commented on what a very hip apartment his bro had, all the while trying unsuccessfully not to stare at his friend’s naked, beautifully cut upper body.

Hart offered him a beer, which soon turned into a couple.

There’s always such deep, barely tamped-down cruising between the two of them now, Ben thought pleasingly, as he gave an emotionally-wrought recount of the fight he’d just had with Melissa — as well as lots of carping in general about how awful life had been with her lately. 

Midway through his third beer, feeling buzzed and horny, Ben began a rant on how rotten his sex life was.

The thought of a sexually frustrated Ben got Hart excited, optimistic. He’d been trying to seduce his beautifully sculpted workout partner for weeks — steadily grooming him, trying to turn the maddeningly straight stud, waiting for him to fall like a piece over beautifully ripe fruit — but Hart had waited for Ben to make the first actual move, out of respect for his friend’s relationship with his girlfriend.

Now, though, it looked like his girlfriend thing was in the rear-view mirror, and the fun might finally start.

The first move, Hart knew, was to get the dude naked, so he suggested Ben take a shower to relax and clear his head. Ben was all for it.

Hart showed him to the bathroom, got him a towel, and politely exited, leaving the door open.

Ben stripped off most of his workout gear, then turned on the shower and waited for it to get hot. While waiting, he suddenly stormed out of the bathroom, his still-seething anger heightened by the beers, to make another point about how unfair Melissa was being about his time at the gym and seeing his bro. 

Whether consciously or not, Ben left the bathroom in just his jock, an irresistible sight to his young gay friend — like having a live porn show appear in his living room.  Hart tried a sudden inspiration to keep his friend out of the bathroom for a while longer, so he could gaze on Ben’s beautifully defined abs, lickably thick delts and pecs, and that huge, bulging jock-pouch. 

“Hey, have you stretched yet, Ben?  I was going to, while you took your shower, but you wanna join me first?” 

Ben loved the athletic intimacy with Hart at the gym, so he readily agreed, dashing back to the bathroom to turn off the shower and coming back in less than thirty seconds. 

Hart whipped his sweatpants off in one quick swoop, and Ben’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes riveting on the gorgeous display of naked male perfection revealed before him. The sight of Hart’s long, luscious, foreskin-sheathed cock had him feeling especially light-headed.

Hart tried to make his voice as casually seductive as he could.

“I always stretch nude at home. Ever try it? You’d dig it, bro. Totally zen-sensual. Gets you super in touch with your body, allows you to visualize the muscles so much more.” 

“Sounds good.”

Ben was way turned on at this bold, exciting new level of daring in their relationship.

As they stretched, Ben was still pissed about his girlfriend and felt the need to vent to his bud.  He was mostly still embarrassed about Melissa’s snide insinuation that he was hot for his bro, but he didn’t dare bring that up, so he just complained instead about their lack of a sex life. 

Hart was delighted to be able to talk about sex with his hot bud, especially about how Ben should be getting more of it.

“So how often do you fuck?”

Sitting on the floor, inches from his friend, Ben grunted in disgust as he flexed his beautifully worked body forward to stretch his hamstrings.

“Oh, like maybe twice a month.  Three times if I’m lucky.” 

His friend stared at him, horrified.

“Are you shitting me, dude? Doesn’t she understand male sexuality?  A dude’s basic masculine need?  Hell, dawg, don’t mean to boast, but I fuck two or three times some days.”

“Thank you! See what I mean?  She has absolutely no understanding of a young man’s sexuality.”

“No shit! I mean, especially athletic male sexuality! When you’ve got a body as strong and ripped and beautifully worked as yours, you need to work that shit, dude!  Two or three times a month? That’s fucking nuts! It’d be like having a Porsche and only using it a couple times a month to drive to the corner and buy groceries.”

Hart ran a hand sensuously down his own chest and abs, then flexed his biceps.

“Shit, I oughta know.  Bodies like ours are built for serious fucking.” 

“Damn straight!  You know, I’m gonna have to lay down some ground-rules when I go back to her.  Dude, I spill so much fuckin’ seed jackin’ to porn, I’m almost embarrassed to tell you! Damn, I really need to just find myself someone who likes fucking as much as I do!” 

Bingo, Hart thought smugly, here we go!

“Hell yes! You need to get laid, bro — like, instantly. And on the regular. I’m talkin’ daily! Shit, a dude as hot as you can get anybody he wants. No joke — I get so much ass, Ben, I’m like a pig in shit. I’m talking seriously hot dudes, too. And you’re twice as hot as I am.”

They finished their serious stretching, which began to include much frank ogling and cooing over each other’s impressive musculature, beautifully revealed in their nakedness.

After a few minutes of cool-down stretches, Hart winked at Ben and smiled slyly, letting his hand play lightly down his bro’s cut upper body.

“Damn, dawg, you are too fuckin’ hot! If you were gay, bro? Like me? Shit, dude, you’d never have a dry spell again.”

Ben just blushed, secretly excited inside. He could feel his dick throb and start to stiffen.

Cool-down over, Hart got another brainstorm.

“Hey, how about a hit or two of dope before you hit the shower?”

Ben loved pot. He rarely smoked it because Melissa couldn’t stand the smell.

They ended up doing two bowls of some very kick-ass weed, passing the pipe, sitting close to each other on the couch, muscular thighs touching, cocks growing thick, engorged. They eye-flirted like crazy — looking at each other in stoned pleasure, smiling hungrily. 

Hart idly began stroking his own semi-hard cock as they took turns taking hits.

Afterward, bodies pumped from their yoga routine and both blissfully buzzing on pot, their engorged cocks swinging, Hart took the lead again.

“Bro, cool if I join you in the shower?  I never got mine in after our workout. I can do your back, and you can do mine.”

“Hell yeah!”

As they headed to the bathroom, they immediately got into a sort of prep-school locker-room spirit of loud horseplay, slapping asses and drawing attention to each other’s stiffening dicks.

Hart got the shower nice and steamy. Ben was stoned and pumped and horny as fuck. He loved that he and Hart could flaunt their seriously boned dicks to each other. This was awesome bro-chilling, he thought to himself.

They stepped into the shower and began some serious soaping, excited to be able to wash each other’s hard-carved muscle, which they never could do in their gym. 

Hart went to work on his friend, scrubbing his back slowly, luxuriantly, worshipping his friend’s muscle, as he listened to his friend continue to vent about his lousy sex life. Hart could only take Ben’s plaint now as a way of begging his gay friend to make a pass. 

He washed Ben’s shoulders sensuously, then reached around to soap up that beautifully carved chest, letting his own jutting hardness press casually but firmly against Ben’s ass and hips as he turned the soaping into very frank foreplay.

Ben immediately stopped complaining and, under an enveloping tide of dope, shower spray, and homoerotic allure, fully submitted to the bliss of Hart’s sensually insistent touch.  He moaned in pleasure as Hart playfully traced each nipple, purring as he tweaked each nip into raging hardness.

Hart grooved on his successful seduction.  He let sudsy hands glide up and down over Ben’s carved washboard, wedging his raging-hard cock into the sudsy crack of his handsome friend’s smooth, round ass.

Hart finally lowered his soapy hands to Ben’s beautifully round, firm buttocks, rubbing the dimpled cheeks in a deep, soap-slick rhythm, letting his thumbs go ever deeper into Ben’s ass-crack on each soapy stroke.

That was the tipping point for the two friends, the moment when the veil was fully pulled aside.

Hart cooed hypnotically as he worships Ben’s firm, muscular glutes. It was time to show his bro a much better future.

“Seriously, dude, whether you go back to Melissa or not, what you need is a male lover.  A fuck buddy who can help you with a dude’s basic drives. Trust me, no one knows how to pleasure a dude like another dude.”

Voice hoarse now with excitement at his bro’s sensual fondling, Ben finally confessed his deepest desire.

“I gotta say, bro, I thought about that a lot. For years now. Especially lately. I watch a ton of gay porn, and fuck does that shit ever look hot.”

Hart began soaping up Ben’s crack in slow, deep, sensuously overt lust, his slick finger entering his bro’s virgin pucker, giving his friend what they both needed.

Ben, ecstatic that things had finally gotten to where he’d been too shy up to now to take them, let a deep, grunting moan erupt from the center of his being.

“FUCK YEAH, man!  Work that fucking ass!!  Fuck, Hart, that feels amazing!” 

Finger-fucking his bud’s ass with two fingers now, Hart brought a soaped-up hand around to jack Ben’s thick, fully erect cock. 

His previously straight friend’s pleasure-groans erupted out of him like a pious, reverent prayer of salvation.

“Jesus Fuck!  Oh, fuck yeah, bro! This is so fuckin’ hot!” 

As he sensuously jacked Ben’s cock, Hart started to play his own stiff, soaped-up prick up and down in Ben’s sudsy crack, teasing him with the pleasure to come.

When his friend’s hard, thick dick was sufficiently lathered, Hart sensuously caressed it at first, fondling his big ball-sac, too, tenderly, reverently, like it was a beautiful, precious objet d’art. He got more aggressive and really started jacking his friend’s cock. 

Ben was in heaven. His friend’s hand on his cock was doing amazing things, giving him un-dreamed of pleasure. Melissa never played with his foreskin like this, like how he played with it himself — Hart pulled it, pinched it, then slid his finger underneath the hood, tracing the head, while stroking the shaft and teasing his balls. He dug his finger into the piss-slit, working it around, driving Ben crazy.

“Fuck yeah, bro!  Feels so fucking good! Jack that fuckin’ cock!  You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this to happen with us, dude.”

Hart brought his lips next to his friend’s ear.

“I think I do, man.  About as long as I’ve wanted it.” 

Then he softly turned Ben’s head towards him, so their lips could seal their lust in a smoldering kiss.

Afterward, Ben just gazed into Hart’s eyes with a look of unbridled desire.

“Fuck, man, feels so fucking good, finally being with you like this, bro. I think all the time at the gym how fucking gorgeous you are, Hart. So damn sexy. So fucking hot.  But I’ve just been too shy, I guess.  I go home after our workouts together and just daydream about your hot fucking body while I jerk off.  AW, shit, man, I’m cumming, bro!  FUCK! I’m cumming so fucking hard!!” 

“Fuck yeah! Shoot for me, bro!”

Ben erupted — five, six, seven creamy shots — then collapsed back onto his friend, their wet, hard, glistening bodies gliding against each other, hard muscle feeling so good rubbing against hard muscle. 

Hart’s cock has kept gliding up and down Ben’s crack the whole time he jacked his buddy, like an engine idling, ready to go. He smiled knowingly at his friend’s blissfully exhausted pleasure, while anticipating his own imminent joy, gazing down the front of Ben’s beautifully sculptured body, loving how smooth and lusciously carved it is, thinking how sexy it will feel as he strokes it while fucking him. 

His friend and he were riding the same sexual wave of body-lust, he knew.  Ben looked back at him and dreamily whispered his deepest desire.

“Fuck me, dude!  Fuck this hot fuckin’ muscle-ass.  My hole has been so fucking hot and itchy, for so damn long, ready to take dick!”

He reached back to stroke his friend’s hard, thick length. 

“Especially this absolutely gorgeous cock of yours, man!  Please, dude, I need a hard, serious fuck so fucking badly!  Bust my cherry, bro! I want it so damn bad!” 

It felt so good for Ben to take the plunge finally, to give voice to his long-simmering lust, to own his desire at long last, to luxuriate like this in his attraction to gorgeous young men, to feel it so deep inside.

They took a break later — more pot, more beers — recharging for the next of several more go-rounds that evening.

When Hart asked Ben if he needed a place to stay permanently, Ben jumped at the offer.

They made plans, laughing and excited like giddy school boys. They were boyfriends — they didn’t even need to say the words, they were too busy celebrating the reality.

They decided not to waste time — tomorrow they’d move all Ben’s stuff over.

Another round of fucking, just because that was their life now.

Ben took another load up his ass after being railed by his young lover’s amazing cock. Ben cleaned Hart cock’s off, loving to serve his lover, thrilled to own his desire — own it so perfectly, with such a smoking hot boy.

Ben felt like he’d averted a fatal crash tonight, escaping with his life — a glorious life, he saw now.  He’d been way too deep into living a lie with girls all his life. Thank the gods he’d been able to get out while he was still a virile young man!

They stood in the kitchen, worshipping each other’s muscle, as Hart brewed them some tea. Ben’s phone sounded with a text. It was Melissa, all sorry and lovey-dovey, telling him to please hurry home, she missed his big dick — ‘SO BAD, lover!’

Ben showed the message to Hart, and they both laughed at the girl’s cluelessness. Ben told Hart they’d have to be bare-chested tomorrow when they packed up his shit — flaunting their hard bodies, their hard-bodied lust, kissing and talking flirty the whole time they worked.

Then — an inspiration from Ben: as they packed up his clothes in his bedroom, they could 69 and fuck on the bed he’d shared for the past six months, being loud and raunchy enough for Melissa to hear, maybe even burst in on them. Hart readily agreed, eyes bright at the thought. He knelt down to suck his bro off while the tea steeped.

Author’s Note – There are elements of non-consent in this story. If that type of element offends you, or is problematic, please do not read.

---

Dedicated to Victor (“Carlos”), Sonny (“JD”), Patrick (“Beto”), Ricky (“Andres”), Johnny (“Hector”), and Jose (“Joe”) – you’ll never recognize yourself in this but thank you for giving me your character.

---

Hector and Andres were in the kitchen, talking, and smoking a joint. They looked up with expectant eyes as Beto walked in.

“Was it good?” Hector asked.

Beto looked at them seriously for a moment. “No. It wasn’t good.” Hector and Andres looked shocked.

Beto suddenly laughed and said, “It was fantastic! We should have been fucking him a long time ago!”

They both laughed with him and Hector said, “That’s what I said.” He paused for a moment, and then said, “Did he wake up?”

“Fuck no,” Beto exclaimed. “He slept through it all and doesn’t know a thing. So, we’re going to have to plan more parties with lots of tequila for Mister Carlos.”

“And invite Jaime, Angel, and others,” Andres said. “You know how bad they’ve wanted that straight muscle ass.”

Beto laughed. “Oh hell yeah. I think Carlos is going to be a really popular guy after tonight. And he’s going to get all the booze and partying he wants. And then when he’s out . . . we’re going to get all the ass we want!”

All three laughed and Hector stood up. “Then it’s time for me to finally fuck that ass. I hope it’s still plenty tight.”

“Trust me,” Beto chuckled. “That hole is just as tight now as it was when I popped it. You’re going to enjoy it.”

Hector rubbed his cock and Beto could see the bulge growing in his pants. Hector’s cock was bigger than Carlos’s and Beto hoped it would be okay.

“Now don’t hurt him, vato.” Beto said. “You’ve got a big cock there. If you want to fuck him more after tonight, you need to make sure you’re gentle with him.”

Hector kept rubbing his bulge and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle tonight, so long as I can have him again. And again. And again.” Hector left for Carlos’s bedroom and Beto and Andres could hear him laughing as he went.

Beto looked at Andres and said, “Okay, I’m going to see JD. You stay here. If I’m not back before Hector finishes, you go on. But take it easy with him, you hear?”

“Sure, no problem, vato,” Andres replied. “Like Hector, I want to fuck Carlos for a long time. It sounds like he’s got a tight cunt.”

Beto grinned. “He does. But we’ll have to see how long it remains tight.” He looked over Andres’s shoulder and said, “So how’s Joe doing? He wake up?”

“Fuck no,” Andres said. “He’s still sleeping it off.”

“Well, I’d better get moving if I want to fuck JD,” Beto laughed. “I don’t want Joe to wake up, wonder where JD is, and then find out his son has a tighter pussy than his wife!”

Andres laughed as Beto made his way back to the bedroom where JD was staying.

————

“Whatcha doing?”

JD was lying on the bed and looked up from his phone when Beto walked into the bedroom.

“Just watching some porn, man. Talking about fucking got me horny,” JD grinned, rubbing on his cock.

He grinned back and sat down in the chair next to the bed.

“I hear ya. It does that to me too. Especially when I’m thinking about fucking hot straight guys.”

JD nodded and kept looking at Beto.

“So . . . what’s next? Is Carlos . . . you know . . . ready?”

Beto leaned back and smiled at the young muscle stud.

“Almost. He’s in his bedroom and ready to fuck.”

JD rose up and said, “Sweet, man! I’m ready too!”

Beto smiled a little harder, and said, “But there is one issue we have to take care of before that happens.” 

“I know, man. And yeah, okay, he can fuck me first. I just want a crack at his sexy ass,” JD grinned.

Beto shrugged. “Well . . . that’s not exactly the issue we have to take care of.”

JD looked confused and said, “Okaaaay. Then what is the issue?”

Leaning forward, Beto smiled slightly and said, “The issue is . . . who fucks who first.”

“Beto, I already told you that Carlos could fuck me first,” JD exclaimed.

“I never said that it would be Carlos who would fuck you first. I just said you’d have to give up your ass if you got to fuck Carlos.”

JD hesitated a moment, and said, “I don’t understand. Who’s fucking who?”

Beto grinned evilly and said, “I’m going to be fucking you. And then you can fuck Carlos.”

JD flinched. “What? You?!! I never said I’d let you fuck me.”

“No, that’s true,” Beto laughed. “You didn’t.”

“I mean . . . if . . . if I let anyone fuck me, it’s going to be Carlos. Not you.”

Beto looked irritated and said, “Why not me? I gave you a great blow job. I can fuck you just as good too!”

JD started getting annoyed as well. “Well . . . whatever . . . but if I give up my ass, it’s going to be with Carlos.” He hesitated a minute and then continued. “Let’s just forget this then. I mean, I thought you could do things and were helping me. But evidently you only help when you get to fuck others.” JD took a deep breath and exhaled. “So uh . . . maybe another time.”

Beto leaned back in his chair and looked at JD. After a few moments, he smiled, and said, “Okay. Okay that’s fine. I just wanted to see if you’d be willing to play ball so you could fuck Carlos’s amazing ass. And it is really amazing.”

He looked thoughtful for a bit, and then said, “Tell ya what. If you’re so hell bent on letting Carlos be the only one to fuck you, I’ll see if I can arrange it. I have to talk to Carlos first though, so be patient. Because I have to figure out a way to maneuver him into getting fucked after he fucks a virgin. I don’t want him to back out, because that would be unfair to you.”

JD looked skeptical. “I don’t know. I think we should just forget it.” He looked at his watch and said, “It’s 1:40. My dad and I have to get home anyway. Where is he, by the way?”

“He was sleeping on the couch the last time I saw him,” Beto answered. “But look, JD. Let me try to set this up with Carlos. Just give me a few minutes.” He looked sad and said, “I mean, you may never get a chance to get with him like this again. Let me try, okay?”

JD thought a few moments and then shrugged. “Okay,” he said smiling. “And if you can, then my ass is still on for him. Make SURE he knows that, huh?” JD laughed and said, “Because I sure want a piece of his ass, that’s for sure!”

Beto grinned and stood up. “Cool. I’ll be back in a few. Just stay there and don’t go away.”

JD nodded, lay back, looked at his phone again, and started rubbing his cock.

————

Andres looked up as Beto came back into the kitchen. “That was quick,” he said.

“Quick, my ass,” Beto said angrily. “He told me he only wanted Carlos to fuck him. And then he talked about forgetting it and leaving.”

“Damn,” Andres said. “He can’t leave yet. Joe’s still passed out.”

“I know, I know,” Beto replied. “I’m not so sure he trusts me now like he did before. So I stalled him. And now I need you to help.”

“Doing what?”

Beto opened the refrigerator and got two water bottles. He pulled out the vial of midazolam and gave it to Andres.

“Put this shit in one of these bottles and mix it up good. I’ll go back and stall him for a few more minutes. You come in with the water, hand him the drugged one and me the other one.” Beto’s evil grin returned. “Once it takes affect and JD is nice and pliable, I’ll fuck him then. And if Hector is finished, then he can fuck JD and you can fuck Carlos. After you’re done with Carlos, then you can get JD.”

“Wait, wait” Andres said. “What’s the rush? I was going to fuck Carlos and then fuck JD after you! Why does Hector get to go after you again?”

“Andres, we’re running out of time! We gotta get the ass while we can, or else we won’t get everybody. By the time I’m done with JD, you’ll be fucking Carlos but Hector will be ready. Then you can get JD after Hector and we can leave. It’s just a matter of timing.”

“Fuck,” Andres said. “I always get screwed. You’re always playing Hector and me off against each other.”

Beto rolled his eyes, and said, “Look puta, I don’t have time for this. You just do what I say and bring that water to us about 2 minutes after I go back. Understand? Quit fucking around and DO it!”

After shoving the water bottles in Andres’s hands, Beto turned quickly and went back to JD’s bedroom.

Andres looked after him, red faced, and angry. He looked at the bottles in his hand and then said softly, “Motherfucker.”

————

JD was sitting up on the bed, looking at his phone. He looked up expectantly, as Beto walked in.

“So . . . what’s the deal?”

“You gotta chill a little bit, JD. I tried talking to Carlos but he was on the phone. He said give him a few minutes.”

JD looked thoughtful. “Ummm. Okay, ten minutes. Then dad and I need to book.”

Beto grinned and said, “Okay. Hopefully he’ll be off before then. He’s talking to some girl.”

JD laughed and looked back at his phone. “Yeah, I bet he is. Good. Maybe that’ll get him horny for me.”

Beto sat there watching JD and waited. And waited. He wondered where Andres was, when there was a knock on the door. JD looked at Beto, who shrugged his shoulders. JD walked over to the door and opened it. Andres was standing there.

“Hey. Come in.”

As JD walked back over to the bed, Andres’s eyes followed his ass. His eyes darted over to Beto, who was giving him a questioning look. Andres just laughed and walked over to Beto.

“I thought you’d like some water. It’s been pretty boozy tonight and this will help.”

Beto reached up and said, “Yeah, give me one too.”

Andres handed him the bottle. Beto looked at Andres with raised eyebrows. Andres just smiled, raised the other bottle, and nodded towards JD. A huge grin appeared on Beto’s face and he popped the top and took a long swig.

JD looked up, and said, “Sure. I could use some.” Andres handed him a bottle.

Beto took another swig, as he watched JD. Waiting for him to drink. JD kept watching the porn and slowly twisted the top off the bottle. After several seconds, JD tipped the bottle and drank deeply.

Beto smiled and knew all he had to do now was wait.

JD took several sips as he concentrated on his phone porn. Beto kept smiling and waited for the midazolam to kick in. He looked at Andres and wondered why he was still standing there watching JD. He needed him to leave, so Beto could move quickly once the drug took effect on JD.

“What ya watching, JD?” Andres said as he sat down on the bed next to him.

Without looking up, JD said, “Pornhub. It’s got some great vids of guys getting fucked.”

Andres looked over and said, “Can I watch too?”

“Sure,” JD said as he handed his phone to Andres.

Beto was getting pissed that Andres stuck around. He tried several times to get his attention without JD noticing. But Andres kept watching the porn videos.

After several minutes, Andres looked over at JD and saw his eyes blinking. Beto noticed it too and leaned forward in his chair. Andres looked over at Beto and gave a subtle thumbs up. Beto watched and held his breath.

“Here you go,” Andres said, as he handed the phone back to JD.

JD’s eyes were blinking faster now. Slowly . . . erratically . . . JD reached out and took the phone. He held it for several seconds . . . and then it dropped from his hand to the bed. And Beto and Andres watched, JD’s eyes slowly closed and then opened. He sat there without moving and started to sway a little.

Beto looked at Andres, and said, “Okay, Andres, I can take care of it from here. I’ll call you when it’s time.”

Andres sat there looking at Beto, a slight smile on his face. Beto got irritated, knowing that time was running out.

“Puta,” Beto said slowly. “I said that . . . that . . . uh . . . that . . . I can . . .”

Beto’s eyes started blinking and had trouble completing his thoughts. A warm river ran through his body and he relaxed quickly.

“What . . . you . . . fuck  you gave . . . wrong . . . one.”

Andres stood up, walked over to Beto, and laughed. “No, I didn’t give you the wrong one. You got the right one. Just like JD did.”

Beto wanted to sink into the warmth he was feeling and not think about anything. But his last thought, before he went down, was that Andres had drugged him with the midazolam too. A few seconds later, he slumped back in the chair.

“Nighty night, puta,” Andres said. “Someone will be here soon to take care of you too.”

Andres looked over at JD and saw that he had fallen back on the bed . . . lying there . . . ready for . . . action. Andres laughed, opened the door, and walked down the hall to Carlos’s bedroom. He could hear groans and moans from the inside. Fortunately, Hector hadn’t locked the door and Andres walked in.

In the bed, Carlos was up on his knees, his shoulders and head down on the mattress. Hector was fucking him from behind, slamming into Carlos’s hard, muscle ass. As he fucked, he groaned as he tried to get deeper and deeper into the straight mounds of muscle.

“Cógetelo, perra! Tu culo lo necesita! Cógetelo! Cógete mi semilla de hombre!” Hector hissed at the passed out stud.

Andres laughed as he heard Hector tell Carlos, “Take it, bitch! Your ass needs it! Take it! Take my man seed!”

Hector fucked Carlos harder for several more minutes as Andres watched. He got hard watching because he knew he’d be up in Carlos’s muscle cunt soon enough. He just hoped it would be as tight then as it was now.

Andres saw Hector start fucking faster and then suddenly slam into Carlos’s ass and hold it. He obviously was seeding Carlos. Andres just hoped he wasn’t too warn out to keep his part of their agreement.

Hector finally pulled out of Carlos’s ass and pushed the used hunk over. Carlos didn’t even stir and Andres saw cum leaking out of his ass. Hector was covered in sweat, but smiling. He walked over to Andres.

“So . . . it’s done?”

Andres smirked. “Yeah. They’re both out in there.”

“Good,” Hector said. “I’ve had my fill of Beto thinking he can fuck us over any time he feels like it, just because he wants something.”

Andres nodded. “I’ve been wanting to teach that motherfucker a lesson for a long time. And tonight, it’s going to happen.”

Hector laughed and said, “Vato, that was brilliant to set up your phone in here and record Beto fucking Carlos! Now, if anything happens, Beto will get all the blame! You and I will just have been along for the ride.”

Andres and Hector doubled over with laughter.

“Okay vato,” Andres said. “Let me go take care of JD and you move Beto in here. Then, when Carlos wakes up, and sees all that cum leaking out of his ass, his culprit will be right there. Along with Ian, who will verify everything that happened here was Beto’s fault, including JD getting fucked.”

Hector punched his arm and said, “No shit. At least, he’ll verify it if he doesn’t want his own little recording getting out. It’s all gonna work out and that fucking Beto will have all the shit on HIM for once!”

Hector looked back at the passed out Carlos, and said, “You don’t want to fuck his ass right now? It’s still tight as hell!”

“Not now,” Andres said. “Let’s see what happens after JD. After all, he’s the one with the virgin ass that Beto was going to get. Let’s pop that so he’ll never get the pleasure of saying he did it.”

Laughing and slapping each other on the arm, Andres and Hector left Carlos’s bedroom and headed to the bedroom with JD and Beto. As they passed Ian’s bedroom door, they could tell the light was off. Likely Ian fell asleep, wondering what kind of story he could come up with for Carlos, Joe, and JD in the morning.

 ————

Beto and JD lay right where Andres left them. Hector went over to Beto, knelt down, and laughed.

“C’mon Mister All Knowing Stud! Let’s have you keep Carlos company.” Andres smiled at Hector, as he picked up the limp, drugged out Beto and left.

Andres walked over to the bed and looked down on JD. His legs hung over the side and he was lying back, his head and shoulders against the wall. Andres leaned down and pushed up one eyelid. He saw JD’s eye slightly turned up. He was definitely out of it.

Standing up, Andres looked down again on JD. He had been watching him all night and was horny as hell, as he thought about JD’s huge muscular body. Beto, of course, was monopolizing him all night, which was the typical bullshit he pulled. When Hector told Andres that Beto and JD had gone outside, he was afraid that Beto would fuck him before Andres had a chance at him. But Hector had hidden himself outside the back door and watched them. All Beto had done was give JD a blow job. So Andres knew JD was still available for fucking. Hector had wanted JD too, but wanted to fuck Carlos first.

JD lay there, shirt opened, his huge pecs and tight abs on full display. Andres thought he was a handsome kid and was happy to hear that JD seemed to be interested in men. He pulled JD around the bed, so that he was fully laid out on it. Then, he set his phone on the dresser, to record their night . . . a memory of their time.

First things first, Andres thought.

He got JD’s shoes, socks, and shirt off quickly, but his jeans took longer. The jeans were tight and literally molded to JD’s body. It was a struggle but little by little he got them off. And smiled when he saw the sheer white jockstrap he was wearing. Andres looked at the sleeping muscle boy and the way the tight, sexy jockstrap clung to his cock and balls. Licking his lips, put his hand on the mass of meat and left the jock on.

“Fuck,” Andres said. “I’m sorry it’s like this, JD. But it was Beto’s idea. I wanted to treat you right but Beto was too greedy and too impatient.” He sighed. “Forgive me . . . but . . . I gotta fuck you. You are just too much man to not do it.”

His eyes slowly scanned down JD’s magnificent body, from his shoulders, to his chest, his abs, and his legs. JD’s large cock hung down between his slightly parted legs and Andres could feel his hormones rush as he thought about how many girls JD had fucked with it. And wondered if any lucky guys, other than Beto, had managed to get it in their mouth.

Andres pulled a bottle of lube out of his pocket that he’d kept there to fuck Carlos’s spectacular ass and laid it on the bed. His shirt came off quickly, followed by the rest of his clothes. Andres’s cock was hard once again, just as was when he fucked Ian earlier. Moving to the end of the bed, he sat on his knees beneath JD’s feet and took another look at the sexy muscle stud he was about to fuck.

“Oh babyyyyy,” Andres sighed, breathing heavily. “I’m gonna fuck you so good. And you’re gonna wrap that tight, virgin, hole around my cock and milk it over and over. That’s what muscle cunt’s are good for.”

Andres grabbed JD’s legs and pushed them back. The hard, muscular ass, honed by years of athletics and gym, rose up. Andres pushed his legs back farther, until they were against his chest, and marveled at the sight of JD’s smooth, full ass. Andres struggled to hold both legs as he poured the lube into the hairless crack and watched it slowly flow downwards.

Like most of the rest of his body, JD’s crack had no hair. His hole was also smooth, the skin a dark brown shade, that was closed tight. Andres watched the lube approach the hole and then dip in. It pooled around the tiny circle, causing it to spasm. He grinned and touched the oily muscle and it winked again and again.

So, Andres thought, he has a sensitive asshole. Nice.

He touched and rubbed the lube around the hole with his index finger and tried to push it inside. But the hole was tight and didn’t let his finger in easily. Andres put more lube on it and on his fingers, pushing in harder. He could feel his fingertip start to go in and he kept pushing, until it was inside to the first knuckle. Andres looked at JD but could see no reaction.

He pulled his finger out, put a generous glob of lube on it, and stuck his finger back in. It went in easier but stopped at his knuckle again. Andres leaned down and pushed harder, feeling his finger advance slowly but surely. After several seconds, almost all of his finger was inside.

Andres sighed deeply and closed his eyes. His finger was enclosed in a tight sheath of muscle that was wet and warm. It felt so good and Andres could imagine what his cock would feel when it was inside. Knowing that no other cock had ever been in JD made Andres even harder. He twisted and turned his finger, trying to loosen up the snug cave.

Slowly, Andres pulled his finger out so that just the tip was left. He put more lube on his fingers and started to push both his index and middle fingers into JD’s ass. It was slow going but, little by little, they started advancing. He got them to his second knuckles and started turning them one way, then the other . . . again . . . and again . . . loosening and opening up JD’s virgin hole.

After a few minutes of fingering it, the fingers were turning easier and smoother. Andres pulled them out and easily pushed them back in, turning and twisting. He did that several more times, then carefully let JD’s legs come back down to rest on his shoulders.

Andres poured a large amount of lube into his hand and on his hard cock, rubbing it hard, and getting it ready. After several moments of stroking his cock, he pushed forward on JD’s legs and put his cock at JD’s asshole.

 He was ready.

The head of Andres’s cock was very sensitive when it touched the hole. He could feel the little knot spasm as his large meat prepared to open it up. A rush of hormones raced through Andres, as he closed his eyes and pushed forward.

JD lay there, helpless, defenseless as a man other than Carlos, was about to fuck him.

Andres felt JD’s hole stubbornly resist letting him in. He pressed harder and could feel the folds of the never breached muscle begin to open. As it did, he pushed forward, feeling the head enter.

Gently, but firmly, Andres continued to push forward, pushing JD’s legs back slightly, as more of his cock entered. The head was all the way in, and the well lubed shaft was quickly entering. Andres continued to lean forward and push until he felt the hole open up and the rest of his cock slid in. He continued to push and only a moment passed before he felt his lightly trimmed patch of pubes pressed up against JD’s muscular ass.

He was all the way in!

Andres closed his eyes and shivered as he felt his cock wrapped in what felt like a sleeve of tight, warm, wet, thick honey. He stood still and revelled in the feeling, licking his lips and wanting to let his cock stay in there forever.

After a few moments, he leaned forward, pushing JD’s legs all the way back to his chest. Leaning over the no longer virgin muscle boy, he leaned down and kissed JD’s lips. They were full and thick and tasted good. He could have stayed like that for a long time, but his cock was telling him to move on.

Leaning back slightly, he pulled his cock back and then pushed back in. JD’s ass was very tight but he was able to move his cock. He pulled out and pushed in several times, finally getting to where he could pull back almost to his cock head without pulling out. He pushed back in and started to build up a gentle rhythm.

God, Andres thought, this ass is fucking fantastic. JD was cute, sexy, a body to die for, and an ass that was a great fuck. He closed his eyes and started fucking with longer strokes, getting in deeper.

The more he fucked, the more his hormones raged through his body. He was in major lust with JD’s body and wanted to keep on fucking it, over and over. He leaned over again and started kissing JD, reaching around and feeling his muscular arms and any other part of his body he could feel.

After many minutes of deep fucking, Andres’s hormones took over and he started fucking faster, starting to slam into JD’s ass. The sound of his body slapping into JD’s drove him wild and he stared fucking faster and faster, slamming harder, just to hear the sound of slapping flesh.

Andres reached around and grabbed JD in a hug, holding him close as he fucked him harder and faster. After several minutes of fucking, he could feel his cum starting to rise. He started fucking slower as he didn’t want it to end. But even when he fucked JD slower, he could still tell his orgasm was inevitable.

After a few minutes of slow, deep, love fucking, Andres could tell he was on a countdown. He sped up his fucking, pushing JD’s legs apart, trying to get in deeper as he fucked. JD’s body bounced on the bed as Andres threw every last bit of fuck into him as he could.

He leaned down between the splayed muscular legs and started fucking faster . . . and faster . . . and faster . . . his cum rising from his loins. After several more minutes of fucking, he knew it was going to happen, his fucking becoming almost a blur.

“Take it! FUCK! Oh FUCK, JD!! FUCK YOUR ASS!! FUCK YOUR . . . uuuuhhh . . . uhhHHHH . . . URGHHHH FUCKKKKKKKKK!”

After one final slam, Andres’s cum shot out of his cock like a Patriot missile battery firing. Two . . . three . . . four . . . over and over. Andres’s groan was loud and he collapsed slowly on top of JD, breathing heavily, feeling dizzy after such an explosive and full orgasm.

Andres lay there for several minutes, his breathing leveling off, and his energy slowly returning. He was thoroughly exhausted, but feeling wonderful. Eventually, he rose up, looking at JD. He had not moved at all, and looked the same. Except for a few areas around his mouth, where Andres had kissed him so hard.

Andres pulled out, his cock full but soft, its mighty cannon having done its work. Slowly, he staggered off the bed and over to the dresser. He turned off his recording and then went into the bathroom to clean up.

Ten minutes later, Andres came back out, his body back to normal and clean from having washed off his sweat. He could smell the musk of his deodorant so he smelt okay. He picked up his clothes and put them on, looking at JD all the time. After he finished dressing, he walked over to the sleeping muscle stud, and heard a farting noise as a little cum slowly leaked out.

“You’re an amazing fuck, JD,” Andres smiled. “I hope we can get together again. But I guess we’ll have to see how this all works out.” He leaned down and kissed him.

“Thanks for a hot night, baby. You’re the best.”

He walked out of the bedroom, leaving JD nude and still out on the bed.

 ————

Andres couldn’t find Hector in the kitchen or living room. Joe was still passed out on the couch, but had turned over. Andres went to Carlos’s bedroom and, sure enough, found Hector.

Sitting on the bed, leaning over and sucking Carlos’s cock.

“Vato, what gives?” laughed Andres. “Can’t you get enough of him tonight?”

There was an audible pop as Hector pulled Carlos’s cock out of his mouth.

“Man, I just came back here to put Beto down. And when I came in, Carlos’s cock was hard! Must be dreaming about the women,” Hector grinned. “And fuck, you see it. It looked too fucking good to pass up, so I thought that while you were enjoying your fuck, I’d just see if I could drain his nuts. And he’s come twice so far. Twice!”

Andres giggled and said, “Did you get it all?”

“Not all, no,” Hector frowned. “I started sucking him again and he started moving around a little. Scared the shit out of me! I thought he was waking up.”

Andres nodded. “I noticed that Joe had turned over out on the couch. It may be that we need to shut this down and book.”

“I agree,” Hector said. “I wish you had been able to fuck Carlos. God, he is a top’s dream fuck!”

Andres sighed. “Yeah, I know. I wish I had too. But JD was an absolute dream too. Hot, hot ass! So tight!” He chuckled and said, “And you didn’t get to fuck him either. So I guess we both will have to tempt each other with our memories of ass that the other didn’t get!”

Hector grinned and laughed out loud. “So how are we gonna do this? We drove over here with Beto.”

“You remember my cousin Louis? His place is about 5 blocks away. We walk over there and he’ll let us stay. But it may be for a price.”

“A price?” Hector asked. “Whattha fuck, he’s going to charge us?”

Andres grinned. “Don’t sweat it. He’s always told me how he wants your big cock. So he may say he’ll let us stay . . . if you fuck him.”

“Hell! I’m not sure I’ve got the energy left to fuck again tonight,” laughed Hector.

Andres smirked. “It don’t matter. As long as he gets it before you leave, he’ll be accommodating.”

Hector stopped smiling and looked serious. “And what about Beto? How are we gonna handle that?”

Andres glanced at Beto asleep on the floor. He looked back at Hector, with a fierce look on his face.

“We’ll talk about it over there. But that motherfucker needed to learn a lesson. And I think he’s about to get it when Carlos wakes up.”

They turned out the light and walked into the kitchen, Andres saw a notepad and pen. He pulled the pad over and started writing a message.

“Everyone passed out. So we left. It was fun!”

Hector looked over Andres shoulder and read what he wrote. Chuckling, he said, “You think that will fool ‘em?”

Andres tore off the paper from the pad and left it on the kitchen table.

“Don’t know. But at least it is general enough to cover until we decide on our story. Let’s go.”

 ————

I woke up with a start. The amount of light from the outside told me it was around 6 AM. I sat up slowly, rubbed my face, and yawned. As I stood up, the events of last night hit me full force.

Beto. Andres. Hector.

Carlos!

JD!

I was so worn out from the sex with Andres and the shock of Beto’s blackmail, that I had fallen asleep. But now I remembered what Beto had said.

He was going to fuck Carlos. And JD. And then Andres and Hector would fuck both of them.

I felt a deep dread, wondering if Beto had finally gotten the ass he’d wanted for so long. I had tried to watch over Carlos, especially after I found Beto about to fuck him here one time.

The more I thought about it, the more I knew I’d have to face it and find out if he had. I went into my bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and put some clothes on. I was nervous about what I would find.

I unlocked my door and opened it slowly. I looked to the right, where my spare bedroom was, and then to the left. I could see Carlos’s bedroom door at the far end of the hallway. I quietly walked down the hall, pausing by Carlos’s door. I put my ear to the door, but didn’t hear anything. I walked on until I got to the kitchen. No one was there. I went over to the door into the living room and saw Joe on the couch. He was asleep or passed out. Regardless, he was still asleep.

I walked back and was about to go back into the hallway when I noticed a note on the table. I picked it up and read it.

“Everyone passed out. So we left. It was fun!”

Oh fuck, I thought. No wonder it was so quiet. So Beto, Hector, and Andres had gone.

And I was left behind to deal with the mess.

I started to go into Carlos’s bedroom, when I heard the spare bedroom door open. JD was standing in the doorway, holding onto the door and the door frame. I quickly walked back to him.

“JD, you okay?”

JD didn’t say anything and his eyes were a bit unfocused. He was only wearing what looked like a white jockstrap.

I took him by the arm and said, “Let’s go sit down.” JD hesitated but finally turned around and headed back towards the bed.

My god . . . his ass. It was stunning. The glutes looked like two ripe melons, completely smooth. As he walked to the bed, the muscle flexed and dimpled. I was worn out by the events of the last twelve hours. But fuck, if my cock didn’t start swelling as I looked at his ass.

He stopped as he got to the bed and stood there a minute. I thought he was going to fall, but he simply stood there. I noticed something wet trickling down the back of his leg, near the bottom of his ass. I stepped forward, leaned down, and took a closer look. It was a small flow of white cum. I couldn’t see exactly where it was leaking from because his ass cheeks were so tightly closed. But it didn’t take a genius to know what had happened if there was cum trickling down at that location.

JD had been fucked.

As I straightened back up, JD slowly turned around, trying to keep his balance. He finally sat down, which meant the leaking cum was now on the bed sheets. JD didn’t seem to realize it and I didn’t say anything, and just kept looking at JD.

After a moment of watching, I said, “You okay? What happened?”

JD licked and smacked his lips, as if they were dry. After a few moments, he said, “I’m not sure. I don’t remember much.”

He paused and then continued. “The last thing I can remember is Beto sitting there,” pointing to the chair next to the bed.

“So Beto was in here with you?” I asked.

“Yeah. He’s weird.”

I had a puzzled look on my face. “What do you mean?”

A slight smile appeared on JD’s face. “He’s sorta . . . sneaky. Acting like . . . he’s your friend. Then . . . pulling something . . . on you.” JD laughed slightly, and then continued. “But uh . . . err . . . I will say he . . . gives good . . . blows.”

“Yeah, he’s a sneaky bastard,” I said. “I’d stay far away from him if I was you.” I paused and then said tentatively, “So are you saying that he . . . that he sucked you off?”

JD snorted and said, “Yeah. Out at the pool. And then we were gonna . . .” JD stopped abruptly.

“And then you were gonna do what, JD?”

JD didn’t answer for a few moments and I waited. I had a feeling I knew the answer but wanted to hear him say it.

Finally, after almost a minute, JD looked at me and said, “Beto said he knew how to seduce straight guys. And that he could get Carlos. And asked me if I wanted to fuck Carlos.”

As I suspected, I thought.

“And what did you say?”

“I told him that I didn’t believe he could do it.” JD paused and then said, “But I said if he could do it, then sure, I’d like to fuck him. He’s fucking hot!”

I shook my head and said, “JD, Carlos is your dad’s good friend. And coworker. I know you like sex with men, but Carlos is straight. It wouldn’t be right to come on to him. Or, given how sneaky Beto is, to fuck him when he isn’t able to agree to it.” I hesitated and said, “That fucker has tried that before.”

JD nodded and said, “Yeah, he told me he’d tried and almost got him once. But he also said he could guarantee that I could fuck him, maybe even tonight.”

I sat down and turned JD towards me.

“JD. Listen to me. Do you realize you have cum flowing down your leg?”

JD looked confused and said, “I’ve . . . what?”

“You’ve got cum leaking down your leg. You’ve been fucked.”

JD looked shocked and felt down between his legs. After a few moments, he pulled his fingers back, wet with cum.

“FUCK!” JD swore. “He fucked me? I told him I wouldn’t let him do it.”

I looked sad and said, “You’ll learn that Beto goes after what he wants, regardless of what you’ll agree to or not.”

JD kept feeling between his legs and stood up, reaching around behind and digging in his ass. Suddenly, he jerked his hand back and said, “shit.”

“What’s the matter?”

“It fucking burns. I guess you’re right. Beto fucked me.”

“Or someone else did. But I would guess it was Beto,” I said.

“Fuck,” JD swore again. “I need to clean up before my dad sees me. Is he up?”

I smiled and said, “Not the last time I looked. I also haven’t checked on Carlos. So I need to do that.”

JD’s face darkened. “I’m going to kick Beto’s fucking ass when I see him. Or kill him.”

I laughed weakly and said, “Welcome to the club.” I pointed at the bathroom, and said, “Go clean up in the bathroom. There’s towels in there. Take a quick shower if you want, but hurry. Your father and Carlos may be up at any minute. I’m going to go check on him.”

“Thanks, Ian,” JD said and went into the bathroom.

 ————

I left the bedroom and walked down the hall to Carlos’s bedroom. I knocked very gently, but there was no answer. I knocked a little louder. Still no answer. I turned the door handle and it opened. Slowly, I pushed the door open.

“Carlos? You up?”

The light was out but there was enough daylight in the room to see. Carlos was lying naked on his bed, arms and legs splayed out slightly. Another person was lying on the floor, near the bed, on their side. I turned on the light and was shocked.

It was Beto. Clothes off, unmoving, asleep. What the fuck was he doing in here, I wondered.

I walked over to Carlos and realized he had evidently been fucked too. There was wet cum on the sheets and marks on his chest and abs where his muscles had been squeezed. I leaned down closer to his face and saw some light roughness on his lips, either from being kissed hard or, more likely, sucking cock. Given that Beto was lying right next to him, it didn’t take any brains to figure out what had happened.

Beto had finally fucked Carlos. And evidently fucked him hard and for a long period of time.

I was at a loss for what to do. I knew Beto had that recording of me and Andres having sex and would use it to destroy my friendship with Carlos. But when Carlos woke up, there was no way to explain away what had happened. But what I didn’t understand was why Beto was here next to Carlos? The note I found made me assume that him, Andres, and Hector had left. But evidently, it was only Hector and Carlos that left. Why?

I was about to leave the room so I could think, when JD walked through the door. He looked at Carlos, then at Beto, and then at me. His face showed confusion and then anger.

“What gives?” JD asked. “Why is Beto in here?” He looked at him again and said, “I’m gonna kill the fucker.”

“Wait, JD,” I said. “None of this makes sense.”

“Whadda ya mean?”

“If Beto fucked you . . . or Carlos . . . or both of you, why is he still here? And why is he passed out? Andres and Hector have left already. Why didn’t he go with them? I mean, after all, if Carlos woke up, saw what happened and Beto is lying there on the floor, he’d probably kick his ass. So it doesn’t make sense as to why Beto is still here.”

JD thought for a moment and then calmed down. “Yeah, I see your point. It doesn’t make sense.”

“You go check on your dad,” I said. “And let me think for a bit. I’ll be right back.” I went back to my bedroom, trying to make sense out of it all.

JD walked out into the hall, stopped, looked around, and then went back into Carlos’s bedroom. He walked over to Carlos’s bed and looked at the sleeping hunk. While JD looked at him, Carlos moved slightly, pulling his arms and legs back together. JD kept watching, hoping he wouldn’t wake up and catch him.

JD marveled at Carlos’s breathtaking body. Even though he’d seen it at the gym, it was the first time he’d seen Carlos nude. JD’s eyes roamed over broad shoulders, with knotted muscles that started at his neck and flowed down into his arms. His biceps and triceps bulged and his massive forearms were like two clustered ovals.

And his chest. His chest was a work of art. JD loved building his chest so he understood why Carlos was the same. Each of his pecs started from just below his neck and rose like twin plateaus, with a deep valley between the ridges of muscle. Below his chest, defined ridges of abdominal muscle popped up from a tight washboard stomach. Carlos just had a fucking amazing body, sexy as hell, and one that drove others crazy with lust.

JD reached out carefully, watching Carlos’s face, and ran his hands down his massive chest and abs, touching every muscle he could see. Carlos’s thick, heavy cock lay there, waiting to be touched . . . caressed . . . sucked . . . and worshiped.

JD could feel his mouth watering and kept looking at Carlos’s face. His eyes were still closed and he hadn’t moved since the last time.

JD knelt down, leaned over, and then slowly . . . carefully . . . gently . . . stuck his tongue out to lick Carlos’s cock. He took a quick swipe and looked back at Carlos’s face. His eyes were still closed, his body still. JD licked again, running his tongue up the shaft, and to the head.

The dark pink head was not fully covered by Carlos’s foreskin and JD reached out and carefully pulled it back, until the entire head was clear. It was moist and sticky where it had been leaking juices earlier.

Looking once again at Carlos’s face, JD leaned over and licked the head, intoxicated by the taste and smell. He licked again and again, finally taking the head inside his mouth. Carlos’s cock was growing quickly as JD licked and sucked on it. Soon, it would be fully erect.

After fifteen seconds of sucking, Carlos moved slightly, as if trying to wake up. JD stopped and let go of his cock. He looked at Carlos’s face and fortunately, he was still asleep. But it was sheer stupidity to tempt fate like that. He had just been seduced by Carlos’s gorgeous body and luscious cock. As much as he wanted to continue, he knew he’d have to stop and hope it would happen again some day. He couldn’t take a chance on Carlos awakening and finding JD sucking him. He might think JD was the one who fucked him and that would create all sorts of problems with his father.

JD stood up and quickly made his way out of the bedroom. His father was still asleep on the couch but showed signs of waking up. He sat down in one of the chairs and waited, wondering what to do. After a few minutes, Ian came into the living room and motioned at him to follow him. JD got up and went back to Ian’s bedroom, where he closed the door.

“So what’s the deal?” JD asked.

I smiled and said, “Well, given all the shit that has happened, this is very interesting.”

“What?”

“Read this text I got from Andres.” I handed my phone to JD and he started reading.

“Ian, it’s Andres. Sorry about last night. Lots happened. But know it was all Beto’s idea. Hector and I just went along. I only had sex with you because Beto threatened me. And Hector didn’t have any with anyone. We decided to leave and went to get Beto. He was with JD and asked me to bring some water to them. I did and Beto told me to get out. When he went to fuck Carlos, he told me that he had drugged and fucked JD. Hector and I didn’t want anything more to do with it and left. Don’t know what happened after. He was fucking Carlos when we left. Sorry.”

JD finished reading and looked at me. “Do you believe him?”

“No. Well . . . maybe it happened like that or maybe not. But one thing I know. This story is as good as any to give Carlos. Because I really don’t know what happened.”

JD looked scared. “Fuck, don’t tell my dad! He’ll freak!”

I smiled and said, “Don’t worry, JD. I won’t say anything. And I don’t think Carlos will. The main question now is what is Carlos going to do.”

“What do you think he’s going to do?”

“I don’t know. But let’s go see if we can wake him up and see. Especially before Beto wakes up and tries to lie his way out of it.”

 JD and I went back to Carlos’s room and went in. We were surprised to see Carlos sitting up, sheets pulled up, somewhat groggy, holding his phone, and reading a text. Beto was sitting up next to the bed, barely awake, holding his head. He looked like shit.

After he finished reading, Carlos looked at us, an angry look on his face.

“What the fuck, Ian?”

Deputy Mathews was ready for his shift to end.  It had been a long day, starting with a backlog of documents that the Sheriff had left for him to complete from the previous day.  He hated admin work.  “This isn’t the reason I joined the Sheriff’s Office”, he fumed to himself.  Nonetheless he trudged through it.  Just part of the job.  By the time he completed the last report it was almost lunchtime, and then he was scheduled to serve some legal papers.  Sigh.  “Use this frustration as a motivator”, he thought.  “You’re making plans.”  After he completed the “secretary work” (as he called it) he set out for patrol and to wrap up the day.  He was ready for the weekend, and to enjoy some down time.

At twenty-six, he had already changed his career a few times.  In his youth he found religion.  Being from an Irish Catholic family, his early intentions of becoming a priest were all his grandmother wanted to hear.  “My grandson, Brody Michael Mathews…Father Mathews!” she gushed.  How could he deny her that?  So, a few years out of high school he went through the initial steps toward his priestly goal.  However, after only a few months of seminary he found that it just wasn’t going to be the life for him.  His sexual urges were too strong for the whole abstinence thing.  Yeah, no.  It didn’t help either that word got around to his fellow seminarians about what was between his legs.  His 6’3” body was matched by a cock of proportionate size.  The open showers put him on display, so he started washing very early or very late to avoid prying eyes.  If even one of them were remotely attractive he might have made good use of his “blessing”, but there didn’t appear to be any prime beef under any of the other vestments.  Religion aside, he felt that there was no choice but to call it quits and move on. 

What to do after the failed path to priesthood?  He loved to work with his hands.  He took a job in construction for almost a year, before that got old.  He didn’t really see himself swinging a hammer for any length of time.  There was a long (Irish) tradition of police work in his family.  No pressure there.  “What the hell, go for it”, his father told him.  So he signed up for the police academy.

Up to that point he had been self-conscious about his body (feeling too thin), especially with his height.  The physical exam and subsequent test for the application into the academy were the catalysts for him to pursue his fitness goals.  He focused mainly on resistance training on his own time, but got plenty of cardio during the regular training.  By the time he earned his badge he was among the top in the class, and was seeing an increase in muscle mass.  Finally he was getting happy with his body. 

He took a job at the local precinct and was regarded as a good cop, having the respect of his peers and the community.  But after a few years there was something still missing.  He couldn’t put his finger on it.  He just wanted a change.  Maybe he needed to get out of the city and away from his family.  He applied for his current job out in the country (out of state even), away from it all.  The rural setting and the slower pace were nice.  It would do until he could figure what he wanted and not what others expected of him. 

*****************************

There were no calls on that quiet late afternoon.  Nothing.  He decided to save the county a few dollars on gas money, so he pulled into a clearing at the roadside.  Truthfully, he was just tired of driving.   It was one of the spots that were used for radar surveillance; accessible but off the road enough to be hidden from plain view.  The late autumn temps were changing quickly.  During the course of an hour or two the temperature could drop dramatically.  He hadn’t been parked ten minutes before the windows started to fog up.  His first thought was to either open a window or wipe the condensation away, but then he reconsidered.  The extra level of privacy appealed to him. 

He pushed back into his seat and stretched his arms up and back as far as he could, and held the pose for a few seconds.  A good stretch.  When he brought his hands down he rested them on his chest.  His uniform shirt was just tight enough to show off his now well-defined pecs.  He brushed one and then the other nipple with his thumbs.  That’s all it took.  He could feel a stirring between his legs.  Damn, it had been too long.  He hadn’t jerked off in weeks.  Too busy with work and projects at home.  He was most often just too tired to take care of his urges.    

His right hand dropped to his inner thigh and moved up to rub his balls.  He couldn’t see through the windows at this point, but he knew he was alone.  Not the first car had driven by and he would hear someone approach by foot on the gravel.  Should he risk it and undo his belt?  It probably wouldn’t take too long.  He was that horny.  His cock was pressing against the crotch of his pants.  Soon it would be uncomfortable.

Living in the country was great but it offered nothing in the way of opportunities for finding men.  There weren’t any available guys to be found, or at least that he knew of.  Coworkers had tried to fix him up with women and he went along with it a couple of times.  He’d been with women on and off since he had discovered sex, and he even found a girl back home who was open to his occasional need for assplay.  Pegging.  A nice alternative, but (when he needed it) there was nothing like a warm throbbing dick inside.  Being versatile provided the best of both worlds.   He wasn’t ashamed of it, even with his background.  Still, there was no question that he preferred men.  Ass over pussy, hands down.

And now how to handle this hard cock of his?  He leaned back again, grabbed his balls and reached for his belt.  Gotta get some overdue relief. 

Before he could pull the leather out of the buckle he jumped as a call came through about a disturbance at a nearby interstate rest stop.  This was usually State Trooper territory, but the County Sheriff’s Office responded as needed.  “10-4. I’m less than ten minutes away”.  He squirmed in his seat to get a better position.  No good.  He got out of the patrol car and adjusted himself.  The reality of the moment kicked-in and he started to feel his cock shrink.  “Later”, he thought.

He arrived at the rest stop and pulled up to a small group of people on the sidewalk.

“Hello.  Can someone tell me what’s happened?” he asked.

A woman stepped forward.  “Yes officer.  There was some kind of fight.  That trucker over there, and this young man sitting on the bench”.  She pointed to each as she mentioned them. 

“Thank you.  Let’s see if we can figure this out”.  He smiled and nodded as he walked toward the bench.

The seated young man was looking down with his head cloaked in a green hoodie; a backpack at his feet.  “Cutie.  He looks like a teenager”, Brody thought.  As he started to speak to him, the trucker began to approach.  The teen recoiled as the man moved closer. 

“Officer, I’ll tell you-“.   Deputy Mathews put his hand up, to cut him off.

“Sir, if you’ll return to where you were, I’ll be with you in a minute”.

“Oh, okay.  I just wanted to tell you what this kid-“. 

“Sir, please.  Just a minute”.

Clearly agitated, the man stepped back away from them.  It was obvious, though, that he was trying to hear what was being said.

He turned toward the teen.  “Hi, I’m Deputy Mathews.  Do you want to step away and talk?  Tell me what happened?  Maybe we can start with your name.”

Looking at the ground, the teen slowly closed his eyes and tried to respond.  He was clearly upset; very worried, it seemed.  He stood up, opened his eyes and looked at Brody.  There were tears. 

“My name is Nicolo.  Nicolo Vassallo, but I go by Nico.  Yes, can we please move over here?” gesturing to a paved pathway that led away from them.

Brody took stock of him.  Dark curly hair spilling out of his hoodie, olive skin, piercing ice blue eyes.  His lashes were full; the kind most women (and some men) envy.  He was medium height, about 5’9” or so, with a slim build.  Then as Nico began to walk in front of him, Brody noticed the snug jeans.  Okay, nice view for sure.  Yeah, he had a full ass.  Brody’s appreciation of the male form would prove difficult to ignore at the moment.  “Concentrate big boy”, he thought to himself.

Nico stopped when he thought they were out of earshot, and turned back to Brody.  “It’s all my fault”, he said.  “I should have never gotten into his truck”. 

“Ok, back up.  When did you two meet?” Brody asked.

“Earlier today.  I hitched a ride.  I know.  Bad idea.  Lesson learned, for sure.”  Nico looked down and slowly shook his head from side to side.

“Yeah, probably not the best choice, especially these days.  So, what about this fight that I’m hearing about?  How did you get to that point?”  

“It was all going fine.  I was tired of walking and wanted to get away quicker.”

“Get away quicker?”  Brody asked.  “I’m a little confused here.  Get away from him?”

“No, he was my ride.  I left home; trying to get as far away as possible.”  Nico was trying to avoid eye contact, and kept looking down and away from Brody. 

“Wait a minute.  So you’re a runaway?  How old are you?”

“I just turned 19.”

“Ok, legal age, but why are you trying to get away?  Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Can we just talk about this situation with Hank?”

“Who’s Hank?”

“The trucker guy”, Nico replied.  “He was all nice at first.  We met at a stop in Southern Jersey.  I had been walking up to that point.  Walking away from where I live, or where I used to live.  I was getting something to eat and he happened to be at the table next to me.  He started up a conversation and before I knew it he had offered to let me ride with him.  We were both headed south.  Like I said, everything was going great.  We talked a lot on the way down here.  We made it this far to Virginia.  We’re still in Virginia, right?”

“Yes”.  Brody smiled.  “Not too far from North Carolina.”

“We pulled into this empty rest stop and then he acted like he was getting something from under the seat.  Next thing I know he’s got his hand in my crotch and he’s trying to kiss my neck.  I pushed him off and he came at me again.

“Time to pay back the favor”, he says to me.  “I know you want it”, he says.

“He grabbed me and tried to get his hands under my clothes.  I was fighting him back and somehow one of us hit something that made the horn go off.  He jumped back and looked out the window.  At that point there were cars nearby, and people were seeing that something’s going on in the truck.  All of a sudden he opened the door and yells out “Somebody call the cops!  This kid is trying to rob me!””

“What?!” I said to him.  “That’s not true at all!”

“By then there were a few people outside the truck on his side.  He leaned out the window and started telling them his lie again.  I opened the door on my side and started to get out.”

“Oh no you don’t!” he said and tried to grab me, but I was out of reach and out the door.  There was a man there and he stopped me.

“Don’t let him get away!” he yelled.  “He’s a thief!”

“They made me sit down on the bench”, Nico said.  “Then you showed up.  That was fast, by the way.”

Brody noticed that the trucker was headed toward them. 

“Hey, I’ve got a schedule to make and need to get out of here.  You gonna arrest him?” Hank asked, and then leered at Nico.

Brody prided himself on his ability to read people.  He could tell that this guy Hank was up to no good.

“Sir, one second, please”, he said and then looked back at Nico.  Quietly and slowly he said, “Listen, I’m going to escort you to my patrol car.  Please do not resist, or I will have to cuff you.”

“What?!” Nico looked at him, confused.

“Be right back”, Body said to the trucker and they walked away.  As they got to the car, Brody opened the rear door and asked Nico to take a seat and then he shut him in.  Nico looked up at him through the window, still confused and now scared.

Brody approached the trucker.  “Sir, let’s go to your rig.”  As they walked to the truck, Hank proceeded to tell his story about the attempted robbery.

… ”Yeah and I thought I was doing a nice thing, trying to give the kid a lift”, Hank said as he finished up his tale. 

“Sir, can you show me your operator’s license please?”

“Ok, let me get inside” Hank said, and climbed up into the cab.  

Brody followed him closely, and stood just outside the open door.  He noticed family photos attached to the visor at the driver’s seat.  He also saw a pistol mounted inside the cab.  Hank handed him his license.  Brody looked down at it and said, “Sir, I have two very different stories about what happened here.” 

Hank looked down at him.  “I’m telling you, he tried to get away with my wallet.”

“That looks like a nice family you have there”, Brody said and pointed to the photos.

“The way I see it, there are two scenarios that can play out.  We can proceed with an arrest.  You’ll swear that what you say is true, and a possible trial will take place.  Testimony will bring up the question of why someone would try to steal a wallet at a rest stop without any means of escape.  Also the opposing story would be presented about you groping Mr. Vassallo.”

“No, wait.  That’s not what happened!”  Hank’s expression showed that he knew his story was crumbling. 

“Sir, I wonder how your wife and kids would react if it came out.  I don’t think you’d want your family to find out that you’ve been unfaithful and that you might be attracted to young men.”

Hank stared out through the windshield.

“The other way this can play out is that we’ll forget the whole thing.  You can start your truck and go on your way.”

Brody handed him back his license and Hank reached for the door.

“I thought as much.  Drive safely sir.”  Brody turned to walk away and could hear the door close and the engine start behind him. 

“Douchebag”, he said. 

Now back to the runaway hottie with the fantastic ass…

End of Chapter One