Blog

  • Sissy Dad’s Awakening

    A Hot Mess

    My life was literally a hot mess. I had just lost my job, and to make things worse, I suspected my wife was cheating on me. Like, talk about a punch to the gut. And then, she dropped the bombshell – she wanted a divorce and kicked me out of the house. I was left with nowhere to go, feeling like a total loser. So, I swallowed my pride and reached out to my son, hoping he would take me in. I dialed my son’s number with trembling fingers, my heart doing nervous flips as I prayed he’d answer. But when he didn’t pick up the first time, my anxiety spiked. I took a deep breath and tried again, my pulse racing with anticipation. And then, like a miracle, he picked up. His deep, velvety voice sent shivers down my spine as he said, “Hello.” My voice trembled as I stuttered out a greeting, “H-hello, sir… may I please speak to Boland?” The words tumbled out in a nervous rush, my heart skipping a beat as I waited for a response. His response was smooth as silk: “Boland speaking.” But then, he added, “Ma’am, may I know who I’m speaking to?” I was taken aback – not just by the sexiness of his deep voice, but also by the fact that he thought I was a ma’am! I composed myself and said, “Hey Boland, it’s me, Jaques, your dad. How’s my boy doing?” My voice was a little shaky, but I tried to sound casual, hoping to reconnect with my son after all this time. He hesitated for a moment, and then his deep, velvety voice wrapped around me like a warm hug, “Hey Dad, long time no talk! Where have you been? Is everything okay? Whose number is this you’re calling from?” His concerned tone touched my heart, and for a moment, I felt a glimmer of happiness. But my racing heart betrayed the turmoil within me. I was torn, unsure of how to share the painful truth with my son. The burden of my secrets felt crushing, and I was lost in uncertainty.

    I hesitated, taking a deep breath to swallow my pride. “I’m calling from a payphone,” I admitted, my voice laced with vulnerability. “My phone’s been disconnected, but I had your number saved. Listen, Son… nothing’s fine. I need your help. I’m in a tough spot, with nowhere to call my own. Can I stay with you for a day or two?”  My body was shaking like a little girl’s, consumed by anxiety as I wondered what he would say. There was an oppressive silence for what felt like an eternity – at least five Mississippi. My anxiety skyrocketed, prompting me to check, “Son, are you there? Can you hear me? Boland?”

    The silence was broken by his voice, laced with a hint of worry. “Hey, Dad, are you there?” My heart skipped a beat as I eagerly replied, “Ye-yes, I’m here!” He breathed a sigh of relief, his voice filled with warmth. “Oh Dad, I thought I’d lost you for a sec! Of course, you can crash at my place. I’m actually at the airport, heading home. Want me to come scoop you up?” I could not believe what I just heard. Boland asked,”You there?” I managed to stumble out a reply, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies wreaking havoc in my stomach. “Sorry, yeah, I’m here. I’m downtown, near Andrew’s coffee shop. There’s a phone booth… I’m standing in it.” My voice came out a little shaky, but I hoped Boland wouldn’t notice. The sound of his chuckle on the other end of the line made my heart skip another beat. My heart started racing as I heard the tapping noise on the phone, followed by Boland’s excited voice. “Okay, let me check how far it is… umm… oh, it’s actually closer to the airport, like 5-ish minutes away!” He paused for a moment, and I could sense his enthusiasm building up. “Okay, then I’ll see you in 5 minutes!” The line went dead, and I was left standing there, my mind reeling with anticipation. Five minutes? That’s all I had to wait before seeing Boland again? I felt like I was going to burst with excitement! I was both thrilled and terrified to see Boland again after a long time. Would he even recognize me? I had no idea what he looked like now. The excitement was mixed with nervousness, making my bladder feel uncomfortably full. To make matters worse, the cold rain seeped into my bones, leaving me shivering.

    Exactly five minutes later, a Jeep pulled up in front of the phone booth, and the driver’s window rolled down revealing the most breathtaking smile I’d ever laid eyes on – Boland’s. His piercing gaze locked onto mine, and I felt like I was melting into those dreamy eyes. Time seemed to stand still as our eyes met, the world around us fading into the background. The sound of the raindrops pattering against the pavement, the hum of the engine, everything receded, leaving only the two of us, suspended in a moment of pure connection.”Hey, Dad, come on, get in!” he called out. I tried to compose myself, to play it cool, but my body had other plans. My legs felt like jelly, my hands were shaking, and, oh, the mortifying truth – I was desperately trying not to pee my pants. The excitement was building up inside me like a multi-cooker, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep it together. I took a deep breath and made my way to the passenger seat, trying to appear calm, but inside, I was a total mess. As I settled into the passenger seat, our eyes locked in a sizzling stare. I tried to appear nonchalant, but my smile betrayed me, hinting at the turmoil brewing inside. My heart pounded in my chest, my skin tingled with anticipation, and my senses were on high alert. The air was electric with tension as Boland’s gaze roamed over me, his eyes burning with a hunger that left me breathless. I drank in every feature of my son’s face. His razor-sharp jawline, piercing gaze, and radiant smile all combined to create a masterpiece of masculine perfection. As he leaned in for a hug from the driver’s seat, his eyes sparkling with warmth, I felt my heart swell with emotion. “Hey, it’s so nice to see you, Dad,” he said, his voice filled with genuine happiness. “I’m so happy.” I was speechless, my throat choked with feeling, and all I could manage was a simple “Same here.” He gazed at me with those dreamy eyes and I felt a flutter in my chest. “Seatbelt,” he reminded me, his voice low and husky. I blushed like a schoolgirl, startled that I’d forgotten something so basic. “Oh, sorry!” I exclaimed, fumbling for the buckle. With a smooth motion, he shifted into gear, then turned to me with a warm smile. “Let’s go home, Dad.” As I gazed downward, a heartfelt “thank you” escaped my lips. Tears of joy threatened to fall, but I held them back, letting the warmth of the moment wash over me. Beneath the flush of embarrassment, a slow burn of desire ignited within me. A slow burn that spread through my veins. It was a sentiment I hadn’t felt in a long time – a sense of being alive, of being present in this moment. As I gazed downward, a heartfelt “thank you” escaped my lips. Tears of joy threatened to fall, but I held them back, letting the warmth of the moment wash over me. Beneath the flush of embarrassment, a slow burn of desire ignited within me. A slow burn spread through my veins. It was a sentiment I hadn’t felt in a long time—a sense of being alive, of being present in this moment. 

    Boland smiled at me and refocused on the road. I couldn’t believe he was sitting right next to me. I gazed at him, taking in his growth. My boy had become a tall, well-built young man. I was eager to learn more about him. Our past was complicated—his mother had left me shortly after becoming pregnant, and I’d only found out about Boland’s birth two years later. Despite my efforts, she never allowed me to meet him. I made numerous attempts to reconnect with her and meet Boland, but she refused, citing the arrangement we had made earlier. Rain was pounding against the windshield as we drove, and my mind drifted into thoughts and memories of the past.

    An uncomfortable silence hung in the air until Boland spoke up, asking, “Are you hungry? Have you eaten anything?” I hesitated, then replied, my voice choked with emotion, “Ah, mm… yes. No, I haven’t eaten anything. I’m starving. He said, “Oh, poor thing, I’m so sorry.” His expression softened, and he added, “We’re almost home. I’ll make you something to eat while you freshen up.” “What would you like to eat?” he asked. “Do you have any preferences or favorite dishes?” I smiled, feeling grateful. “Hmm, I don’t know, son. Whatever you make for me will be fine.” He smiled and said, “Great! I’ll make some pasta for you.” He was on a vegan diet, and all he had was vegan stuff. “I hope you don’t mind,” he added. I whispered a grateful “thank you; anything will work for me.” I was touched to my core; nobody had ever cooked anything for me. I had tears ready to roll down my cheeks, but before he could see them welling up in my eyes, I quickly turned my face away. I struggled to compose myself.

    We finally arrived at his place, the downpouring rain drumming against the windshield like a relentless heartbeat, casting a mystical gloom over the surroundings. He parked his Jeep in the garage, and with a gentle smile, turned to me and said, “We’re home.” His voice was low and soothing. “Let’s go in,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto mine. He smiled and said, “One minute.” Then, he got out of the car and walked around to my side, opening the door for me. As he opened the door, he offered me his hand. “Let me get you out of the car,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. I slipped my hand into Boland’s large one, feeling a sense of safety and protection, like a princess escorted by her chivalrous knight or a little girl holding her father’s hand. As I stepped down from the car, I gazed up at him in awe – Boland’s towering height was almost intimidating, yet his gentle demeanor put me at ease, making him seem like a gentle giant. As Boland’s powerful arms enveloped me, I felt a jolt of electricity run through my body. My son, my towering giant of a son, held me close, his broad chest a vast expanse that seemed to swallow me whole. I wrapped my slender arms around his muscular torso, feeling tiny and delicate in his grasp. In a burst of excitement, Boland scooped me up in his powerful arms, lifting me off the ground with ease. I felt weightless, like a feather, as he held me close. He nestled his head against my shoulder, and I wrapped my arms around him, feeling his warmth and strength. My feet dangled in the air, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the thrill of being swept off my feet – literally! Our bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces, his strong arms cradling my tiny frame. Inhaling the scent of his cologne and feeling the gentle beat of his pulse, I felt safe for the first time in a long while, and my eyes drifted shut. We froze in a super awkward yet weirdly comfy position. Boland was cradling me like a baby. I mean, it was basically a daddy-and-me moment… except, he’s my son. But try telling my heart that – it was totally swooning over this adorable (and totally not awkward) moment! His warm breath tickled my ear as he whispered, “I missed you, Dad.” My heart skipped a beat at the sweet sentiment. He gently set me down, and I smiled, my voice filled with emotion, “Same here, Son.” With that, he took the lead, guiding me inside, his hand brushing against mine in a tender gesture that left me swooning. His eyes sparkled as he welcomed me into his home. “Welcome to my house, Dad,” he said with a grin. As I stepped inside, my jaw dropped in awe. I stood there, frozen in wonder, my mouth hanging open so wide that, well, let’s just say it was a good thing no one was offering me snacks! “Wow, Son, your place is stunning!” I exclaimed, my eyes scanning the sleek, luxurious space. “I’ve never seen anything so… spotless. You’re definitely a neat freak, huh?” I teased, feeling a surge of pride at how well he’d taken care of himself and his home. My eyes widened in surprise as I asked, “Do you own this place?” Boland’s face lit up with a bright, radiant smile, and his eyes sparkled with pride. He replied, “Do I own it? Um, no. I’ve been given this place in a will by my grandfather, but I’m not the owner yet because my mom owns it. However, I’ve had the freedom to make it my own – I’ve painted the walls myself, and picked out all the furniture.” He gestured around the room, pointing out his favorite pieces. I chuckled and said, “Wow, you’re definitely the rich one, son! This place is amazingly stylish and cozy. You have a great eye for design!” Boland beamed with pride, his face flushing with pleasure, and said “Thanks, Dad!” before suddenly switching gears. Suddenly, he assumed a commanding tone, his words dripping with authority. “Okay, enough chit-chat! You must be exhausted. Take a shower, or do as you please. I’ll prepare the pasta I promised you.” His gaze lingered on mine, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. “Come,” Boland commanded, his voice low and husky, as he grasped my hand in his. His fingers wrapped around mine, exerting a gentle but firm pressure, as he led me up the stairs. 

    We stepped into his room, and I gasped. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before – dark, cozy, and ridiculously exotic. The space was immaculate, every item perfectly in its place. “This is my room,” he said, his voice low and husky. And then, he took me to the bathroom.  I felt like I’d stepped into a dream. The floor was black, and the whole space was shrouded in a mysterious darkness. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I’d only seen places like this in magazines and booklets. Was I really here, or was this some kind of crazy fantasy? I snapped back to reality, my eyes wide with wonder. “Wow, Son, your place is so amazing!” I exclaimed, feeling a little out of my league. “This is too fancy for me.” Boland’s face lit up with a warm smile. “Aw, Dad, you’re with your son now, so just relax and enjoy, okay? Don’t worry about anything.” I nodded, my eyes cast downward, my heart skipping a beat at the gentle concern in his voice. “Okay,” I whispered, my gaze fixed on the floor. Boland’s smile grew wider as he said, “Let me find some clothes that’ll fit you, Dad.” He turned to leave, but not before his eyes crinkled at the corners, filling my heart with warmth. “I’ll be right back,” he called out, disappearing into the depths of his room, leaving me feeling grateful and a little awestruck. 

    As I stood there, surrounded by the cozy silence of Boland’s room, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d somehow stumbled into a dream world. Everything felt so surreal, yet utterly real. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I had a roof over my head, a sense of safety and belonging. No one was yelling at me, no harsh words piercing my heart. And the silence… It was almost deafening. No train noise, no cacophony of city sounds, just an eerie stillness that wrapped itself around me like a warm hug. The soft knock at the door broke the silence, and I swiftly rose to answer it. As I swung open the door, Boland stood before me, a towel draped over his arm. His eyes met mine, and he offered the towel with a gentle smile. “I’m afraid I don’t have clothes that could fit you, but I have a T-shirt that’s too small for me,” he said, his voice low and considerate. “It’ll likely be too big for you, but it’ll have to do for now. Will you be okay with that?” I felt a surge of gratitude at his thoughtfulness, and I replied, my voice filled with emotion, “Oh, of course, Son. I’ll wear anything you have. It’s perfect.” With a gentle nod, Boland instructed, “Freshen up and get dressed. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs.” And with that, he departed, leaving me alone with my thoughts in the bathroom. A soft smile spread across my face as I reflected on my immense fortune in having a son as thoughtful and considerate as Boland. My gaze fell upon the extra toothbrush he had thoughtfully provided, and I used it to brush my teeth, feeling a sense of gratitude. As I undressed and stepped into the warm shower, the hot water enveloped me, soothing my weary muscles. I stood there, mesmerized by the sensation, and lost track of time, the warmth seeping deep into my bones as the minutes ticked by, a blissful 20 minutes slipping away like sand between my fingers. As I emerged from the shower, I wrapped myself in the expansive towel Boland had provided, its generous size a fitting reflection of my son’s own stature. Not surprised, I smiled to myself, drying my hair before stepping out of the bathroom. My gaze fell upon the bed, where a black T-shirt lay draped, the bold quote “Big Dick Energy” emblazoned across it. Boland’s voice echoed in my mind, and I felt a flutter in my chest as I reached for the shirt, the soft fabric a sensual whisper against my skin. I was totally freaking out – I had no underwear, and I had no idea what to do! But then I figured, why not? I slipped it on, standing in front of the mirror, and oh. my. gosh. It was HUGE! The hem hit me just below the knees, and I felt like I was swimming in it. I couldn’t help but laugh – this tee was seriously massive! Like, I could’ve fit two of me inside it, easy! As I slipped on the T-shirt, its soft fabric caressing my skin, I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of vulnerability. With nothing beneath, I felt exposed, yet somehow liberated. I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the awkwardness. As I headed downstairs, I wrapped the towel around my head, drying my damp hair. It was a pretty messy look, but I didn’t really care – I was too busy wondering what Boland would think when he saw me like this! 

    As I descended the stairs, the scent of sizzling food wafted from the kitchen, where Boland was busy cooking up a storm. His eyes met mine, and a warm smile spread across his face. “All freshened up?” he asked, his voice low and husky. “How are you feeling?” I let out a contented sigh, feeling a little shy in his oversized T-shirt. “Huh, fresh and relaxed,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the butterflies in my stomach. Boland’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he fought to contain a grin. “Good,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I see the T-shirt is fitting perfectly… not big at all,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mirth. I blushed, but couldn’t help giggling at his playful jab. My cheeks flushed as I protested, “Oh, come on!” But Boland just chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. Desperate to shift the attention away from my embarrassing T-shirt, I said, “The food smells amazing, son!” Boland’s grin softened, and he replied, “Thanks, it’s almost ready. You get to be the taste tester!” I walked closer, my stomach growling with anticipation, and stood beside him. He held a spoon in his hand, the pasta sauce glistening in the light, and brought it closer to my mouth. His eyes locked onto mine, a playful glint dancing in their depths, as he asked, “Do you want me to feed you, Dad?” I nodded, my heart skipping a beat at the intimate gesture, and said, “Sure.” He gently placed the spoon in my mouth, the flavors exploding on my tongue. I closed my eyes, savoring the taste, and murmured, “Yum, it’s perfect.” My stomach growled louder, and I added, “I’m so hungry!” His eyes sparkled as he added, “And I’ve also cooked some sausages – hope you like them!” I raised an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of me. “But I thought you never liked meat or meat-based foods growing up?” I asked, my voice tinged with surprise. Boland’s expression turned sheepish, and he chuckled. “You’re right, I didn’t… and I still don’t,” he admitted, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I laughed, feeling a warmth spread through my chest at his candidness. “So, why the sausages?” I teased, my voice playful. My curiosity got the better of me. Boland’s eyes met mine, and a soft smile spreading across his face. “These sausages are vegan, I am vegan” he replied, his voice gentle. I felt a surge of admiration for him, impressed by his commitment to his values. Boland’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he said, “I only have vegan sausages, but if you’d prefer, I can grab some meat-based ones for you tomorrow.” His voice was thoughtful, considerate. Then, a sly grin spread across his face, and he added, “But I think you’ll find mine pretty irresistible. Its bigger than usual, juicier too, and packed with protein.” The way he emphasized the qualities of his sausages made me laugh, and I felt a flutter in my chest at the playful glint in his eye. I teased, a playful smile spreading across my face. “Of course, son, I’ll adore you and I will like ‘sausage’.” The air was charged with a flirtatious energy, and I felt my heart skip a beat as our gazes met. Boland refocused on his cooking, the sizzle and crackle of the pan filling the air as he expertly finished preparing our meal. I wandered around the house, taking in the cozy decor and admiring the warm touches that made the space feel inviting. But despite my efforts to distract myself, I couldn’t shake the awareness of the oversized T-shirt clinging to my skin, the lack of underwear beneath it making me feel unexpectedly vulnerable. I bit my lip, hesitant to mention my discomfort, and continued my exploration of the house, trying to focus on anything but the awkwardness. Boland’s voice cut through the air, his tone tinged with amusement. “Before you get lost in there, Dad, the food is ready!” I turned to face him. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, and a warm smile spreading across his face as he watched me. The way he was looking at me made me feel like he could see right through me, and I couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d been standing there, observing me. “Shall we?” I asked, my voice laced with anticipation. Boland’s eyes sparkled with warmth as he replied, “Yup, come on, let’s eat. I’m hungry, and I know you’re starving.” His words were infused with a gentle teasing, and I couldn’t help but smile as I followed him to the table. The air was filled with the savory scents of the meal, and my stomach growled in response. Boland set a steaming plate in front of me, and my eyes widened as I took in the sight of perfectly cooked tangled pasta with big juicy sausage. The aroma wafting up was incredible, and my stomach growled in anticipation. I glanced up to see Boland grinning at me, his own plate loaded with three sausages, and I couldn’t help but tease, “Someone’s hungry!” As Boland’s hand reached out for mine, I felt a shiver run down my spine. His eyes locked onto mine, sparkling with a mischievous glint that left me breathless. I couldn’t resist the invitation, and my hand slipped into his, our palms touching in a gentle caress. “Thanks for coming, Dad,” he whispered, his voice husky and low, sending a thrill through me. “I hope you… enjoy dinner… and my ‘sausage’.” The way he emphasized the last word made my heart skip a beat again, and I felt my face flush with a warm blush. My face ignited into a fiery blush, and I hastily covered it with my free hand, mortified. Boland’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he took in my pink-cheeked, shy demeanor. “Oh, come on!” he teased, chuckling softly. “I’m just kidding,Dad!” He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, his touch sending a flutter through me. “I hope I’m allowed a little teasing after all these years apart.” His words were laced with a playful affection. Before I knew it, I was laughing out loud, my eyes shining with mirth. Boland’s face lit up with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he joined in, our laughter intertwining in a joyful, infectious melody. As we dug in, the flavors exploded on my taste buds, and I was in culinary heaven. The food was absolute perfection, and I found myself shoveling bite after bite into my mouth, unable to get enough. My eyes met Boland’s, and he chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Slow down, Dad!” he teased, his voice warm with laughter. But I just couldn’t help myself – the food was that incredible! I set my fork down, my fingers wrapping around the juicy sausage on my plate. Just as I was about to take a bite, my gaze drifted to Boland, who was carefully slicing into the sausage in his plate with a fork and knife. Our eyes met, and he raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “No utensils?” he teased, his voice low and playful and said, “Make sure not to choke on it, Dad.” His voice was laced with a playful concern, but his gaze held a hint of teasing mischief. I felt a shiver run down my spine as our eyes locked, the air between us charged with a flirtatious tension. With a sassy smirk, I locked eyes with him and took a bold bite of the sausage, tearing into it with my teeth. “Oh yeah, I think I can handle this big sausage of yours,” I said, my voice dripping with confidence and a hint of playful seduction. In a surprising turn of events, I choked on the massive sausage, just as he had predicted! He burst out laughing, but his concern for me was clear as he gently patted my back. “I knew you couldn’t handle that big of a sausage!” he teased, still chuckling. After handing me a glass of water, he watched with amusement as I sipped it, my coughing gradually subsiding. Once I’d calmed down a bit, he asked, his voice laced with affection, “You okay, Dad? Better?” “Alright, alright! I think we’ve had enough sausage-induced chaos for one day,” I said with a laugh. “Let’s just focus on eating… and not choking!” He nodded in agreement and settled back into his chair, a comfortable silence falling between us as we focused on finishing our meal. The only sound was the clinking of utensils on plates. Once I’d finished my meal, I broke the silence, my voice barely above a whisper. “Hey, son… Thank you for having me over and letting me stay. It really means a lot to me.” My words hung in the air, sincere and heartfelt, as I gazed at him with gratitude. 

    He set his utensils down, his eyes locking onto mine with a curious intensity. “Of course, Dad… You can tell me it’s none of my business, but… what’s really going on in your life? You said on the phone that ‘nothing’s good’… what’s going on, Dad? Is everything okay? You can tell me, I’m listening.” His voice was soft and gentle, inviting me to open up to him. I hesitated, torn between the desire to confide in my son and the fear of being judged or disappointing him. He was the first person to genuinely ask me to open up, and I appreciated his sincerity. But at the same time, I worried that sharing my struggles with him would make him think less of me, that he would see me as a failure or a “loser.” I looked at him, searching for reassurance, and saw only kindness and concern in his eyes. “Dad, are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. 

    I took a deep breath and let it all out. “Son, life’s been a real struggle lately. It’s like everything’s been turned upside down. I lost my job due to the recession, and I’ve been searching for a new one for six months, but nothing’s panned out. And to make matters worse, my wife… she’s been cheating on me. I just found out, but I’ve had my suspicions for a while. She’s been pretty open about it, too, making sure I know what’s going on. She intentionally keeps the bedroom open when having sex with the other man, It’s been humiliating. We got into a fight about it, and she said some pretty hurtful things. She told me I’m not a real man, that I’m not capable of providing for her or anyone else. She even said she only married me because she thought I’d get some kind of payout from a pregnancy agreement, but that never happened.” I felt a lump form in my throat as I looked at my son, hoping he wouldn’t think less of me. I took a deep breath, the pain and humiliation still fresh in my mind. “It happened last week, son. We had another argument, and she told me she was sick of me, that she wanted a divorce. I tried to calm her down, but her boyfriend… he wasn’t having it. He forced me to sign the divorce papers, and I had no choice but to comply. Then, he kicked me out of my own home. I begged them to reconsider, but they just shut the door on me. I was left with nothing, son. No home, no family, no direction. I was like a lost soul, wandering the city with no place to call my own. Until I realized I had one last option: reaching out to you. I’m sorry, son. I’m sorry to burden you with all this, but I had nowhere else to turn.” Tears streamed down my face as I whispered, “I’m so sorry, son. I feel like a complete failure… a total loser… a weak figure. I never wanted you to see me like this.” My body shook with sobs, but then I felt his gentle hands on my back, patting me reassuringly. His touch was warm and comforting, and it only made me cry harder. But this time, it wasn’t just sorrow; it was also gratitude for my son’s kindness and compassion. He looked at me with empathy and understanding, his voice gentle but firm. “Dad, you’re not weak. You’re strong. It takes a lot of courage to reach out for help, especially in a situation like this. You had to swallow your pride to come to me, and that’s not easy. That takes strength, Dad. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” His words were a balm to my soul, soothing my wounded pride and lifting my spirits. “And, Dad, if this makes you feel any better, you’re not going anywhere. You’ve got a place to stay here with me until you get back on your feet. We’ll figure things out together, okay?” His words wrapped around me like a warm hug, filling me with gratitude and relief. I said thank you son. I whispered, “Thank you, son,” my voice shaking with emotion. I wiped away my tears, feeling a sense of relief wash over me, knowing that I had my son’s support and love. With a warm smile still on his face, he turned his attention back to his plate and finished his meal, the silence between us now comfortable and reassuring. 

    As he finished eating, I tried standing up, but my thighs stuck to the chair, reminding me I was only wearing a big T-shirt and no underwear. I felt a surge of embarrassment as I stood up, acutely aware of my exposed lower body, the fabric of the big T-shirt offering little coverage. I brushed off my embarrassment and asked Boland, “Can I take your plate and utensils?” He looked at me with surprise and said, “Sure!” I carefully took his plate and utensils and stacked them on top of mine. My hair had dried enough, so I removed the towel, relieved to lighten the weight on my head. I let my hair cascade down to my shoulders, and Boland’s eyes widened in amazement. I asked, “What’s wrong, son?” He replied, “You have such long and beautiful hair.” I smiled, “Yeah, they are kind of long. I’ve always loved long hair, and I’ve had it for as long as I can remember.” He smiled and said, “Cute.”

    I headed to wash the stacked plates and utensils, but to my surprise, I realized that everything seemed higher. I began washing the dishes, but it was uncomfortable, and I struggled to reach. Just then, Boland placed a standing stool behind me and gently lifted me up, setting me down on the stool, allowing me to stand and wash the dishes more comfortably. Boland said, “Thanks for doing the dishes, Dad.” I smiled and replied, “Oh, no, thanks to you, son! You cooked a delicious dinner all by yourself, so the least I could do is help with the cleanup.” I finished washing all the dishes and did my best to clean the kitchen, and with that, everything was done. As I scrubbed the last remnants of dinner from the counter, I sensed a presence behind me.

    I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Boland – the way my heart skipped a beat gave me away. I heard his footsteps, his voice filled with genuine surprise and gratitude. “Oh my god, Dad… you cleaned the kitchen too… thank you!” He took a step closer, his voice dripping with sincerity. “I was going to do it. Thank you so much! You’re such a doll, Dad.” I felt a flutter in my chest, his words warming my heart. Still facing the counter, I replied, trying to sound nonchalant, “Of course, son! I told you I wanted to help. That’s what dads are for, right?” Little did he know, his words had just made this dad’s heart melt. As I turned around, my eyes were immediately drawn to a chiseled, bare chest, with well-defined pectorals that seemed to be staring me right in the face. Boland was standing incredibly close, his proximity making it impossible for me to take in anything else – my gaze was transfixed on his rippling abs and broad, powerful chest. Boland’s imposing physique was awe-inspiring, his bare chest and chiseled abs making him resemble the Incredible Hulk – powerful, muscular, and seemingly unstoppable. Boland’s voice was filled with affection as he said, “Aww, come here, my little dad, you’re such a sweetie.” Before I knew it, he had scooped me up, lifting me off the ground by my armpits, and wrapped me in a warm, gentle hug. His words were muffled against my shoulder, but I could make out the sincerity in his voice as he whispered, “I’m so happy to have you… thank you.” As Boland held me close, I felt a sudden rush of cool air on my skin, and my heart sank as I realized my butt was exposed. The intimate contact of my genitals against his warm skin sent a jolt of embarrassment through me, and mortification washed over me like a wave. I closed my eyes tightly, hoping against hope that Boland wouldn’t notice my compromising position. My face burned with embarrassment, and I held my breath, praying he wouldn’t comment on the awkwardness. I was being held like a baby, with one hand wrapped around my lower back and the other cradling my head, leaving me feeling vulnerable and utterly helpless. Boland gently set me back down on the ground, and as he walked away, he called out over his shoulder, “Okay, tell me, where do you want to sleep?” I stood there, frozen in place, my mind reeling as I struggled to process the whirlwind of emotions and sensations that had just overwhelmed me. The intensity of the moment had left me breathless, and I couldn’t even begin to think about answering Boland’s question. Boland turned around, and asked, “Dad? Dad? Hey? Are you listening to me?” His voice was laced with a playful teasing tone. I shook my head, trying to clear the haze, and replied, “Yes, yes, I’m listening… umm, what did you ask me?” I felt a flush rise to my cheeks as I realized I had spaced out, and Boland’s amused expression told me he knew exactly what had happened. Boland’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as he asked again, “Where do you want to sleep? Do you want to sleep in the living room or… do you want to share my bed with me?” His voice was low and gentle. I smiled warmly, trying to reassure him, and said, “Son, I’ve bothered you enough already. I’d be happy to sleep in the living room, please.” His expression softened, and he asked, his voice tinged with concern, “Are you sure, Dad?” I nodded my head, and with a gentle smile, I replied, “Yes.” He nodded understandingly and said, “Okay, give me a minute and I’ll bring you a comforter and some sheets.” I settled into the plush couch in the living room, its expansive size promising a comfortable night’s sleep. As I waited for Boland to return with the beddings, I took a moment to collect my thoughts and process the events of the evening. The soft glow of the room’s lamps cast a warm ambiance, and I felt a sense of gratitude toward Boland for his kindness. Boland returned with the bedding and helped me set up the couch, his thoughtful gestures making me feel grateful. As I settled in, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of shyness, aware that my lower body was partially exposed. To avoid any awkwardness, I told Boland, “I’ll sleep in a bit, son. You go ahead and get some rest.” I hoped he would go to his room, allowing me to relax and eventually drift off to sleep without feeling self-conscious. His eyes locked onto mine, filled with a deep affection, as he whispered, “Okay, Dad, if you need anything, just call out.” He paused, his voice low and husky, “I have gym at 5 am and work at 9 am, so just in case we don’t see each other in the morning, I’ll catch you in the evening.” With that, he leaned in and gently kissed my forehead like a daddy kisses his little daughter. As the door closed behind him, I was enveloped in a soothing silence. My mind began to wander, replaying the events of the evening and reflecting on the twists and turns of my life. A sense of gratitude washed over me as I thought about the simple yet profound pleasures I had experienced tonight. My eyes welled up with happy tears as I gazed into the darkness, my heart overflowing with emotion. Tonight, I’d been given a precious gift – the warmth of a home, the comfort of a full stomach, and, most of all, the love of the one person who made my world spin: Boland. His presence was like a beacon of hope, illuminating the darkest corners of my soul and reminding me that I was never truly alone. Time stood still as I lay there, lost in thought, my mind consumed by visions of Boland’s bright smile and gentle nature. My heart swelled with pride and gratitude, thinking about how lucky I was to have him as my son. His kind and caring demeanor was a balm to my soul, and I felt so thankful to have him in my life. With a contented sigh, I clicked off the lights, plunging the room into a cozy darkness. I snuggled deeper into the comforter, feeling its softness envelop me like a warm hug. As I drifted off to sleep, I felt my worries and cares melting away, replaced by a sense of peace and tranquility. The last thing I remembered was the gentle weight of the comforter and the soothing silence of the night, before I slipped into a deep and restful sleep.

  • Celtic Knot

    The Ones that Survived

    (Sintra, Portugal, Present day.)

    A figure concealed by a heavy black hooded cloak entered through the half-closed doors of the ancient library. The rustling of the heavy cloth on the stone floor broke the silence of the place as he crossed the path he had traveled countless times before. The smell of old books and old wooden shelves was still the same as in his childhood. He had fled, all his adolescence, from this place, where the memories were too strong to be dispelled by a single thought.

    He walked slowly to the pulpit, which stood in front of a huge stained-glass window depicting the Triple Goddess, right in front of the library’s main door. A sad smile came to his lips as his eyes found the old family book. He remembered the hours spent reading and re-reading the words in it, listening to the old voices whispering from far away. He could still feel the tingling that the energy contained in those pages transmitted. With a sigh, he wiped away the tears that insisted on appearing and burning his eyes.

    From the side of his gaze, he could make out a small shadow moving gently in the far corner of the room. It was a small figure, so familiar and so sweet that it gave him the calm he needed for what had to be done next.

    “Hello, little Quiron!” he said in a calm tone. “It’s been a long time… too long since I’ve seen you.”

    He ran a hand over the animal’s head and back, which purred at the display of affection.

    The animal lounged among the old wooden shelves. Much larger than a domestic cat, the black creature fixed its emerald green eyes on the hooded figure in front of the pulpit.

    “Hello, Little Master,” said the creature in a voice that was audible only to him. “I knew that one day you would return to your place.”

    Uncovering its head, the figure let the light coming through the stained-glass window bathe the thick golden curly hair that framed its face. His honey-colored eyes looked at the animal in assent.

    Taliesin was 23 years old and 5.90 ft tall. He was athletic due to his intense swimming and CrossFit training, without being overly muscular. In fact, looking at his body was like seeing Alex Pettyfer at the age of 20 with perfect pectorals muscles and abs. A light golden fur covered his chest going all the way down to a treasure trail. His voice was melodious yet carried a depth and wisdom that went far beyond his tender years.

    “I’ve been away too long. But the blood and duty called me home. It remains to be seen whether I have the necessary knowledge to answer the call.” he replied sadly.

    “But, little master, you’ve always been here, even though far away. You never left your home, your roots. These are the walls that saw you born. They are your strength and your refuge.” The figure rubbing against his legs spoke in the same secret voice. “Your life will always be protected inside this house.”

    Looking at the small animal and then at the pages of the book, he read in golden letters his name on his family tree.

    “Yes, Quiron… I will always be Taliesin to the others… But in this house, under these roofs, I am something else. I am the Guardian. “

    But Taliesin was more than that. He was one of the last descendants of the ancient witches of Zugarramurdi. The witches who were killed and burned in caves by the bonfires of the Inquisition. After all, all the witches and wizards were the grandchildren of those who managed to escape. Their family tree stretched back to the ancient Druids of the islands of Brittany.

    Ever since his grandmother anointed him as the future Guardian, still in his crib, Taliesin was trained to take over her. His birth was prophesied long before he was born, weighing heavily on his shoulders. Too much responsibility for such a young kid.

    He looked again at the small animal and the heavy ancient book, which was now wrapped in a different glow, as if it were rejuvenating itself. He could feel the pulse of energy returning to that place, at the same time being filled and becoming one with the house. He began to leaf through the pages.

    Centuries of knowledge, conjures, magic formulas and sacred geometry. Various areas of magical knowledge. Yet the pages showed no signs of wear. As if they had just been written.

    “What do you want from me?” he said, looking at the book. “What threatens this house and this family?”

    The words came out no more than a whisper as if there was no one tangible to answer them. He looked at the animal, which was waiting for the young Master’s next actions.

    “Hum… I feel lost, my Quiron! My mother would have known what to do immediately. My father would have conjured up half a dozen spells by now to figure out what’s going on. But I’m not them. Not anymore.” he said with a dejected tone.

    A whistling wind echoed through the corridors of the library. In a passageway to his left, a small curtain fluttered down, showing an ajar window through which the night air poured in. The wind itself was charged with a foreboding that made him uncomfortable. His insides revolted at the energy he felt.

    “Come on, Quiron! We have things to do, people to talk to.” he said as he closed the heavy book and resealed it.

    “Yes, Guardian. There’s a lot to do and not much time to do it in.” replied the animal.

    Taliesin could sense the urgency in his familiar voice that urged him to move, to return to the old traditions. He had to leave his fears and insecurities behind. There was work to be done. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the energy of the place and allowing it to flow through him.

    In an almost hidden corner, a door began to be drawn in golden lines. First, they appeared faintly, like filaments of light on a mirrored surface. Then, they became progressively sharper, more charged.

    Moments later, the door was fully visible. An ancient arched door with inscriptions in Latin and Greek. In its contours it was possible to see ivy and rose bushes.

    Raising his hands as he had done so many times in the past, Taliesin chanted the old words he had been taught as a child.

    Per Deam et Per Deum, Portam aperti ad Hortum Sacrum.” he said melodically as he raised his hands to the strange door.

    A golden glow danced between his fingers as the door shone brighter. The heavy wooden doors open themselves without anyone touching them. Beyond the doorframe, a garden filled with soft sunlight stretched to the horizon without anything else obstructing his view. From there came a fresh breeze with the scent of pine and flowers. It was like another country or world.

    “We have to go, Quiron!” he said with a sigh. “Summerland awaits and whatever is threatening the family needs to be found and controlled.”

    Taliesin stepped through the door and the air became sweet. The scents of flowers and herbs invaded his senses. The garden itself was unchanged, untouched. It was exactly as it had been 15 years ago.

    “Premises of magic.” thought Taliesin with a smile as he walked with determined steps to the ancient stone table in the center of the garden.

    The ancient space was a mishmash of different plant species. Such a mixture that it didn’t make sense for them to exist side by side. There were large desert cacti next to white poplars, huge fields of violets flanked by desert roses. And all of them perfect, without a blemish or sign of being out of place.

    Among this unreal carpet of plants and species so different from each other, a small path of fine and perfectly white sand stretched from the door that hung in the air to the clearing centered by the stone table.

    The copper color of the table contrasted with the two large trees that covered it. A huge Celtic oak with its typical autumn colors and a willow tree with its verdant foliage and drooping branches served as a natural cover for the table, casting a soft, sweet shadow over it.

    “The Great Goddess and The Great God. Side by side… the two faces of Magic. The duality in every human being.” thought Taliesin as he stopped at the edge of the trees.

    Quiron followed in front of him in an undulating movement typical of felines, stopping in front of the large table and tapping the ground with his front paws. From the center of the table, a small ball of golden light appeared, redoubling and growing as it enveloped the entire area.

    “BY THE AIR THAT IS THE BREATH OF THE GODDESS. BY THE FIRE THAT IS HER SPIRIT. BY THE WATER THAT IS HER WOMB AND BY THE EARTH THAT IS HER BODY. The circle is cast and never broken,” said Taliesin, raising his hands to the heavens and feeling the energy circle around him.

    Quiron remained motionless as the sphere of energy swirled around the central table. As they watched, images began to appear inside the sphere.

    Figures appeared, people from their past. A succession of images were unfolding and revealing themselves before their eyes.

    “Quiron! This can’t be. Please tell me I won’t need HIM again,” said Taliesin with a sigh.

    The figure that appeared in the ball of energy was familiar. Too familiar and equally painful for Taliesin.

    The animal began to prowl around the table, changing. As it walked, its figure transformed, taking on its true identity, growing to a height of 5.5 ft tall. In front of Taliesin now stood a young man, who looked no older than 18. His long hair fell down his back in black curls. His skin was white, as pale as the light of the full moon. But his eyes retained the green color typical of his feline appearance.

    He was naked, as if that nakedness was the most natural thing that existed. With the exception of his full head of hair, his eyebrows and his long black eyelashes, his entire body was devoid of any hair.

    “Yes, little Master! He really must come!” said Quiron in his almost human voice.

    Quiron’s voice was sweet, melodic. As if a man and a woman were speaking at the same time.

    Not even the figure of his familiar spirit dispelled Taliesin’s despair. He felt his heart beating faster. His hands began to sweat and his breathing became faster and shallower.

    “Cian… I’ll have to call him then. And try not to finish him off as soon as I have him in front of me!” he said with a mixed tone of sadness and anger in his voice.

    Walking over to the table, the young man concentrated on the ball of energy that was still redoubling. He felt the energy grow inside his chest and he breathed it out in the form of words that came out of his mouth like golden dust.

    Per tempus et spatium voco et clamo ad te. Cian me audit et ad vocationem meam venit!” said Taliesin blowing into his open hands.

    A small whirlwind of energy appeared on the stone table and then flew away. Shortly afterwards, Taliesin heard a deep voice behind him.

    Ad vocationem vestram, respondeo!” the voice said. The ancient greeting given when a wizard is magically summoned by his Priest.

    It was Cian. 24 years old, dark tan, tall and with a timeless charm. There was a mischievous sparkle in his blue eyes. His long light brown hair was tied up in a man bun. Taller than Taliesin, at 6.39 ft tall, Cian managed to make everyone look at him as soon as he entered a place. The perfect mix of sensuality and arrogance. His body looked like Hugh Jackman one. Every single ripped muscle. Cian was handsome and he knew it. Being a regular bodybuilder also helped him catch glances wherever he went.

    He looked at Taliesin with a curious glint in his blue eyes and then at the slender figure of the familiar spirit perched on the stone table.

    “My, my! Look at what the cat dragged out!” said Cian in an ironic tone, smiling defiantly at Quiron.

    The young Quiron growled low, making his nails grow like claws.

    “Careful, Cian! Don’t forget where you are, who I am and your position here.” replied Quiron.

    “Of course…of course! But I’m more interested in him. And what the fuck he’s in for calling me.” he said, pointing at Taliesin.

    “Believe me. If it were up to me, I’d never look at your fucking face again, you fucking traitor!” snapped Taliesin, squinting his eyes. “But the Great Goddess, in her infinite wisdom, has other plans for you and me.”

    Cian’s defiant smile disappeared.

    “The Great Goddess called me back? Why?” asked Cian with a mixture of curiosity and fear in his eyes.

    “I’ve been called back home. Here, in Summerland, I summoned the Sphere of Destiny. And you appear!” he said, staring at him. “I don’t know what’s going on, what’s threatening the family, but as much as it pains me, I have to join forces with you.”

    As he approached Cian, Taliesin could smell him. The mixture of musk and sea water. The warmth that radiated from his skin was still disconcerting to him.

    Inside him, he felt a mixture of hatred and something else grow… perhaps even love. But how could he still feel love for someone who had hurt him so much?

    Cian approached Taliesin too. Inside him, old feelings surfaced. The memories of kisses, of touches. The words whispered between their two mouths. The feel of Taliesin’s body on his.

    “I missed you,” said Cian almost in a whisper. “You still smell like flowers and pine.”

    “Stop it! Don’t even start. I know you too well to know those little tricks of yours by heart.” said Taliesin, trying to control the emotion in his voice and evoking an incantation of “Majesty”, making him seem unattainable and bigger than he really was.

    “Ah! Come on! Don’t start with little incantations that I know too.” said Cian with a smile, as he ran a hand over the back of his neck. “You’ve just reminded me of your father. He was scary when he invoked the majesty of the Goddess.”

    Taliesin felt a flush cover his cheeks, making him turn his back on his former boyfriend.

    “Fuck you!” he snapped in a bitter tone as he headed for the stone table.

    How could his body still react so viscerally to the other man’s presence? Even after everything they had experienced.

    Cian’s betrayal was still alive in his mind, with the memories of that day coming back like a wave sweeping through his senses.

    He could vividly remember coming home after a day’s study, tired and in need of affection, and hearing, coming from the room they shared, the moans of pleasure that cut through the night. In their bed, Cian was furiously penetrating another man. The two bodies joined together, undulating in a sexual frenzy. Cian’s long hair was stuck to his face and body by the moisture that covered his skin.

    The smell of sweat and sex dominated the place. Above all, his scent of musk and sea water. Cian’s ecstatic expression as he unloaded his semen inside the other boy. His clenched eyes and half-open mouth swollen from the kisses they should have exchanged.

    And what tore his heart and soul in two. The look of defiance that the passive threw at him when he discovered him standing in the doorway. Just like he remembered the look of pain on Cian’s face when he saw him witness the betrayal first hand.

    Taliesin shook off the memory that assailed his mind, turning to Cian.

    “You killed everything I gave you that night. You killed the best I had in me. And now you’re here. By some strange stroke of fate, you’re here.” he said, as tears stubbornly ran out of his eyes. “And you talk to me as if your actions haven’t caused any damage. As if they haven’t changed anything between us.”

    “I…” began Cian, lowering his gaze to the floor.

    “Forget it. You’ve said everything there is to say. You’ve given every excuse there was to give.” said Taliesin, trying to keep his composure. “I thought that after I kicked you out of the house, I’d never see you again. Yet, here you are! But who am I to go against Her Holy Will. Fucking irony.”

    Cian walked slowly over to the young man in front of him, pulling him against his chest. Taliesin’s mind was screaming at him to move away, but his body wouldn’t obey, and, after a long time, he let the tears that were stubbornly coming to the surface fall again.

    “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I don’t deserve you! You were always the best one of both of us!” he whispered in Taliesin’s ear. “But I’ve never forgotten you. I’ve never forgotten the shit I did that took the best thing I’ve ever had in my life away from me. I’ve been wandering around, not knowing what the fuck direction to take. That night I lost my compass. Because of one fuck, I ruined my life.”

    “You didn’t just ruin your life, Cian! You ruined my dreams. You managed to ruin everything I had planned for us, in one fell swoop. You ruined my life too.” said Taliesin, leaning his head on the hunks shoulder.

    Quiron watched the scene from afar. His green eyes shone with hidden knowledge. In truth, the small young man hid more truths within him than he showed.

    “Little Master! Don’t doubt again. The your Mother is never wrong!” he said in his melodious voice.

    Taliesin looked at the young spirit who radiated a soft, tender light. His whole body glowed as if embedded with thousands of tiny crystals.

    “I know I shouldn’t doubt it! I am a High Priest of the Great Goddess. An anointed of Ancestral Magic. Guardian of the Raven Clan. I know that She, Who is Three in One, is never wrong,” he said in a whisper. “But, Quiron, how can I not doubt? I’m human! And it still hurts so much.”

    His voice was broken by a sob that cut off his speech. On the one hand, he wanted to get away from that body he knew like a map. But on the other, his heart cried out for Cian.

    “Little Bird… Forgive me! Without you I was like a ship adrift on the high seas!” said Cian, looking into Taliesin’s tear-stained eyes. “Choose my punishment, condemn me to the harshest of sentences and I’ll run to fulfill it. I’ll do it now, if it means staying with you again.”

    The young Guardian nestled his face into the stud’s strong chest as he listened to him use his nickname. The same one he used so often when they were together. He inhaled its scent, letting his mind wander back to happier, simpler times.

    Then, as he had done so many times before, as if time and space had not separated them, as if his actions had not driven a dagger of pain into Taliesin’s chest, Cian held his chin and turned his face towards him.

    He gazed longingly into those honey-colored eyes. The same eyes that had once looked at him with devotion. At his marked, masculine features. At his jawline, finally stopping at Taliesin’s plump, half-open lips. Those lips that had been his madness. Without a second thought, he leaned in, letting his lips gently touch Taliesin’s mouth.

    The touch was soft, light. Like the wings of a butterfly brushing against the boy’s mouth.

    Taliesin was overcome by feelings. Something he had tried for two years to hide and bury inside him made its way into his chest. He opened his mouth to the kiss that was forming, allowing Cian’s tongue to lap at every nook and cranny of his mouth.

    He pulled his mouth away from the hunk’s, who looked at him with sweet eyes.

    “I hate you. And I hate myself for not being able to stop loving you!” said Taliesin in a hurt whisper. His breath enveloped Cian’s face, making his body throb with desire.

    “Fuck! How I’ve missed you. I missed your caresses, your kisses. I missed the sweet way you looked at me. I even miss your harshness when you made me study. I missed us and I miss you!” said Cian as he clasped the young priest’s body in his arms, in the despair he felt that he might escape again. “Forgive me. Please!”

    “Forgiveness is for the followers of the Risen Lord,” he said in a determined tone. “But… if the Goddess wills it, I bow to her will.”

    Taliesin snuggled into the chest of the young wizard in front of him and, looking into the blue sea of his eyes, sighed.

    “I’ve missed you too, Cian! But what you’ve done… won’t be easily erased. I’ve always told you, trust is the most fragile of flowers. It breaks easily. Hard to recover.” he said as he pushed himself out of the other man’s arms. 

    “Anyway, this isn’t the place to deal with that situation,” he said as he walked over to the large stone table.

    Raising his hands, Taliesin concentrated on the energies of the place. Quiron left the table and knelt down next to the young priest, followed by Cian, who stood on his other side.

    “THANK YOU, MYLADY, FOR YOUR PRESENCE. WE LEAVE IN PEACE, AS WE ARRIVED IN PEACE,” he said. Never had the oft-repeated prayer sounded so false.

    The energies in the place diminished and the ball of energy, that had been swirling in the center of the table until now, disappeared.

    He began to walk back to the door suspended in mid-air along the path of white sand, closely followed by Quiron and Cian.

    When they crossed the threshold, they were back in the old library. It was still night, as if time had stood still while they were in Summerland.

    With a little wave, the heavy wooden doors closed and the glow that had existed disappeared completely.

    Quiron slowly reverted to his feline form and leapt nimbly to the top of one of the wooden shelves, while languidly licking one of his paws. Taliesin smiled and started walking towards the main door, always closely followed by the young wizard.

    “You know what? I could spend years watching you use magic… and you never cease to amaze me,” said Cian with his eyes on the floor. “But you’ve always managed to do that. Amazing me.”

    Taliesin let out a small giggle as he crossed the entire corridor of the old library and crossed the heavy wooden door, closing it behind them.

    The lights in the family mansion were on. In the large entrance hall, several doors could be seen that gave access to other parts of the house. A large round table stood in the center of the hall. On the floor, drawn in various types of wood, there was a Triquetra, symbol of the Three in One Goddess.

    To the right of the library, right in front of the mansion’s front door, was a large dark mahogany staircase leading to the upper floor, flanked by two corridors leading to the back of the house. Taliesin followed a corridor on the right-side of the staircase into the great hall.

    The soft lights of the table lamps created an intimate atmosphere, casting faint shadows on the walls. The young Priest took off the cloak covering his figure and laid it carelessly on the back of a sofa, inhaling the peculiar fragrance of that room. A mix of leather, wood and old parchments.

    Cian continued to follow him closely. He gazed longingly at the muscular figure of the man in front of him. The way the jeans contoured his thighs and buttocks. How the black T-shirt marked the silhouette of his torso, fitting the contours of his pecs and biceps.

    “You look… stunning.” Cian said in a voice tinged with emotion. “But… you’re always stunning.” he continued as he approached Taliesin from behind, encircling him with his arms.

    “You… oh Fuck! You look beautiful as always, Cian. You know you are!” said the Taliesin.

    He detangled himself form Cian arms, knowing that if he stayed, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from giving to the desire and lust that was brewing in his chest. He walked to a far liquor cabinet on the other side of the room, opening the two wooden doors. Inside a collection of whiskeys, tequilas and several other bottles.

    “Care for a drink?” he asked looking above his shoulder to the wizard that took a seat on the large sofa in the room, leaning back, spreading his arms on the back of the sofa and crossing his legs.

    “WOW! Since when do you started drinking?” asked Cian with concern in his voice.

    Taliesin’s eyes fell on the sprawled figure of his former boyfriend, squinting.

    “Since you fucked with my heart and soul! Ever since I thought I had a man by my side I could count on and it turned out he was a fucking liar!” he said in a burst of words that carried the unresolved emotions inside him. “So don’t fuck with my head.”

    Cian straightened up on the sofa as if the words had physically hit him.

    “I… I guess I deserved that one.” he said, looking down at his hands.

    Taliesin poured two glasses of whiskey and carried them over to the sofa where Cian was, handing him one.

    The young wizard thanked him, bringing the amber liquid to his lips, savoring the notes of oak and smoke.

    “Ah! This one’s from home!” he said nostalgically as he looked at the liquid rippling in the glass.

    Taliesin nodded with a slight smile. His eyes were still on the glass itself, while he took a seat near the young stud.

    “I don’t know what’s going on, Cian! Why, after all this time, the Grimoire called me back. I tried to talk to my parents, to no avail. Neither by normal means, nor by magical invocations. Nothing. Wherever they are, something is blocking my magic,” he said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “And this. Your return. The feelings that I pushed aside for so long, bubbling again. This untamed desire to forgive you, to let everything go.”

    Cian raised his eyebrows. He felt the same. Something was definitely strange in all of this. They were orbiting again. The longing to be together. And there was another thing even more troublesome. Blocking Taliesin’s magic wasn’t for everyone. Whoever was behind what the priest was feeling had to be strong.

    “Are you sure your parents aren’t the ones who don’t want to be found?” asked Cian as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, turning his head to the young man.

    Taliesin stood up, walking to a globe representing the Earth and spun it around. He was silent for a few moments.

    “I don’t know! It could be… I don’t know!” he said with a sigh. “The last time we spoke we said some… not so pleasant things.”

    Taliesin stared at the Globe, remembering the argument that had led to him leaving the mansion. His mother and father’s harsh words. And his rebelliousness. Wanting to live life as a normal boy, away from the responsibilities that “Guardian of the Raven Clan” title carried. Words were spoken that now weighed heavily on his heart and mind.

    “I crossed the line that night. Ever since that day I’ve been trying to stay away from this house. I’ve been trying to prove that I can live a normal life.” he said, as he turned to Cian. “But I’m NOT normal!”

    Cian got up from the sofa and walked slowly over to the young man, taking his hands.

    “And what is normal? Explain it to me! What is normality?” he asked, looking Taliesin in the eye. “We hold in our hands a power that many envy. We have at our disposal energies that are the source of stories and legends. You should be honored by what you’ve been given.”

    With a nod, Cian enveloped Taliesin right hand whit his own, conjuring there a small rose of silver energy looking as he looked him in the eyes.

    “Show-off!!!” said the priest with a smile. “You know that magic has limits and costs.”

    “I know… I know! I am well aware of the Witches Creed. You used to make me recite it every day.” He said with a rolling his eyes.

    Taliesin giggled remembering the endless hours teaching Cian.

    “We share more than a bed! You were my best friend. We grew up together between here and your house. How did we end up like this?” he asked, holding the young wizard’s hands.

    They had known each other for so long. In fact, they had been playing together since they were babies. Cian’s mother was a powerful witch who belonged to the Raven Clan. She had served Taliesin’s grandmother as Protector in the magic rites celebrated in the house. During Sabbaths and Esbaths, the two spent their time playing and watching the adults.

    As time passed, the two youngsters orbited around each other like two suns. Wherever Taliesin was, Cian was not far away. They were inseparable.

    The blossoming of their love was seen as something natural, serene and right by the whole Clan. In a world that had always persecuted and condemned difference, the followers of the Old Religion accepted and embraced what was different. Taliesin and Cian’s love was seen as a wonderful gift from the Goddess.

    The Guardian and his Protector. Side by side, united by more than mere duty.

    There was, however, one element of that clan that Cian couldn’t win. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he struggled, no matter how many cuddles he tried, no matter how many offers he made, he couldn’t win Quiron’s trust.

    Taliesin’s guiding spirit always looked down on the young sorcerer, never allowing him to get too close to him.

    “I fucked things up in the worst possible way. You didn’t deserve it… you really didn’t.” said the young wizard, looking away from Taliesin.

    “Listen. I feel like something broke inside me that night. Something was damaged that I’ve spent the last few years trying to repair.” said the High Priest as he held the boy’s chin, forcing him to look at him. “As much as it pains me to say it, as much as it pains me to admit it, do you know when I felt complete again? When you recited the invocation.”

    With both hands he held Cian’s face, searching for the features he knew so well.

    “I love you. I’ve always loved you… and until the end of my days, I will. It will take time to trust you again. But I’m willing to try.” he whispered as he looked Cian in the eye.

    The young protector held his hands, letting out a sigh he didn’t know he had inside him.

    “Little bird… My love. I’ll do anything to win back your trust. To show that I am worthy of you, even if there is…” he said as heavy knocks on the oak doors echoed through the silence of the mansion.

    Taliesin lowered his hands and turned, preparing to walk to the entrance, only to be stopped by Cian, who wrapped his arms around his love.

    “Love, let them knock. We’ll feign dementia and stay here!” said Cian, squeezing the young man against him.

    “My love… you know I can’t. People who come to this house, usually do so because they need help!” said the young priest with a frown.

    He disentangled himself from his lover’s arms and ran to the heavy oak doors. The knocks continued to sound, breaking the silence of the night. His skin crawled as he began to approach the doors. Quiron jumped out of the shadows and stood beside him, staring at the entrance to the house.

    “Little Master… This one you will need to answer quickly!” he said in a voice only audible to Taliesin.

    “Why?!” asked the priest.

    The animal just remained seated licking his paw without answering.

    The high Priest opened the heavy wooden door with the care and reverence that any visitor deserves.

    On the other side, a male figure stared at him. Spikey black hair and violet eyes that shined in the night. His broad shoulders and athletic figure filled the doorframe. His plump, red lips cracked into a smile. Almost as tall as him, the young man was dressed in black, in a suit that accentuated his entire body.

    “Yes? Can I help you?” asked Taliesin, taking a defensive stance.

    “Good evening, Taliesin!” said the man politely. “My name is Rafael. I’m a lawyer at the offices that work for your family. Your parents have left a package for us to deliver on this very day and at this very time.”

    The boy handed the young priest a package wrapped in brown paper, tied with string and sealed with a red seal. I could see the family crest on the seal.

    “I need you to sign here!” said Rafael, handing over a document proving the delivery of the object.

    After signing and saying goodbye to the messenger, Taliesin returned with an inquisitive expression to the hall. Inside, Cian had returned to the sofa and was holding a glass of whiskey.

    “Who was that?” he asked, looking at the boy’s confused expression.

    The priest stopped by the sofa, lifting his eyes from the packet to stare at Cian.

    “A lawyer who works for the law firms that represent the family! He’s brought a package, addressed to me, with specific instructions to be delivered today.” he said as he took the weight of the object in his hands.

    Cian hastily got up and stood next to the other man.

    “Baby, open it up! It looks important. And it’s sealed with the family crest!” he said, placing a hand on Taliesin’s shoulder, trying to comfort him.

    The young priest sat down on the sofa, while Cian sat next to him. He broke the seal on the string and opened the package. Inside a wooden box, perfectly packed, were an athame and an envelope. He immediately recognized his mother’s fluid, drawn handwriting.

    He opened the envelope impatiently. His mind was in overdrive. His hands were sweating and his heart was pounding in his chest.

    My son, My Guardian…

    When you read this letter, you should be sitting in our lounge with Cian by your side and your father and I won’t be there.

    It is very important that you are together and that you have forgiven him. He wasn’t responsible for the actions he committed. He was as deceived as you were. The threads that wove the events were powerful.

    Son, the Raven Clan has always been a protector of magic in our world. It is the energy that connects us to each other, that nourishes and sustains us. And what keeps us united with nature.

    Unfortunately, there have always been clans who have sought other ways of harnessing this energy. May the Great Goddess grant that they never succeed.

    Your birth is shrouded in prophecy. A little raven will come and bring unity and finality to the conflicts.

    Even Cian’s betrayal was cruelly planned to prevent you from assuming your role in our clan.

    Of course, by now, you’ve realized that the spell cast on the Grimoire to call you back… is mine. As well as Cian’s presence back in your life.

    Find your roots again Taliesin… Little Crow!

    P.S: Do me a favor. Give Quirom a back rub… he was important in bringing you back!”

    When he had finished reading, Taliesin held the letter like someone holding the most precious possession they own. Tears streamed down his face, tracing wet paths. He looked up at Cian, who was just as surprised as he was.

    “So she did it! She planned the whole thing. Your return. My return. Even your forgiveness.” He said, letting himself fall back against the back of the sofa. “Fuck. When I grow up I want to be half the witch your mother is!”

    “Even me… I still have so much to learn. She’s always been an extraordinary psychic. Her powers of clairvoyance are something of wonder.” said the priest with genuine pride.

    In a corner of the hall, a pair of green eyes twinkled.

    “Sorry for the deceive, Little Master! But it was necessary!” Quiron emerged from the shadows, slowly transforming into his human form.

    “And you knew it. That’s why you insisted that I forgive him!” said Taliesin with a torn smile.

    “I may not trust him… He’s too handsome, too proud and… too big. But I can see that he’s good for you, Little Master!” he said with a sly glint in his feline eyes.

    Cian stuck out his tongue at the familiar, who responded with a small growl.

    “By the Great Goddess… are you going to start the bickering?” he said in an exasperated tone. “Children… I am surrounded by children.”

    “He started it…” said Cian pointing to the familiar spirit standing in front of you.

    “And you are annoying!” shoot Quiron hissing to the young wizard.

    Taliesin looked between the two males bouncing from one to another as they changed accusations.

    “FOR ALL THAT IS MOST HOLY… You two behave yourselves.” he said, throwing his hands up in a gesture of theatrical despair.

    Cian and Quiron turned their heads to look at the priest, who was falling backwards in feigned frustration.

    Taliesin’s face broke into a smile that eased the tension of recent events. He looked at the two men in front of him, shaking his head.

    “Have you two calmed down?” he asked amused. “Can we get back to concentrating on what I still have to do?”

    Cian nodded in embarrassment as Quiron sat cross-legged on the floor of the hall, right next to Taliesin’s legs.

    The priest stared at the box. The athame emitted a strange pulsating energy, like an energy beacon that drew him in ever more. He held it, examining the intricate designs on the handle and the way the sharp blade snaked. It was a ritual weapon. It was intended for magic work, not to be used to cause harm.

    “Wait. The letter…” he said with his eyes wide open as if he were having an epiphany.

    He grabbed the handwritten paper again and reread the last few words. He jumped up and ran to a desk, opening the drawers in a burst of energy.

    “That’s it… that has to be it! It has to be that!” he said as he searched frantically through drawers, shelves and corners of the room.

    Cian looked intrigued at the boy who was running from one place to another, leaving everything in disarray as he passed. He looked at Quiron, who shrugged with a look as confused as the young wizard’s.

    “Don’t look at me! I know as much about this part as you do!” said Quiron, following the young master’s gaze as he moved from shelf to shelf, searching all the drawers.

    “A-AH!” he exclaimed triumphantly as he turned to his companions with a map in his hands, showing it off as if it were the greatest discovery of the modern world.

    “WOW!” said Cian ironically, bringing his hands up to his face in an exaggeratedly theatrical movement. “A map! You know we have apps on our cell phones that show maps.” he joked

    “So funny! But for this one I need a physical map!” he said smiling as he opened a map of Scotland on the floor.

    “Of course…!” said Quiron with a torn smile. “The Old Guardian, your grandmother, was Scottish.”

    Taliesin moved masterfully, pushing aside anything that might get in the way of the work he was about to do. He ran around the hall picking up all the candles he could find, scattering them around the map to create a physical circle. As soon as he had finished, he took two steps back, analyzing what was in front of him.

    The map lay open on the floor. At each end a candle held it in place. Around it, several other candles of various sizes and shapes marked out an area for three people to stand inside.

    “A locator spell? But you said it wasn’t working!” said Cian, looking at what the priest had organized.

    “Yes… I can’t locate my parents. But this isn’t about them… it’s about me. SEEK YOUR ROOTS!!!” he said enthusiastically. “The last words written in the letter.”

    He grabbed the Athame and placed it on the map, signaling the others to join him.

    Quiron and Cian entered the circle of candles under the watchful eye of the priest. He knelt down, followed by the others.

    Ignis” he said as they pointed to all the candles around them.

    Magically, the candles lit up as soon as his finger passed through them.

    Sanguinis iter ostendit quo itur.” he said, picking up the Athame

    Per spatium et tempus ostendit quomodo sequatur.” said Cian, joining his voice to that of the priest.

    Claustra destrue et fluere magicae!” said Quiron with his eyes shining in a superhuman way.

     “Incantatores creatus est!” said Taliesin as he grabbed the Athame and cut his hand, causing blood to flow over the map.

    At the same moment a blast of wind was felt throughout the hall, making the flames of the candles dance on its strength. The small pool of blood began to move slowly, climbing up the map until it stopped at a village.

    “Braemar!” exclaimed Taliesin “My pretties… I have my destiny!” he said with a smile.

    Cian ran to grab a cloth and wrap Taliesin’s wounded hand in it, trying to stop the small bleeding that ran from his hand.

    “So… you’re going on a trip?” he said with a careful tone.

    Taliesin smiled as he adjusted the cloth around his wounded hand. He looked longingly at Quiron and Cian.

    “WE’RE GOING TO TRAVEL! You and me.” he replied in a determined tone. “My mother and the Great Goddess want us together again? Then so be it!” he said with conviction. He didn’t really need much convincing anyway.

    Cian’s face lit up at Taliesin’s words. A trip would be ideal for them to get back together. To win back the priest’s trust. He felt a tremor of anticipation grow inside him, like a child before entering a candy store.

    “But… I don’t have anything ready. I have to go home and pack a bag.” he said as he stood up and began to walk out the door.

    Suddenly, without anything to predict his actions, he turned around and walked back to Taliesin, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him.

    The kiss was intense, as were the feelings bubbling up in his soul. For a moment, the priest stiffened, not expecting that action but, almost immediately, embraced the young sorcerer and melted into the kiss. When they parted, Cian rested his forehead on Taliesin’s forehead.

    “I’ll be back soon,” he said almost in a whisper.

    The priest nodded, only to see his lover stride off in long, determined strides towards the door of the mansion. He sighed deeply and walked up the stairs to the second floor and into his bedroom.

    The room was large, sober, with two large windows opening onto a balcony. Next to them was a desk with his computer and a desk lamp. On the king size bed he placed a large suitcase. He went to the closet and took out the clothes he would need on the trip, arranging everything carefully and quickly. He then looked at the suitcase, making a mental note of everything inside, trying to see if there was anything missing.

    He turned on the stereo. Music helped him concentrate when he had mental work to do. The music broke the silence of the room allowing to take a deep breath before heading to his desk. He logged onto the airline’s website and browsed for two seats on the first flight available to Edinburgh airport in Scotland.

    The Great Goddess was working in his favor. There were two seats available on the first flight of the morning from Lisbon airport. Purchased made and hotel reserved through another site.

    As soon as he had finished all the preparations, he looked around. Everything was ready. He put his suitcase by his bedroom door, printed out their boarding passes and waited. It wasn’t long before he heard Cian’s footsteps approaching the room. He was carrying a suitcase in his hand and a backpack on his back.

    “I’ve got everything. When are we leaving?” he asked excitedly.

    Taliesin laughed at the impatience of the man in front of him. It was always like that. When something excited him, Cian was like a child.

    “Tomorrow at 10 o’clock. I got tickets on one of the first flights in the morning. I also booked a room in a hotel in Braemar, the ‘The Fife Arms’ and I’ve already got the car rental for when we get there!” he replied with a smile.

    Cian’s eyes widened in genuine amazement. The speed and efficiency with which Taliesin had taken care of everything was to be commended.

    “Put your luggage next to mine,” he said, pointing to the door. “And come here!”

    Cian dropped his bags next to Taliesin’s, then headed towards the man in front of him. Taliesin wrapped his arms around Cian’s body, pulling him into a passionate kiss.

    The music continued on the sound system:

    The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

    It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do

    I never dreamed that I meet somebody like you

    I never dreamed that I lose somebody like you

    No, I don’t wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart)…”

    Cian began to rock his body to the sweet rhythm of the music while kissing Taliesin’s exposed neck.

    “Never has a song been so appropriate for an occasion, don’t you think?” purred Taliesin, exposing more of his neck to Cian’s sweet kisses.

    “Wicked Games… you think? Never again. I won’t break your heart. Ever again.” he said in a whisper as he traced kissing paths from Taliesin’s ear to his neck with his mouth.

    “But you did. You broke it in the worst way possible.” said while still dancing. “And it took me a great deal of willpower to get back on my feet again. And now… we are doing another dance, again”

    Cian hooked his fingers in the collar of his T-shirt, pulling it aside, exposing his shoulder, which he immediately nibbled.

    “I never felt this way about anybody. You drive me insane. You ARE driving me insane right now.” he said in a low growl.

    “… what a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way

    What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

    What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way

    What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you…

    Taliesin allowed the stud to continue dancing softly with him, letting his body move to the same rhythm as the young sorcerer.

    “I know I shouldn’t love you. I know I should make you stop. But I can’t. This goes beyond what’s rational.” he said as he took one of his hands behind Cian’s head and pulled it against his skin.

    Cian lift is head to face him. With one arm he wrapped his arm around Taliesin’s waist while with his free hand he held his chin, seeking out his mouth with his own.

    His kiss was gentle. He sucked slowly on the priest’s lips, savoring every part of them. Taliesin responded to the kiss by opening his mouth slightly and allowing himself to be kissed and kissed back. Their mouths danced a sensual dance as their bodies moved to the hypnotic sound of the music. Cian’s tongue crossed the entrance to Taliesin’s mouth, seeking out his tongue in a slow, caressing movement. He was taking his time. He wanted to taste his ex-boyfriend’s mouth again. He wanted to show that he was there. That he would never leave him again.

    Taliesin’s arms encircled the young stallion’s muscular body, pulling him closer. A wave of heat surged from his crotch up to his chest. His pants were getting tighter and tighter. Painfully tight. He could feel Cian’s erection rubbing against his own.

    The music changed but still continued to bless this reunion. It seemed that time and space themselves were bending to welcome the young lovers, and that fate itself was choosing the soundtrack for them.

    You’re the light, you’re the night

    You’re the color of my blood

    You’re the cure, you’re the pain

    You’re the only thing I wanna touch

    I never knew that it could mean so much, so much”

    “It’s you who are doing this.” said Taliesin with a smile.

    “I’d like to say yes. That I’m the one changing the songs and creating this on purpose. But, little bird…I’m not!” said Cian smiling.

    In a dark corner, a pair of green feline eyes pierced the night unseen to the pair. The figure of Quiron curled into a ball nodding gently as it begun to purr. In his feline form mouth a small smiled formed. His eyes always looking at his young master and his lover.

    In one fluid movement, Cian took off Taliesin’s T-shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it away. He disentangled himself from his own shirt, almost ripping the buttons off in the process. He wanted to feel his skin against the young priest’s skin. The embrace was tighter, more demanding. And the kiss grew in intensity. It was no longer just affection. Beneath the surface there was a long-denied desire. A desire that had to be satisfied.

    Taliesin let himself be carried away by the intensity of the moment. His mind was telling him to stop. His body was forcing him to move on. His hands caressed the firm abs of the man in front of him as they slowly slid down to the belt of his pants, opening and unbuttoning the buttons that prevented him from reaching his goal. His hand slid inside Cian’s undies, grasping the cock already wet with pre-cum.

    “Fuck. Taliesin..I…!” said Cian with his breathing cut off by little moans.

    “Shh! Don’t talk. Kiss me!” said Taliesin more like a plea than an order.

    Love me like you do, Lo-lo-love me like you do

    Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do

    Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do

    What are you waiting for?…”

    Cian kissed back that mouth that was driving him crazy. How could he deny na order that he fulfilled with such great pleasure? His hands got rid of Taliesin’s jeans, causing them to fall at his feet and he kicked them away, leaving him totally naked.

    Cian did the same to his pants, pulling Taliesin’s body close to his. The two wet cocks rubbed against each other, sending waves of pleasure through the two bodies that continued to move to the sound of the music.

    He slowly kissed his way down Taliesin’s neck, stopping at his Adam’s apple, calmly licking and kissing that piece of skin that he knew was Taliesin’s weak spot. He continued to plant kisses all along Taliesin’s body, lower and lower. Now on his knees, he licked each of the sensitive nipples before continuing down further and further until he reached Taliesin’s cock. He smelled the young priest’s irresistible masculine scent. He smelled like musk and soap. He fully engulfed his throbbing member, letting the pre-cum run down his tongue, covering it completely and tasting it again.

    “Fuck. I love the taste of you. I’ve missed the taste of you so much.” He said, his voice full of lust and desire.

    He continued sucking, letting the man’s cock go deeper and deeper, touching the back of his throat. As he moaned, he sent vibrations throughout Taliesin’s cock, making him throw his head back in a movement of pleasure and abandon.

    His tongue worked its way through the entire length of Taliesin’s shaft. The slurping and occasional gagging sounds were added to the music that filled the room.

    Taliesin spread his legs wider, allowing a better access to his throbbing member and hanging balls.

    “Cian…please…don’tt stop.” plead Taliesin while entangled his fingers on the stud long hair.

    The young sorcerer had no intention of stopping. Nor did he intend to slow down the way he was bringing Taliesin to pleasure. He was devouring his lover cock as a delicacy that was for a long time denied to him.

    “Cian! I…I…!” stammered Taliesin.

    “Shh…Not yet!” said the young wizard as he pulled himself up to his lover.

    The two collided in a passionate kiss, a dance of tongues and lips, each seeking more and more of the other’s taste. Each of them swallowing the other saliva as a way to cope for lost time.

    Taliesin broke the kiss only to crawl to the bed, pulling the young stud with him. He layed back it, pulling Cian on top of him as he took his mouth by storm. Their cocks remained trapped between the two bodies as the two men rubbed against each other in search of more contact and friction between them.

    The dance of bodies continued. But this time more demanding. Their hands were roaming and exploring each crevice, curve and part of their bodies.

    Cian looked deep into the young Guardian’s eyes as if searching for his soul.

    “I want you. I want to make love to you..” said Cian with a voice full of desire.

    “Well? What are you waiting for? A formal invitation?” replied Taliesin with a smile.

    In one fluid movement, Cian got down on his knees between Taliesin’s spread legs. He lifted the young man’s hips while inhaling the musky scent of his anus.

    “Fuck… fuck!”he said as he stretched out his tongue to touch the boy’s expectant entrance.

    The Guardian pulled his legs towards himself, allowing more of his ass to be exposed, while Cian slowly licked the sensitive skin around it.

    “Cian…By the Holy Goddess…OHHHH!” he moaned loudly as he turned his head to the side, receiving waves of pleasure from the young hunk.

    “Shh…let me enjoy this…I missed this so much…Glorious Goddess!” he said as he kissed Taliesin’s anal ring.

    Cian licked and coated with spit the young man’s anus, while nibbling and kissing the sensitive skin. His tongue traced paths of saliva until it stopped at Taliesin’s velvet entrance.

    Slowly he darted his tongue forward, making it enter the tight anal ring, swirling it inside. Each movement was deliberately made to add new layers of pleasure to the squirming body of Taliesin.

    Cian took his time tasting and feeling the familiar warmth. It was still the same skin. The same smell.

    The priest moaned with pleasure as he buried his fingers in Cian’s long hair, pushing his head down, making him go deeper.

    The sucking and kissing sounds increased in intensity, causing the young man to convulse in pleasure.

    “By Cernunnos… Cian… OH!” he let slip through his lips as his cock spurted out a copious amount of pre-cum.

    Cian took his hand to Taliesin’s member and milked it of the clear, gelatinous liquid that was dripping down his abdomen.

    “FUCK!” he yelled as the sorcerer squeezed the natural lubricant from his body.

    He greased his index and middle fingers with it, penetrating Taliesin throbbing orifice, rotating them in a search for Taliesin’s prostate.

    As soon as he reached this sensitive spot, the priest squirmed and yelped with pleasure, pushing his body against Cian’s hand. He rotated and massaged the sensitive spot, making him moan with lust. His whimpers and mewls increased in intensity as the stud increased the pace of his thrusts.

    He wanted more… needed more. His mind was lost in the sensations Cian was giving him. The touch was so familiar. Cian knew his nooks and crannies, his weak points.

    Cian withdrew his fingers just long enough to position himself and aim the head of his nine-inch member.

    “Little bird… Look at me. Just look straight at me!” said Cian as if asking permission to enter the most sacred of spaces.

    His eyes, flooded with love and lust, returned the gaze to the man hovering over his body. In a serene, almost imperceptible movement, he nodded and at the same time grabbed Cian’s wrists, preparing for penetration.

    The young sorcerer lunged forward, making the head of his monstrous cock overcome the resistance of his lover’s sphincter. Taliesin hissed in a mixture of pleasure and pain. His breathing was rapid and shallow as his body adapted to Cian’s invasion.

    Inch by inch, Cian fed his cock to Taliesin’s hot, throbbing hole, burying his thick pole up to his heavy balls. He stopped, not daring to move an inch, under the risk of hurting his love. He just stayed there, breathing heavily looking at his lover’s face.

    “More… I want more!” he said pleadingly, as he gazed deep into the blue sea of Cian’s eyes.

    “Little bird… Are you all right?” he asked, looking at Taliesin’s countenance.

    He nodded. How could he not be. Inside him was the cock of the man he had never stopped loving. Inside him pulsed, in tune with his own, the heart of the man to whom he had dedicated his love.

    With does words, Cian began to move. His initial thrusts were restrained and short, as if probing Taliesin’s reaction to his movements. When he saw Taliesin abandon his thrusts, he slowly withdrew his cock almost completely, only to reinsert it in one continuous thrust.

    His ass contracted with each thrust, pushing his rigid member deeper and deeper into Taliesin’s body. His body swayed to the rhythm of Cian’s determined thrusts.

    The young sorcerer leaned over the boy, seeking his mouth in a frantic kiss without ever losing the rhythm of his thrusts.

    Taliesin’s arms came up to wrap around Cian’s damp body. He needed him close to him. To feel his body next to his.

    Cian’s muscular ass was now moving up and down faster and faster as his breathing increased in intensity.

    The sounds of flesh hitting flesh and guttural sounds filled the air as the music in the background continue to rock them to a bliss.

    “Fuck… Oh, Fuck!” said Cian feeling is cock reaching to the most inner depths of his lover’s body.

    Taliesin ass was enveloping that thick and powerful shaft as a glove, squeezing and letting go in a pleasure driven rhythm.

    Cian thrusts became more intense as he was going deeper and deeper into Taliesin body. He moved and turned, searching every single point of pleasure in the young man guts, making him hisse and whimper in pleasure.

    Taliesin begun to grind his hips against Cian, meeting his thrusts and pulling the young stud dick into him creating a obscene amount of wet sounds of flesh clashing against flesh.

    Cain movements begun to get more erratic. His breathing shallower as the impending orgasm was upon him.

    “Little bird… I’m… close. I can’t… I can’t hold out for long!” he said in a breath interrupted by the rhythm of his thrusts.

    “Fuck… Come… Come inside me!” cried Taliesin into the young stud’s mouth as he searched for his own orgasm.

    With one final thrust, Cian pushed his entire shaft into Taliesin’s hot body, spurting jets of hot cum as he let out an almost animalistic roar.

    The sensation caused by the immense cock pulsing inside him, stimulating his prostate, was enough to make Taliesin explode into a violent release of his own cum without touching his cock. He screamed, tilting his head back against the sofa has his fingernails were digging into the muscular back of his lover.

    His anus begun to milk every drop of the thick, white liquid that Cian was planting inside him, to the rhythm of his muscle contractions.

    The young stud fell forward, covering with his body the young priest frame that was ejaculating between their two bodies.

    They remained like that, lost in the afterglow of their bliss, neither of them having the courage or will to break the spell of that long-awaited reunion.

    “Little bird… I… I love you so much!” said Cian. His messy hair was stuck to his forehead and face by thick drops of sweat.

    “My centaur… I love you too. I’ve never stopped loving you!” said Taliesin as tears escaped his eyes again.

    Time passed slowly as the young lovers exchanged kisses and caresses, letting their bodies be lulled by the music still coming from the sound system, resting finally on the bed that they have shared so many times before.

    “What now? What am I to you?” asked Cian as he leaned on one arm, raising his body and looking at Taliesin.

    “You are what you have always been. My protector. And you’ll be my boyfriend again.” he replied, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’m allowing you back into my life. To my heart. Don’t destroy it again!”

    With these words Cian kissed him again, rolling on top of him.

    “Never again!” he replied between kisses

    The night was spent rekindling the old passion. Kisses and moans of pleasure filled the room for hours until dawn, when tired and sated they finally lost themselves in each other’s arms.

    In the morning, the journey to the airport was punctuated by impatience and tiredness from the night before. As they got out of the cab, they were greeted by a frenzy of people coming in and out of the airport.

    They headed to check-in with their luggage, handing over their boarding passes and passports. The attendant greeted them with a smile as she checked the information and finished the baggage identification formalities.

    “Mr. Taliesin Ravenwood, Mr. Cian Blacksword. Boarding is already underway, I suggest you hurry. I wish you a safe journey. Boarding gate number 5.” he said as he made a small gesture in the right direction.

    They headed for the boarding gate in large strides, managing to get inside just a few minutes before the doors closed. The flight attendant checked the tickets and indicated the seats.

    “Please, seats 82 and 83. First class. Have a good flight.” he said with a smile.

    Taliesin sat by the window looking out. A whirlwind of thoughts raced through his mind. What he would find in Breamar, who was running against the Clan, where his parents were… all this made his anxiety soar until he felt Cian’s hand on his.

    “Hey! Little Bird. We’re in this together! I’m here and I won’t leave you!” said Cian with a little squeeze.

    A smile appeared on Taliesin’s face. He approached his boyfriend and kissed him.

    The plane began to move down the runway, picking up speed and taking off, taking them to another country.

    But Taliesin’s heart was heavy. Something still wasn’t right.

    (Continued)

  • A journey to hell

    They were alone in a dimly lit room, sitting right next to one another. Shawn had put his hand on Francis’s shoulder, just like that day, in his bedroom. They were so close. What an unbelievable sensation, even just being able to watch him, stare at every chiseled detail of his gorgeous face. His hypnotic hazel eyes, always so confident, his breathtaking full lips, his impressive jawline, his arousing body odor. The college boy would have given the world for that moment to last forever. Just the two of them. Shawn was smiling his million dollar smile and was being so kind to him… everything was more than perfect… and then…

    Francis groaned as he was unceremoniously torn away from his dream. Something had hit his face and it took him a few seconds to realize what was actually going on. He squinted his eyes in the morning light that was seeping through from the cracks in the splintered blinds. A pair of feet were still moving not two inches from his nose. Someone had just kicked his face and the sleepy young man realized it had been none other than that sweet god-like boy Francis had been dreaming of. It probably hadn’t been on purpose. Shawn was still fast asleep after all. But Francis was now quite convinced that the dreamy jock wouldn’t have hesitated to kick his face while awake, in order to entertain his friends. Yeah. He should have been mad about it, probably. But they were Shawn’s feet. Francis realized he didn’t even mind the smell much. His soles were smooth and the color of his skin matched the fair complexion the boy had. There was a bit of lint here and there, the gray ankle socks he had worn the night before, no doubt. Truth be told he had never examined a foot so thoroughly before and all in all decided that as long as it belonged to his beloved Shawn, it wasn’t unpleasant. Not one bit. Francis blinked a couple of times then turned his head slightly to the left and his lips touched the heel of a different set of feet. Jesse’s, Shawn’s best friend. The college student cringed a little. Somehow, they weren’t as enjoyable. It wasn’t the smell, really. He had gotten used to it by now. He had been breathing it for hours, after all. Not that he had had any choice in the matter. But there was something about that kid that intimidated Francis more than usual which was saying something. Fragments of nightmarish memories suddenly rushed into his brain and his stomach turned. A disgusting burp came up to his mouth forcing him to taste piss again and he almost barfed. They had made him drink a ton of it only a few short hours earlier. And then they had blissfully gone to sleep cackling like drunken monkeys. It was a hard thing to process. Not exactly your typical Tuesday night, right? No. Francis had laid on the dirty floor of that bedroom for hours trying to figure out what exactly had happened, why they had behaved like that and most importantly what to do now. He had cried silently for a while and only managed to fall asleep at the crack of dawn, out of sheer emotional exhaustion. It wasn’t supposed to go like that. It was supposed to be just a boys’ vacation. Nothing more. This was pure, unmitigated hell. Nothing more to say, really. Nonetheless, he just couldn’t help believing that Shawn actually cared for him. Obviously he wasn’t stupid. He knew the straight boy was never going to reciprocate the feelings he had for him but, even so, Francis would have settled for simply being allowed to be in his company. It was weak of him to think that way but it was indeed within Francis’s character. On the other hand, hanging out with his sister’s boyfriend apparently meant being subjected to the practical jokes the ‘bro-code’ demanded by him and his buddies which is where things became slightly more confusing in Francis’s mind. Yes, confusing, because the college boy just couldn’t deny the fact that he had been hard as a rock through the entire ordeal they had put him through. And that went against everything he’d been taught.    

    He slowly slid down the narrow aisle he was trapped in, carefully trying not to wake them and managed to finally get to his feet. He felt filthy and realized the shirt he was wearing smelled of piss, their piss. The piss they had made him drink. Sorry but it bears repeating. Meanwhile, the four teenagers were sleeping soundly completely abandoned on their beds. They had clearly been partying hard and come back extremely late. Now they were catching some well deserved beauty sleep. Not that they were in need of any, really, because, boy, were they stupidly good-looking!? Their bodies were chiseled like well trained athletes’ should be: lean, toned, hunky. They simply looked stunning. It was like being in the presence of demigods from the old myths and they came in every flavor of the specimen spectrum: Caucasian, Norse, Latino and Asian. Unbelievable. Not much else you could ask for, quite frankly, as far as looks could go. And he was to spend the next six days and nights being humiliated and laughed at by them. ‘Could be worse…’ he thought bitterly ‘At least they’re great to look at…’

    Now he would have likely spent the whole day staring at Shawn’s abs and the light trail of dark hair guiding down to his crotch but his eyes noticed the clock on the wall. 8.23. He realized he was expected to make them breakfast. It was one of the many ‘perks’ he had acquired by becoming a member of their little gang. Another pang clenched his stomach. For the umpteenth time, since the night before, Francis had the sudden urge to call his sister and tell her what they had done to him, how they had hazed and bullied him, how unfair and mean they had been. He wanted to vent to her so badly. He swallowed hard. Something was stopping him yet again. Doubt. The young man wondered if he was, maybe, overreacting. What did he really know about jocks and the way they treat their friends? Nothing, really. He had never hung out with anyone that was a part of that elite posse. And of course he had seen them horse around in the halls, calling each other names, just for fun. Now that he thought about it, that’s all he remembered them doing. Like all the time. How was that any different from what they had done to him? How was he sure that they hadn’t simply been a little rough with him to make him feel part of the group for real. As crazy as that might sound, the more he thought about it, the more he felt slightly silly. And again, didn’t his erection mean he kinda liked it, to begin with?

    Flustered and a little puzzled he walked to the kitchen and focused back on what he had to do. He opened every cupboard in sight and found them predictably empty. Nothing to cook, or eat, not even a box of crackers because they had indeed rented a dump in the middle of nowhere and of course none of them had actually thought of buying at least the essentials. He stared desolately at the empty fridge. 

    ‘What am I gonna do now?’ he started panicking a little. There was no way he was gonna leave them without breakfast. He wasn’t gonna screw up the first task he had been given. No. He was gonna be cool about it for once in his life and ‘go with the flow’ as they say. ‘Groceries… downtown…’ he thought. How though? For a second he considered borrowing Jesse’s car but then shuddered at the sheer notion, wondering what he might have done to him had he found out. He grabbed his phone from the counter and looked for a taxi service. About an hour later he was on his way back to the apartment with tons of bags filled to the brim with unnecessary stuff that the overbearing lady at the grocery store had deemed absolutely necessary for a ‘good American breakfast’. That little stunt hadn’t been cheap either but Francis had way more pressing business to worry about. He prayed to God that the four boys were still asleep and felt a wave of relief wash over him when he found out they were still snoring softly. He put the groceries on the table and started rummaging for pans and kitchen utensils trying to be as quiet as he could. Cooking was actually one of the very few practical things he could actually do. It was easy, all you had to do was follow the recipe. Instructions, simple instructions, no complications. Real life? That was another story. There were only four chairs around that table.     

      

    Shawn Donovan woke up to the smell of fried eggs and sizzling bacon. He rubbed his eyes lazily as images from the night before were coming back to him. Two very skilled tongues slobbering on his junk, a pretty brunette’s tits bobbing right in front of his face while he was fucking her. His morning wood was harder than ever. And then of course his girlfriend’s faggot brother Francis. He found himself smirking while seeing himself and his friends pissing in a fucking water jar. 

    “Morning toilet!” he heard the sleepy snickers of his friends so he opened his eyes and looked up. In the bed opposite his, Jesse was sitting up, stretching and yawning. Shawn followed his gaze and found that gangly queer at the door, barely answering.

    “…morning…” he mumbled as Mark and Alex were getting up.

    “Slept well?” asked Alex pushing past the fag.

    “Yeah…” he answered as miserable as ever.

    “Good! Hehehe!” snickered Jesse giving him a couple of ‘friendly’ slaps on the cheek.

    “Woah!! That’s what I’m talking about!” Shawn heard Mark call from the kitchen “Good job, toilet!” as the unmistakable noises of a loud breakfast started.

    Shawn sat up and noticed the fag looking at him like his puppy had just died. Now that he thought about it he realized that what had happened the night before had been way worse and sudden than they had ever talked about. The plan was to slowly ease into the whole fag-maid idea but the weed and the booze must have taken over and they had probably gone a little overboard. Of course it was fun but still… Had they fucked the whole thing up? What if the little fucker had blabbed to his sister? Was he a fucking dead man or something? Shawn was not feeling so hot all of a sudden. 

    “Morning…” he said to the fag, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened “So, happy that you’re part of the group now?” he asked to test the waters.

    “Y… yeah…” the fag mumbled “…but… last night you…” he didn’t finish, which was so fucking typical. This pushover didn’t even have the balls to talk like a normal person, which automatically kinda fueled the urge for any normal guy to fucking bully his ass. It was like he asked for it. Anyways. Ok, so the situation was still unclear but maybe he was not a dead man just yet.

    “What?” Shawn carried on. The fag looked worried and the young jock figured that it was time to pull off one of his fucking Jedi mind tricks if he wanted to keep this from Julie. That was IF she didn’t already know “You didn’t get offended, did you?” he snorted like the whole concept was ridiculous “Cause, dude, it’s just part of the game!” 

    “Y… yeah… but that was way too…” the queer protested meekly and couldn’t even look him in the eye. Man, he wanted to beat the shit outta this wimpy bitch.

    “Look, you wanted to be part of the group, right? We told you we were gonna haze you a little, there’s nothing wrong with that!” Shawn even impressed himself for the straight face he was keeping. He watched the fag’s expression relax, only slightly though “We all went through it, dude. It’s how it works!”

    “R… really?” Un-fucking-believable! He was buying this shit for real! Was he retarded?

    “Yeah, man! Totally! There’s no need to worry!” he was being so fucking sleek he deserved a prize “Look, just be chill about it and follow the rules, you’ll be fine! You’ll even enjoy it once you get into it, ok?”

    He was selling something highly unsalable and any other person would have flipped him off or something. Not this queer. He was considering what Shawn had told him but still didn’t look completely convinced.

    “But… but… last night you…” his objections were getting even milder which was driving Shawn up the fucking wall.

    “Jesus Christ! What? What?!” he spat “Last night we had a bit of fun, Francis! That’s all! Didn’t YOU have fun?! You said you did last night!” he observed the expression change on the fag’s ugly mug and was pretty happy to see that little outburst had done the trick. Whoever said ‘attack is the best form of defense’ was a fucking genius.

    “Y… yes… of course…” the stupid sissy stammered looking down at his feet. 

    ‘Too fucking easy!’ Shawn thought. 

    “Then what the fuck’s the problem?” he added with the same exasperated tone.

    “N… no problem, Shawn… sorry…” he even fucking apologized. Unreal.

    “Good!” he said curtly, as he got up from his bed “Smells pretty damn good. What did you make us?” nothing like a little ‘stick and carrot’ play to train a pet.

    “Uhm… eggs, bacon and…” the queer said almost proudly.

    “Awesome! It’s exactly what we needed after all that fuck… dancing, all the dancing we did last night.” Shawn bit his tongue just in time. Shit! He couldn’t let him know about that! He was still Julie’s fucking brother after all. The hot athlete grinned at the fag and deliberately scratched his balls right in front of him. The fag’s eyes predictably went to his crotch in a second. Fucking stupid queer. “Well, I’m starving!” he said innocently and walked towards the door. Then to make sure his little comment hadn’t just fucked everything up he added “Oh, by the way, you must never tell anyone about anything you do or see or hear when you’re with us, ok?” He walked right back to him and placed both his hands at the back of his head, sort of like a bro-hug-kind-of gesture. “It’s a secret, remember?” He winked at him and thought the bitch was gonna melt right there and then. He knew that he was completely powerless against his charms.

    “Ok, yes! I promise!” the supid sissy answered, visibly relieved and even chipper all of a sudden. 

    “Yeah, buddy!” Shawn smiled at him then, sincerely curious he asked: “Anyway, where did you get all that grub?”

    “I called a cab and went shopping downtown,” the fag replied eager as fuck.

    “Hahaha! Nice job, toilet! Showing initiative, I see! I like that! Good for you!” he chuckled turning away from him but apparently the fag wasn’ done.

    “Shawn…” the boy turned around again. The bitch looked like he was about to deliver some seriously important speech or something “…I… I trust you… completely… if you say that I have to follow the rules of the ‘game’ I’ll do it… for sure… but there is a limit, right? I mean, we need to draw the line somewhere, right? I need you to tell me, please… I… I don’t know anything about hazing or… or practical jokes, I mean I’ve never really… you know… and I might think something is a big deal when it’s not and I don’t wanna ruin the fun for you guys or bum you out, that’s the last thing I wanna do… but… but if you help me… I mean… what I’m trying to say is that I REALLY wanna be one of you guys… please… no matter what…” 

    It was by far the longest sentence he had ever heard him say. And also the dumbest. Was this loser for real? Shawn was having the hardest time not to crack up right in front of him but he somehow managed. He smiled at him instead.

    “Best decision you could ever make, buddy! I’ll tell you where the line is. No sense bitching about every little thing we tell you to do, right?” 

    “Right!” 

    “Yeah, you just do whatever I say and we’ll have so much fun, deal?” he had to start snickering. He couldn’t possibly contain himself anymore.

    “Yes Shawn! Thank you! I really appreciate it!” the bitch actually laughed with him, all fucking happy about that little chat they just had. Fucking pathetic.

    “Hehehe! Sure! No problem, toilet!” the boy turned around again and added “Make our beds while we eat!” 

      

    Now everything was good again. He knew he could trust Shawn. How could he ever have questioned that? What an idiot! He was a hell of a guy and he loved his little sister so much. God, Julie really had been lucky. He would have never made her cry and that was simply a fact. Now Francis just had to sit tight and listen to what Shawn would tell him. In a way it was such a relief, not having to make decisions. Just let someone else do it for you. It was a rush, non doubt, a rush Francis didn’t mind one bit if he was being honest with himself. It made him feel… safe. 

    He could hear them yell and guffaw like they always did. Loudly, brazenly, shamelessly. They sounded so carefree. He envied them a little. He envied their confidence and the hard-line way they lived their lives. While accurately smoothing up the sheets on their beds he found himself hoping one day he could actually be laughing with them instead of being laughed at. Wishful thinking one might say. It sort of felt like him and them came from different planets. Francis sighed. He looked around the room and noticed all their clothes were scattered on the floor. He picked them up, folded them and put them on their respective beds. What a good little housekeeper he had turned out to be. Lately he had been having certain thoughts. Thoughts he hadn’t shared with anybody. He was starting to feel trapped in that male body of his and the worst part was that there was nothing he could do about it. Why couldn’t he be a pretty girl so Shawn would love her tenderly. And make love to her. He picked up his sister’s boyfriend’s t-shirt and smelled it lovingly. God, all that testosterone sent him to heaven. He wanted to touch and kiss his body so bad… and lick it…

    He was abruptly brought back to earth by a strange noise. It sounded like the boys had done something they thought was funny and they were predictably cackling about it.

    “Yo, toilet! Get over here!”

    Francis hurried to the kitchen. They were sitting at the table, all except for Mark, the blond, blue-eyed surfer dude who was standing next to the fridge. The floor was pretty much covered in Honey Nut Cheerios. They must have knocked over a box while they were horsing around. It was everywhere. Under the table, around their bare feet, near the cooker. 

    Mark tossed him an old broom.

    “Clean it up!” he barked and sat back on his chair. 

    Francis obeyed instantly and the boys started chatting again. 

    “Breakfast was pretty fucking great, toilet!” commented Jesse, smirking “Better keep this up!”

    “O… ok… sure… Jesse, I will…” Francis replied. They just wouldn’t quit snickering. Obviously watching him humiliate himself pretty much voluntarily for their sole entertainment was to their liking. But it was no problem. Shawn said it was ok, that it was part of the game, so it was all good. He finished gathering everything in the dustpan and was looking for a trash can of some kind but then remembered that he couldn’t find one before, while he was cooking. 

    “Here! Use this!” Alex was handing him the bowl he had used to eat his cereals. Francis smiled gratefully at him, maybe trying to find some amount of pity in the boy’s almond shaped eyes. Unfortunately the smirk the asian kid had on his strikingly handsome face spoke of nothing but derision. Francis took the bowl and emptied the dustpan inside it. “Hold on, give it back.” it was Alex again “I got some of that shit pasted under my feet.” He said and used the brim of the bowl like a spatula to slide the bottom of both his feet on, collecting the crumbs from the crushed cereals mixed with the dirt from that filthy floor into that same receptacle.

    “Pass it around when you’re done, got the same problem.” Mark said and Shawn seconded him. They all did it. They cleaned their feet on the brim of that bowl that Francis made a mental note not to use anymore, ever. He watched them do it one by one until Shawn handed him back the bowl so he could throw everything away. 

    “Hold on a second!” interjected Jesse, sporting an evil sneer that spoke volumes “Why would you throw that out? You didn’t have breakfast, yet, did you?” he enquired mercilessly and the others, quite predictably, snickered.

    “No fucking way! Hahaha!” chortled Alex, extremely entertained.

    “N… no…” Francis answered disheartened.

    “Tsk, tsk!” Jesse raised up a finger with mock disappointment “Now, that’s not good, toilet! Don’t you know breakfast is the most important meal of the day?”

    “Hahaha! Yeah, toilet, you don’t wanna skip breakfast!” Mark scoffed at him “C’mon, take a seat! This is gonna be good! Hehe!” the blond boy continued, giving up his chair and grabbing him by the arm. He forced him to sit in front of that disgusting mix of frosted cereals, dust, toejam and lint. Jesse poured in some cold milk left in Shawn’s bowl and some from his own. The white liquid made the grime stand out even more.

    “Hehehe! There you go! Now we’re talking! My mom’s always bitching about the waste of perfectly good food in America, now I can quit feeling guilty about it! Hahaha!” 

    “Amen to that, brother! Hehehe!” cackled Alex. 

    Jesse was still sneering as he leaned back on his chair with his arms crossed behind his head expectantly. God that face was so dreamy, those hazel eyes and the chiseled features. Those thick lips. Why was Francis getting hard again? Why couldn’t he stop picturing the boy’s dick, all of a sudden? That massive piece of meat he had gotten a glimpse of the day before. And why, in god’s name, was he enjoying being degraded like that? It made no sense. No, no, it was ridiculous! He was NOT enjoying that.

    “Do… Do I have to?” Francis protested ever so meekly. 

    “What’s the matter, toilet? If you can drink our piss you can eat that shit too!” Jesse said oozing self-confidence and unchallenged authority in equal measure. Francis hesitantly looked at Shawn, not entirely clear on what to do even though he had a feeling this didn’t really cross the line they had talked about. Not if drinking piss didn’t. In a way, Jesse’s words made sense. That’s why Francis wasn’t exactly surprised to see that his sister’s boyfriend was having the time of his life like the rest of them.

    “What the fuck are you waiting for, toilet? Hoover it!” That’s all he got from the love of his life. That meant it was all good. No matter how gross that might be, Shawn had spoken. Francis picked up a spoon and swallowed the first mouthful of that concoction. Everyone cracked up. 

    “C’mon, get the ball!” Shawn yelled, about a half hour later. They had decided to go shoot some hoops in a makeshift court they had spotted the day before, when they had arrived. It was maybe about half a mile from the apartament. The stupid fagmaid was cleaning up after them. It was unbelievable how easy it was to make him do stuff. All you had to do was tell him and he’d obeyed like the little bitch he was. Were all faggots that fucking submissive? They should have been. It made perfect sense to Shawn since they were clearly LESS than men, that was not up for debate. All that fucking equality propaganda could kiss Shawn’s ass. It was bullshit. Like hell they were equal. The stupid fucker had chugged down a gallon of piss just cause he had told him to. No straight guy would ever degrade himself like that, no matter what was at stake. That’s too low. It’s fucking subhuman, for Christ’s sake! No, faggots were simply not on the same level as normal guys, period! And it was time society reminded them of that. The young jock sure was ready to do his part. Besides it was fucking hilarious, quite frankly. That had definitely been some way to wake up. The little queer had pretty much told him he’d do whatever the fuck he wanted. How cool was that? He was already his fucking doormat, and it hadn’t even been 24 hours. He had swallowed the whole fucking content of that bowl and Jesse had even managed to make him thank them for the yummy breakfast. That was a fucking riot. They had laughed so hard their stomach hurt. 

    His three buddies walked out of the bedroom wearing shorts and wife beaters. Jesse was balancing the ball on his head.

    “We’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Shawn informed the fag. 

    “We’d take you with us but you better start on lunch!” Jesse mocked him. God he was so good at doing that! 

    “And everything better be fucking delish or…” Alex didn’t finish. He started laughing at the sight of Mark petting the bitch on the head a bit too violently. Shawn chukled. His friends were having as much fun as he was bullying the fag which was pretty fucking great. Not that he had any doubts.

    The little bitch was looking at them like he wanted to say something.

    “What is it?” Shawn asked him.

    “Uhm… I… I gotta get more groceries…” he whimpered, all fucking embarrassed.

    “So? Do it!” Shawn replied as cold as fuck “Not our problem!”

    “W… well… can… can I borrow your car… to get to the nearest store…” it was pretty evident the bitch had struggled like crazy to ask that. 

    “Sure thing, man!” said Jesse, almost sweetly, which surprised Shawn and the others a bit “Here!” Jesse tossed him the keys. The queer nearly looked like he was about to cry. He smiled incredulously. 

    “T… thank you…” he mumbled. 

    “Yeah, no problem, toilet!” replied Jesse grinning from ear to ear, “Oh, while you’re at it, you don’t mind washing it and filling it up, right?” And that was it. They all started cackling and didn’t wait for the fag’s reply. They closed the front door on his stupid face and headed for the basketball court.

    They literally couldn’t walk straight, they were laughing so hard. Shawn had told them about the conversation he had had with the fag. 

    “Does he get off on being treated like shit or something? What the fuck is his problem? Haha!” Mark chortled.

    “Oh, Shawn, can I be your slave for the rest of my life, pretty please? Hahaha!!” Alex was mimicking the bitch’s voice. 

    “Hahaha!! Dude, you got him by the fucking balls!” Jesse said, “You know what? We can do waaaay better than just use him as a fucking maid!”

    “Hahaha! I’ll say! Just gimme a little time, bro! Just gimme time! Hahaha!!” 

    “Yo, toilet! Whassup!” 

    The table was set for four and Francis was stirring stuff in a pan when they got back. It smelled rather good in there and he could hear their stomachs growling. 

    “Did you buy something to drink?” asked Mark. His fair skin and blond hair were all matted with sweat.

    “Uhm… there are sodas and beer in the fridge…” the college boy replied and watched them all horse around towards the fridge. It was extremely hot and he figured something cold and fizzy was exactly what they needed. They chatted among themselves for a few minutes while they were cooling off, then they sat themselves at the table. Francis started serving them the food he had prepared without anyone asking him to. They acted like he wasn’t even there. No ‘thanks’ or anything, not even a smirk or a sneer. They began to wolf everything down like they hadn’t eaten in days and, for all intents and purposes, ignored the hell out of him. How could he not admire their confidence, their bravado? It was stupid and even a little scary but that selfish attitude that should have made him angry, instead did nothing but make them look hotter, if possible. Francis stepped away from the table and leaned against the cooker, in the corner of the room. The four jocks were talking about the game they had just played and didn’t even acknowledge his presence. He had killed himself to get everything ready in less than two hours. He had done the shopping, washed Jesse’s car and filled it up just like he had been asked to do. And then he had prepared all that food. Not to mention that between breakfast, lunch and gas he had blown away way more than he could afford.  But Shawn’s voice resonated in him ‘It’s part of the game, buddy!’ and no one could resist that voice, or at least he knew he couldn’t. And why should he? It felt good not resisting. He took a bite of the paella he had cooked. ‘It’s not bad… maybe a little salty…’ he thought and opened the fridge to get a soda. When he popped it open Jesse turned around to look at him. 

    “What are you doing?” the boy demanded, rather aggressively, smirking as per usual.

    “Well… I’m… thirsty…” Francis said it almost like he was asking for permission.

    “Yeah, I bet you are but don’t even think about drinking that!” Jesse was frowning like the idea was completely ludicrous “you don’t throw perfectly good soda in the toilet, do ya?” the gorgeous latino had stood up “Besides, your special drink is ‘in brewing’, hehehe!” he added while grabbing his crotch obscenely. The others doubled over. Big surprise. Jesse downed the can he had in his hands and burped loudly in Francis face. Then he crushed the can in his fist and threw it on the floor “Just give us half an hour and you can drink as muuuuuch as you want, hahaha!” He grabbed the soda Francis had opened and sat back down, cackling with the others. 

    Francis couldn’t believe this was coming again. He hated it. He hated it so much. He was sure of it. Then how come his penis was telling him otherwise?   

     

    It hadn’t even been twenty minutes of hard core ignoring from their part when the handsome surfer dude, Mark, smirked at Francis and said:

    “Guess what?! Mine’s ready, you lucky bastard!” He chugged the last of his beer then lowered his arm under the table and started tinkering with the waistband of his shorts. 

    “Hehe! Welcome to pisstopia, hahaha!” 

    The others were absolutely digging the scene, guffawing and commenting rudely with their mouths full of that food he had lovingly cooked for Shawn. Francis couldn’t resist this time. Something took hold of him and he leaned forward a little, just enough to get the blond boy’s lower half into view. His penis was out. Francis felt his heart racing, just like the day before with Jesse in the gas station restroom. Mark was holding over four inches of limp, uncut, fat meat that was coming out of a thick bush of dark blond pubes. Francis’ mouth started watering instantly. He felt inadequate, once again, biologically speaking. Because that thing was big. Maybe not quite as massive as Jesse’s but still way, way bigger than his own. Was he handicapped? Every single thing about these boys was undoubtedly better looking, it was so crushingly humbling. Yet, Francis couldn’t keep his lust in check around them. Even now. Mark was pissing inside the beer bottle he had just emptied and the stream that was shooting off his cockhead was strong and fierce which made the whole scene incredibly erotic to Francis.  

    “Wanna see how he makes it?” shouted Jesse right in his ear. Francis jumped out of his skin. The latino stud had creeped behind him and caught him red handed. Everybody cackled.

    “Well, it’s only fair. He’s gotta drink it, bro!” Shawn teased “Probably just wanna make sure it’s the real stuff, not some cheap off-brand shit! Hahahaha!”

    “Hahaha! He can look as much as he wants. It’s good, old, top-quality piss, straight from the tap! Hahaha!” joked Mark as he was finishing emptying his bladder. He rubbed the tip of his penis on the mouth of the bottle, peeling back his foreskin several times, to make sure he didn’t spill any. Francis swallowed hard. That was the same bottle he was about to put in his mouth. His own penis was now down right hard and he had no control over it because he simply couldn’t understand why this was happening. It was so degrading. Once again Francis couldn’t even find the right adjective to describe what they were doing to him and yet he was hard. He hoped to God they didn’t notice. That would have been too much.

    Mark handed him the bottle which was now half full and the gay boy could feel the warmth of the straw colored liquid through the glass.

    “There! From ‘farm to fork’! Hahahaha!!” quipped Alex.

    Francis slowly lifted the bottle up to his mouth trying to sort out his feelings. From a rational point of view, the idea of drinking urine was obviously gross. But rationality, which seemed to have always been the boy’s strongest weapon, wasn’t really working for him that well anymore. Sure he was indeed about to drink urine again, but the idea that Mark had cleaned his penis on that very bottle mere seconds before and right in front of him, was pumping so much blood down to his groin it was impossible to ignore.

    “Better savor it!” Mark snickered. The handsome foursome were all watching him, expectantly. He was, in fact, their entertainment, after all. He didn’t even mind their cackling anymore and quite frankly he was chomping at the bit to find out what Mark’s penis tasted like. Without further ado, Francis gingerly licked the piss coated mouth of the bottle and let the content fill his own mouth. The taste was as bitter and gross as the day before. And yet his own penis was about to explode in his pants. He thanked God he was wearing jeans. It was easier to hide it even though he was far from being as well-endowed as the boy whose piss he was swallowing. 

    “Well?” taunted Jesse, standing right next to him. He smelled quite strongly of sweat.

    “It’s… perfect…” Francis almost choked. His throat was burning slightly. The boys were doubling over as he stood there with a stupidly vacant expression. He drank again without them telling him to, then he turned to the gorgeous blond surfer and went “Thanks Mark…” it had come to him as such a natural thing to say which positively surprised him. 

    “Hahahaha! Sure thing, toilet! I mean, look how thirsty you are. It’s the least I could do! Hahaha!” Mark replied snickering and exchanging entertained looks with Shawn “Besides I’m having a great time using you as a fucking piss tank!” he guffawed with such a smug expression “Who knows, if you play your cards right maybe someday I might even let you drink it straight as it comes outta my dick! Hahaha! Would you like that?” they cackled again as Francis was about to finish the last of the boy’s piss. Unfortunately that very last statement combined with the tone and attitude the blond stud put in his voice was too much for the older boy to handle. He would have done anything, ANYTHING to get his mouth near that penis… any penis, really. And to his horror, he powerlessly realized he was having a violent orgasm, made quite uncomfortable by his own tighty whities. His legs felt like they were made of butter and he fell down on his knees, moaning like some animal in heat as a wet blotch darkened the front of his pants. 

    The boys went into hysterics.

    “Do you like his piss that much! Hahaha!!” Jesse cackled as Francis kept licking and smooching the mouth of that bottle even though it was now empty. He just couldn’t stop slurping the tip where Mark had rubbed his penis. 

    “He came! This freak came drinking my fucking piss!! Did anybody get that on camera?! Hahahaha!!” 

    “You’re such a fucking loser, toilet! Hahahaha!!” Alex cackled. 

    “Man, I think you broke him. Look at him! Hahaha!” it was Shawn’s voice this time and Francis kept licking that now tasteless bottle like there was no tomorrow.

     

    “I’m the motherfucking pissking! Hahahaha!!” Mark struck a pose, showing off his biceps and giving them something more to laugh about.

    Francis was still in a daze. His underpants felt slimy and he had never been so humiliated in his whole life. His post orgasm confusion was weird and hazy. Part of him wanted to cry. But part of him didn’t. Part of him wanted to shout at them and run away. And part of him couldn’t wait to get more. It was uncomfortable but Jesse didn’t really give him time to recover his wits. He snatched the bottle from his hands unceremoniously.

    “Hey, snap out of it, toilet! We all gotta piss, you know!” He was so close, towering over him and looking down at him with such a belittling evil smirk. His body odor was attacking the older boy’s brain. And then he lowered his shorts, freeing his majestic penis, this time inches from Francis’ face, mesmerizing the helpless young man and started filling up the bottle again, right in front of him, presenting him with his next fix.

    Shawn and his buddies had moved to the bedroom after lunch. There was no way they were going out, not in that heat. Besides there was nothing to do downtown till late afternoon. They had thrown themselves on their neatly made beds, trying to enjoy the little air the fan on the ceiling was providing. The stupid fag bitch was right where he was supposed to be, in the kitchen, cleaning up again. ‘What a fucking freak!’ Shawn thought. They had passed around that beer bottle and had pissed in it, one by one and watched that fucking fairy empty it every single time. And then he was thanking them left and right. That was so fucking awesome. He had thanked each and every one of them for letting him drink their piss. Un-fucking-believable. The boy snickered to himself. The stupid wish to be part of their little posse pretty much made him their fucking slave and whenever the bitch wavered all he had to do was just nod at him or look at him funny or something. And he really did get off on being treated like that anyway. He had fucking cummed in front of them just from drinking Mark’s fucking piss! Shawn had never seen anything so fucking pathetic in his life. Never. ‘Shawn, I trust you completely…’ the fag had whined to him that morning. No. He was never gonna say a word to Julie. Nothing to worry about there. It was like he pretty much had the bitch’s life in his own hands. Now that was some rush!

    Mark and Jesse had started bickering about football, as usual and Alex was listening to their banter pretty entertained. Shawn put on his airpods and started to chill. There was something that bugged him, though. His feet felt uncomfortable, constrained in those worn out Vans. He was about to kick them off, but he stopped himself and smirked.

    “Yo, toilet! Get your ass in here!” the boy yelled, cutting off the football discussion. Sure enough the fag came running from the kitchen in like point five seconds, ready to serve. Nice. “My feet hurt, gimme a foot massage while I chill.” It felt good using that tone with him and it felt even better seeing that he didn’t even have to finish telling him that the dumb bitch was already at the foot of his bed, kneeling. 

    “Yes, Shawn…” he said all fucking enthusiastic which, of course, made them all cackle. 

    “Nice one, bro! Hey, toilet! I want one too when you’re done with your hero! Hehe!” Alex teased while the bitch was already removing his sneakers. 

    “Yes, Alex…” the fag mumbled. Shawn took off his airpods. There was no need for them. They had all the entertainment they needed right there. 

    When the shoes came off, Shawn felt that typical fresh sensation you get when your socks are all damp with sweat and all of a sudden you get to wiggle your toes. The bitch took one of his feet in his hands and started massaging it while looking at him with pure, unmistakable love. It was almost adoration, really, which was weirdly the one thing he had in common with his sister. It was uncanny. Sure she could be a pain in the ass sometimes but she did love him a lot and Shawn had often used that to his advantage. The boy sat up on his elbows to observe the faggot better. The room smelled like a fucking locker room after practice and he noticed he was turning his face slightly to try and breath as far from his feet as he possibly could without being obvious about it. He snickered. 

    “Do they smell?” he asked, vastly entertained. 

    “Uhm… well… a little… but it’s not like… I mean…” the bitch stumbled on his words. 

    “What the fuck are you talking about?” Jesse cut in “Last night you said you liked it!” he had put his ankles on the bitch’s shoulders and his socked feet were now patting the fag’s cheeks. Mark and Alex were enjoy the show immensely “I mean you spent a whole fucking night with your face glued to his feet and mine and now you’re bitching about a little massage?” Jesse shook his head and clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

    “No… I…” the fag tried to answer while Jesse’s feet were practically all over his face.

    “So you’re lying to us, now??” Shawn pushed him with mock indignation.

    “N… no! Absolutely, I would never lie to you…” the bitch whimpered. 

    “Well, then?” Shawn asked expectantly, raising his eyebrows and spreading his arms.

    “I… I do like them…” 

    Alex was laughing his balls off. 

    “Mmmmm…” insisted Jesse “You better be sure, toilet! We don’t want any liars in our group!” Shawn watched as his old buddy used his foot to push the fag’s face into his own feet. Awesome. He felt him gasp for air, trapped as he was in that foot clutch. It was impossible not to snicker. 

    “Well, what do you say? Smell good?” Jesse asked, easing up the pressure. 

    “Yes… they smell great…” Shawn threw his head back on the pillow and cracked up. It was hard to believe how easy he was to manipulate. ‘Loser’ didn’t even begin to describe him. It took them a while to stop laughing and in all that time the bitch never stopped massaging his foot for a fucking second. 

    “Alright, you know what?” Jesse said, asking for silence with his hands “Let’s play a little game, shall we?” they all calmed down to listen “Since you got such a great sense of smell, better put it to the test!” snickers, here and there “I say, we make you memorize the smell of all our feet, then we blindfold you…” Jesse kept exchanging looks with Shawn while talking to the bitch “…you smell our socks and you gotta tell us who they belong to!” Then he turned to them “What do you guys say?” 

    The cheers and the cackles were overwhelming. Francis felt a shiver down his spine. That had to be too much! It was… gross… and… and disgusting. He didn’t like that. Right? Anyways he had to be careful. He had definitely risked being kicked out of the gang a minute earlier. Francis looked hopeful at Shawn but the god-like teenager simply said.

    “Hahaha! That sounds pretty fucking entertaining, haha!” Yet another sign that the boys were just having a bit of innocent fun which meant that he needed to soldier on and endure it. He swallowed. His throat still stung a little. 

    “Hahaha! Yeah, like one of those police dogs!” chuckled Alex “Go on! Get on all fours!” Francis obeyed. Not much else he could do, really. 

    “Hahaha! That’s a gooood doggy!” Jesse petted him on the head with his foot. 

    Then, completely unexpectedly the boy of his dreams said something that made Francis’s heart skip a beat. 

    “Hey! If you get each and every one of them right, tonight you can go out with us, deal?” And that was the ultimate, overwhelming proof that Shawn had his best interest at heart. He was giving him an opportunity that he couldn’t waste. He wouldn’t. 

    “O… ok… let’s do it…” Francis said, now showing a little more enthusiasm.

    “Hahaha! Awesome! That’s the spirit!” Said Jesse, using his foot to pat his cheek again. Damn that guy was ripe  “Now, like every doggy we gotta train you, first, ok?! So, now you get to smell each of our feet for like… a minute? What do you guys say?” he asked the others.

    “Make it two!” chimed in Mark “We don’t wanna rush this! Hehe!”

    “Fine, THREE minutes it is!” Jesse stated, receiving cheers of approval “So, you got it doggie?”

    “Yes…” Francis said simply but Jesse kicked him on the head.

    “Hey! Doggies don’t talk!” he said and looked down at him expectantly. The handsome latino was being especially wicked. Why did he want to humiliate him like that? Wasn’t it enough that he was such a superior specimen? Francis thought about the whole thing for a second. He was on all fours being told to bark like a dog for the sole entertainment of a bunch of teenage kids. The brilliant student, first in every academic trial, a little Physics genius, or at least that’s what half the faculty at UCLA thought of him. Why did he have to lower himself so much in front of those guys? And why did a small part of him want to do it? No matter. There was too much at stake. The college boy took a shaky breath and went:

    “Woof! Woof!” laughers all around him. 

    “Hahaha! That’s fucking priceless! Haha!!” Cackled Alex, the hot asian dude “Go on! Might as well start with Shawn, since you like him sooooo much!” he continued scratching one of his legs. For some reason, Francis noticed the boy was almost completely hairless.

    “Yeah, c’mon! Get sniffing! Hahaha!” echoed Mark.

    Francis turned to Shawn again, waiting for some sort of last second sign to get out of that situation. He knew he wasn’t gonna get one and, sure as shooting, the boy was grinning at him. 

    “Well? Whatchu waiting for, doggy?” he said to him. 

    So Francis looked at those feet. Shawn’s ankle socks were supposed to be white but they weren’t. Or at least the soles. They were darkened and they did, in fact, smell pretty strongly. He gathered all his will and without anyone to force him, he pressed his face to the feet of the boy he was madly in love with. He breathed in his overbearing masculinity which he, himself, knew he could never have. 

    “Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about! Hahaha!” Shawn snickered 

    “Hey don’t go jerking off on us, got it doggy? We don’t wanna see that!” Jesse quipped and everyone laughed. 

    “Haha! Just memorize it, toilet! You don’t wanna lose this game, do ya?” Shawn said, covering Francis’s whole face with his manly feet, rubbing them against his nose, his eyes, his lips. 

    The smell was so intense it went straight to his brain. It was pretty gross… sure… and yet Francis found himself inadvertently sniffing like a madman. His own penis was inexplicably back to happy. ‘Not again!’ Why? Why did he find that incredibly degrading stuff so arousing? He kept asking himself that same thorny question every time they threw new stuff at him. There had to be something so wrong with him.  

    “How’s it going, doggy?” Jesse taunted.

    Francis was about to reply that it was difficult to memorize that smell. It was just the stench of sweaty feet. How could he tell one person from another? But he didn’t say any of that. Because he wasn’t gonna break the same rule of the game twice. 

    “Woof! Woof!” he humored them. 

    “Hahaha! Good doggy!” Jesse repeated, tapping his foot on the back of his head. 

    Alex Jin was keeping time. Still one more minute to go. When he had found out a couple of weeks before that this fag loser was tagging along he hadn’t exactly been cool about it. Quite the opposite actually. He had bitched, pretty blatantly. Sure, Shawn and Jesse had let him in on the plan to make him their little bitch slave or whatever but it had taken major convincing to make him stop complaining about the whole thing. Boy, was he happy he had been wrong! This shit was fucking hilarious. He couldn’t stop himself from snickering while watching the fag smell Shawn’s feet with so much devotion. And his buddies had similarly entertained expressions on their faces.

    “Time’s up! C’mon do mine next!” Alex barked and the fag obediently unglued his stupid face from Shawn’s nasty fuckers and pressed it to his own. He had a fucking college student, an older guy, litterally under his feet and this stupid ass bitch was rubbing his fag face on his socks like they fucking smelled like roses. What a fucking power trip that was. “Well? Which ones do you prefer? His or mine?” Talking to him like that was actually the best part. 

    “Woof! Woof!” was the only answer he got. 

    “Hahaha! Doggy has learned his lesson!” Jesse said.

    “Haha! Yeah! He’s a college genius, after all!” cackled Shawn.

    “You know, what? This dog looks more like a bitch to me!” Mark said, lying on his bed “I mean, did you see the way he looked at me pissing?”

    No reaction from the fag. He kept sniffing Alex’s feet in silence. Jesse kept on teasing him. 

    “That true doggy? You a bitch?” It took him a few seconds to answer that. 

    “Woof…” this time it was a half hazard reply, like he was just realizing that now.

    “Hahaha! Should’ve told us before!” Jesse cackled “Maybe you’d rather smell our dicks instead, then! Hahaha!”

    “Hahaha! No shit he would!” Shawn laughed. Alex turned to him snickering.

    “Yeah, but it looks to me he looooooves our feet just as much, right bitch?” 

    Another “Woof!” made them crack up again. 

    “Alright, that’s enough!” Alex pushed his face away “Go to Mark, bitch!” 

      

    Jesse was blindfolding him with a pair of Alex’s used underwear and some tape. They had decided it was the perfect get-up for the game. Francis was a little nauseated. But most of all he was confused. He felt hazy and dazed in that whirlwind of sweaty teenage testosterone, almost like he was high on it. His penis didn’t even try to go soft. On the contrary every name calling, every humiliating comment made it pulse dangerously. Francis still didn’t even fathom how this could be but it didn’t really matter at this point. He had no brain power left to analyze the situation. Bottom line was he actually had noticed some differences in the way their feet smelled. He really had. It was subtle and hard to explain, but it was a fact. So he was indeed a dog after all. Or a bitch, like they said.

    “Alright, guys! You ready? Socks off!” Francis couldn’t see a thing but he could hear Jesse’s voice and he gathered from the noises what they were all doing “There, let’s make a niiiice pile right in front of him, hehe!” Jesse continued, then “C’mon bitch! get smelling and recognize your masters’ feet!” Francis stopped in his tracks. ‘My masters?’ He thought. What a strange concept. Jesse was still playing… wasn’t he? The older boy felt his heart racing and asked himself why his penis was reacting so strongly to that particular word? But he didn’t have time to mull it over. Someone had put a foot on the back of his head and had plunged his face into a tangle of dirty socks, snickering “Hurry up, bitch!” 

    He started to sniff around. It was impossible, everything was mixing up, creating nothing but confusion. All he knew was that it smelled so bad. 

    “Hey, you can’t just smell all of them at once! You’re never gonna tell them apart!” Mark seemed to have read his mind “Sniff ‘em one by one and when you’re sure, put it on each of our beds, got it?” Francis was actually grateful for the help and would have loved to reply in human words. Instead he went:

    “Woof!” 

    “Hey, that’s cheating! You’re helping the bitch!” jeered Alex.

    “Yeah, she’s gotta earn the prize! Hahaha!” Shawn said.

    “Hahaha! Well, that’s all part of the training, guys!” They were all cackling like crazy.

    Francis took the first sock with his hand but he received a kick right in the middle of his back. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” it was Jesse again “Since when do bitches use their hands?” The pain he was feeling was more psychological than physical “Use your fucking mouth, stupid!” Francis cursed himself for not thinking about it. He parted his lips and dived down to pick the damp sock up. He separated it from the others and started working on it. Sniffing and sniffing. The boys were snickering childishly, all in expectation. The smell was familiar. How could it not be? He might know who it belonged to. Weirdly enough he thought of professor Stein, the head of the department of Physics back at UCLA, and all the times she had praised him: ‘You’ll go far Mr. Grant, you’ll see!’ Francis felt a pang of guilt and discomfort. He picked up the sock again, stuffing it in his mouth, turned around and gingerly put it on Alex’s bed. The boys’ cheers exploded.

    After a few minutes he was sorting out their socks like a champ. Among their jeering comments and name calling, he realized he was indeed able to tell them apart. He actually recognized the smell of their feet. He couldn’t believe it. Maybe he’d get to go out with them, it was like a dream. The boys were doubling over and he figured it must have been hilarious to see him on all fours tasting their stinky socks.

    And the moment of truth came. He worked on the very last one a little longer than the others. He was one step away from a night out with the boys. He wanted to be extra careful not to lose. He wanted the prize so bad. But he was sure, there was no doubt. He put the sock on Shawn’s bed and the boys went crazy. 

    “Hahaha! Bitch, you did it! Hahaha!!” Shawn had put his bare feet on his head and face. He was petting him again and Francis found himself quite partial to that treatment, as long as it came from him “Get down there and roll around like a real bitch, c’mon!!” he was pushed down on the floor and passively obeyed. He laid on his back and lifted his limbs trying to resemble a dog as best he could. They seemed to like that. 

    “That’s a real foot bitch right there, guys!! Give it up! hahaha!” Jesse taunted. Their laughter kept roaring which Francis figured was a good thing. He felt them all. They were rubbing their feet on his face and chest and he simply didn’t have his wits about him anymore. He could smell and taste those feet, slapping him, soaking his skin with their smell while the teenagers were laughing hoarsely up there:

    “You see? Bitch training is key, guys! Always listen to the piss king! Hahaha!!” said Mark as he tore away the homemade blindfold. That made everything even more confusing since Francis was now trying to catch a glimpse of their smirks and their faces but all he could see were feet. Feet. Feet. Feet. It felt neverending and he simply let them have all the fun they wanted. Needless to say, his penis was still as hard as steel. 

    They stopped after a few minutes leaving him exhausted, mentally and physically. 

    “Hahahaha! That was pretty fucking impressive, foot bitch!” Alex said, rolling his face under his foot a couple of times. Francis couldn’t help feeling weirdly proud of that compliment. The gorgeous high-schoolers started chatting among themselves, commenting on the humiliating feat he, the foot bitch, had just completed which gave Francis a few seconds to rest. God, all that had made him so horny. Why? That same question running over and over in his mind. 

    “Alright, guys, we actually got at least three more hours before we need to start getting ready for dinner. What do you say we chill for a bit?” Shawn had suggested that, pushing Francis out of his daydream.

    “Sounds like a plan!” said Mark and then burped loudly. 

    “And you…” Shawn looked down at him, with the most handsome, godly smile anyone had ever seen and Francis lost himself in his hazel eyes, “Since you’ve been such a good little foot bitch, I think it’s only fair we give you a niiiice treat!” Francis found himself smiling with joy as everyone else was snickering “So, let me think…” Shawn continued, pensive. Then he smirked widely “Got it! How bout we finally let you taste our feet? I mean you like them so much you must be dying to lick them, right?” 

    “Haha! Yeah, the bitch’s even got another boner, look!” Alex said and Francis covered his crotch embarrassed. They were roaring with laughter again. 

    “Hahaha! Right! Guess it’s just natural for a foot bitch! Hahaha!” Shawn said.

    “Must be!!” snickered Jesse.

    “Alright, then it’s settled! You’re licking our feet clean till we tell you to stop!” Shawn informed him then he added “What’s with the face? Aren’t you happy?” They all laughed and fist bumped each other. 

    Francis couldn’t hide the sorrow anymore. They could read it in his expression. ‘Why Shawn…’ the boy thought desperately. But was complaining about it even an option anymore? Was it right to complain about it when he was as hard as a rock? Was it right when deep down that disturbing little part of him was indeed dying to get his tongue on those feet? Why should he complain? Why couldn’t he just give in to his lust. Just this once.

    “Woof!” he replied and as they predictably laughed at him while they lay down on their beds as comfortably as they could, Francis didn’t wait for any of them to add another word. He leaned forward and started to lick Shawn’s feet. His friend’s feet… no. His master’s feet had a much better ring to it.

  • Worship & Control: Muscle on Display

    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)!


    The Officer

    Troy Calloway didn’t have time for bullshit. That was the first thing anyone would learn about him if they spent more than a minute in his presence. He was a man of action, built for control, built for order. His presence alone was enough to silence a room. Thick, square-jawed, with the kind of physique that made people second-guess messing with him—not the aesthetic mass of a bodybuilder but the functional power of someone who trained for purpose rather than appearance.

    There wasn’t an ounce of softness on him, just raw, utilitarian muscle—every inch of his body carved from dedication, years of pushing iron, years of forcing his body to be the absolute strongest, the most powerful it could be. His chest was a solid wall of muscle, his shoulders square and imposing, his arms thick with dense fibers that moved like industrial machinery beneath his skin. When he entered a room, people instinctively straightened their posture, as if his very presence demanded greater discipline from those around him.

    He didn’t train for aesthetics. He trained for dominance. And yet, despite his best efforts, he knew there were men in this town who outshined him in pure physical development. That irritated him more than he cared to admit, even to himself.

    Troy had been a cop since his early twenties, climbing the ranks with sheer force of will and uncompromising dedication. He didn’t waste time with social media or pointless conversations. He did his job, hit the gym, went home. Rinse and repeat. The only time he let loose was in the bedroom, where his girlfriend—a woman who practically worshipped his body—made damn sure he got the admiration he deserved. She had a submissive streak, loved to run her hands over his pecs, squeeze his arms, call him a beast. That was all well and good, but it stayed behind closed doors. That kind of shit didn’t belong in public.

    Not like them.

    Harry Schett.

    The name alone made Troy’s grip tighten on the barbell as he finished his final set of bench presses. That kid—the town’s golden boy, the local Adonis—was impossible to avoid. Everywhere Troy went, there he was, standing out like a damn neon sign.

    Troy didn’t hate Harry. That would be ridiculous. But he couldn’t deny the raw irritation every time he saw him. It wasn’t just that Harry was built—plenty of guys in this gym were muscular. It was the way he carried himself. Effortless. Every movement of his body radiated confidence. He knew how good he looked. Knew how much people admired him. Troy had caught women—hell, even some men—staring at Harry in open awe, their gazes full of hunger and admiration. It was like he walked through life on a different plane, untouchable, a god among mere mortals.

    Troy had spent years chiseling his body into the perfect machine. He was thicker than Harry, built like a battering ram, not a statue. But next to Harry, it was like standing in the shadow of something unnatural. Where Troy’s chest was impressive, Harry’s pecs were monuments, jutting forward with such extraordinary volume they altered his silhouette completely. Troy’s thighs were powerful and functional, but Harry’s quads were so massively developed they forced his stance naturally wide, the separate heads of muscle visible through whatever fabric he chose to cover them with. Even Harry’s posture annoyed Troy—the casual confidence, the complete comfort in his own skin, the way he displayed his physique without seeming to try.

    Troy noticed him now, across the gym, doing some ridiculous single-arm shoulder press. Shirtless, of course. Why wouldn’t he be? Sweat glistened over those ridiculous pecs, catching the light with each controlled movement, highlighting striations so deep and defined they looked like they’d been carved with precision tools. His bright magenta gym shorts clung to him like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination—the fabric stretched across his thighs and glutes with such tension it seemed perpetually on the verge of surrender. And worse—worse—was the way people gravitated toward him. The PTs, the regulars, even the damn staff, all sneaking glances, waiting for any excuse to talk to him.

    Troy scoffed and rolled his shoulders, racking his weights with controlled precision that prevented unnecessary noise. He wasn’t about to waste any more time thinking about Harry Schett. He had real work to do.


    An hour later, Troy was in uniform, patrolling his usual beat. His police t-shirt stretched tight over his thick chest and biceps, the navy fabric clinging to him like a second skin. His black trousers, crisp with a slight sheen, hugged the deep, powerful mass of his thighs—rugby-player thick, built from years of heavy squats and relentless training. When he walked, people noticed. He wasn’t someone you could ignore, and he liked it that way. Authority was more than a badge; it was a presence, and Troy had cultivated his meticulously.

    His radio crackled, breaking the rhythm of his patrol.

    “Unit 14, we’ve had a report of suspicious behavior at the Schett Sportswear shop. Can you check it out?”

    Troy frowned. Max Schett’s place? He knew Max in passing—had bought gear from him before. The guy was a decent salesman, built like a tank, and ridiculously good-looking in that same unnatural way as his son, but didn’t seem the type to get involved in anything shady.

    He pressed the radio to his mouth. “Copy that. I’m en route.”

    It was only a few minutes’ walk. As he approached, he spotted the shop’s familiar signage, the glass windows gleaming under the midday sun. But something was off. The door was unlocked, but the “Closed” sign still hung in place.

    Troy pushed inside, his senses immediately heightening to potential threat.

    The shop was empty. At least, at first glance.

    Then he heard it—footsteps, movement toward the back.

    His jaw tightened. “Police.” His voice was firm, commanding, filling the space with authority. “Anyone here?”

    There was a moment of silence. Then—shuffling.

    Troy moved toward the sound, his hand instinctively resting near his belt, just in case.

    And then—Max Schett stepped out from the back room.

    Troy’s brow furrowed. Max looked… different. The man was a walking billboard for indecency.

    Clad in what appeared to be some kind of uniform—a pair of skintight, electric blue Lycra shorts that left nothing to the imagination and a matching polo shirt stretched over his enormous pecs—Max was an almost comical display of raw masculinity. The shorts clung to his massive thighs with desperate determination, outlining every ridge and curve of muscle beneath. The fabric was pulled so tight across his glutes that it created a sheen where it stretched most severely, the material practically transparent under the strain. The polo wasn’t much better, fighting a losing battle to contain the shelf-like protrusion of his chest, the fabric stretched to its molecular limits.

    But it wasn’t just the outrageous size of his muscles or the way his body strained against every inch of fabric that caught Troy’s attention.

    It was what was underneath.

    The cop’s sharp eyes had instantly picked up on the fact that Max’s boxer briefs were showing through the fabric. Bright as day, the outline was right there, fully visible through the translucent Lycra.

    This wasn’t just tight clothing.

    This was a deliberate display.

    Troy took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose before stepping forward, exuding the authority that had made him one of the most respected officers in town.

    “Maxwell Schett,” he said, keeping his voice firm but level. “We’ve had a complaint about public indecency.”

    Max’s lips twitched—just slightly—but he said nothing. He didn’t need to.

    Instead, he shifted his weight ever so subtly, pushing his lower half out further, making sure the obscene way the Lycra clung to him was even more pronounced. It was so slight, so expertly controlled, that it could almost be dismissed as coincidence.

    But Troy wasn’t an idiot.

    He knew a display when he saw one.

    Before Troy could say anything more, a voice cut through the tension—smooth, cocky, and completely unfazed.

    “Oh, come on, officer,” Ethan purred, stepping between them like a chess master making his next move. His hand slid down Max’s colossal thigh, over his crotch, then gripped the mass of his glutes like he was checking for ripeness. “This isn’t anything you wouldn’t see on a beach.”

    The casual way he handled Max—this mountain of muscle, this imposing physical specimen—was jarring. Even more jarring was Max’s reaction: nothing. No resistance, no objection. Just silent acceptance of being touched, positioned, displayed like property.

    Troy’s jaw clenched.

    “This isn’t a beach,” he shot back, his voice even despite the tension building in his chest.

    Ethan tilted his head, smirking like he had already won the argument.

    “So what? Is the law different here?” His hands never left Max’s body, continuing their slow, taunting exploration. “Or is it just that Max here looks so damn good in his uniform that someone got a little jealous?”

    Max still hadn’t said a word, standing there silent, obedient, on display.

    Troy let out a slow breath. He wasn’t going to win this one. Not here. Not now. He could feel it—the smug amusement in Ethan’s stance, the overwhelming presence of Max’s physique, the silent agreement from every eye in the shop.

    This wasn’t a legal battle.

    This was a power struggle.

    And right now?

    Troy wasn’t the one in control.

    He cleared his throat, adjusting his stance. “Alright,” he muttered, stepping back toward the door. “Just… make sure you don’t give people a reason to complain again.”

    Ethan grinned as Troy turned and walked out.

    “Will do, officer.”


    Troy’s footsteps were heavy as he walked down the street, his mind still buzzing with frustration.

    He wasn’t offended by what he had just seen—hell, he wasn’t some prudish old man clutching his pearls—but there was something about the whole exchange that rubbed him the wrong way.

    Max hadn’t said a single word.

    Not one.

    Troy had dealt with Max before—he knew the guy. Knew his overconfident, smooth-talking, charming ways. Max wasn’t the kind of guy to stand there silent while someone else spoke for him.

    Something was off.

    But he couldn’t put his finger on it.

    He turned a corner, heading toward his flat above Bean & Brew. He had a short break before his next patrol, and right now, he needed food and a little time to clear his head.

    His building was a modern complex, only a few years old, with large glass windows and a balcony overlooking the street. He’d bought the place after his divorce, needing something central, easy, and—most importantly—close to the gym.

    Troy unlocked the door and stepped inside, heading straight for the kitchen. His routine was simple: high-protein meal prep, a quick break, then back to work. Within minutes, he was sitting at his small dining table, staring down at a classic bodybuilder’s lunch—chicken breast, rice, broccoli—his mind still half-occupied with the scene at the shop.

    From his balcony, he had a perfect view of the town below.

    And from there?

    He could see Max’s sportswear shop.

    He wasn’t watching it on purpose—or at least, that’s what he told himself. It was just there, in his line of sight, part of the town he’d patrolled for years.

    But as he ate, he found his gaze flickering back toward the shop window.

    Max was there, of course. On display. Always.

    The man was a walking advertisement for his own store, standing behind the counter in those ridiculous skintight shorts, his pecs pushing against the polo shirt like they were fighting for space, his massive thighs straining the Lycra with every small movement. Even from this distance, Troy could see the way the fabric pulled and shifted across his glutes when he moved, the material so tight it looked painful.

    Troy exhaled, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth.

    Something wasn’t right.

    He didn’t know what.

    Not yet.

    But he was going to find out.

  • My Favourite Cock Sucking Encounter

    Here is a true story (with an assist from Grok) about an encounter I had sucking cock…

    My heart pounds like a bass drum as I hear that knock on the door, signaling the arrival of a stranger from Grindr who replied to my post saying, “Wanna get your cock sucked and cum down my throat? Hosting now!” I open the door and there he fucking stands, looking at me with that shit-eating grin, knowing I’m the cocksucker who’s about to suck his soul out through his cock. I affirm myself in my mind, knowing I’m about to give this bastard the dirtiest, most erotic blowjob of his fucking life, where my skill as a cocksucker will make his dick pulse with every goddamn lick and suck.

    Without wasting a single fucking second, I grab him and yank him inside, my hands tearing at the waistband of his jeans like a beast in heat. They slide down, revealing a fucking monster of a bulge that’s swelling, straining against his underwear. The feel of his cock growing hard under my touch sends shivers down my spine, affirming my fucking love for sucking dick. His man scent hits me — a musky, earthy fucking smell, amplified by his workout, driving my desire into fucking orbit.

    I guide him to the couch, where he slumps back, spreading his legs like a fucking invitation this cocksucker can’t resist. I drop to my knees, my hands eagerly pulling down his underwear, freeing his big, throbbing cock. It’s a sight to fucking behold, thick, veiny, and already dripping with need. I take it in my hand, feeling its heft, the heat of his skin against mine. My lips part, and I guide him into my mouth, the taste of him overwhelming my senses. I work my mouth over him like the pro cocksucker I am, my tongue swirling around his head, savoring every fucking inch, knowing this is pure, dirty fucking eroticism.

    I move lower, my tongue tracing down to his sweaty, musky balls. They’re ripe with his scent, adding an edge of raw fucking masculinity that thrills me. I lick them, suck each one into my mouth, enjoying the soft sounds of pleasure escaping him. The taste is salty, the muskiness fueling my fervor.Then, I guide him to turn, exposing his ass to me. His scent there is even more intense, a fucking mix of musk and the sharp tang of sweat from his workout, a primal fucking allure that calls to me. My tongue dives into the crevice, rimming him with a hunger I can’t fucking control. The taste is exhilarating and makes my cock hard as a rock.

    Working my way back up, I take his cock back into my mouth, aiming to deepthroat him. He grabs the back of my head, pushing it down hard, my skull bobbing up and down, taking his entire cock down my throat. At that point, he grunts out, “Fuck, you suck cock better than my girlfriend.”

    I wet my finger with my spit and slide it into his ass, stimulating his prostate. The combination of my mouth and finger sends him over the fucking edge. He groans, his cock twitching, and then he explodes, flooding my mouth with his hot, thick cum. I hold the cum in my open mouth, showing him his load, then I gargle it, the sound lewd in the silence, before gulping it all down.

    As he catches his breath, he says, “When I saw you with your mouth full of my cock… I fucking recognized you from your pics and videos online with the caption saying, ‘BiBottomCockSucker loves to Suck Cock!’ I knew from jerking off to those videos that you’d be a skilled cocksucker.” “You know if you Google yourself (BiBottomCockSucker) you’ll find pics and videos of you with a mouthful of cock all over the internet, don’t you?” I was a bit perplexed and intrigued since I thought I was still mostly closeted as a cocksucker. Oh well. Oops…

    Later, when he gets home, he texts me, “You sucked as good as in your fucking dirty videos. I want to do it again.” I text back, agreeing, andfrom that day, I become his regular cocksucker.

    I am BiBottomCockSucker – always looking for more cock to suck.


    *** To the guys reading this true story, do you wanna get your cock sucked like this by me? Or expose me further as a semi-closeted cocksucker? If so, you know what to do…

  • The Hung Romantic

    All characters and scenes are purely fictional and for fantasy purposes only.


    Marcus and Tony walk a few blocks to their favorite café and grab an outside table.  After ordering a couple of beers from their waiter, Jorge, they begin talking about their playroom.

    “I don’t know about you, but I’m really liking that sling” Marcus says, taking a gulp of his beer.

    “I definitely saw a different side to you sexually, that’s for sure” Tony remarks after drinking some of his.

    “Is that a bad thing?”

    “Fuck no, that was fucking amazing!”

    “Just checking” Marcus responds laughing.

    A few minutes later, Jorge comes back and takes their order.  As Jorge heads inside, Tony says “Getting back to the Devon topic, I’m not sure you thought this through all the way.”

    “What do you mean” Marcus asks.

    “Well, don’t get me wrong, I know we had a great time with him” Tony says, keeping his voice down and adding “but remember, he’s mostly a top and didn’t think he was ready to take you.”

    “Uhhh…” Marcus stammers out, before continuing “Fuck … good point.  I guess I was just concerned more for your satisfaction than mine.”

    “Also, are you ok with him fucking me while you’re out of town” Tony adds.

    “Look, I want you to be happy and satisfied when I’m not around, that’s all” Marcus says, adding “I know it’s frustrating.”

    Tony replies “I know it’s frustrating for you too.  I just want to make sure if this the road we go down, we’re doing it with eyes wide open.”

    Jorge brings the guys their food as they continue their conversation.

    “How about this” Marcus starts.  “Why don’t we see if Devon wants to come over some time so we can open the bottle of wine he brought and see what happens before we make any decisions?”

    “Good idea, let’s do that” Tony replies as they finish the topic and focus on their food.

    As the guys finish their meal and begin to walk back to the house, Tony notices a familiar face approaching on a bicycle.

    “Oh my God, what’s up you two” Derrick says, stopping in front of the guys, wearing skin tight cycling bib shorts and a helmet.

    “Hey Derrick” Marcus says followed by a similar hello from Tony.

    “You guys leaving the café?” Derrick asks.

    “Yeah, we just got done eating and were walking home” Tony replies, sensing a happiness about Derrick that was missing the last time they spoke.

    “Oh, do you guys live near here now?”

    “Yeah, we actually bought a house together a few months ago and just got settled in” Marcus responds, unsure how Derrick will react given his history with Tony.

    “Man, that’s awesome.  You guys really do make a cute couple.”

    “You should stop over and see the place, Derrick” Tony interjects, feeling somewhat comfortable that Derrick has moved on in his life.

    “You mean now?” Derrick asks.

    “Well, we’re only a block away from here, unless now’s not a good time” Tony replies.

    “Yeah sure, why not” Derrick says, still upbeat.

    The guys continue walking to the house as Derrick remains on his bike keeping pace as they chit chat back and forth.  They learn that Derrick took a new systems engineer job, where he can work from home.  With the better salary of his new job, he was looking to be closer to this area, which the guys shared was one of the reasons they moved here.

    As they approach the front door, Marcus says “Bring your bike inside … it’s safe here but you never know these days.”

    Derrick gets off his bike and carries it in the front door.  Marcus and Tony give him a tour of the place pointing out that most of the place was already fixed up, but the decorations and furnishings are all theirs.  Tony consciously decides not to show the basement to Derrick.

    As Tony does most of the talking during the tour, Marcus can’t help but think to himself how hot Derrick’s body looks in the cycling shorts.  From the portion of his chiseled chest showing through the bibs, to the perfectly round ass and the huge slab of meat that he’s showing up front.

    As Tony leads the way outside, Derrick, the swimmer that he is, immediately notices the pool.

    “Holy shit, this is awesome!” Derrick says, adding “The pool, the landscaping, it’s all so private.”

    “Yeah, we were really lucky to find a place like this” Marcus adds.

    “So … do you guys take advantage of the privacy back here? Derrick asks, knowing full well he and Tony were nudists when they were together.

    Tony replies smiling “What do you think?”

    “Yeah, I guess I already knew the answer to that” Derrick chuckles, still unphased by everything, including Tony’s relationship with Marcus.

    Not wanting to overstay his welcome, Derrick says “Hey, thanks again for showing me around your new place.  I’m really happy for you guys.”

    Tony, continuing to be impressed at Derrick’s attitude says as they walk him to the door “You should come over for dinner some time.”

    “I’d really like that, thanks!” Derrick says as they guys each hug Derrick before he gets on his bike and heads out.

    As soon as Tony closes the door he turns to Marcus and says “Wow, what a change in attitude.  It’s like he’s finally found himself.”

    “Wow is right” Marcus says, leaving his remarks short.

    “Yeah, I know, he looks great too” Tony admits, knowing what Marcus was referring to.

    “Seriously, it’s cool that you invited him over for dinner.  It’d be good for you both to be friends again.”

    Tony and Marcus spend a rare week working at home together in their respective home offices, which were originally nice sized bedrooms. 

    On Tuesday night at dinner, Tony asks “So, should we have Derrick over for dinner this weekend?”

    “Sure, why not, I’m good with that” Marcus replies.

    “It’s supposed to be nice this weekend, should we cookout or eat in?” Tony asking again.

    Answering Tony’s question with another Marcus says “Do you want him to come over and hang for the afternoon at the pool and then cookout?”

    Doing the same Tony asks half smiling “Do you just want to see Derrick in his bathing suit?”

    Marcus quickly responds “Look, Derrick looks great, but I am not about to initiate anything.  He was your ex and I don’t think it would be cool of me to do that to you or him.”

    “You’re so fucking sweet, that’s why I love you” is all Tony says, adding “Then let’s do the outdoor thing.  I think he would like it and it would be great for all of us to be outside.”

    “Then it’s settled!” Marcus says enthusiastically.

    Later that evening, Tony texts Derrick ‘Hey r u available this weekend for a cookout’.

    Derrick: ‘Hey – I can Saturday’

    Tony: ‘Cool, that works.  Come over around 2’

    Derrick: ‘Should I bring anything

    Tony: ‘Just a swim suit

    Derrick: ‘Cool, looking forward to it’

    Tony reacts to Derrick’s last text with a thumbs up and tells Marcus “It’s settled, Derrick’s coming over around 2 on Saturday.”

    “Nice, we’re going to be experts at having cookouts!” Marcus replies.

    As the week progresses, the guys prep for Saturday’s cookout with Derrick.  Tony heads to the store after work on Thursday and gets the groceries.  As he walks inside the house and strips down before starting to put the groceries away, Marcus comes from his office to help him out.

    Tony says “You know, I was walking by the meat aisle and saw this big stick of pepperoni”, waving it in Marcus’ face.

    “So, what are you saying” Marcus says with a smile on this face. 

    “Well … it reminded me that I haven’t had the chance to put YOU in the sling yet” Tony says with his crooked smile.

    “All you have to do is ask” Marcus says as he walks over to Tony and begins to tweak his right nipple.

    “Let me finish up here and I’ll meet you in the basement” Tony says, rushing now to finish putting away the groceries.

    Marcus heads downstairs and lowers the sling with his phone, waiting for Tony to come down.

    A few minutes later, Tony comes walking down the steps wearing a new dual, stretchy cock ring, with one part around his entire package and the other part around the base of his fully erect cock.

    “WOW – that really looks fucking hot” Marcus says, staring at Tony’s huge boner.

    “I picked it up and thought you might like it” Tony replies as he approaches Marcus and the sling.

    “Is it comfortable?” Marcus asks as he situates himself in the sling.

    “Fuck yes, I could wear this all day actually” Tony replies as he puts Marcus in the restraints.

    Tony then proceeds to use his phone to position Marcus where he wants him, which is completely vertical to start and then saves the settings as a favorite named ‘Marcus – vertical’.  He then shows Marcus the same cock ring, which he had hidden from his view.

    “I thought you might want to try it too” Tony says as he stretches the new toy out and puts it on Marcus’ growing member.

    “You’re too good to me, babe” Marcus says.

    “Well, let’s see if you still say that after I’m done with you” Tony replies, grinning again in his devious way.

    With Marcus restrained and in his new cock ring, Tony gets a coffee mug and one of the long pillows from the couch and sets them both on the floor near Marcus.  Tony then stands and begins to gently brush Marcus’ nipples, working him up the same way Marcus did to him when he was in the sling.

    Marcus moans “Oh, fuck babe that feels so good.”

    “Yeah, looks like you like the new cock ring…you’re fucking rock hard and leaking already!” Tony comments.

    “I have to admit, you’re right, this thing is really comfortable and grips me perfectly…it’s definitely a keeper.”

    “Honestly, I’d love to see you wear it when we got out” Tony says, encouraging Marcus.

    “Thanks to you, I’ve come a long way.  It’s a deal, but only if you do too.”

    “You know me, I was already going to wear it” Tony replies smirking.

    Tony abruptly stops playing with his man’s nipples and then positions the coffee mug under Marcus’ rock hard, leaking cock.

    “I’d hate to waste your delicious precum, so I figure I’ll save it for later” he says, again with a devious smile.

    Tony begins to alternate back and forth between worshiping Marcus’ erect nipples and kissing him passionately on the lips, making Marcus’ cock begin to leak like a faucet.  After a few minutes, Tony walks behind Marcus and puts the couch cushion on the floor.  It’s the perfect height to allow Tony to kneel and worship Marcus’ beautiful ass.

    He begins by kissing each of Marcus’ glutes, running his tongue around each of his muscular globes.  A few minutes later, he spreads his lover’s ass cheeks and runs his tongue up and down multiple times.

    “Babe, this is fucking awesome, you got me so turned on!” Marcus moans out.

    Not missing a beat, Tony begins probing Marcus’ tight ass with his tongue, while continuing to pull his ass cheeks apart.  He reaches down to his own leaking cock and takes some of his own ‘lube’ and smears it on the ass in front of him and continues to work that in with his tongue.

    “Awww fuckkk that feels sooo goood” is all Marcus can moan out.

    After a few minutes of loosening him up, Tony stands up and faces Marcus and again begins to passionately kiss him.

    “I love you so much, I’m so glad you’re mine” Tony says.

    “Fuck, me too babe” Marcus replies, obviously worked up.

    Tony gets his phone and re-positions the sling (and of course Marcus) so that Marcus’ ass is at the same level as Tony’s love stick.  After positioning his cock head on Marcus’ pucker and satisfied with the position, he saves the position in the app as a favorite named ‘Marcus – fucking’.

    He then grabs the coffee mug and as expected, sees the cup a quarter of the way full with Marcus’ precum.  He dips two fingers in and takes those fingers and runs them across his own lips before kissing Marcus.

    “You taste so good, man” Tony says, sticking his tongue in Marcus’ mouth so they can both taste the precum. 

    After making out for a bit, Tony takes 2 fingers, dips them in the coffee mug again and proceeds to smear Marcus’ still warm precum over his hole.  After repeating the process and soaking Marcus’ sphincter, Tony begins to gently slide those same 2 fingers in and out.

    Marcus continues to squirm, still held by the restraints and simply moans “Ohhhh!”

    Tony re-positions his body, to the side of Marcus, but continues to probe his hole with those same two fingers.  He then takes his other hand and lifts up Marcus’ 10+ inches of fully erect man meat and puts the head on his own mouth.

    “Mmm, you taste so fucking good” Tony says and then begins to swirl his tongue around Marcus’ cock head.

    In total heat, Marcus tries to fuck Tony’s mouth with his horse cock but is unable to move in the sling and is restricted to what Tony takes on his own.

    With Marcus’ cock in his mouth and one hand working Marcus’ hole, Tony takes his free hand and begins tweaking Marcus’ most sensitive nipple.

    As Tony takes more of Marcus in his mouth, working it up and down, Marcus moans out “Fuck, babe, I’m going to cum!”

    Hearing those words, Tony continues doing what he’s doing and readies himself for what he knows is going to be a ridiculous load.

    As Tony feels Marcus’ ass tighten, he removes some, but not all of Marcus’ cock from his mouth, allowing Marcus to shoot a massive load that Tony’s unable to handle. 

    “Awwww fucking A, that’s sooo good” Marcus moans, continuing to cum in Tony’s overwhelmed mouth.

    Tony tries with all his might to swallow, but a good amount still drips out of both sides of his mouth. 

    Tony, content that Marcus is done cumming, removes Marcus’ cock from his mouth, looks in his eyes and says “Fuck – that is the most I’ve ever seen you cum, man!”

    “That was all you, there was nothing I could do but enjoy it, which I obviously did … and the cock ring … fuck … I mean that definitely added to it” Marcus replies catching his breath.

    After a few moments of enjoying each other, Tony’s fingers continue to probe Marcus’ hole.

    “Uh, I guess we’re not done yet, huh?” Marcus asks.

    “Right again my hot man” Tony replies smiling.

    Tony removes his fingers from Marcus’ hole and re-positions himself so he’s facing Marcus’ fully exposed ass.  He then pours the remainder of the precum from the coffee mug over his own cock and strokes the goo up and down the length of his ringed up cock.

    Looking at Tony, Marcus gets fully erect again and says “Oh my god, that’s so fucking hot!”

    With a sudden shift in attitude, Tony says “Marcus, look in my eyes … I want to see the expression on your face as I make love to you.”

    Marcus nods and looks into Tony’s crystal blue eyes, knowing they are about to become one.

    As their eyes connect, Tony begins to push his slimed-up cock head against Marcus’ hole.  Slowly sliding in, Tony looks at Marcus in the most loving of ways, wanting him to fully enjoy each of the 9 inches he’s about to slide into him.

    As Tony’s head pops in Marcus gasps “Oh fuck” almost surprised at how easily Tony was able to penetrate him.

    “That’s it, all that work on your ass is now going to pay off” Tony says, still looking into Marcus’ eyes in a passionate, loving way.  Tony then slides in another inch of his engorged cock and then after a few seconds, slowly slides it back out.

    “Oh babe, please, make love to me you’re driving me crazy” Marcus says, leaking again all over his stomach.

    “I will, I will, I want you to enjoy my big dick” Tony says, as he teases Marcus with another fat inch before sliding out, thoroughly enjoying how Marcus’s hole and the new cock ring are feeling.

    “Fuck, fuck … trust me, I’m enjoying every inch of it!”

    Unphased by Marcus’ demands, Tony continues slowly, inch by inch, continuing to look in Marcus’ eyes and becoming even more turned on as he sees how he’s driving his man crazy.

    Finally, Tony says “Here you go, man, my last fucking inch for you” as he goes in balls deep in Marcus, leaving his cock inside for Marcus to enjoy.

    Feeling completely full and enjoying Tony’s cock like never before, Marcus moans out “Oh god yes, I love your big cock babe, please fuck me!”

    “It’s so hot hearing those words come out of your mouth!” Tony says.

    Tony proceeds to grab Marcus’ legs, which are lifted up by the sling and begins to slowly pull out of his man’s hole, leaving the cock head and then slowly sliding his full-length back in.  Tony continues, increasing the pace with each thrust into his man, still looking in his eyes.

    Marcus, now lost in Tony’s crystal blue eyes and the feeling of his big cock sliding in and out of him, moans with each deep penetration of Tony’s cock “Oh … fuck … yes… that…feels … so … fucking … good!”

    After a few minutes, Tony can’t hold back any more as the tightness of Marcus’ ass and the powerful feelings between the two is getting him close.  He grabs Marcus’ cock and begins to stroke and hold on to it as leverage and begins power-fucking Marcus.  As the two continue gazing into each other’s eyes, the only sounds to be heard are the guttural moans from Marcus and the sound of Tony’s balls slapping against Marcus’ ass.

    “You got me so turned on I’m going to cum!” Tony yells out.

    Tony buries his cock deep in Marcus and begins spewing his seed deep inside. 

    Feeling Tony’s huge load deep inside drives Marcus to a frenzy and as Tony continues stroking his cock, he begins shooting a load all over his face and chest and yelling out “Oh god, yes, yes!”

    After a few minutes of enjoying the dopamine rush, and with Tony’s cock still buried in Marcus, Tony says “Not counting the time I was in the sling, this is by far was the hottest session I’ve EVER had!”

    “You’re unbelievable, babe, I love you so much” Marcus says emotionally.

    “I love you too, Marcus” Tony says.

    As he slowly slides his cock out of Marcus, he re-positions the coffee mug on the floor, catching the load that he just dumped inside his man.

    “Now that’s a new feeling” Marcus says, adding “It feels like you really came a lot!”

    “It felt like I did it and from the looks of it, I definitely did!” Tony replies as the cum continues to drip out of Marcus.

    A bit later, Tony gets his phone and lowers the sling so he can finally release Marcus.  As the restraints are removed from Marcus, the two embrace each other and kiss before heading to the shower.

  • The Contractor’s Son

    Mark Benson woke up with water dripping on his face. There had been an overnight rainstorm and the roof was leaking.

    “It’s always something” he thought. He lived in an old house and had thought about moving but he was used to the familiar surroundings 

    Mark called Ramon Cabrera a local contractor who did good repair work. The next morning Cabrera drove up in his pickup truck with a younger man.

    “This is my son Dante “

    Dante looked eighteen. He was taller than his father. Mark could see the family resemblance, but Dante had more delicate features than his rough neck father.

    “Get the ladder son” Cabrera said.

    “If you need another one, I got one in the garage” Mark said as he went back into the house.

    The Cabrera men worked until they took a lunch break.

     Mark was in his home office when he heard a knock at the door.

    “Come in”

    Dante stepped inside.

    “My dad said we will continue the job tomorrow.”

    “Sure, Dante tomorrow is fine “

    “You have a lot of books” Dante said admiring Benson’s library.

    “Do you like to read?”

    “Sometimes”

    “Any favorites?”

    “I liked Great Expectations.”

    “Really?” Mark was surprised that they still read Dicken’s who might seem a bit old fashion these days.

    “I had to read it for an English class.”

    “It’s a good book.”

    Dante noticed a framed diploma on the wall.

    “You went to college?”

    “Yes” Benson was lawyer

    “I like to do that too.”

    “Did you apply? “

    “I got good grades but not enough for a scholarship.”

    “But you have other financial options.”

    “Like what? “

    Dante’s cell phone began to ring.

    “Si voy ahora”

    “Do you have to go?’

    “Yeah”

    “If you like we can discuss those options tomorrow”

    Mark was attracted to Hispanic men. Dante was good looking but there was also something charming about him that appealed to Benson.

    .

    The next day the Cabrera men returned to finish the work on the roof.

    “Good morning, guys” Mark greeted Cabrera and son.

    “You thought about what we discussed “Mark asked Dante.

    “Yes, I did “

    “Let me know if you want to talk some more.” Mark patted on the shoulder. He could not help admiring the youths lean muscular physique.

           Mark worked from home. He was bored staring at his computer screen. It was a warm day, and he would rather be outside. He went to a nearby park. Mark notices a group of young men playing soccer. He watched the game and imagined Dante on the field. Mark walked back to the house when he saw Ramon standing next to his truck.

    “We finished the job “Ramon said wiping his brow” but you might consider getting a new roof next year.”

    “Alright Ramon just send me the bill” Mark said.

    “Dante will clean up the mess I have to rush to another project” Ramon said as he got into his truck and drove away.

    Mark looked back at the house. Dante was standing on the roof looking down at him.

    “You ok up there?”

    “Yes, Mr. Benson I’ll be done soon.”

    “Go in the house if you need anything.”

    Dante gave Mark a thumbs up and went back to work.

    Mark was standing in the kitchen when he heard a knock at the back door.

    “Come in Dante”

    Dante stepped inside. He was carrying a backpack.

    “I cleaned up everything Mr. Benson” Dante said.

    “Great you want something to drink?’

    “Sure “

    “If you were older, I would offer you a beer.”

    ‘I’m almost twenty “Dante said in a deeper sounding voice.

    “Then you earned it buddy.”

    Mark handed Dante a beer and took one for himself.

    “Dante how are you going to get home? “

    “Taking the bus “

    “I could drive you?”

    “The bus is fast.”

    Dante received a message on his phone.

    “Not now” he texted back.

    “Everything ok”

    “Just my girlfriend is acting up.”

    “That happens “

    “We broke up a month ago but she wants to see me.” Dante said finishing his beer.

    “Are you in love with her?” Benson asked

    “Not anymore its over”

    “Well I’m sure you’ll meet another girl”

    Mark was standing next to Dante.

    “I should go home I stink.”

    Dante’s sniffed his under arms.

    “You could take a shower here.”

    “But I did not bring any clean clothes.”

     “I could lend you something.”

    “Thanks, but-”

    “Or I could wash these.”

    Mark tugged at Dante’s t-shirt.

    “If it’s not too much trouble.”

    “Come on I could use a shower too.”

    Mark and Dante stepped into the bathroom.

    “A shower can be very relaxing” 

    Dante stripped off his sweaty work clothes until he stood in pair of blue of boxer briefs.

    “Let’s wash everything Dante.”

    Dante removed his underwear revealing  nice size dick.

    “It’s big enough for two.” Mark turned on the shower.

    Mark admired the young Latino’s ass as Dante stepped into the stall.

    “This feels good “Dante said as the water cascaded on his chest.

    “Be right there.”

    Mark stripped of his clothes. He was in decent shape for a fifty-year-old man.

    Dante was enjoying the luxurious feel of the water on his young muscles.

    “You can change the flow if you want a massage.”

    Mark adjusted the shower his arm rubbing up against Dante’s nipples.

    “That’s cool” Dante said.

    “You ok showering with another guy?”

    “Sure, I do all the time after sports.”

    “You played baseball?”

    “Soccer”

    Mark could tell by Dante’s legs that he would look hot in shorts.

    “Let me do your back” Mark said massaging Dante’s shoulders.

    “Hmmm”

    “Turn around Dante”

    Dante faced Mark.

    “You are getting excited” Mark said noticing Dante’s cock.

    “Sorry about that”

    “We are all guys here, right?’’

    Mark felt his own cock getting hard.

    “I used to jerk off with my friends”

    Mark reached down at stroked Dante’s cock.

    “Mr. Benson?

    “I thought you like this?”.

    Mark looked into Dante’s eyes seeking approval.

    “Yeah, I do” Dante enjoying the feel of the older man’s hand on his erection

    Mark placed Dante’s hand on his own hard dick.

    “More fun if we both do it”

    Mark felt Dante’s strong grip masturbating him.

    “That’s its Dante.”

    Mark was loving the sensation of the mutual masturbation, but he had a feeling that Dante was willing to go further.

    “Let’s dry off.”

    Mark turned off the water.

    “Sure”

    Dante and Mark stepped out of the shower.

    “Here!’

    Mark tossed Dante a towel and took one for himself.

    “That shower was great “

    Dante’s light brown skin was sexy.

    “Are you going to wash my clothes?”

    “I think that can wait Dante.”

    “Where are we going?”

    “To have more fun” Mark said playfully smacking Dante’s ass with his towel.

    Mark led Dante into his bedroom.

    “You want to jerk off some more?”

    “Sure?”

    “You did with one your buddies?”

    “Yeah, my teammate Jeff”

    Benson imagined the two sweaty young men pleasuring each other after a game in the locker room

    “Guys love that.”

    Mark sat on the edge of the bed he stared at Dante’s cock.

    “But using your mouth is better.”

    Mark licked the head of the young Latino’ dick.

    “Yeah, it does”

    Dante’s cock was a darker color than the rest of his body.

    “Feels so good.”

    Mark leaned back revealing his own erection.

    “Do me now”

    Dante stared at the older man’s cock

    “Come on Dante

    Dante licked the head of Benson’s dick.

    “More please”

    Dante sucked on Benson’s cock.

    “Get up Dante”

    Dante’s cock was fully erect the head dripping with precum.

    “You got a beautiful cock “

    Benson kissed the Latino’s hard shaft.

    “I need you to fuck me “

    Dante grinned.

    Benson grabbed a tube of lubrication and smeared on his ass.

    “Here spread it on your dick.”

    Dante greased up his pole.

    Benson got face down on the bed.

    “Come on do it.”

    Dante penetrated the white man with his hard brown dick.

    “Oh yes!
    Benson loved the feel of the Latino cock inside his ass.

    “Fuck me Dante”

    Dante thrust his erection into Benson.

    “Yeah that’s it!

    Benson encouraged the Latino to go deeper.

    “Breed my ass “

    Dante loved the sensation of fucking a man.

    “You like it “

    Benson had not made love to a man in a long time, but this was better than he remembered.

    “Going to cum “Dante said.

    Benson felt Dante’s load inside his ass.

    “Oh, that’s so good!’

    Dante pulled out of Benson.

    “You are a stud.”

    Benson turned over and began to jerk himself off.

    “Let me!’

    Dante pumped on Benson’s dick until the man ejaculated all over Dante’s torso

    “You liked that buddy?”

    “Yeah”

    Benson handed a Dante a washcloth.

    “Here use this.”

    Dante wiped the cum of his belly.

    Benson got up from the bed

    “I should get you something to wear.”

    Benson opens a dresser drawer and pulls out a pair sweatpants and shirt.

    “These should fit you.”

    Dante put on the sweatpants.

    “Yeah, that works.”

    Benson put on his jeans and sweater.

    “Dante are you hungry?”

    “Yes, I could use a snack.”

    “I’m going to drive you home we can get something on the way.”

    Dante and Mark were walking towards the car when Dante’s phone began to ring.

    “It’s my dad.”

    Benson got into his vehicle and watch as Dante spoke with his father on the phone.

    “Everything ok?” Mark asked as Dante sat next to him.

    “He was just checking up on me “

    “What did you tell him?”

    “I was hanging out with a friend.”

    “Are we friends now?”

    “I like to get to know you better Mr. Benson.”

    Benson smiles and playfully stroked Dante’s hair

     “Do you still want to go back to school?”

    “Yes “Dante said.

    “I could help you.”

    “How? “

    “I know a man who runs a local college he owes me a favor might be able to give you a break on the tuition “

    “That would be great Mr. Benson.’’

    “Considering our recent encounter, you can call me Mark.”

    Dante smiled

    “Now let’s get something to eat.”

    Mark leaned in and kissed Dante. He could feel his cock getting hard again and could not wait to get to know the contractor’s son better.

  • Steven’s Adventure

    Channel Island & The DAC

    I saw the man in the worn-out hat as he stepped off the boat and onto the dock, squinting against the glare of the early morning sun. His name was Tom, and he had the rugged look of someone who’d spent more time outdoors than in. His eyes were a piercing blue, as he looked back at the mainland enjoying the idea he was alone on the island but not for much longer.

    The Darwin Aquaculture Centre was a complex of concrete tanks and plastic tubing, surrounded by a jungle of mangroves, coastal trees and the ever-present eucalyptus that whispered secrets to the water.

    I got myself a job as an Aquaculture Technician focusing on system maintenance requiring fieldwork in remote locations. I was about to meet my new boss Tom, who had offered me the job during a phone interview. Tom was impressed that I had a flare for technology of all forms and a practical approach to maintenance knowing full well that spare parts would not be easily accessible due to the vast distances that was the northern territory.

    The job had accommodation, and all food supplied. The money wasn’t bad either and for me, it was the idea of working outside although I realised that safety was critical in the waters of the northern territory.

    Tom turned to face me, his handshake firm, “G’day mate, you must be Steven,”

    “Nice to meet you Tom, I have been looking forward to this very much and I hadn’t realised how beautiful the island is.”

    Tom looked at me. “Yep, bloody nice place I tell you but you haven’t seen the best yet,” his voice gruff with a welcoming demeanour as he spoke in a measured drawl, “We will be starting with a tour of the facilities before heading out to the field sites. Lock your motorbike and put your stuff on the boat and we will get going.”

    I followed him to the boat, the smell of seawater and fish mingling with the faint scent of diesel engines. The large cabin was plastered with charts and graphs detailing the growth rates of various species, and the occasional photo of a researcher holding a grinning fish or a bucket of gleaming oysters. We were headed towards the heart of the operation, the hatchery, where baby oysters no larger than a grain of rice were meticulously cared for, destined for the vast open waters of the bay and in time, I suspected, dinner tables in the finest restaurants around the country if not further afield.

    “So, Steven, your job as we discussed is to maintain the filters and other support equipment for the hatchery and also to visit all the outlying areas around the island that the DAC looks after using a motorboat. You ready for it?”

    “I am,” I nodded, feeling the weight of the responsibility but also the excitement of the adventure that awaited. The boat chugged to life, and we set off, the engine’s rhythm syncing with the gentle slap of waves against the hull.

    As we approached the hatchery, Tom pointed out the floating cages bobbing in the water, housing the adult oysters that would eventually spawn and provide the next generation. The entire operation was a symphony of science and nature, with the quiet hum of machinery blending with the calls of seabirds circling above.

    “So, Tom,” I began, as casually as I could, “You’ve mentioned before that you’re married. What’s your wife like?”

    Tom’s eyes remained on the horizon as he steered the boat. “Ah, Linda,” he said with a smile, “She’s a real salt of the earth type, keeps me grounded when I get too lost in all this…oyster and algae business although she doesn’t often visit being settled in Darwin which as you know is not far away but far enough unless you have to come here if you get my gist.”

    “Yeah, I know,” I said, trying to keep the conversation going as the boat sliced through the calm waters of the bay. “It’s quite a change from the city, isn’t it?”

    “You got that right,” Tom chuckled, “But it’s a good life out here, away from all the hustle and bustle. You get used to it.”

    “No worries, mate,” I replied, “You forget, I’m used to the outback and its quiet way of life.”

    “I guess so,” Tom responded “but up here, don’t forget the saltwater crocs and box jellyfish, you don’t get many of them in the outback,” sniggering to himself as he put me in my place.

    The boat docked alongside the main hatchery building, and Tom led me through a series of corridors to the control room, where the walls were lined with monitors displaying various metrics of the water quality and system operations. The air was cool and faintly salty, the scent of the ocean a constant presence as I gained an understanding of what I would be doing.

    “These pens,” Tom said, gesturing out the window to the large, enclosed areas of water, “are where we grow the oysters. Keeping them clean and the water quality high is crucial. And these filters,” he tapped a finger on a schematic, “you’ll be cleaning them every day. It’s a bit of a grind, but it’s what keeps the whole shebang running.”

    “No worries, Tom and as I said in my interview, I’m a quick learner,” to which Tom nodded in acknowledgement.

    The last place Tom showed me was my accommodation. We pulled up to a small, wooden jetty and docked the boat. He gestured towards the path ahead, which wound through the thick foliage before opening up to reveal a quaint beach shack. The shack looked like it had been painted by the sea, with the salt air and sun giving it a weathered, but charming, appearance. The sand was a soft white, and the water a crystalline blue that stretched to infinity. The porch, which wrapped around the beachfront and side of the shack, had a couple of rocking chairs and a wooden table, the perfect spot to enjoy the evening sea breeze and the kaleidoscopic sunsets.

    Tom commented, “It’s not many people who commute to work in a boat,” as he handed me the keys to my small motorboat which was more like a fishing boat that had seen better days.

    “Cheers Tom,” as I took the keys.

    Tom nodded. “See you bright and early,” and with that, he turned and strode back down the jetty. The boat’s engine rumbled back to life, and he disappeared around the bend, leaving me to unpack and get acquainted with my new island home.

    The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the water. I couldn’t resist the urge to explore and since I was on my own, I stripped down to my tighty whities enjoying the warm breeze as I stepped off the porch finding the sand cool and firm beneath my bare feet as I walked along the beach, feeling the gentle tug of the retreating waves. Trees leaned inland, whispering secrets to the breeze that constantly pushed them, and I noticed the air was alive with the sound of crickets, birds and distant waves.

    The beach stretched on, untouched by civilization, and I felt a sense of peace wash over me. The job ahead was demanding, but the isolation and the rhythm of the tides promised a kind of tranquillity that I hadn’t felt in a long time. The last vestiges of the day’s heat lingered in the sand, warming my skin as I walked further from the shack.

    As the light continued to fade, the stars began to emerge, pinpricks in the vast velvet sky. I found a spot where the sand was particularly soft and lay down, feeling the gentle kiss of the earth beneath me. The world around me grew quiet, and I let my eyes drift shut, listening to the symphony of the sea.

    The next morning, I was up before dawn, eager to start my first day at the Darwin Aquaculture Centre. The air was crisp, hinting at the heat that would come later in the day. The beach was a canvas of shifting shadows as the sun slowly began to rise, painting the sky with shades of pink and gold. The sea was calm, reflecting the changing colours above like a mirror.

    I climbed into the small boat, feeling the familiar thrill of adventure stirring in my chest. The engine purred to life, and I set off across the glassy water, the horizon a thin line of light that grew brighter with each stroke of the boat. As I approached the hatchery, I saw the silhouettes of other workers beginning to arrive, their movements echoing my excitement and anticipation for the day ahead.

    Tom was already there, a steaming cup of tea in hand. “Ready for the grind?” he called out, his smile easy.

    “Born ready,” I replied, tying the boat to the dock and joining him.

    The tour of the hatchery was thorough and fascinating. Each tank held a different stage of oyster development, from the larvae floating in the water to the adults, ready to spawn. The precision of the operation was a stark contrast to the wild beauty of the island. The tension of keeping these creatures alive in a controlled environment was a constant reminder, and I felt a newfound respect for the scientists and technicians who dedicated their lives to this work.

    But it was the fieldwork that truly captured my imagination. The thought of venturing out into the untouched waters of the bay, surrounded by nature’s bounty, filled me with a sense of awe and responsibility. It was a chance to be a part of something larger than myself and to contribute to the delicate balance of the marine ecosystem.

    The day passed quickly, a blur of new faces and information. By the time the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the water, I felt a part of something special. As I made my way back to the shack, I couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of belonging. This was my island, my job, and I was ready to face whatever challenges the sea had in store for me.

    As I sat on the porch drinking a cold beer in the early evening, I noticed a figure in the distance, walking along the beach. He was a man, tall and lean, with sun-kissed skin and a gait that suggested he was as comfortable here as the oysters were in their cages. He didn’t appear to be from the Aquaculture Centre, and my curiosity was piqued.

    As he grew closer, I made out that he was wearing nothing but red boxerbriefs and carrying a shirt in one hand. Even though I had done the same in my tighty whities minus the shirt, I thought the sight was slightly peculiar, but the island’s laid-back vibe made it seem less so and beyond the principle of judgment.

    He looked up and caught my eye, and before I could retreat to put some shorts on, he called out, “G’day mate!” His smile was wide and genuine, and I found myself smiling back. “I’m Alan,” he said as he reached the porch, standing in the sand, his hand extended for a shake. “I heard someone new moved into this shack. Thought I’d come say hello and see if you need anything.”

    Alan was a local fisherman, living on the other side of the island. He had a friendly face, creased by a lifetime of laugh lines and outdoor living. His handshake was firm, and his grip lingered as if he were trying to gauge my mettle. “I’m Steven,” I said, taking his hand as I stood there in my tighty whities. “Just started at the Centre.”

    “Ah, you’re the one they brought in for the tech work,” he said, nodding. “They’ve been looking for someone like you for ages.”

    “Sorry, I’m not dressed but I was enjoying some me time and wasn’t expecting any company.”

    “No worries, Steve, nothing wrong in being in your tighty whities on the beach. Look at me hey?”

    His relaxed attitude broke the ice and I handed him a cold beer and invited him to sit down on the porch as we continued to introduce each other, the conversation flowing easily as we swapped stories about our lives and what brought us to this remote part of the world.

    Alan spoke of the island’s secrets and its beauty, and I found myself eagerly soaking up his words like a sponge. When he finally stood up to leave, I felt a pang of regret that our encounter had to end, but as he disappeared into the night, I was slightly transfixed with his body and in particular his bottom and how fit he appeared to be and was left wondering if he might be gay.

    Saying to myself, “Stop it, I’m here to work”, I opened my cooler and grabbed a beer, the condensation cold against my hand. Cracking it open, I took a deep swig and watched as the stars winked at me, one by one, welcoming me to my new life as I continued to think about the unexpected visitor who was still visible along the shoreline.

    The next few days at work were a whirlwind of learning and hard graft. The team, a mix of scientists, technicians, and locals, took me under their wing. They taught me the ins and outs of maintaining the hatchery, and the delicate balance of nutrients and water flow that kept the oysters and microalgae thriving. Each night, as I sat on the porch of my shack, I found myself lost in thought. My mind wandered back to Larry and Mark, my grandfather’s unlikely muse. I wondered how they were fairing back in Shark Bay, and whether Mark had found the same peace and sense of belonging that I felt here on the island.

    The isolation grew on me, offering a quietude that allowed my thoughts to unfurl and explore the depths of the sea. I often found myself contemplating the vastness of the ocean, the mysteries it held, and the fragility of the ecosystem as I sat in my tighty whities or sometimes even naked.

    One evening, as I sat on the porch, I saw Alan in the distance, carrying a four-pack of beers walking towards my humble shack dressed like he was the previous time we met but this time in orange. “G’day mate,” he shouted from a distance with a pleasing smile to support his friendly approach.

    “G’day mate,” I responded, standing up to meet him. “Nice colour boxerbriefs Al,” as I looked at his groin, even more than I did the other day and I liked what I saw. A substantial outline of a seven or eight-inch cock and I could tell he was circumcised.

    “Cheers mate, I thought you might like the colour,” his smile warm and inviting. “They’re certainly a brighter colour than your dependable tighty whities,” to which he chuckled. “I bought some beers for us to enjoy if you have no plans.”

    “I have no plans, and I’m delighted to see you,” I responded, asking Al to join me on the porch.

    Al handed me a beer from the pack, and we clinked bottles. “To new beginnings,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. We sat down on the rocking chairs, the gentle squeak a comforting soundtrack to our conversation. The breeze picked up, carrying the scent of salt and the distant calls of the nocturnal wildlife.

    “So, Steve, tell me,” Al began, sipping his beer, “you got a girlfriend back in the city?”

    I took a deep breath and decided it was time to share a piece of my truth. “Well, Al,” I started, “I’m gay.”

    Al paused mid-sip, looking at me thoughtfully. “Is that so?” he said, his voice even. He took another drink and then set the bottle down. “I had my suspicions,” he admitted with a chuckle, “but it doesn’t change a thing between us.”

    The tension in my chest uncoiled and I felt a rush of relief. “Thanks, Al,” I said, genuinely touched by his acceptance. “It’s not something I usually advertise in a new place, but I figured I could trust you.”

    “You’ve got good instincts,” he said, patting my shoulder. “But, if you don’t mind me asking, what brought you out here? Surely there’s more action back in the city?”

    I shrugged. “It’s a long story, but I needed a change. Plus, I love the ocean. It’s like a whole new world down there.”

    “Ah, the call of the sea,” he said, his gaze drifting out to the darkened water. “It’s a powerful thing. But no worries, you’ll find plenty of distraction here. Just not the kind you’re used to.”

    We laughed and continued talking late into the night, sharing stories of our pasts and our hopes for the future. His openness made me feel at ease, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a true connection with someone other than Larry and Mark.

    As the last beer was finished, Al stood up, stretching. “Well, I’d better be off,” he said. “But you know where to find me if you ever need anything or just want to chat.”

    “I appreciate it,” I said, standing as well. “And thanks for making me feel welcome.”

    He gave me a firm pat on the back. “Anytime, Steve. You’re one of us now and I like your approach to island living.”

    “Al….” I started and then stopped. He turned back and looked me in the eyes.

    “What’s wrong mate?”

    “Nothing,” I responded wanting to be brave in telling him I found him attractive, but I became overcome with embarrassment in case the vibes I was getting were wrong.

    As he disappeared into the night, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of camaraderie and physical attraction with Al, this time noting that his rather impressive cock was dressed to the right unlike mine and I pondered what he would look like naked out of those orange boxerbriefs.

    The island, once a solitary retreat, now felt like home. I had a job that challenged me, a new friend, and an endless sea to explore. The future was as vast and unpredictable as the ocean itself, but I was ready to dive in and I just wasn’t sure about Al but, only time would tell with my attractive buddy in the making.

    The next day, Tom took me out to the remote field sites. The journey was a mix of excitement and nerves, the boat cutting through the waves with purpose. The cages in the field looked like a floating city from afar, and as we approached, I could see the oysters clinging to the mesh, filtering the water with their gills.

    The work was hard, but the satisfaction of a job well done was unmatched. As we checked the filters and cleaned the cages, Tom spoke of the challenges the centre faced. The unpredictability of the sea, the occasional storm that could wipe out a season’s worth of hard work, and the constant battle against invasive species.

    But amidst the challenges, there was a passion in his voice that was infectious. It was clear that he loved this place, these creatures, and the people who dedicated their lives to them. As we motored back to the hatchery, the spray of the sea on my face and the setting sun casting long shadows over the water, I realised that I loved it too.

    One evening, after a particularly gruelling day, I returned to the shack to find a note from Al, inviting me to join him for a fishing trip the next day. Intrigued and eager for the company, I agreed in a text back to him, and early the next morning, we set off into the heart of the bay. The air was cool and fresh, the sun just a whisper of pink on the horizon.

    Al’s boat was a well-worn vessel, a testament to years of use and countless adventures. As we headed out to sea, he handed me a rod and taught me the finer points of casting, his instructions were delivered in a casual, easy-going manner that made even the most complicated techniques seem simple.

    As the day progressed, the conversation grew more personal. Al spoke of his life on the island, the love he had for the sea, and the people who had come and gone over the years. His stories painted a vivid picture of a tight-knit community, bound by the ebb and flow of the tides. And when he asked me about my love life, I took a deep breath and told him the truth.

    “I’m not much for lasting relationships,” I admitted, reeling in an empty line. “I’ve had various guys over the years, but they have always been short-lived until boredom settled in and I got itchy feet for new experiences.”

    Al looked at me, his eyes unreadable in the early light. “I had a feeling,” he said after a moment, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “But, mate, as long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

    The fishing trip continued, and the conversation flowed as freely as the beer we’d brought with us. We talked about everything from politics to our favourite movies, and I found myself opening up in a way I hadn’t in years. It was refreshing to be around someone who didn’t judge or pry, who simply accepted me as I was.

    As we pulled into the shack’s makeshift dock, the sky was a canvas of pinks and oranges, the sun setting behind us. Al looked over at me, his hand resting on the gearshift. “You know, Steve,” he said, “you’re a good bloke. I’m glad you’re here.”

    I nodded, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. “Thanks, Al. Me too,” as he pulled away from the jetty steering his boat towards home.

    Two nights later, after a particularly successful day in the field, Al arrived at the jetty and invited me out for a cruise around the coast. “Steve, it’s a great way to see the island and I also have a special place I want to show you.”

    I jumped onboard with some beers and sat whilst Al steered his boat towards a sheltered cove. “This is my favourite spot,” he said, cutting the engine and letting the boat drift to a stop. “It’s where I come when I need to think.”

    “It’s beautiful Al, and so peaceful and private,” I declared as I looked at the shoreline, taking in the natural beauty the cove offered. Even the water was shallow enough to see the bottom and my eyes took in the colours of the coral and fish that made the coral their home.

    We sat in companionable silence for a while, the only sound the gentle lapping of the waves and the distant calls of seabirds. Then, without warning, Al leaned over and kissed me, his lips warm and salty from the sea.

    For a moment, I was too stunned to react, but then I kissed him back, the taste of beer and fish on his breath oddly comforting.

    Al pulled away and saw my confused look. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I saw you, Steve, in your tighty whities greeting me as if it was the most natural way to dress. I also loved the outline your tighty whities provided, being long and circumcised like me.”

    “Gosh, thanks Al and I don’t know what to say. Was the view that good?”

    “Yeh mate,” Al responded “It was that good and the rest of you wasn’t bad either and your hair, wow. So long and blonde made me think you look like Tarzan.”

    “Tarzan hey?” I didn’t think you had feelings for me. How wrong could I be? And there I was thinking the same especially when you looked so great in those orange boxerbriefs,” as I leaned in again to kiss him. “I even fantasised about what you would look like out of them.”

    Al chuckled at that confession as he allowed me to kiss him. His hands were rough but gentle as they moved over my chest, unbuttoning my shirt. His kisses grew more urgent, his teeth grazed my bottom lip, and I gasped. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss as his thumbs brushed my nipples. A bolt of pleasure shot through me, and I could feel myself hardening.

    The boat rocked gently with the motion of the sea as we kissed, the salt air mingling with the scent of our sweat and the faint coconut smell of the sunscreen we’d applied earlier. His tongue traced the contours of my mouth, and my hands found their way to his neck, feeling the heat of his skin and the beat of his pulse.

    He broke away to peel off my shirt, tossing it aside, and then his mouth was on my chest, his teeth gently nipping at my sensitive nipples. I arched my back, my breath hitching as the sensations overwhelmed me. His hands slid down to my waist, unbuckling my shorts and sliding them down my legs. My tighty whities prevented my erection springing free, but he pushed them down a little allowing him to take my cock in his hand, stroking me firmly as he continued to kiss and nibble my chest.

    The stars above us twinkled, indifferent to our passionate embrace. We were alone in the cove, surrounded by the whispers of the ocean and the rustle of the trees that lined the shore.

    Al’s mouth travelled down my body, leaving a trail of kisses on my stomach until he reached my cock. He took it in his mouth, sucking gently, his hand still stroking in rhythm with his mouth. I groaned, my hands in his hair, guiding him as he pleasured me.

    The waves lapped at the boat, a gentle reminder of the world outside our little haven. The stars above us spun in the night sky as our bodies moved in sync, the boat rocking more vigorously now with the intensity of our passion.

    I felt the tension building, my hips thrusting upward, seeking release. Al looked up at me, his eyes full of lust and want, and I knew I was close. “Al,” I panted, “I’m going to cum.”

    He didn’t stop, his eyes never leaving mine as my seed spilt into his mouth. He swallowed and leaned back, licking his lips with a satisfied smirk. “You taste like the ocean,” he murmured.

    I leaned back, panting, watching as he stood up and stripped off his clothes. His body was a work of art, lean and muscular from years of manual labour. His cock stood erect, pointing to the sky like a compass pointing north.

    “So, how do I look then?” Al demanded.

    “Quite presentable and I see, ready for action like all Boy Scouts should be.”

    With a hearty chuckled he sat beside me, and we kissed again, our tongues dancing together as we explored each other’s bodies. The anticipation grew, my hands roaming over his skin, feeling the contours of his abs and the firmness of his ass.

    “Let’s go to the beach,” Al suggested his voice a low growl. “I want to feel the sand between our toes.”

    We clambered out of the boat and waded to the shore, the water cool against our overheated skin. The sand felt like a soft caress beneath our feet, and we made our way to a secluded spot, the moon casting a silver path before us.

    The beach was ours alone, and we didn’t speak as we lay down on the cool sand, our bodies entwined. The gentle caress of the waves and the sound of the night creatures provided the only soundtrack to our passionate encounter as Al produced a small bottle of lube, looking at me for permission.

    Nodding eagerly, I rolled onto all fours, my heart racing as he knelt behind me. The scent of coconut and the ocean filled my nostrils as he smeared the lube onto his erection and my hole.

    He positioned himself, and with a firm push, he entered me, filling me up with a sensation that was both familiar and exhilarating. He didn’t hurt me like most partners had done from time to time, their eagerness ignoring the required tenderness involved in making love and my needs.

    He was gentle and tender when pushing in and once fully inside, his movements were slow and deliberate, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through my body. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me into a rhythm that matched the pulse of the sea. I moaned with pleasure, the sand cool against my skin, as Al’s strong strokes grew more insistent. The stars above us seemed to dance in time with our lovemaking, a silent audience to our intimate embrace. Each sensation was heightened, the salt on my skin, the taste of the sea in the air, and the feel of Al’s muscles against me as he pushed deeper.

    His hands roamed my body, exploring every inch with a familiarity that belied our newfound connection. His touch was firm, yet gentle, as if he knew exactly what I needed without me having to say a word. He whispered sweet nothings into my ear, words that I felt in the pit of my stomach, making me quiver with need.

    As our rhythm grew more frantic, I could feel the tension in his body, the tightening of his grip on my hips. His breath was hot against my neck, his movements more urgent, and I knew he was close. I reached back, my hand finding his thigh, my nails digging in as I matched his pace, pushing back into him with every thrust.

    The world outside of our little cove faded away until there was only the two of us, the sea, and the stars. The waves crashed against the shore, a crescendo of passion that mirrored our own. As Al reached his climax, his warmth filled me, with multiple spurts of his seed flooding my body as he bent down onto my back, kissing my shoulders and the back of my neck.

    Al pulled out gently as I collapsed into the sand with him on top of me. He slid his hands under my waist and then rolled off me pulling me with him until I lay on top of his chest, my head in the curve of his neck, his arms now holding me tight over my chest. We lay there for what felt like hours, listening to the symphony of the sea and our ragged breaths. The sand clung to our bodies like a lover’s embrace, a physical reminder of the passion we had shared.

    I moved off Al’s chest and cuddled up next to him, gently sucking his nipple. The moment was perfect, a snapshot in time that I knew I would cherish forever. The ocean had brought us together, and in that moment, I understood why Larry and Mark had been so devoted to each other. The connection I felt with Al was undeniable, a bond forged in the wild beauty of the island.

    We lay there, our bodies entangled, until the sky began to lighten with the promise of a new day. And as we kissed one last time, the salty taste of the sea on our lips, I knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in my life, one filled with love, friendship, and the mysteries of the deep.

    We waded back out to his boat for the return journey to my shack and as I walked along the jetty naked carrying my clothes, Al continued to admire my naked form, his desires clear as I blew him a kiss goodbye.

    In the days that followed, my mind was often filled with thoughts of Al as I went about my duties at the Centre. The physical labour of cleaning filters and tending to the oysters was a welcome distraction, but my thoughts inevitably drifted to the passion we’d shared on the beach. Each task I performed was fuelled by the anticipation of our next encounter, my body craving the feeling of submission to his dominance.

    When in the shower at home, I found myself looking forward to seeing Al, the hot water cascading down my body was no longer just a means to cleanse but a canvas for my fantasies. I imagined Al standing behind me, his strong hands guiding the soap, his mouth whispering commands as his cock grew hard against my backside. I craved the feeling of being taken, of giving myself over to his desires.

    As I scrubbed my body, the soap bubbles slipped down my chest and my thoughts grew more explicit. I closed my eyes, picturing Al pushing into me, his powerful thrusts setting my body alight with pleasure. I felt a thrill at the thought of being claimed by him, of becoming his in every way possible. I yearned for the moment when I could be back in his arms, feeling his dominance over me. The quietude of the island was a stark contrast to the tumult of my thoughts, but it only served to amplify my desires.

    I knew that I had to tell Al, to lay my cards on the table. The idea of being his sub, of allowing him to take control in the bedroom, was intoxicating. I wanted him to know that I was his to command, that my body was his to use as he saw fit.

    After another shower after a long and fulfilling day at work, I sat on the porch of my shack, the stars above me twinkling like the eyes of a thousand eager voyeurs. I took a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest as I picked up my phone to text him.

    “Al,” I began, my thumbs trembling slightly, “I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to see you. I want you to know that I’m yours. I want you to dominate me, to show me what it means to truly belong to someone. I’m ready to be your sub, to submit to your every need.”

    I hit send, feeling a mix of fear and excitement. The phone buzzed almost immediately with his response, a simple but powerful, “MINE and I will see you shortly.”

    True to his word, Al was walking along the beach towards me some twenty minutes later, carrying a small bag. This time I was ready for him as I stood in my tighty whities, my erection growing with every step he made in the sand. I could also see the outline of his erection, stretching the fabric of his purple boxerbriefs this time. Purple, I thought, is an interesting colour to wear.

    As soon as he was within arm’s reach, I jumped on him, my legs wrapping around his waist and my mouth finding his in a desperate, passionate kiss. Days of pent-up longing and frustration poured out of me, and Al chuckled, his arms supporting my weight effortlessly.

    He carried me inside my shack, kicking the door shut with his foot. The shack was a mess of discarded laundry as we made our way to the bedroom, our mouths never breaking contact. The taste of him, the smell of him, was intoxicating, and I felt like I could devour him whole.

    Al laid me on the bed, his eyes dark with desire. “You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down my spine. “And I plan to show you just what that means,” as he ripped open the front of my tighty whities, pulling the cotton away from the waistband forcefully and with desire.

    He straddled me, his cock brushing against my stomach as he leaned down to kiss me again. His hands roamed over my body, touching me as if he were mapping out every inch of my skin, committing it to memory. I arched into his touch, my body begging for more as my precum leaked out in anticipation. I could also see his precum leaking at an increased amount from Al, as he prepared to take me.

    He reached into a bag that he brought, pulling out two leather cuffs. “I want you to wear these,” he said, his voice thick with need. “It’s a symbol of your submission to me.”

    I nodded eagerly, extending my wrist. He fastened the cuff around it, the cool leather a stark contrast to the heat of his skin and secured my wrist to the headboard. He then took my other hand and repeated the action, securing me in place. The feeling of vulnerability was exhilarating, and I moaned with anticipation.

    Al’s eyes never left mine as he reached for the lube in his bag, his cock standing proud and ready. He slicked himself up, the sound of the lube a wet slap in the quiet room. He positioned himself at my entrance, his cockhead nudging against my tight hole. “Ready?” he asked, his voice a whisper.

    “Yes,” I breathed, my eyes never leaving his. “Take me, Al.”

    With a single, powerful push, he entered me, filling me. I gasped in pain as my body stretched to accommodate his girth, but the pain was short-lived as he began to move, his strokes slow and deliberate, building a fire inside me that threatened to consume us both.

    He leaned down, his mouth on my ear. “You’re mine,” he whispered. “My beautiful, tight slut.”

    The words sent a thrill through me, and I moaned, bucking my hips to meet his. “Yes,” I panted, “I’m yours, Al. Use me.”

    He picked up the pace, his hips slapping against mine as he claimed me. Each stroke was a declaration of ownership, a promise that he would never let me go. I could feel the tension coiling in my stomach, the pressure building with every thrust.

    As Al’s rhythm grew more urgent, my moans grew louder, echoing through the shack. The bed creaked beneath us, a testament to our passion. I could feel myself getting closer, my body tightening around him as I neared the edge of release.

    “Come for me,” he grunted, his voice strained. “Let me hear you scream.”

    With a final, powerful thrust, he sent me over the edge, my body convulsing with pleasure as I came hard, my seed spurting onto my stomach and chest. Al followed me, his release shaking him to the core as he filled me with his warmth and he continued to thrust and pump into me. He continued to thrust into me in his post-orgasm fervour until he couldn’t continue as he collapsed onto my body.

    We lay there for a moment, our breathing ragged and the only sound was the distant crash of waves on the shore. The leather cuffs felt like a warm embrace, a reminder of the bond we had formed but I couldn’t cuddle him as I wished, although I was happy with him owning me and my body as he cuddled my naked form, his hands playing with my bellybutton.

    “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

    Al leaned down to kiss me, his eyes gentle. “No, Steve,” he said, “thank you. For trusting me, for being mine.”

    He climbed off the bed and unbuckled the leather cuffs, massaging my wrists as the blood rushed back into them. “Now,” he said with a mischievous smile, “I have a surprise for you,” as he slipped the waistband of my tighty whities down my legs since the cotton fabric had met a torn and shredded end.

    I nodded, unable to speak as he held my gaze, the intensity of his eyes making my heart race. “Close your eyes,” he instructed, and I obeyed, feeling the cool night air kiss my bare skin as he helped me to my feet.

    The sound of rustling leather filled the room, and then I felt something soft yet firm being wrapped around my chest. He was fitting me into a full-body leather harness. The smell of the material was intoxicating, and I took a deep breath, feeling the excitement build in my core. The harness was snug, hugging my body like a second skin, with the waist and chest straps cinched tight, emphasising my physique.

    I felt his hands on my hips as he slid the leather down over my groin. He paused, his eyes lingering on my cock as it grew harder with each passing moment. He took it in his hand, stroking it gently before pulling it through the ring at the front of the harness. The ring was tight, but the feeling of being confined and displayed was exhilarating as the ring nestled behind my balls.

    The harness was made of soft, supple leather that moulded to my body, creating a sleek, almost second skin. The way it framed my cock made it stand out, and the slight tug from the ring as it pulled against my balls was deliciously arousing. He adjusted the straps at the waist and chest, ensuring it was snug, but not too tight. With each pull and tug, the leather kissed my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

    When Al told me to open my eyes, I did so slowly, savouring the moment. His eyes were filled with a mix of hunger and affection as he took in my new look. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, and I felt a blush creep up my neck.

    He stepped closer, his erection pointing out. “Now,” he said, his voice a low purr, “you will wear this whenever we are together. It’s a symbol of your submission to me, and it will keep you ready for whenever I need you.”

    My heart raced at the thought of being his to use whenever he desired. The idea was both thrilling and terrifying, but I knew that with Al, I would be safe. I nodded eagerly, the leather of the harness rubbing against my skin with every movement.

    Al took my hand, leading me to a full-length mirror in the corner of the room. “Look at yourself,” he said, his voice filled with pride. “You’re mine.”

    I stared at my reflection, the leather harness contrasting starkly with my pale skin and weirdly I remembered the gladiator tournament. The sight of it, the knowledge of what it represented, made me hard again. I looked over at Al, my eyes wide with excitement and a little bit of fear. “Yes,” I said, “I’m yours.”

    He stepped behind me, his hand on the small of my back as he leaned in to kiss my neck. “Good boy,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. “Now, let’s go show the island who you belong to,” as we stepped out onto the beach to take a stroll in the dying light of day. Both naked and aroused as we walked in the warm water. I couldn’t resist him anymore as I dropped to my knees and took his cock in my mouth and as the gentle waves brushed against my bottom, I milked him taking every drop I could.

    Continues with Part Two of Channel Island & The DAC

  • Six Month Anniversary

    The weight room was stuffy today. Or maybe it was just that I was working out extra hard. Days like today, I put a little more effort into my workouts, get a little more pump to get more size. I’m not bodybuilder size, but I am pretty jacked. I probably workout too much but I love the way my body looks. I look at my six-foot-two form in the mirror and can’t help but flex my biceps and my quads. Two hundred pounds of muscle staring back at me, looking tough in my backwards ballcap, tank top, and compression shorts. I liked my sleek look, my body shaved smooth and tanned.

    Tonight was a special night. I had been dating this guy for about six months, and it was getting pretty serious. I had been dating women and then started messing around with dudes. I always thought about doing it but was too scared until I met Jenner. He was in the same situation. He had been with women but was fucking around with men too. He says he’s bisexual, but more into men. I just knew the minute I met the handsome son-of-a-bitch; I couldn’t stay in the closet any longer. The dude is walking-sex. He’s tall, built, brooding which is sexy as hell. His body is amazing, in better shape now than a few years ago in college. I remember thinking, fuck, he’s beautiful, which was weird because I’d never thought that way about another dude before.

    But it’s been six months and everything is going well. We’re talking about moving in together. He makes jokes about having ‘His & His’ matching trucks. But tonight is special, our six-month anniversary. Normally, I would think celebrating an anniversary was really gay, but since I’ve been with Jenner, I’ve changed. I always considered myself a typical, masculine man. I like sports, trucks, fishing, working out… typical guy stuff. But with Jenner, it’s different. He’s more of an alpha. He has this masculine aura that makes everyone in the room feel a little less manly, including me. When we are together, he makes me feel protected and safe, even though I’m kind of a bruiser. I can take care of myself. But there is something about the way Jenner acts around me, takes care of me. Like when he opens my car door for me whether I’m getting in or out. Always walks ahead of me or if he doesn’t, he puts his hand on my lower back. But probably the biggest thing that makes me feel like I belong to him is that I’ve become a total bottom. Since we started dating, not once have I fucked him. He says he never wants to bottom, feels no desire. He says it makes him feel like less of a man. And then he throws in a “no offense” so I don’t feel bad.

    I started preparing yesterday for tonight. I had a spa day. I got a full body wax, a manicure, pedicure, scrub and a hair cut. This morning I cleaned my house, washed my truck and now I’m at the gym. I waited until last to workout because I wanted to look fucking hot for Jenner. He was coming over at seven and I wanted to be ready.

    I got home after the gym, shower and clean up like Jenner likes me. Carefully styled my hair perfectly. On my bed was a few boxes that arrived in the mail two days ago. I had been planning this for about a month and wanted to make sure I was going to have his gift in time. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was on point, my hair, my face, my body was ripped and swole. I was looking totally fuckable. I looked down at the boxes and had to take a deep breath.

    I opened the boxes and took out the contents and lay them out on the bed. My hands were trembling. I picked up the black, silk, thong panties with lace side panels and a tiny, red bow on the waistband. I put my legs through and pulled them up, they slid like ice up my sleek, smooth legs, the strip of black silk between my glutes. I had worn panties before for Jenner, just messing around. He liked when I wore them. He really liked it when he felt more manly. He didn’t like me to eclipse him, so I always toned down the macho bullshit, in the bedroom.

    I sat on the edge of the bed and rolled on a micro-fishnet thigh-high stocking. The lace top stopped at my upper thigh. I slid the other one on, giving me that thrill of tight nylon over my smooth muscular legs.

    I put on the black, lace garter belt and attached the straps to the tops of my stockings, front and back. We had also experimented with stockings, mainly the thigh-high tube sock type. That really got him going.

    Something I’d never tried before was the black satin, paisley corset with red piping and red lace on the top. When I was looking for items, I saw this online being worn by a guy built like me. It looked sexy and I always liked them on girls I dated. I wrapped it around my waist and pulled the laces tight in the back. When I looked in the mirror, I was amazed. It cinched around my waist and came up just below my pecs, accentuating their size.

    I went to the vanity and made sure my hair was perfect; crisp part on the side and the rest swept back. And then the part that made me the most nervous- I took an eyeliner pencil and carefully applied eyeliner around my eyes. The dark makeup made my eyes look more blue than normal. And the last item of makeup- blood-red lipstick. When I stood back and looked at myself, I was intrigued by how much my body contrasted with the delicate clothing and make up. My face was so angular, a square jaw that could cut glass, inset eyes, cleft chin, my face still looked masculine, yet soft.

    I went back into the bedroom. Jenner would be here soon. The last box I open contained a pair of black, silk, stiletto heels. I practiced in them the past two days so I wouldn’t fall and break my ankle. I stepped into them, my feet slid in for a perfect fit. Standing straight up I could feel my calves flex; quads tense and my ass sticking out.

    I looked in the full-length mirror and thought I looked sexy as fuck. My man was going to feel like the fucking king when he sees his jacked boyfriend dressed up pretty for him. I turned in the mirror and took in my curvaceous ass, the arch of my lower back, my biceps and triceps.

    I heard the front door. Quickly, I slid on a pair of elbow length fishnet gloves. I heard him call my name. I took a deep breath and walked to the bedroom door and opened it. I casually sauntered through, a sexy stride that was slow and deliberate.

    The look on his face was memorable. His jaw dropped and his eyes got wide. He dropped his briefcase on the floor. He was speechless. Mission accomplished. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of me.

    I sauntered up to him with the sexiest bedroom eyes I could give him. I took his tie and stroked with both hands.

    “Happy six-month anniversary, Jenner,” I said in a low, baritone and sexy voice. All he did was stand there. I leaned in and kissed his cheek softly. “I missed you,” I whispered.

    He tried to speak but just gasps of air came out of his mouth. I gently loosened his tie while I put my thigh between his legs. We were nose to nose.

    “I wanted to look sexy for you, Jenner,” I whispered. “Do you like what I bought for you?”

    He nodded his head quickly. “Uh huh,” he mumbled.

    “I knew you would. It’s a special night. I did this for you. And you know what?”

    “What,” he mumbled.

    I leaned in to his ear and said, “I feel so pretty for my man. You’re my man, aren’t you?”

    “Fuck,” he whispered.

    I reached down and he was rock hard in his suit pants. “You’re my big, strong man.”

    “Uh huh,” he said.

    “Will you make love to me all night?”

    “Fuck, yes,” he said in a low growl.

    “Nice,” I said. I took off his suit jacket and lay it on the couch. I took his hand and led him to the bedroom. He was mesmerized and watched my ass the whole time.

    In the bedroom, I turned and put my arms around his neck, his hands went to my waist and we kissed. We kissed for what felt like forever. We made out like teenagers, moaning into each other’s mouths. His hands grabbing onto my ass. I unbuttoned his dress shirt and took off his tie. He broke the kiss and feverishly undressed himself until he was standing before me in all his muscular, masculine glory. His body was the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. It was better than any fitness model. The way his suits hung on him was fucking hot. God, I loved him in a suit.

    He wrapped himself around me again and laid me back on the bed.

    “God, you’re so fucking amazing,” he said between kissing. “Your body, your face, your everything.”

    I smiled. “I’m glad you’re happy. I didn’t want to have to send all of this back.”

    “Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled before covering my body with his own. We were basically the same size and weight but his two-hundred pounds on top of me felt so good. We kissed.

    “Jenner, oh shit,” I whispered. “Fuck.”

    He was kissing my neck and then said, “I can’t believe you’d do this for me.”

    I looked up at him, took his face in my hands, looked him in the eyes and said, “I love you, Jenner. I’d do anything for you.”

    His face was blank for a second. I could see his eyes flitting around my face. Then a smile. “God, I love you too. I was hoping you would say it first.”

    I reached down and grasped his cock. I skimmed it and felt pre-cum on the tip. “I want you inside me,” I said breathy.

    I felt his hand go between my thighs and his finger found my hole. He pushed in and I gasped. He had big fingers. I had pre-lubed because I didn’t want any wasted time preparing him.

    He looked at me and grinned. “Someone is ready to get fucked.”

    I wagged an eyebrow. “I wanted to get to the good stuff.”

    He got between my legs, reached down and put the backs of knees on in the crook of his elbows. My legs lifted. I saw my fishnet covered legs, the muscle bulging, in the air. My satin pumps with the heels pointing up. I felt his cock at my hole.

    He looked down at me and with a sweet tone in his voice said, “I’m going to make love to my girl.” And then he slid inside me. I gasped. Even though we fuck all the time, his size and girth always took my breath away.

    “Jenner… fuuuck,” I moan.

    “That’s my girl,” he whispers.

    “God, you feel so good, babe.”

    “You’re pussy is so good, baby girl,” he said. That’s the first time he’d ever called my ass a pussy. And for some reason, it sounded perfect.

    I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him close. “I love you inside of me, Jenner. I love it so much.”

    “Me too, baby.”

    He fucked me at a slow and deep pace. He was truly making love to me. I lifted my legs higher and wider. I loved seeing them in the air and I felt not only sexy, but slutty too.

    “Fuck my pussy, Jenner,” I cooed.

    He groaned in delight at my words. He started to rut into me.

    “Fuck,” he said. “My big, strong, muscle man all dressed up for me. It’s fucking amazing.”

    “I just want to make you happy, babe.”

    His cock was so big, and he was using the whole length. I leaned up and took a hold of my ankles and held my legs out. He turned his head and saw what I was doing. He looked back at me with a grin.

    “Fucking Christ, look at you. All this fucking muscle, my big stud, holding his legs out like a whore… Fuck. I love you.” And he started to fuck me harder. It wasn’t a pounding like he usually does but it was between love making and hard fucking. I was grunting and moaning. I did sound like a whore.

    “I’m gonna cum!” he exclaimed. “I’m gonna cum in your pussy, baby!” Then he threw his head back and howled. I felt his cock inflate inside of me and then a warm feeling spread through my ass. He kept cumming. His muscles were tight, sweaty, pumped. His thick neck coursed with veins. His teeth clenched and his face flushed. I watched in awe of the god of a man inside of me.

    He collapsed on top of me, his head on my shoulder. I lowered my legs and wrapped them around his waist.

    “Oh shit!” I hissed and then chuckled.

    I could feel him chuckling too. He lifted his head and looked at me with a grin. “Bro, what the fuck?!”

    I shook my head laughing. “Dude, I dunno, man. I do not know.”

    We were amused by the situation. It was so random and so out of character for me and he was not expecting anything like it. It was so random that it could only have been the hottest thing either of us had ever done.

    He was still chuckling. “You came out of the bedroom, and I swear to god, you broke my brain.”

    “You should have seen your face.”

    “Where did you get all this stuff?”

    “The internet, fool!” I teased him.

    “But how did you know I would like all this stuff?”

    “Dude, have you seen ME?” I teased again.

    He laughed. “Fuck yeah, I’ve seen you.”

    “You’ve said before I can make anything look good,” I gave him a cocky smile.

    “You fucking sexy bitch,” he said and kissed me.

    “Oh! Now that sounded hot.”

    “What? That you’re a sexy bitch?” he taunted me.

    “Yeah. It sounds sexy coming out of your mouth.”

    “I don’t even know what to say besides that was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen or done in my life,” Jenner said. He was still panting a little.

    “I am so fucking glad you liked it. I knew you thought it was sexy when I… you know… wore sexy stuff for you,” I said clearly embarrassed.

    “Yeah I love that shit. I didn’t know if you liked it as much as I did because I thought you might feel too feminine.”

    “I do!” I broke in. “But… I like that. Is that weird?”

    “God, no. Not weird to me. In fact, I know it sounds fucked up, but I like feeling more manly than you.”

    “No offense?” I said teasing him for saying it to me before.

    “I was gonna say that,” he teased back. “Being with a dude is great, but I don’t want to be with someone who thinks they’re more or a man than I am. I’m fucking insecure. I found a dude who is ok with that… I think?”

    “Dude, I’m ok,” I said and then kissed him again.

    “Bro, you didn’t cum!” he said.

    I shook my head. “Oh, no, I don’t need to.”

    “What? Come on. You need to get off too.”

    “Jenner, trust me, I got off. Knowing you came because of me, is good enough for me.”

    “Fuck, I love you,” he said. I felt him settle in again between my legs.

    “You goin in, bro?” I said to him.

    “I told you I’d make love to you all night, you sexy mother fucker.”

    I grinned. “Happy Anniversary.”

  • Room Service

    26. Nandan

    Unknown to Mike or Rajan, a short time after their arrival in the Laundry Room, a member of the housekeeping staff had returned to retrieve the towels he’d left in one of the driers. Wondering why the door was closed, when it was customarily left open, he had glimpsed through the glass panel and caught sight of the pair’s entwined brown and white legs protruding from behind the row of washers.

    After noting their bare feet were pointing in opposite directions and their combined bodies rising and falling in a steady rhythm, he thought maybe he had stumbled across a honeymoon couple whose passions had got the better of them whilst they waited for their clothes to dry.

    He was about to decide discretion was probably his best course of action. Then he noticed that both pairs of legs were not only distinctly muscular but also coated with hair!

    Although he had never come across a same sex encounter taking place in the laundry room before, he had interrupted similar goings on in the men’s toilets in the hotel foyer on a couple of occasions since he’d started work there and had found himself aroused by it.

    However, neither had presented him with the opportunity to watch a white guy being fucked by an Indian one before – an experience which to date had been confined to a few grainy video clips posted on the gay porn site that he secretly ogled on his phone late at night or during the few brief moments in the course of his hectic working day when he found himself alone.

    Assuring himself that his entry would be masked by the sounds emanating from the washing machine, which he could hear chugging away noisily, even out in the corridor, he couldn’t resist easing open the door and tiptoeing closer to the amorous pair to gain a better view of what was going on.

    Excited by what he saw, the cleaner quickly extracted his mobile phone from his pocket, switched on its camera, and began to capture the deviant, but highly arousing, sexual activity he had discovered taking place in the heart of his domain. With the result that Rajan’s efforts to establish himself as the dominant partner in his and Mike’s relationship were inadvertently recorded for posterity!

    With the former waiter facing downwards and Mike with his eyes tight shut, the cleaner found he was able to get close enough to include the whole of their bodies in his lens without fear of detection, and as his cock steadily hardened, he began to ponder what use he might make of the horny video footage he had so fortuitously been able to record.

    Could he use it to obtain a commendation from the hotel management for his diligence in curtailing anti-social behaviour likely to offend other guests, he wondered? Or perhaps keep it to himself to inspire his nightly jerk-off sessions and sneak off before the pair realised they’d been videoed? Or maybe do both?

    Then a riskier, but more sexually gratifying third course of action also occurred to him. Maybe he could use possession of the video to persuade the couple to allow him to join in their fun – regardless of whether they fancied him or not!

    Not an especially handsome lad, he’d had precious few opportunities to land a man of his own since he’d relocated to Mumbai, not helped by the hotel cleaning job taking up most of his waking hours. He’d also discovered that his dark skin and rugged features didn’t go down too well with the guys he’d come across in the few gay haunts he’d clandestinely visited since his arrival. Even when he’d managed to overcome his natural shyness and summoned up the courage to talk to a guy he fancied, they had rarely been impressed by his menial occupation and lack of cash.

    So, after just a few more moments reflection, the lonely youngster determined to make the most of this unexpected perk of his job to bring his sexual drought to an end.

    However, he drew the line at risking losing his job over what might turn out to be the most fleeting of pleasures, so before he attempted to join in, he paused his recording and took the precaution of taking one of the towels from the drier to drape over the door’s window panel, before silently closing and locking it from the inside.

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

    Despite facing downwards, Rajan soon noticed the voyeur’s shadow fall over them and had realised they were being watched.

    But since the interloper had made no attempt to interrupt them, he refused to panic and continued to up Mike’s humiliation, excited all the more by the thought of his debasement being witnessed by a stranger.

    Then, when the washing machine abruptly went into spin mode and began emitting a sound so loud that it would drown out all others, he seized the opportunity to vent his resentment toward his former master for the mess he had got them in by hoisting up his rear from the floor by his ankles and landing a series of hard slaps on both cheeks of his bare backside.

    Although their surprised admirer quickly stepped back to avoid detection, it was not before Rajan caught sight of his retreating trouser leg and noticed he was dressed in the hotel staff’s livery.

    Instantly he deduced that he was a male employee, so almost certainly Indian and, as he was working in such a lowly location, probably of no great age or standing in its hierarchy. Plus, given he’d chosen to watch rather than interrupt their love making, that there was also a high probability that he was gay.

    Keen to impress on their voyeur that he was the one calling the shots and perhaps make him believe a similar beating might be heading his way too, should he interrupt them, Rajan fuelled his blows by recalling all the indignities he’d had to suffer as a result of Mike’s half-baked decision to invite the warehousemen back to their room.

    Only when the washer finally juddered to a halt and its high-pitched whirr was replaced by the more tranquil sound of water refilling the machine, was Rajan prompted to bring Mike’s torment to an end. By which time, his former master’s cock had shrunk to the size of that of an infant, which, along with his hairless crotch, bulging pecs and pumped-up limbs, combined to give him the appearance of an oversized baby whose bottom had been reddened by nappy rash! An effect that not only caused Rajan to smile, but his own cock grow harder still!

    “Hold your ass cheeks apart!” the lad then instructed, backing away as the chastened businessman meekly complied and revealed the narrow strip of pale flesh that had escaped his punishment encircling his fuck-thole, like a target.

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

    By this time, their voyeur had eased down his workpants to free his burgeoning cock and was tugging on it rapidly as he made sure he captured every second of the raunchy goings on unfolding before him.

    Surprised at finding himself so aroused by the deviant sex scene he was witnessing and emboldened by continuing to be ignored by its participants, he drew closer still as Rajan set about sliding his fingers in and out of Mike’s hole as a prelude to fucking him.

    Soon he was so close that Rajan could detect a draft resulting from the frenzied pace of his wanking and, despite the noise still emanating from the nearby washing machine, overhear the quickening of his breathing as he approached orgasm.

    Deciding this was the perfect opportunity to catch him unawares, he abruptly turned his head around to look directly at him and caught sight of his slender body silhouetted against the light, his cock in one hand, his mobile phone in the other, with his uniform pants down around his ankles.

    Darker skinned than either himself or the warehousemen, and shorter in stature, he possessed a head of jet-black curls like the ones Mike had obliged him to shed and, judging by his slender limbs and torso, was aged around twenty, but little more.

    However, the part of his anatomy that most caught Rajan’s attention was not his face, which could at best be described as nondescript, but the size of his dick which, from the angle he was viewing it from, appeared so out of proportion with the rest of his body that it looked as though he had sprouted from it, rather than the other way round!

    Despite being on the cusp of orgasm, the alarmed youngster instinctively backed away from his scrutiny, only to trip over his trousers and, with neither hand free to prevent himself from falling, landed on the floor with a thump!

    Unable to supress his amusement, Rajan could not prevent himself from laughing when, regardless of the pain doubtlessly emanating from his backside, the youngster’s mammoth cock began ejecting a series of high velocity plumes of spunk high into the air!

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

    “Stay where you are!” the quick-thinking waiter demanded, abandoning Mike to snatch the phone from the youngster’s hand and turn its lens toward him.

    “Now it’s my turn to take some sexy pics of you!” he added, capturing the last moments of the lad’s orgasm in close-up as his cock continued to spatter his seed like soap suds over the laundry room floor.

    “Take your clothes off!” he demanded, once the lad’s ejaculation had finally shuddered to a halt, stepping back to ensure he included the whole of the young Indian’s body in his lens.

    Still enthralled by the erotic scenario he had been lucky enough to stumble upon and aware that he had no grounds to object in the light of his own actions, the befuddled cleaner did as was directed and began tugging off his uniform without protest.

    Smitten by the good looks of the slender, shaven-headed young top and fascinated by the older red-haired, milky-skinned guy who obeyed his instructions, he crossed his fingers that his own ungainly, ebony body would meet with their approval.

    “Very nice!” Rajan commented reassuringly, once the youngster had kicked off his trainers and removed his underwear to render himself fully naked, zooming in to capture close-ups of his oversized dick, then panning out to capture his dark complexion, short trunk and long slender legs.

    Mike would love this guy, he assured himself and, given his slight figure, tender age and lowly position, was unlikely to pose much of a threat to either of them… unlike the two warehousemen!

    Plus, the star-struck look in the youngster’s eyes and the way he instantly hung his head in submission when he ran his eyes over him, told him that he was anxious to please.

    Deciding from his appearance that the cleaner was likely a migrant from the South, as many had been at his old hotel, he opted to continue to address him in English, thinking he might not yet be fluent in the languages spoken in Mumbai. This would have the added advantage that Mike would also be able to understand the demeaning things he said about him was well…

    After capturing pics of the youngster naked and erect on cam, with glistening puddles of his cum rapidly liquifying on his belly and chest, Rajan turned his attention back to his former master, who, uncertain of what was going on due to his closed eyes, had obediently remained on his back with his legs up in the air expecting to be fucked!

    Chuckling to himself at his continued subservience, he added the sight to the youngster’s video and instructed him to get down on all fours, after which he led him by the ear across the room to introduce him to the reclining youngster.

    “Open your eyes and you will get a big surprise!” he joked, roughly thrusting the older man’s head down to the cleaner’s groin, then bursting into laughter when Mike did a double take when he discovered the generous dimensions of the interloper’s ebony-skinned cock.

    “Clean him up!” he demanded.

    In need of no second asking, the humbled businessman eagerly stretched his lips around the young cleaner’s mammoth member and licked its head clean of cum with the enthusiasm of a born-again sub.

    “He’s my sex slave!” Rajan boasted to his compatriot with a grin, as his former master set about lapping up every last dribble of cum from his slender body.

    “He’ll do whatever I say!” he added, patting Mike on the head, as though he were his dog, then demonstrating the extent of his control over him by adding, “Now lick the rest of it up from the floor!”

    “You can fondle him… if you’d like!” Rajan offered, when he noticed the youngster’s eyes follow Mike’s up-turned ass across the room as he complied with his wishes.

    He then watched with satisfaction as the lad eagerly reached out his hand to sample the smoothness of the Englishman’s pallid flesh for the first time.

    “I’m Rajan, by the way,” he explained to him amiably, “And the white guy who’s licking up your spunk, is called Mike.”

    “What’s your name?” he added, when the lad grinned back nervously but said nothing in reply.

    “Nandan… Sir!” he croaked deferentially, hoping that the aggressive young top’s friendly tone meant he was not going to suffer the same punishment he had witnessed him dole out to his pal.

    “You can finger his ass, as well, if you’d like,” Rajan added, laughing when he witnessed Mike’s shrivelled member spring back to life the moment the youngster touched him, “and play around with his tiny dick!”

    Encouraged by both men’s responses, the youngster went on to prise apart Mike’s buttocks and run an exploratory fingertip around the pink rim of his anus then cup his hairless scrotum in the palm of his other hand and give it a little squeeze.

    As yet another of his long supressed submissive fantasies became a reality, a quiver verging on ecstasy passed through the Englishman’s body, and, once he’d finished lapping up the remnants of the newcomer’s spunk from the floor, he showed the young Indian his gratitude by rubbing his cum-smeared face up against his slender brown legs and mewing like the cat that had got the cream.

    “I think he likes you!” Rajan laughed, encouraging the fascinated youngster to pull back Mike’s fast-growing member between his thighs and commence sliding his fist up and down his shaft as though milking him.

    Realising that there was a distinct possibility that his slave might also get to cum ahead of himself if he permitted the lad to continue fondling him for much longer, after adding the scene to the lad’s video, Rajan stayed his hand to impose a further degradation on his former master.

    “Lick the nice Indian man’s feet, like a good little doggy!” he demanded, hooking his free hand around his slave’s neck and thrusting his head down to the youngster’s large, brown, feet, determined to undermine Mike so completely in Nandan’s eyes that he too would treat him with the contempt that he both desired and deserved.

    “This is where you belong!” Rajan added dispassionately to his former master as he licked away the dirt and sweat that adorned the young cleaner’s feet, noting the air of contentment that had descended on him as he lay face-down on the floor.

    “From now on you will adopt this position whenever your master introduces you to one of his friends… no matter what he looks like or how young or old he is… wherever you are and whoever might be watching…”

    “Plus, as a reward for your good behaviour, today you also get the additional pleasure of humping the floor while you do it!” he added, pressing his bare foot down on the small of his former master’s back to sandwich his hard cock between his belly and the floor that he’d just licked clean.

    Inspired by his words, Mike flexed his buttocks and enthusiastically thrust his hard cock up against the tiles beneath him.

    “Now I want you to cum!” he added, deciding to postpone his own orgasm until later, in favour of providing a suitable climax to Nandan’s video. Only to then make it more difficult for him to comply with his demand by bringing more of his weight to bear-down on him.

    As the youngster looked on bemused, Mike took one of his big toes into his mouth and began sucking on it as if it were his cock, after which his humping grew more frenetic still.

    Seconds later, the humbled businessman shot his load joyously onto the floor beneath him, then lay exhausted as a spent salmon in a puddle of his own semen.

    “Now you get to lick up your cum as well!” Rajan added dryly, after which both Indians broke into fits of laughter.

    To be continued…