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Discipline and Display

Narrator: Toby

His punishment paddle still hangs in full view on the wall of our living room. Instinctively I place a hand over my butt, thinking back to the day he put it up there.

Florian notices where I’m looking and comes to stand beside me.

“I really put you through it sometimes, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.”

“You must’ve hated me at times.”

“I could never hate you, Florian.”

He sinks down onto the sofa and gestures for me to sit beside him. “It’s probably time to tell you why I was so strict with you.”

“Wasn’t that just part of your role as Supervisor? You had to keep me in check because of my sentence. But, um…” I hesitate for a moment, then decide to speak my mind. “Sometimes you really humiliated me. Why did you do that? Weren’t the slaps enough?”

He takes my hand. “It was important for the City to see how firmly I was dealing with you. Some of the patricians thought you’d got off too lightly with your custodial sentence.”

“What do you mean? Were they hoping it would fail?”

“Yes. A few wealthy patricians you once stole from. If they’d had their way, the City would’ve taken you away from me. I couldn’t let that happen. That’s why I had to stay strict.”

I let his words sink in. Every smack, every punishment – not to put me down, but to protect me.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

“You already had more than enough to deal with. I thought it was more important that you felt safe here.”

He kisses me gently on the lips. “That’s all in the past now. No one can take you away anymore. We don’t have to keep that paddle up there, you know.”

“Leave it. That paddle kept me out of prison. And it’s become a familiar part of the décor.”

He gives me a playful nudge on the arm. “Didn’t realize you’d grown so attached to it.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” I rub my behind with exaggerated flair.

Florian gets up and pulls me to my feet, laughing. “Come on, we’ve got shopping to do. There’s still loads to get for your party tonight.”

The party’s for me – because today, my custodial sentence officially comes to an end.

We walk out to the car together. Florian has kept me going all these years – more than I ever realized. No, no one’s ever taking me away from my prince.

****

Florian parks the car, loaded with food and drinks, at the entrance to the Peel Bastion. At the edge of the terrace, I spot Pamela with an olive-skinned guy who looks oddly familiar – and nervous.

Pamela and I stayed in touch. She wasn’t held accountable for the Holy Boys’ crimes and now lives in a new apartment in our district.

Suddenly, I recognize the boy beside her. “Jimmy!” I call out, running up to them. “Man, it’s so good to see you again, healthy and alive!”

“Hey Toby, buddy.” He grins and shakes my hand, then we slap a high five before hugging tight, a bit overwhelmed.

Florian joins us. “Well, Toby,” he says cheerfully, “who’s this fine young man?”

“This is Jimmy,” I blurt out – but then I see Jimmy’s face. He looks flustered. And I get it. I freeze up.

It’s Florian who saves the moment. He wraps an arm around me and looks at him. “Toby told me about a boy named Jimmy. A real friend, back when he had no one else. Would that have been you?”

Jimmy stammers. “I… uh…”

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “That was Jimmy. A real friend.”

“Well, in that case, I’m very glad to meet you, Jimmy. I’m Florian.”

The former Holy Boys gang member shakes Florian’s hand a little hesitantly. His smile is tight, and he doesn’t quite meet Florian’s eyes.

My prince speaks in his calm, level voice. “You know, if there’s one thing Toby has taught me, it’s that everyone deserves a second chance.”

Gratefully, I tighten my arm around his waist. “You can trust him,” I tell Jimmy. “He’s alright. Not like most of those stuck-up City assholes.”

Florian raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me, Toby?”

“What? It’s true.”

I glance at him, a little sheepish, but he just chuckles. Jimmy seems to relax a little.

I give Jimmy a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Man, I’ve thought about you so many times! Where’ve you been all these years?”

Pamela answers for him. “He was hiding out in a village near Cologne. I ran into him at a market, stocking up on food.” A bit accusingly, she adds, “It took some serious effort to convince him it was safe to come back.”

“Do you have a place to stay?” I ask Jimmy.

“He’s crashing with me for now,” Pamela says. “Maybe later he can, um…”

I look at Florian. “We can find something for him, right? I mean, we’re building so much right now.” And to Jimmy: “There’ll be room here for twenty thousand Outsiders. That’s twice what we originally planned.”

Florian nods. “That’s thanks in part to some brilliant ideas from Toby. And, of course, the generous subsidies from the very same City you folks love to hate.” He winks. “Yeah Toby, I’m sure we can sort out a little flat for your friend.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll unload the groceries. You go catch up with your friends.”

He extends a hand to Jimmy. “Will we see you at the party later?”

Jimmy hesitates. “I’m not sure… Won’t there be a bunch of City bigshots there?”

“A few, yeah. This project”, he gestures at me, “is a success story they’re proud to celebrate.”

“Then I think I’ll skip it. Sorry, Toby…”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “Totally get it.” And to Pamela: “You’ll come, though?”

“What do you think? I rushed all the way back just to be here for your big night. Jimmy’ll just have to entertain himself if he’s staying behind.”

Florian waves. “Take care, Jimmy. Hope to see you again soon.”

I watch him walk back to the car.

“He’s amazing,” Pamela says. “You’re really lucky, Toby.”

A warm, proud feeling floods through me. “Yeah, I know. He’s the best.”

“Pamela said you’ve been together for four years?” Jimmy asks. “And that he’s not just your boyfriend but also your Supervisor from the City?”

“Yeah, it was weird at first. But he made it work – it just became part of us.”

“But now he’s not your Supervisor anymore,” Jimmy says thoughtfully.

“That’s right. My sentence is over. So?”

“Nothing. Just… well, it’s good he’s still with you. That doesn’t happen often. In my experience, people always walk out on you eventually. But maybe he’s different.”

Pamela punches him in the arm. “We don’t walk out on each other. Got it?”

“I walked out on you guys. Back then, when I…”

“Cut it out,” Pamela snaps. “Or I’ll give you a serious spanking!”

Jimmy throws up a hand in mock alarm, pulling a fake-scared face. “Okay, okay, I’ll shut up.”

The three of us stroll into the new district – best friends, bound by a shared and tangled past. Jimmy seems a lot more at ease now that we’re just Outsiders among ourselves. The mood is light and relaxed.

Still, that old knot in my stomach tightens – silly, but it’s never really gone.

In a conspiratorial tone, Jimmy says, “Pamela told me there are a couple of nice bars around here now. How about grabbing a beer sometime this week?”

“Sure,” I say lightly. “Let’s do that.”

I keep my smile in place, but my thoughts are already miles away – where the rules live, where the limits are, and where the hand that keeps me steady waits.

****

It was ten months after I’d started my placement at the Peel Bastion. Florian and Fabian had travelled with a delegation from New Rotterdam to Antwerp, where the City Council had taken a keen interest in our project. That left Mike and me with the place to ourselves. We decided to throw a little party, and things got way too cheerful that evening.

Why I drank so much, I couldn’t really say. Maybe I just wanted to let go for a night, now that Florian wasn’t there to keep an eye on me. Maybe I didn’t want to look like a wimp in front of Mike, who was just as tipsy as I was. Or maybe I wanted to drown out that nagging thought that I didn’t really deserve this life.

Whatever the reason, I woke up the next morning with a crushing hangover. Mike had crashed on the sofa next to me. He jolted awake when he heard me retching loudly into the toilet. Everything was spinning, and my stomach wouldn’t stop lurching.

Mike fetched a bucket from the kitchen and placed it beside my bed. “Use this if you need to be sick again. That way you won’t have to run to the bathroom every time.” One look at his face told me how rough I must’ve appeared.

“Thanks,” I managed. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” A second later, the final remains of last night’s dinner came up. I just about grabbed the bucket in time.

Mike barely left my side until Florian and Fabian came home a few hours later. They knew straight away what had happened. Mike had tried to tidy away the bottles and glasses as best he could, but the stench of booze hung unmistakably in the air.

Florian sat down on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling, buddy?”

Meanwhile, Fabian turned on Mike. “We left Toby in your care. You were supposed to look after him. You call this looking after him? Getting wasted together?”

In a croaky voice I said, “Mike’s not to blame. I drank it all myself.”

Fabian looked at me. “I appreciate you sticking up for him, but he needs to take his responsibilities more seriously.” Then to Mike: “Come on. We’ll talk about it at home.”

Fabian and Mike left the room, and I sank back into bed.

Florian boiled a kettle and soon placed a warm cup of tea beside me. “Try to drink some if you can. It’s important you don’t get dehydrated.”

The steam carried a whiff of mint, but just the thought of it made my stomach turn.

Florian sat on the edge of the bed, hands on his knees, shoulders too tense. His eyes darted across my face, my hands, as if searching for something to hold on to, something to make sense of what had happened. But there was nothing to figure out. I’d done this to myself.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“We’ll get to that,” Florian said softly.

His words barely registered.

After what felt like forever, my body finally began to recover. The room stopped spinning, and my stomach started to settle.

Then came a timid knock at the door. Florian glanced at me one more time, then left the bedroom to answer it.

I recognized Mike’s voice. He sounded shaken, like something had completely drained him. “Fabian wants me to show you something.”

“All right,” said Florian. “Come on in.”

Mike followed him into the bedroom, where I was still lying in bed, worn out and drained. He stood there, staring at nothing, avoiding eye contact.

With a sigh, he turned around and dropped his jeans. His buttocks were a blazing red.

Florian placed a hand gently on the punished skin of my fellow offender. Then he stepped back so I could get a good look too. In the same tone he might’ve used to comment on the weather, Florian said, “All right Mike, thanks.”

Mike pulled up his pants and fled the room.

The image of Mike’s bare, punished butt kept playing in my mind, along with a single, overwhelming thought: this was my fault. “He didn’t do anything wrong,” I said hoarsely. “That spanking should’ve been mine.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Florian said, his voice low and dark. “You’ll get yours too.”

My breath caught. This was different from any other time I’d been punished. This time, I had really messed up – not just in the eyes of the City, but in Florian’s eyes too. And that hurt more than any punishment ever could.

But… he was still here. He hadn’t walked away.

****

The next day, my hangover was gone – but Florian’s promise hung heavy in the air.

That afternoon, once he was sure I’d fully recovered, he took me to his study. He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a worn piece of wood. I recognized it at once: it was the old punishment paddle from his police days.

“I’d hoped never to use this on you again, Toby.” The words hit me like a knife to the chest.

Florian sat down on a chair at the edge of the room. His gaze swept over me, heavy as a touch.

“We’re going to deal with this thoroughly, so you don’t repeat that kind of behavior. Strip.”

With a knot in my stomach, I obeyed. Florian followed my every movement. As I took off my clothes, I could feel the blood rising in my face – not just from embarrassment, but from something else too. A strange kind of certainty. Whatever he was about to do to me, I knew he was still on my side.

Last of all, I placed my briefs on top of the other clothes and stood there – naked, vulnerable. But not abandoned. Not by him.

He motioned for me to lie across his lap. I met his gaze. It was gentle, but firm. There was no escape. I lowered myself into position, my bare bottom exposed to the punishment I’d been promised.

In a calm voice, he said, “I’m sorry, Toby, but I have to do this. You missed a working day, and it was your own fault. As your Supervisor, it’s my duty to discipline you.”

Just like before, he made me wait for the first blow. My breathing quickened. This was serious.

The paddle landed with a heavy thud, sending a sharp jolt of pain through my butt – pain I hadn’t felt in a long time. I groaned softly and clung to the seat of the chair. Florian brought the paddle down rhythmically, making sure every swat counted. The blows seared into my flesh, brutal, unrelenting.

Then, all of a sudden, a loud crack rang out as the paddle hit me yet again. Florian muttered a curse under his breath.

He pulled me upright and I stood in front of him. His fingers traced along a large split in the wood. A few splinters had come loose. He looked at me, startled.

“Let me see your bottom.”

I turned around and he gently ran his fingers across my cheeks.

“You’re fine,” he said, the relief clear in his voice. “But I’m not using that paddle again.”

For a moment, I hoped he might call it a day. No such luck.

After a pause, he said, “There’s a cheese board in the kitchen with a handle. That should do the job. Go and fetch it, and don’t take your time. I’m not finished with you yet.”

His face was back to that uncompromising look. With a sigh, I reached for my clothes.

“Hands off! I didn’t say you could get dressed.”

I stared at him in disbelief. He meant it. He was sending me out into the corridor butt naked.

My heart thudded in my throat as I hurried down the hallway. Right next to the kitchen were the guest rooms, where a few City Architects were staying to help with the project. If any of them stepped into the corridor now, I’d be completely exposed.

Thankfully, I made it to the kitchen unseen. I took the board from the wall – and forgot where I was for a moment. I stood there too long, mesmerized by the solid weight of the wood in my hands.

Suddenly, the door swung open and one of the architects entered, a young man in the flamboyant dress of a patrician.

And there I was. Completely naked.

Oh man, please stop staring at me like that.

His eyes went straight to the marks on my butt, and it clicked.

“Well,” he said with a smirk, “looks like your Supervisor’s really pissed off. That for round two?” He nodded at the board in my hand.

“Yes,” I said shortly. Prick.

“Best of luck, then.”

I bolted from the kitchen. I could practically feel his eyes burning into my ass. No doubt he’d share the tale with all his rich, powerful friends. Why was Florian putting me through this humiliation?

Back in our wing, I handed Florian the board. Without a word, he pulled me back over his lap. The new paddle came down hard, again and again. My unprotected skin burned as the fire lit up across my ass.

At last, he stopped. He let me up and walked out. I was left alone, hands on my stinging cheeks, not knowing what to do with myself.

From the next room came the sound of a hammer tapping against a wall. I quickly got dressed. When I walked in, Florian was just finishing putting up his new paddle.

I stared at it. Wanted to say something. Thought better of it. And slumped down on the sofa in silence.

Florian came to sit beside me and placed a hand on my knee. “We’ll talk tonight,” he said. “But this isn’t over yet.”

****

My punishment was far from over. The City took matters like this very seriously, and so did my Supervisor. Over the next week, I was spanked every evening, once for each working hour I’d missed. Just as the sting from the previous day would begin to fade, Florian would lead me back to his study for the next round. The result? A bottom that stayed sore for eight days straight.

After the final spanking, Florian suddenly grabbed me by the arm and marched me down the corridor, still butt naked. Without a word, he took me back to the communal kitchen, where two City Architects were in the middle of their evening meal. One of them was the same guy who’d caught me the week before. They both looked up, surprised.

Florian paid them no attention. He took a cloth from the cupboard and held it under the tap. Then he gently dabbed my burning red butt. The architects stared at us, mouths slightly open, too stunned to speak.

“Well, kid,” Florian said, “I think you’ve learned your lesson this week.” Then, casually, to our guests: “He’s had a spanking every day for the past eight days, for neglecting his duties to the City.”

I felt my face flush, but the architects nodded approvingly. “Good work, Supervisor.”

“Enjoy your meal, and sorry for the disturbance,” said Florian, and led me by the arm back to our own quarters. Once we were inside, his manner changed.

“All right, Toby. That’s it. You’ll be feeling it for a while yet, but the worst is over.”

“You knew they’d be in there,” I said accusingly.

“Of course. They always eat at that time. The City has a right to see how I’m handling you. But it’s done now. I say we leave it behind us.”

“Gladly.” All I wanted was for things to go back to normal.

“Good. I’m in the mood for a beer. How about you?”

“Am I allowed to drink again?”

“You are – under supervision, of course.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he raised his hand.

“Non-negotiable.”

With a sigh, I started to get dressed, while Florian went to fetch the beers from our fridge.

****

Florian is busy in the function hall, arranging tables and chairs, his eyes focused as he fine-tunes the layout.

My heart skips a beat as I walk over to him. The question I’ve been holding back burns on my tongue. I have no idea how he’ll react. But I have to ask. Now. Here.

“Florian.”

He hears the tension in my voice. His beautiful, sparkling blue eyes sweep over me, assessing. “What is it, buddy?”

“Pamela and Jimmy want to go for drinks with me this week. At the Outside Bar.”

“Ah. So the three of you want to grab a beer there?”

“Basically, yes.”

He pauses. “You remember how many drinks you’re allowed?”

“Yes, Florian, I know.” The irritation in my voice is hard to miss.

Florian pretends not to notice. “Do you think you’ll stick to your limit even if I’m not there?”

“Oh come on,” I burst out. “It’s been nearly three years since I got that sick from drinking. Are you planning to punish me for that forever?”

He answers calmly, “As of today, you’re a free man. My role as your Supervisor is over. You’re completely free to make your own decisions now.”

To my own surprise, that thought makes me flinch. Why do I suddenly feel so unsure of myself?

“Aren’t I still your property?” I ask, almost pleading.

His fingers stroke the back of my neck. “As your owner, I’m allowed to worry about you a little, aren’t I?”

“Yes.” My voice trembles. I wish I’d never brought it up.

He asks again, gently but firmly, “Do you think you’ll be able to stick to your limit?”

“Yes. Absolutely. I promise.”

“Don’t promise. Just do it.”

He smiles when he sees me nodding vigorously.

“All right, Toby. I once asked you to trust me. Now it’s time I start trusting you. Go on, then. I hope you have a great evening.”

Panic gives way to relief. He isn’t pushing me away, he’s just worried about me.

On impulse, I kiss him full on the mouth and press my tongue against his. A burst of intense passion… Then he laughs and gives me a playful shove on the chest.

“Go on then, tell them the good news.”

Almost floating, I make my way over to where my two mates from the Outside are waiting for me.

****

The evening sun bathes the streets in deep orange. Pamela has already gone back to the Peel Bastion – she’s meeting up with a friend there.

I unfold the map of the new district and point out the spot to Jimmy. “This is the Outside Bar, where we’ll grab that beer on Thursday. They’re open tonight too. Good food, great view of the district.”

Jimmy hesitates. “I like the idea, but… you know, I’m just some broke Outsider. I can swing a beer, but a whole meal? I’d rather grab something cheap.”

“Ah, that was dumb of me. Didn’t even think about that. I sound like one of those stuck-up City boys.” I dig into my wallet and press some money into his hand. “Here. You can borrow it.”

He looks startled. “Where’d you get that? Don’t tell me you’re back to stealing again?”

“Florian gave it to me. An advance on my first paycheck. He says I’m a free man now, and I deserve money of my own.”

“But that’s your money. I can’t take that. Really…”

“Take it. I’ve got more than enough. The Bastion’s been feeding me for years. Just keep it, okay? I don’t want you chewing on a soggy snack while I’m off partying. You were my only real friend in the Holy Boys. I’m gonna help you find your feet here. Now get moving to the Outside Bar or I’ll drag you with me to the Bastion.”

Jimmy sighs. “Alright, have it your way.” Then he smiles, really smiles. Warm and genuine. “Thanks, man. You’re amazing. Not sure what I ever did to deserve a friend like you.”

We hug, then part ways. I watch him go, still looking a little awkward, like he hasn’t quite figured out how to move through this place yet.

Slowly I stroll back toward the Bastion. Seeing Jimmy again makes me feel oddly grounded. I’m looking forward to showing him around, making sure he feels just as welcome here as I did.

But at the same time, something starts gnawing at me. I can’t shake it.

It’s nothing, I tell myself. Don’t be stupid. Everything’s fine.

Still… it won’t let go.

I’m a pretty heteroflexible guy in the sense that, unlike my friends, I can admit when another dude is attractive, and when dared to kiss another guy at parties, I didn’t feel the urge to pound my chest and act like I was going to vomit from the thought of it. Afterwards, I would shrug my shoulders and tell whatever guy I kissed that he was good, but his girlfriend was better, just to make it less gay. More than one ex-girlfriend had asked me if I was bisexual, and the honest answer was always no.

In college, I made friends with a pretty diverse group of people across all of my classes. One person I made close friends with was a girl named Anya. A beautiful redhead with fair skin and fierce green eyes. She wasn’t in any of my classes, but we worked together at the coffee shop across the street from the law building. 

Anya is a sophomore, and her boyfriend, Shane, is a junior. He comes around every time she is on shift. He seems cool. He’s one of those rich kids, skinny, tall, perfectly trimmed and styled hair at all times, at least two pieces of jewelry every time he goes anywhere, and he’ll dress like he’s homeless even though his clothes cost him hundreds of dollars to look poor. I like him though, he’s not douchey like his friends when they come in with him.

Through the fall and most of the spring semester, I got to know Anya pretty well. There were a few parties she invited me to where we would get drunk and shoot the shit. At one particular party, she told me she had a dream about a threesome with me and Shane and how hot it was. The details she gave me had me pretty turned on as well. Hell, I’ve rubbed out a few nuts thinking about her from time to time. However, none of my fantasies involved her boyfriend; to each their own.

She shook her head, “It was just…so unlike me, but I guess because we work together and get along so well…well, anyway, I thought it was funny and you’d get a kick out of it.”

I laughed, “I’ve never actually had a threesome, and I never pictured a threesome happening with your boyfriend.” I shrugged. I should’ve left it there, but I tend to ramble in awkward situations like this and added, “And I can’t imagine Shane would be down for a devil’s three-way either.” 

Anya shook her head and grinned, “You’d be surprised.”

“Wait, what?” I love a juicy piece of gossip. She knows she can’t just dangle something like that out there and not finish her thought.

She looked around, “Shane actually put the idea in my head…about a threesome,” she sipped her drink.

I was flabbergasted. “Wait, Shane told you he wanted to have a threesome with me and you?”

She chuckled, “No…well…I’m sure he would, but he told me he’s done three-ways with girls and guys before and that he enjoyed it. I’m sure he would be down to share me with you if I set it up.”

This information blew my mind. Does this mean she wants to have a threesome with me? How do I play this right? I would definitely fuck Anya, but would I be ok to share her with Shane at the same time? What if his dick is bigger than mine and she gets to compare our styles at the same time and decides I’m terrible in bed and tells every girl on campus and I never get to have sex again because of it?

“It’s silly, forget I said anything,” she tried to wave it off.

I realized my window to make this happen was closing quickly, and I needed to jump through it like Indiana Jones before it closed if I ever wanted to hook up with Anya. “I’d be down,” I blurted out.

She nearly spit out her drink. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, why not?” I tried to play it cool. “I’m not into guys like that, but I jerked it with some buddies back in high school…how different can it be?”

She bobbed her head for a minute; you could see the wheels turning as she mulled it over. “I don’t know, it would be kind of hot to have two hot guys at the same time, but I wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship and make things weird at work.”

“That’s fair, but at the same time…” I tried to steer her back towards pro-threesome, and as if on cue, Shane walked up and put his arm around her shoulders. He stood about a foot taller than Anya, a few inches taller than me.

“What’s going on over here?” He asked, his eyes glassy from smoking with his boys upstairs.

“We were just talking about having a threesome,” Anya offered boldly.

I felt my blood rush to my cheeks.

“Oh yeah? Zach, you never struck me as the threesome type,” he squinted at me. Probably trying to see if I was just trying to get into Anya’s pants.

I shrugged it off, “I’ve never done it, but I’m an open guy.”

Shane leaned in and whispered something into Anya’s ear that made her chuckle and made me a little uncomfortable.

“Shane, we need you,” a guy yelled from the kitchen where they were playing flip-cup.

Shane smiled, “I’m coming!” He winked at me and gave me a pat on the shoulder before darting off.

Anya rolled her eyes and shook her head as if to say, “Never mind,” and we dropped the subject altogether.

I eventually went back to my dorm alone and jerked off thinking of a threesome with Anya and Shane and what I might be willing to do in that situation and where I would draw the line…until I blew my load and then I wrote it all off as I wiped up my cum with a t-shirt.

It didn’t get brought up again, and I just chalked it up to a drunken conversation. That is, until everyone returned from spring break, and I received a text from a number I didn’t recognize.

“Yo, it’s Shane, is this Zack?” the text read.

Me: Yeah, it’s Zach. Shane, as in Anya’s Shane?

Shane: No, as in Anay’s ex-boyfriend Shane. She ditched me during spring break…it’s a long story, but it didn’t end well.

That would explain why she wasn’t at work on my first shift back.

Me: Oh, sorry to hear that.

Shane: Nah, it’s whatever. So listen, straight to the point. I got a girl coming over tonight, she’s like an 11 outta 10, makes Anya look like Raggedy Ann, but this bitch has been playing me for two years. A real cock tease. She said she’ll let me hit it if I set it up as a threesome with another dude, so I thought maybe you’d be down. Or were you just trying to get with Anya?

Geeze, that was a lot of information to take in. I wanted to tell him I was just trying to get with Anya, but at the same time, I haven’t been laid in weeks, and spring break back at my parents’ place was like being in a convent. So my sexual frustration was at a 10.

Me: What would that look like?
Me: Would we trade off, or would we have to touch each other?

There was a long pause with the three dots popping up and disappearing a few times before he hit send.

Shane: I’m not sure. This girl is a bit of a freak, so I would expect you’d need to be comfortable with some fooling around between us if you want to partake. Is that something you’re down for?

I swallowed hard, staring at my screen and really focusing on the words.

Me: Define “fooling around”?

I hit send with my heart pounding in my chest.

Shane: Lol, I don’t know, man. I guess the real question is, what are you uncomfortable with? What are your limits? I don’t have any limits, except I’m not letting another dude in my ass…tried it, it’s not for me. If you’re one of those dudes who would freak out if she put my dick in your mouth…maybe this is too advanced for you.

I was a little stung by the words “too advanced,” like I’m some sort of child. A part of me wanted to go through with it just to prove the rich asshole wrong. Another part of me felt like I was in way over my head. Could I suck a dick? I’ve had other guys French kiss me, and there was groping, but it was for an audience, which made it hot in its own way. There were also those few times I jerked off with friends back in high school, but that’s normal, right?

Me: I see.
Me: I guess my limits depend on how hot she is?

Shane: lol, right on [attached three pics]

Me: Oh shit, ok, I get it now!

Shane: Right!?

Me: I’ve never seen her at any of your parties, she’s fuckin hot though.

Shane: Yeah, you wouldn’t. She graduated last year and lives off campus. Anya knew I had a thing for her and made it clear she was never allowed at our house parties.

Me: Gotcha

Shane: You in or out? I need to text her back.

Me: Fuck…I’m in.

Shane: Dope! She’ll be here around 10. Feel free to stop by around 9 if you’d like to smoke with me beforehand. It helps me with nerves for things like this.
Shane: Oh, and it goes without saying, but anything that happens tonight dies with us, so do with that information what you will.

Me: You don’t have to worry about that!

I tried to get some reading done, but ended up rereading the same page over and over again until I gave up. I shit, shower, shaved, and brushed my teeth. I even did a little bit of manscaping with scissors to trim back my bush and make it look more manageable. Not that I’m particularly hairy, but a fresh haircut makes my six inches look a little bit bigger. Shit what if Shane is hung like a horse?

I put on a pair of black CK Trunks with the white waistband, they make my package look bigger and my ass a little more plump. Nothing I can do about my skinny torso, though, it is what it is.

I showed up at Shane’s at 9:15 feeling nervous as hell.

“Bro, you made it. I was worried you’d chicken out,” he gave me a bro-hug.

“Nah, I’m always up to try new things,” I tried to play it cool.

He walked us back to his bedroom. He has three roommates, one is at his girlfriend’s place, the other two are out doing their night shifts and will be back late, Shane said with a grin.

Shane had a few prerolls ready to go. We started smoking right away, hotboxing his bedroom as we chatted about his epic spring break trip to Cancun. When we were finished with our first smoke, he went to get us some drinks from the kitchen. He slid his laptop over to me. “Put something on, it’s connected to the TV.”

He already had Family Guy open, looks like he’s midway through a rewatch, so I just clicked play and let it roll.

He came back a minute later with two open bottles of Gatorade, and the color of the contents was definitely off. “What’s this?” I asked.

“A special mix for a special occasion,” he said and grinned. “Try it, you’ll like it,” he shrugged and took a sip of his bottle. I took a sip of mine; it had a weird flavor, but it mostly tasted like blue Gatorade. “It’s good, right?” He asked.

I shrugged, “It’s alright. I don’t think you invented Glacier Freeze, though, so you only get partial credit for the funky extra flavor.”

He laughed, then checked his texts, sending a few before looking over at me lounging on his bed. “Big Family Guy fan?” He asked, then handed me another preroll.

“Some episodes are funny, some aren’t.”

He lit his joint and chuckled, “Then why are we watching it?”

I exhaled, “because it was already open on your laptop…and you said to put something on.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at the question; the weed was suddenly hitting me hard, and I liked it.

He shook his head, “I thought you were going to put on some porn.”

I felt like an idiot, of course, that’s what he meant. “Oh, well, that was not clear,” I chuckled. “Don’t let me stop you,” I slid the laptop closer to him with my foot.

He got on the bed, sliding up until his back was against the wall. He pulled up a video, “Guess we should put on a threesome,” he grinned, and pushed play. The video featured two men and a woman in a bar, playing pool and making bets. One bet led to the next, which was mostly them taking clothes off. I felt myself getting turned on pretty quickly. I glanced at Shane and could see he was tenting in his shorts, making no effort to hide it as he gently rubbed his knob from the outside. It looked huge, and my curiosity was piqued.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and pulled it out; I clocked the time, it was already 10 o’clock, but the notification was the low battery alert. “Shit, do you have a charger?”

He looked at my phone, “Yeah, I’ve got you.” He grabbed it and went over to his desk, his shorts tenting from his bulge. He plugged his charger into my phone, and it buzzed again as he set it down. When he turned to come back over to the bed, I tried to swing my eyes from his crotch to the TV, but the TV had all three people naked and kissing, three tongues twirling. It made me wonder if Shane was a good kisser. I couldn’t help but look over at him as he climbed back onto the bed. This time, the distance between us was less than two feet.

He took a sip of his drink, and I followed suit. Feeling really buzzed, really loose, and really horny I asked, “Is she on her way?”

He slid his hand under his shorts and groped himself, “Man, I hope so, I’m so fuckin horny…I could go blind.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, but I was in the same boat. The room was getting warmer, or maybe I was getting warmer. Shane must have felt it too, because he reached behind his head and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it on the floor. I did the same, but I don’t think I was as sexy about it. Wait, did I just call Shane sexy?

I don’t think I’ve seen Shane shirtless before. While he is on the skinny side like me, he has more muscle definition. I can’t help but notice a bit of a four pack flexing everytime he squeezes his dick in his shorts. His pecs are small, but there is definitely definition where my chest is flat with two dime-sized nipples.

Shane checked his phone again, then his eyes went back to the porn. The group on screen was really into it at this point. One of the guys was fucking the girl while the other guy had his head down between the guys ass cheeks eating him out. “You ever been rimmed?” Shane asked.

Not looking at him, I admitted, “No. Have you?”

He chuckled as he spoke, “Oh yeah, it’s fucking awesome.” He checked his phone again, sighing when he had no message. “Fucking Veronica,” he shook his head.

“Is she on her way?” I asked, feeling impatient, strangling my dick in my shorts.

He made a frustrated face, “Not sure, she told me she would let me know when she was on her way. She’s only ten minutes from here, but she had to work until 9.”

I nodded, trying to do the math in my fuzzy brain.

Shane sighed, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and underwear, then looking at me, “You mind if I take these off, my dick is straining so hard it hurts.”

“No, go ahead,” I told him, hooking my thumbs in mine to get ready to pull them off, but I wanted to see what he was working with first. He quickly slipped his off and let them hang on his ankles. His 7” dick popped out, thicker than mine with a head shaped like a helmet unlike my mushroom shaped head. I know mine is a little smaller, but not much, so I felt confident enough to join him. We’re going to have to see each other naked when she gets here anyway, might as well get comfortable with it now, right?

Shane made no secret of checking out my body, letting his eyes linger on my dick as I slowly stroked myself. I tried to pretend like I didn’t notice, but it did turn me on to know he was checking me out. So much so that I felt myself getting a little closer to orgasm than I wanted to be before the real party kicked off. I let go of my dick and grabbed my Gatorade, taking a few gulps.

Shane did the same. I got in a good look at his body when he leaned away from me to get his supplies off the dresser next to the foot of the bed. “Do you use lube?” He asked, squirting some on his dick and slicking himself up.

“Usually I go dry, but…why not?” I took the tube from him and squirt some on my dick. It was probably a little too much, the excess dripping down my balls onto his mattress, but he didn’t seem to care, and he was definitely watching.

We sat there slowly stroking ourselves, watching the three people on screen going at it. I don’t know when they changed positions, but now the guy who was getting his ass eaten was on his back, taking the other guy’s cock while the woman rode his tongue.

Shane checked his phone to see if he had any new messages. He looked over at me grinning, “I’m so horny,” he started stroking himself. 

“Dude, me too,” I huffed, loosening my grip so I don’t cum too quickly.

“Would you be down for that?” Shane asked, nodding to the screen as he reached over for his weed.

I looked back at the screen, it was a close up of the one guys dick sinking into the other guys asshole and I laughed, thinking he was joking. He blew out smoke and passed the joint to me. I could tell from the look on his face that he was serious. I took a hit, “Which?” I blew out the smoke and passed it back to him.

“Either,” he shrugged and took a long hit.
I chuckled, “I don’t know, I’ve never done anal.” “In any way,” I felt the need to add.

He passed me back the joint, “Have you ever played with your hole?”

I shrugged, feeling no hangups at this point, “I’ve…dabbled, I guess.” I passed it back to him.

“Really? Like a finger or a dildo?”

“A finger,” I scrunched up my face. “I do not own a dildo.”

He chuckled, “Hey, this is a safe space, you can get dildos that are not shaped like a cock that are designed just for anal stimulation,” he smiled at me, passing the joint back to me. I took a deep hit. “Did you…” His phone buzzed before he could finish his thought.

I hoped it was Veronica saying she was outside. I watched as Shane texted back quickly. Then his phone buzzed again, and he texted back again. I took another hit of the weed, slowly stroking my dick with my free hand, watching his dick bob as he used both hands to text. I grabbed my drink and shifted in the bed so I could use the pillows along the headboard. My feet were stretched out on the bed down by Shane, and I could feel the warmth on the mattress from where his body had just been lying a moment ago. 

Shane sighed, setting his phone on the dresser, then looked over at me as he took his dick back in hand and started stroking it again.

“Was that Veronica?” I asked.

“She’s running late,” he shrugged. His eyes went from mine down my body, between my legs. “How often do you finger your hole?”

I felt my heart rate speed up as I put the lid back on the Gatorade. “Ummm…I don’t know, once in a while, when I’m really horny…and taking my time, I guess.” I bent my left knee up so my foot was by my ass and knee in the air, my right foot tucked in to meet my left like a dead butterfly. I noticed how often he was glancing at my hole, and it was turning me on in a weird way, especially since he was talking about it.

He scoots back on the bed, filling the space where my feet were and leaning against the wall. His hips were close to my feet, and I could feel his body heat radiating to my toes. I let my left knee drift to lean against the wall so I could see his face again, his eyes were…locked on my balls? Maybe lower.

“How do you do it when you do it?” He asked, his eyes making their way back to mine.

I felt a rush of heat hitting my chest, and I passed the last of the joint back to him. His arm brushed hard against my raised knee as he reached for it. “Umm…I don’t know, I just use a little vaseline and…you know,” I turned my hand palm up and started wiggling my middle finger up the same way I would finger a womans clit.

“You use your middle finger?”

I chuckled, “Yeah? What finger do you use?”

He smirked, “I use both my fingers,” he held up his index finger and middle finger.

“I’ve done that too,” I blurted out unprovoked.

He smiled, “Really? How many fingers have you had in your ass?”

“At one time?”

He chuckled, “Yeah?”

I felt embarrassed but answered anyway, “Ok, one time, I was chatting with someone online, like really filthy chat, and she convinced me to try three fingers.” I couldn’t help but grin with pride and embarrassment.

He didn’t mock me like I expected; he actually nodded along like he was impressed. “Three fingers, but you wouldn’t do that?” He pointed at the screen again.

My eyes followed his finger and on screen the cut to the close up of the guy on his back getting fucked by the other dude. I shrugged, “I don’t know, it’s way different than fingers.”

He chuckled, “not really, I mean, think about it,” he held up his hand, putting the tips of his index, middle, and ring fingers together, then brought it down to his hard dick and lined them up. “It’s basically the same,” he shrugged.

“Not even close,” I held up my fingers in the same formation.

He quickly sat up and shifted, getting between my legs, pulling my hand down to his dick and I accidentally touched it as he compared my fingers to his girth. “It really is about the same.”

I chuckled, “No way dude, look at it,” I put the three tips of my fingers to the head of his cock and it gave me a rush as the velvety tip brushed my pads.

“Well, sure, the head is bigger, but how far did you get those fingers in?”

I looked at my fingers for a second, “I don’t know, I couldn’t see, but it felt like they were at least to here,” I used my thumb to indicate the section just below my knuckle on my forefinger.

He grabbed my hand again and lined it up with his dick which was pumping out heat. “See, at that part I think your fingers are even thicker than my dick.” He smiled with pride about being right.

“Maybe it wasn’t that far,” I tried to walk it back.

He made a knowing face. “Did you like it?”

“I don’t know, I was kinda caught up in the moment,” I admitted.

He gave me that look again. “Did you cum?”

“Of course.”

“With the fingers in your ass?”

I thought about it for a second. “I think so, yeah.”

“Well, there you go, see, you could do that, and enjoy it.” He looked back at the screen, accidentally resting his hand on my right thigh.

We both watched in silence, stroking ourselves slowly for a moment while the camera cut back and forth between the close up of the guy getting fucked and then to him eating the girl out while also stroking his massive dick. It didn’t go unnoticed by me that as he slowly stroked his dick, his fist accidentally bumped into my balls a few times. I’ve jerked off with buddies back in high school before, so I’m not uncomfortable with touching another guy, but I don’t really know Shane this well, and it feels different when he touches me. Good different, I guess, but all this talk about our potential threesome involving anal sex between us has my buzzed brain spinning.

Shane let out a soft moan and squeezed my thigh, jerking my attention back to how close we both are, and Veronica hasn’t even shown up yet. Shane was fixated on the TV, and it gave me a chance to really take him in. As he jerked himself off I could see the muscles hidden under his skinny build, and the way he strokes his dick had me in a bit of a trance. My mind kept drifting between wanting to touch it and thinking about Anya touching it. I wonder if she let him rawdog her? Then if I touched his dick, it would be kinda like I touched her pussy….right?

“Fuck man, I need to calm down or I’m going to shoot before she gets here,” Shane said, releasing his dick and contorting himself around to reach for a little brown bottle on his dresser. He shook it, uncapped it, then held one side of his nose closed as he inhaled slowly on the other side. Then he repeated it on the other nostril. The way he relaxed immediately and looked high as fuck made me curious.

“What’s that?”

“Poppers,” he held the bottle out for me to take. “It helps you relax, and when you’re on the edge, it helps you to keep control of your nut,” he chuckled.

I took the bottle from him and followed his example. The fumes were intense and holy shit did I get a rush. My heart started racing, and I could suddenly feel every nerve ending in my body as my eyes rolled into the back of my head. “Oh shit,” I whispered.

“Right?” He chuckled, putting both his hands on my thighs and rubbing up and down a few inches below my crotch.

“Damn, that’s intense,” I felt my head spinning as I relaxed into the mattress.

“It’s like a horny drug,” he chuckled.

I do feel even more horny. I don’t think I was any less close from blowing my load, but man do I feel horny.

Shane grabbed the bottle of lube on the mattress and dripped a good a mount on his dick, stroking himself to coat his meat. “Want more lube?” He held the bottle out.

I took it and dripped some more on my dick, again a little more than I wanted to and it dribbled down my balls. I instinctively brought my free hand down and tried to catch the drip.

Shane huffed, “Trying to finger yourself?”

I chuckled, “No, I was trying to keep the lube off your mattress.”

“Oh, here I thought you were going to put on a show.”

The idea now planted in my head I did kinda want that anal stimulation. Would it be weird if I fingered myself in front of Shane? Would he even care? I felt his fist bump my balls again as he stroked himself. I’m not sure if he even realized he did it; he was so transfixed on the TV. I liked it, though. I kinda want him to do it some more. I slowly stretched my legs out over his bent knees, his hairy thighs brushing the back of my thighs as I did. He looked over at me as my legs landed. “Sorry, I was getting a cramp,” I lied, but it brought me close enough to the flight path of him stroking himself that his knuckles started bumping my balls with every other pass.

“It’s cool, get comfortable,” he said, and then leaned back a little which spread his knees a little more under my thighs, holding himself up with his left hand as his right stroked his dick. Now every stroke of his dick was bumping my balls and it was sending my brain into a horny spiral. I started stroking my dick faster. “Oh shit, that probably feels so good,” Shane grinned at the TV, stroking his dick a little faster.

I turned my head to look at the TV and saw the guy getting fucked shooting his load on his chest as the other guy pulled out and shot his load on that guys balls and the camera zoomed in on the juices dripping down to the guys asshole. “Damn,” I added, trying not to cum.

“I would’nt pull out though,” Shane chuckled and I realized he was thinking it must have felt good to be fucking that guy as he shot his load instead of being the guy getting fucked.

“Yeah, me neither,” I felt the need to add. Then I grabbed the little brown bottle and took another hit.

“Fuck, that got me close too,” he said, reaching for the bottle after I inhaled a second time.

I watched Shane close his eyes and take a hit, feeling the rush wash over my body, I don’t know why I did it, but as he was taking a hit on the other side I reached out and gave his dick a couple strokes which caused him to moan and he grinned at me through half lidded eyes and I stopped stroking him.

Another scene started playing on the TV, featuring two different men and a different woman. This time, they were checking into a hotel, and one of them said, “I’m so glad we’re finally off the road.” She parked her roller bag and added, “I never want to get in the car again,” then stretched her back by bending over and touching her toes. “Do you need a massage?” The second guy asked, and then the music kicked in.

“Do you need a massage?” Shane asked and squeezed my thighs, the head of his dick brushing against my balls and then sliding down to my lube drenched grundle before he pulled back.

I chuckled, “I need Veronica to get here. I’m so horny.”

“Yeah, fuck, me too,” he contorted himself to grab his phone without leaving his spot on the bed. He sent a quick text and set the phone down. Immediately his hand went back to stroking his cock. “You know what would be hot?”

“What?”

“Ah…no, never mind,” he shook his head and turned back to the TV.

“Well, now I need to know,” I pressured.

“It’s stupid, I don’t know why I said anything,” he kept looking at the TV.

“Dude, come on, what would be hot?”

He turned to look at me and grabbed the bottle of poppers, taking a hit as if that would change the subject. Then he handed me the bottle. I grabbed it, adding, “Bro, just tell me,” and inhaled deep.

He closed his eyes, still holding his last hit in. Then I took a hit on the other side as he exhaled. “Fuuuck,” he said and squeezed my upper thighs really hard, and it made me moan and exhale my hit.

I felt the rush washing over me. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the sensation and mumbled, “Just tell me.”

“Ugh, ok, but don’t judge me,” he prefaced.

I shook my head, implying I won’t judge.

“It would be kinda hot to see how you finger yourself as you jerk off…you know, while we wait on Veronica.”

With the rush at its peak, I mumbled, “Mmm…yeah, it would.”

“For real? You’ll do it?” He got all excited.

Before I could think about it, I shrugged, “If you want…I mean, it feels good,” I chuckled.

He grabbed the lube and handed it to me instantly, popping the lid as he did, which got a chuckle from both of us. My rush started to come down as I poured some lube into my left hand and circled my pucker with my fingers. The cool lube grounded me a little, and I started to think this might be a bridge too far. “Are you sure you want to watch?”

He grinned, “Fuck yeah, it’ll be so hot to watch you pleasure yourself like that.” He stroked his dick a few strokes. “Wait,” he nearly shouted. Grabbing a pillow, he pushed my legs back and stuck the pillow under my lower back and upper ass cheeks. “This way I can really see it,” he grinned and grabbed the lube. “Want some more?” He uncapped it. I held out my hand and he squirt a dollop on my fingers, then squirt more on his dick and started stroking himself.

I turned to watch the TV. I couldn’t watch him while doing this. I learned the hard way that I had to concentrate on relaxing my sphincter for this to feel good, and with him watching me, there was added pressure. Thankfully, my head was spinning from the poppers, weed, and whatever was mixed in with the Gatorade, so as soon as I took my lubed fingers and circled my hole, it instantly felt good and like I could just go for it. Out of caution, though, just using my middle finger, I pushed the tip into my slick pucker, and it went in pretty easily. The feeling of being gently stretched always felt good, but with his lube, it was even better.

“Oh shit, that’s hot man,” Shane grabbed my legs and gently spread them a little wider to get a better view, then quickly returned to slowly stroking his dick which I could see was starting to form precum at the tip so I know he wasn’t just saying that, he was really enjoying what he was seeing. 

I decided to push it into the next knuckle, which was a little uncomfortable for a second, but as I wiggled it inside, it quickly started to feel good.

“Keep jerking yourself too,” Shane encouraged, scooting closer to me in excitement. Now as he stroked his dick his fist was bumping into the back of my hand and I felt the precum from his tip a he accidentally rubbed the head on my hand too. My first thought was that’s gross, but as his fist gently bumped the back of my hand on the next stroke, it vibrated through my hand and into my hole, and that was a new feeling I instantly enjoyed. I didn’t tell him he was bumping my hand, since he didn’t seem to care, and after a few more strokes, I was so turned on I was ready to insert another finger. Still, I wasn’t sure if that was taking this too far or if he wanted to see me do it, so I just kept wiggling my middle finger as deep as I could get it while my right hand stroked my dick in time with his stroking.

“This feels good,” I whispered in a breathy voice.

His eyes latched onto mine. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” I confessed.

He put his hands on my thighs, gently squeezing as his cock bobbed up and down and his precum smeared on the back of my hand. “Add another finger,” he suggested.

I raised an eyebrow, “Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah,” he insisted. “Want more lube?” He grabbed the bottle and uncapped it.

“Umm, sure,” I pulled my finger out and let him dribble an excessive amount into the trench between my middle and index finger. Then he put a little more on his dick, giving himself a few strokes as I returned my fingers to my hole. This time, as I slowly inserted both fingers, he watched in awe as I slowly slid them in as deep as they would go. The stretching was intense, but I felt the need to impress him by doing it without stopping. Like, somehow I’m not a man if I can’t insert two fingers without wincing.

“Damn Zach, that’s so hot, look how tight your ass fits around your fingers.” Shane’s eyes were like saucers as he watched me finger myself with two fingers now. In his excitement he shifted his weight again an was humping his dick across the back of my hand for a few pumps of his hips before he settled back down and started stroking his dick directly against the back of my hand. The vibration with two fingers in my hole was an insane amount of pleasure. So much so, I found myself trying to pull my fingers deeper into my hole than I had ever done by myself. “Does it feel good?”

I let out a very breathy, “Yeah.”

“Shit, it’s so hot. Is that weird to say? Fuck, I don’t care man, it’s really hot, you look so hot doing it.” He put his left hand on my thigh, leaned over me really quickly, his dick dragging up my arm, precum streaking in my arm hair until his balls landed on my wrist as he grabbed the little brown bottle next to my shoulder. “Dude, you’re so fucking sexy like this,” he almost mumbled to himself as he opened the bottle and put it under my nose, plugging one side and then the other as I inhaled deep without taking my fingers out of my hole or off my cock. The rush crashing over me like a tidal wave. I felt my hole relax around my fingers, and I was able to push them even deeper in.

“Mmmm,” I moaned as my eyelids closed and all of my other senses heightened. I felt my horniness increase from the pleasure of my fingers in my hole. My strokes on my cock were intensified, the heat coming from Shane being under my legs and his dick putting off an amazing amount of heat as it rest against the back of my hand was intense while I heard him take a hit of the poppers.

“Fuck dude,” he breathed out before taking another hit and holding it. As he breathed it out he grabbed his dick and started stroking himself.

I continued stroking myself and fingering myself as the poppers peaked and then subsided, bringing myself back to the edge and then holding off, letting Shane vibrate my fingers inside me with his jerking off between my legs. It was all so surreal, I almost forgot about Veronica until I heard Shane’s phone buzz. He didn’t seem to hear it because he just kept stroking himself while watching my fingers wiggling inside my tight pucker. “Is that Veronica?” I asked.

“Huh? Oh, shit,” he grumbled and grabbed his phone. “She just got out of work, she needs to go to her place and shower before she comes over,” he read me the bullet points. He sent a quick text and then put the phone back down. “We can wait, this is already hotter than I thought it would be,” he said, grabbing my thigh with his left hand and his dick with his right, shifting his weight again and I swear he was so close his ball brushed against the back of my hand before he settled.

“Should we…wait for her? I don’t want to accidentally cum,” I chuckled.

“Fuck that, she’ll get here when she gets here, I’m having too much fun,” he grinned. “Unless you want to stop,” he added.

I shook my head no. I was too close to blowing my load to think clearly. The sex fog in my brain had me feeling good all around.

“Good,” he said. “Want some more?” He held up the bottle of poppers.

I nodded yes.

“Yeeeeah boooy,” he leaned over me again. Again his balls dangled over the hand in my ass, his dick sliding along my dick was so weird but oddly a turn on at the same time. He helped me take another hit before he settled back down to take a hit of his own. Capping the bottle he got up on his knees a little, grabbing my thighs he rocked his hips so his dick slid up along my cock and his balls gently banged into the back of my hand and he let out a heavy breath. He did this through the entire peak of my popper high and his until we both settled down and started stroking our dicks again. “Fuck dude, do you want to try for a third finger?”

I grinned and nodded yes. I was feeling so good that a third finger could only enhance this situation.

Shane grabbed the lube and put the tip just under my balls and squeezed. I felt the liquid hit my grundle and drip down, and I caught it with the fingers still in my hole.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Shane said, capping the lube and grabbing the poppers. He stuck them back under my nose, and I took a hit. “Deeper this time and hold it,” he said, holding it under the other nostril. I did as I was told and took a really deep breath until I thought my lungs would pop. “That’s it,” he said, taking a quick hit for himself and settling back down. Then he hooked his hands under my knees and pushed them back toward my chest so he could watch. “Ok, now,” he said, finally exhaling.

With the rush washing over me, I didn’t focus on him holding my knees up and just focused on the pleasure of all of this. Slowly sliding my middle and index finger out, I quickly adjusted my fingers and pushed back in slowly, adding my ring finger this time. “Oh shit,” I groaned as I quickly hit the first knuckle and it was already more stretching than just two fingers flexing inside.

“That’s it, keep going,” he encouraged. “This is so hot.”

I took a deep breath, keeping my eyes closed. I tried to focus on relaxing, and it actually worked. My fingers slid into the second knuckle, and now I knew I was more stretched out than I had ever been, so I had to stop pushing in.

“Oh shit Zach, that’s so hot!” Shane’s excitement was intoxicating. “Keep going, see if you can get them even deeper.”

I slowly pushed even deeper, letting out a groan and clenching my hole around my fingers as I did. It didn’t hurt as much as it was uncomfortable and hard to do from this angle…but yeah, the new diameter was a bit intense. “Ungh, I can’t go any deeper,” I admitted.

“Shit, dude, that’s still so hot. Does it feel good?” He let my legs go back down and started stroking himself with his right hand and rubbing higher up on my thigh with his left hand.

I groaned, “It’s ok, I’m getting used to it.”

He chuckled, “Dude, I’m so turned on by it. I know that sounds weird, but I don’t care, man. Something about it just looks so hot,” he grinned at me. “Can you pump in and out like before?”

I tried to pump in and out, but the best I could do was wiggle my wrist, and my fingers gyrated in me a little. “Mmmph…I can’t.”

He rubbed both of my thighs up and down, letting his dick rub the back of my hand as he slowly slid his hands up so his thumbs could massage my crotch. “Do you want me to try?”

I opened my eyes to see his still locked on my hand or maybe his dick, it’s hard to tell. “What do you mean?”

He looked up at me and smiled, “Can I try fingering you?”

I swallowed hard, “I don’t know, that’s kinda…you know.”

He chuckled, “Dude, it’s no big deal, I’ve let a guy do it to me before, it always feels better when someone else fingers you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he scrunched up his face as if I asked the dumbest question in the world.

“I guess, if you want to, it could be cool,” I said, slowly pulling my fingers from my hole.

He didn’t hesitate and reached for the lube, coated the fingers on his left hand, then lifted my balls with his right hand so he could see what he was doing and slowly slid his fingers down my grundle into my crack and then found my pucker.

“Oh…ahhhmmm,” I breathed out as he circled the ring and landed in the center. My pucker instinctively tightened before he could push one finger in, but he pushed just hard enough that his finger pushed in and kept going until he had it all the way on. “Ahhh…shit,” his finger was a bit more rigid and overall bigger than mine and it stung a lot more than when I used mine.

“Oh shit, that feels so good, holy shit dude,” he comented as he did more of an in and out motion as opposed to the wiggling I did with my finger. “I can feel you gripping my finger dude, that’s so fucking hot,” he chuckled.

“Ungh, shit, it’s so weird,” I groaned.

“I’m going to put a second finger in,” he said, as he was already sliding the first finger out to add the second, and without pausing, pushed in two fingers.

“Oh fuck, Shane…ahhh, that’s, ahhh,” I hissed but then he twisted his hand so it was palm up and did this Spiderman thing where he pressed his fingers hard into my anal wall and I had a rush of intense pleasure. “Oh, shit, that…that feels better,” I was squirming under his assault on what turns out to be my prostate.

“That’s the spot?” He pressed even harder with each click of his fingers.

“Ungh…yeah, oh man,” I grabbed my dick and started jerking off. The pleasure was so intense I couldn’t waste it.

“You like it?” He asked in a breathy voice, stroking his dick with his other hand.

I could only nod yes as I breathed heavily and stretched my legs over his thighs, my toes starting to curl from the pleasure.

“Damn dude, you’re ass is so warm and tight, it’s like trying to eat my fingers. Do you want me to try a third?” He pulled his two fingers to just the tips as he asked the question, not waiting for the answer, he aligned his fingers and started pushing in.

“Ahhhgh, that’s too much,” I groaned.

“Let me add more lube,” he said, reaching for the lube without removing his fingers from my hole.

“Shit, I don’t think lube will help,” I hissed.

“Let’s see, I need more for my dick anyway,” he popped the cap, pulling his fingers out except the tip and added more lube, then slowly pushed them back in. Holding his fingers at two knuckles deep, not moving a muscle, it gave me a chance to breathe. He drizzled more lube on his dick and before he capped the lube he asked, “Do you need more on your dick?” I shook my head no and he capped it, smearing the lube all over his dick. “Damn dude, I’ve never had anything this tight on my fingers. Does it feel good?”

I sighed, “It’s alright. Just hold it there.”

He did as he slowly stroked his dick. After a minute, he slowly started pulsing his fingers, almost like he was trying to spread my hole instead of fingering it, but it was so gentle it actually felt really good, and I started jerking off to the new pleasure.

“Jesus, I can feel your ass clamp down and then relax on my fingers, like it’s your heartbeat. Does it feel good?”

I nodded, “It’s better.” I was slowly jerking myself because every few strokes I felt him hit my prostate and it would almost make me cum, and I definitely didn’t want to cum before Veronica got here. Oh shit, Veronica… “Did Veronica text?”

“No.” He kept pulsing his fingers.

“Are you…mmm….are you sure?”

He dropped his dick and reached for his phone. “Nah, not yet.” Then I heard a notification chime. “I put the volume up so we’ll know for sure when she texts.” He put the phone back down and started stroking his dick again.

“Shit, I think we should stop until she gets here,” I dropped my dick.

“No way, dude, this is too much fun.”

I felt his fingers go deeper in my hole, just a little bit but enough to feel it deep in my guts, “Ungh…fuck…I don’t want to cum before she gets here…ungh, and I’m getting close,” I warned.

He handed me the little brown bottle, “Here, these will help.”

I didn’t hesitate and took a hit.

“Take another hit, a really big one this time, and hold it as long as you can.”

I did as he instructed, and the rush was so intense I almost blacked out before exhaling. “Oh fuuuck,” I mumbled.

“Better?”

“Mmmm, yeah,” I groaned and spread my legs a little wider.

“Yeah, that’s it, fucking feels good doesn’t it?” He managed to push his fingers a little deeper.

“Ahhh….mmmm, yeah, fuck, so good,” I tossed my head from side to side on the mattress. I can’t believe how good this feels. Then he took it up a notch and was suddenly stroking my dick while fingering my ass. “Ohhh God….yeah, that, that…” was all I could mumble.

He chuckled, “Damn Zach, you really like getting your ass played with, huh?”

I rubbed my face and mumbled, “I didn’t…ungh, now I do.” He stroked me a little faster and harder, so he was pounding down on my crotch at the same time pushing up on my prostate. “Oh FUCK, Shane…I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” I squirmed under him, my legs wrapped around his back.

He dropped my dick and slowly pulled his fingers out of my hole. “Damn dude, that was so hot, I can’t get over how tight you are. I’ll bet it would feel so good on my dick.” He started stroking his dick with his right hand again, his left hand lifting my balls and then letting his thumb drop down to my pucker in the gentlest touch. I was completely blown away by the stimulation he had just given me, and yeah, I heard what he said, but it hadn’t yet registered —what he said.

As the intensity started to simmer down, my breathing coming back to normal, I could hear the porn again and glanced at the screen. Much like the previous video, the two guys were fucking, this time the first guy was laying like I am with the guy between his legs like Shane is between mine, just railing him, and the rigl is bobbing her head up and down on his cock and the dude looks like his mind is blown…not unlike mine right now.

“That looks so hot, doesn’t it?” Shane asked.

I reached for my dick which had finally settled down enough that I could start stroking it again without popping off. “Yeah,” I nodded without taking my eyes off the video.

Shane chuckled, “Zach, would it be crazy…would you let me try putting my dick in you?”

My head snapped back to Shane, trying to focus on his face, expecting him to be joking, “What?”

He grinned, “Just the tip, you know, just to feel how tight you are.”

My face scrunched up, “I don’t know, man, that’s pretty gay.”

“It’s no more gay than what we already did.” He started rubbing his thumb over my lubed hole.

“Mmm, yeah, but, it is, it’s not a finger, it’s your dick,” I tried to laugh it off.

“Come on, man, I’ve never felt any hole so tight, let me just feel your ring around the head and then I’ll pull out.”

“I don’t know man,” I felt that flush come back to my chest, a nervousness mixed with an extreme horniness.

“What’s there to think about? I’m not going to tell anyone, and you liked my fingers so much you almost blew your load.”

“Just the tip?”

He reached for the lube. “Yeah, it won’t be weird, it’ll probably feel really good for both of us.” He squirt some lube on his fingers and rubbed it on my hole, then added more to his dick, quickly shifting a little closer so he had to push his cock down to reach my hole. His left hand on my thigh, his thumb rubbing between my leg and grundle I felt his cock slip down between my ass cheeks, slick as all hell it slid right over my hole and I let out a sigh. He lowered his dick even more, the tip centering on my pucker and he nudged the head in, using gentle rocking until he finally gave it a little extra pressure and my hole stopped resisting his girth and it popped in with a sting.

“Ahhh, FUCK, no pull it out!” I growled. The pain shot into my guts like someone fired a gun into my ass.

He rubbed my thigh, “Dude, I’m not even in yet, you gotta let me get the head in.” He reached over and grabbed the poppers to hand them to me. “Here, take a hit, it’ll help you relax.”

I quickly uncapped the bottle and took a deep hit, then another. The rush was a million times better than the sting of his dick.

“Take another hit, a big one on each side, and really hold it.” Shane started adding gentle pressure this time. Shifting his weight for more leverage as I took my hits and held it like he asked. The wave crashed over me and I felt myself start to relax and let his dick push into my hole. This time, without the sting, the head sank into my hole with a smooth warmth and added pressure to my prostate. We both let out an “mmmm” as we held it there. He was restraining from pushing deeper, and I was restraining from pushing him out. “Fuck that feels good. I can feel your hole clamp down on me. Can you feel me in you?”

I nodded and groaned, “It’s weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird?”

“Just…weird,” I felt the poppers hit their peak and my hole relaxed a little more around his cock.

“Oh fuck, I can feel your hole trying to suck me in like it did with my fingers.” He had both hands on my upper thighs now, his cock slowly inching it’s way a little deeper. “Holy shit Zach, it’s so warm, like a silk pillow wrapped tightly around my tip…I’m gonna push a little deeper, see if you can handle more of me.”

“Ungh, wait,” I groaned, but didn’t really put up a fight as he sank two more inches into me. “Ahhh…fuck, ok, that’s enough,” I groaned when he got a little too deep and I felt a pang.

He stopped pushing and grabbed the poppers, taking a deep hit. “Fuck dude, you’re so tight I almost nut when you clamped down just now,” he chuckled as he exhaled.

“Dude, what? You better not cum in me,” I clamped down instinctively and he gripped my thighs tight with his hands.

“Oooh, shit, dude, if you don’t want me to nut right now you need to relax,” he whispered as if the vibration of sound would set him off.

“Shane, no, you need to pull out,” I insisted.

“Can’t, you’re clamped so tight, if I move I’m gonna blow,” he whispered again.

I grabbed the poppers from him and took a deep hit, then another. As the rush hit me, I took another deep hit and another for good measure, feeling my body completely relax to the point where my dick started going soft. Shane noticed and started stroking my dick for me as the poppers did their thing.

“Shit….ok, I can feel you relaxing,” Shane said and slowly pushed deeper into me.

“Ahhh, fuck, Shane, you’re pushing in, you need to pull out,” I groaned feeling him hit deep in my guts and the feeling was a new height of pleasure that almost made me blow my load.

“Does it feel good?”

“Mmm…yeah, but I don’t want you to cum in me…and I don’t want to cum before Veronica gets here,” I mumbled and clenched on his dick again.

“Oh fuck, dude, that feels so good, you feel so good, I don’t want to pull out yet. Can’t we just do this until she gets here?”

“I don’t know, ungh,” he rocked his hips a hair, “Are you….do you just want to hold it there?”

He pulsed his dick inside me, “I can hold it, or I can give you a few pumps,” he rocked his hips out a tiny bit and then back in.

“Ungh…fuck” I groaned.

“It feels good, right?”

“Mmmm, yeah but…”

“So let me get a few pumps in, just until Veronica gets here,” he insisted.

“Is she going to be here soon?”

“She’ll be here any minute, I think,” he rocked his hips again, the pain gone and nothing but pleasure this time.

“Fuck…ok, but…mmm, ok, we should use a condom though,” I moaned.

“Why? You can’t get pregnant?”

“Yeah, but…”

“I’m not going to cum in you, I’m saving it for her,” he rocked his hips in a slightly bigger stroke.

“Ungh, ok, just a few minutes until she gets here,” I caved, grabbing my dick.

He leaned over me and started to slowly pump his hips in and out, his dick sliding in deeper and then back out until it almost popped out, then he’d pump all seven inches back into me and grind on my ass. “Your ass feels so good, I love how tight you are,” he mumbled between thrusts. I kept stroking my dick, but as I felt myself getting close I’d stop stroking, even though he kept pumping into me.

After only a couple of minutes, it was feeling so good that stopping jerking wasn’t going to do it, so I grabbed the poppers and took a deep hit, then another. Shane smiled at me as my rush peaked and he thrust a little harder into me, his cock hitting even deeper inside me. His face looked like he was in pure bliss, and I was getting nervous. I offered him the poppers, and he nodded yes. Taking a good hit on both sides, but he kept slowly pushing in and grinding as he did.

“Oh man, Zach, this is the best ass I’ve ever had, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.”

“Dude, you need to hold out. Veronica will be here soon,” I groaned, feeling him hitting deep with every pump.

“I can nut twice, I need to nut,” he said, thrusting harder and faster, his hips slamming into my ass for a few strokes and then he slammed hard into me and I felt his dick throb, “Ungh,” he slammed into me again, and his cock slid with no friction, so smooth it felt so good and wet. “Mmmm.” he moaned quietly as he stopped moving inside me.

“Fuck, did you just cum inside me?” I asked, feeling his dick still twitching inside me.

“Oh yeah, fuck, Zach, you’re hole is so tight, I couldn’t hold it,” He chuckled, still holding himself over me he slowly sat up straight and put his hands on my thighs as he caught his breath.

“Dude, I told you not to cum in me,” I was having mixed feelings, it felt so good, but I was also angry.

“Sorry dude, it just happened, I couldn’t help it,” he slowly started to pull out, and my hole suddenly felt empty.

“What about Veronica?” I asked.

He grabbed his phone, “Oh shit, she text.” He started texting her back.

I started stroking my dick, “Is she almost here?”

“Damn dude, I had a lot of lube on my fingers, I think I turned the ringer on and then back off by accident.”

“Ok, is she here?”

He sent a text, “I think she got here but forgot which apartment I’m in and then left when I didn’t respond to her half dozen messages and two phone calls.” He looked over at me with a guilty look on his face.

“Are you serious?” I felt my blood boiling.

“Yeah dude, look,” he showed me her response to his most recent message, saying, “I left,” time-stamped 12:04 a.m. Now it’s 12:05 am.

I couldn’t think straight, “Fuck, I can’t believe…..FUCK,” I felt dirty and used, as I rolled off the bed and yanked my clothes back on.

“Sorry, man, it was an accident,” Shane was trying to calm me down, but I wouldn’t hear it. I just kept grumbling about how this is bull shit, gathered my things and stormed out.

The next day, after classes, I had a shift at the coffee shop with Anya.

“You look like shit,” she said.

“I had a late night,” I said, grabbing a mug and pouring myself some coffee.

“How was spring break?” She asked.

“It was ok, I guess, how was yours?”

“Ugh, it was ok, I ended up going home…”

“Because you broke up with Shane?” I was about to launch into how ‘he’s an asshole’ but then she corrected me.

“Well, yeah, but he called me up a few days ago and apologized, so we’re good now,” she then launched into a long story about something that happened to her at home. All I could think was how Shane lied to me about being broken up, fucked me, nut in me, and…what else was he lying about?

---

[This story was flagged on my Patreon account and is currently in Patreon Jail, so now it’s here where it can live.]

Cocksucker and the freshmen

“Hey cocksucker, you got a sec?”  Toby’s new name and identity were getting known around the campus and that gave him a sense of identity.

Cocksucker looked up from his meticulous raking of the leaves. The voice was familiar, yet he couldn’t quite place it. He spotted a young man with a goofy smile waving at him from across the quad. It was one of the college’s freshmen. They’d never officially met. He wiped the sweat from his brow and ambled over.

“What’s up?” Cocksucker asked, leaning on his rake. The freshman looked nervous, his eyes darting around as if expecting someone to overhear their conversation.

“Well, I heard around that you, uh, know how to… help guys out.” The young man’s voice was barely above a whisper..

Cocksucker’s heart skipped a beat. It was the first time he’d been approached so bluntly. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he replied, trying to keep his tone casual. The young man’s horny desperation was obvious, his gaze pleading.

“Come on, man. You know. The, uh, special service you provide. I’ve got a roommate, see, and he’s pretty stressed with exams. I thought maybe you could, I don’t know, take the edge off for him and,  maybe, me as well?” 

Cocksucker felt a strange mix of pride and unease swirl in his stomach. This was the first time someone had asked him so directly for his services. He’d discovered his unique ability, quite by accident,  a few weeks ago. A student called Brad had stumbled upon him and demanded a blow job and the rest was, well, history. 

“Look, I don’t know if you’re joking or what, but if you’re talking about what I think you are, I can’t just do that,” Cocksucker said, his voice firm. Although Cocksucker wanted to provide a service he also didn’t want to get fired.

The freshman took a step closer, his eyes searching Cocksucker’s face for any hint of understanding. “Please, man. He’s going to fail if he doesn’t relax. You know how rumors travel and, well, you’ve got a gift. Just this once.”

Cocksucker sighed, his hand tightening around the handle of his rake. He knew the pressure the college freshmen faced, the College was filled with tests and mid term exams and a young guy in an all male college had needs.

The quad grew quieter as the two men stood there, the only sound the rustle of the leaves and the distant murmur of students heading to their next class. Cocksucker looked around, noticing the way the shadows stretched out in the early evening light. He made his choice, a decision that would change his life and the lives of countless others on campus.

“Okay,” Cocksucker said finally. “although this isn’t a service I offer to just anyone and it definitely isn’t something to be talked about. Please don’t talk to anyone about it”

The young man’s smile was wide and relieved. “I promise, man. You won’t regret it. This’ll help him and me out more than you know.”

Cocksucker nodded, his mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead. Little did he know, this one act of kindness would soon turn into a never-ending line of young adults seeking his assistance. A line that would stretch from dawn until dusk, each one horny, each one looking for release from the stress of college life.

Cocksucker, the 48-year-old groundsman with a gift for giving blow jobs, found himself at the center of a world that was about to become anything but plain.

He agreed to meet the student and his roommate after hours in a discreet location, a storage room behind the gym. The room smelled faintly of chlorine and stale sweat, a stark contrast to the pristine lawns he so meticulously cared for.

The two young men, both visibly nervous and horny, waited for him with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Cocksucker had never felt more out of place in his own skin and he made real sure that they were adults. Cocksucker didn’t want to be in trouble for any underage action.

As he closed the door of the closed space, he felt a strange sense of purpose. He knew what they needed, and he was surprisingly good at providing it. With a deep breath, he set his rake aside and stepped closer. The moment was charged with a silent electricity that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

The two young adult males, both muscular and tanned, stood in front of cocksucker, their erections obvious through their gym shorts. They had the kind of bodies that made cocksucker feel inadequate and oddly excited. Here he was, contemplating sucking off two guys more than half his age just to be considered one of the crew.

With a deep breath, cocksucker knelt down between them. His hands trembled as he reached out and began to touch the belt buckles. 

The room grew hotter, the air thick with anticipation and the smell of sweat. Cocksucker felt a strange mix of fear and arousal as he pulled down the first  guy’s shorts, revealing a hard cock that stood proudly before him. He knew exactly what to do.

“Just take my dick and start licking it,” instructed one guy, his voice low, insistent and commanding.

Cocksucker took both cocks and his tongue darted out, touching the tip of both tentatively. The cocks were salty and musky, and he felt a jolt of something that made his own dick twitch in his pants. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, then opened his mouth wide, ready to take the plunge.

As Cocksuckers’s mouth engulfed one cock, the other guy stepped closer, “You’re gonna love this,” he murmured, stroking himself as he watched his friend’s face contort with pleasure.

Cocksucker’s felt the weight of their eyes on him, the pressure to perform. He bobbed his head, trying to ignore the funky taste and focus on the task at hand. One guy’s moans grew louder, encouraging cocksucker to go deeper, faster. Then, the second guy’s hand was in his thinning hair, directing the cocksucker to work harder and faster..

The sensation was overwhelming. Two cocks in his mouth at once, both of them pulsing with excitement. He gagged, but a hand was around the back of his neck, holding him in place. “Swallow it, cocksucker,” he groaned.

Cocksucker’s eyes watered as he tried to follow orders, his mouth and throat working overtime. He could feel the guys’ excitement building, their grips on his head tightening. He was pushed and pulled and controlled this way and that. They were so turned on and ready to pop.

For what felt like an eternity,  cocksucker slurped and licked, his jaw aching. He thought of the promise they’d made to keep this a secret, but as the minutes ticked by, he began to doubt if they would keep this quiet.

Their breathing grew heavier, and cocksucker could feel the tension in their bodies. He knew what was coming. He braced himself, waiting for the jet of salty goodness.

Finally, the first guy erupted in his mouth, and cocksucker had no choice but to swallow. He gagged, the salty fluid tingling in his throat. The second guy followed suit moments later, and Cocksucker felt a hot spurt of cum hit the back of his throat, making him cough and splutter. He tried to pull away, but they held his head in place, forcing him to swallow it all.

They both slapped his face with their cocks, glistening sperm trails being left on his mouth and nose. It was a moment of peace.

Cocksuckers’s knees ached as the two guys stepped back,  looking down at him with a mix of satisfaction and contempt. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“You liked that, didn’t you,  cocksucker?” The first guy sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. “You’re a natural cocksucker, fag.”

The first guy  high-fived the second, and the two of them laughed. “Dude, we gotta tell the guys about this,”his eyes shining with excitement.

“No!” Cocksucker’s voice was hoarse. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Their laughter grew louder. “Oh, we’ll tell them,” the first guy said. “We’ll make sure they know how much you enjoyed it, fuckin’ fag!”

Both freshmen took their phones out and started to take pictures of Cocksucker with his sperm covered face. Cocksucker felt a cold knot form in his stomach. They were going to tell everyone, and he’d be the butt of every joke at work. He’d never live it down.

Standing up, he tried to compose himself. “I…I need to go clean up.” He stumbled out of the storage room, his legs weak, his mind racing. He’d done it for acceptance, but all he’d earned was a new line of patrons.

In the restroom, he stared at his reflection in the mirror, the taste of their cum still lingering in his mouth. He felt utterly alone. He’d thought that by going along with their request he’d find some kind of belonging, but all he’d found was a new level of humiliation.

Cocksucker was going to be a busy guy.

---

Read about “Moro and the Pool”  A young man gives free blow jobs to old guys.

Speedo Surrender

Nick’s first few weeks at Bishop & King were dizzying, but one thing was clear.   Daniel King, the CEO, had noticed him.  After several “casual” office drop-ins including one in which Daniel baited him with talk of competitive swimming, Nick received the following text:

From:  Daniel King

Nick—

I imagine you miss the water. You need a proper workout. Join me at my home this Saturday at 3PM. Bring a suit

  —DK

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even an invitation. It was a summons.  

Nick stared at the screen, heart pounding. The cursor blinked. The words felt like heat against his chest.

Was this real?

Nick reread it three times. The tone wasn’t friendly—it was expectant. Confident. Commanding.

He knew this was dangerous—wrong, even—but the idea of submitting to Daniel lit something in him he couldn’t extinguish.

He sat motionless for several minutes, then typed a reply. Deleted it. Typed again. Fingers shaking, he landed on something simple. Something that said yes, without fully admitting why.

From:  Nick Courser

Daniel, thank you for the invitation. I’d be honored to join you Saturday.  I look forward to it.—Nick

He hit send before he could second-guess himself.

Then he leaned back in his chair, chest heaving, unsure if he’d just made the best decision of his life—or the most dangerous one. 

***

By Friday, Nick’s nerves were frayed.

He hadn’t told anyone. Not Donald, not his college friends, and certainly not his friend group from work. It felt like something that belonged in a different part of his life—secret, electric, fragile.

When Saturday arrived, he was already dressed hours ahead of time. He’d packed two swimsuits—one modest, one not—and had changed his mind half a dozen times which he’d wear. Surprisingly, he received a text from Daniel mid-morning.

Walk around the back when you arrive. Gate will be open.  See you at 3.  Sharp.

By 2:57, he stood outside a modern, angular home tucked into Dallas’s traditionally grand Preston Hollow neighborhood.  It stood in stark contrast to its neighbors, looking like it had been lifted straight out of Palm Springs. Stucco walls, clean lines, native grasses planted in deliberate rows. Aesthetically immaculate—just like Daniel.

He took a breath and moved around the side gate as instructed. The backyard unfolded like a boutique resort. White loungers with oversized umbrellas, a stone bar stocked with top-shelf liquors, tall potted palms, and an Olympic-length pool that shimmered under the late afternoon sun.

Nick stopped. The gate clicked softly shut behind him.

Daniel stood at the far end of the pool dripping wet—water clinging to every inch of his sculpted body, catching the late light and turning him into something Nick couldn’t look away from.  A force of nature. Forty-two years old, but standing there, it was impossible to think of him in terms of age. He was presence incarnate—raw, honed, impossibly sure of himself.

The white speedo left little to the imagination. Soaked through, it clung to him with an almost deliberate intimacy, outlining the heavy lines of his groin and the muscular definition of his upper thighs. It was the kind of suit only a man like him could wear without apology. Bold. Indecent. Perfect.

His torso glistened with water, each droplet tracing the hard lines of his chest, dripping slowly from the notch between his pecs down the deep grooves of his abs. The light caught the sharp edge of his V-cut, the skin taut over muscle, leading the eye down with dangerous intent. His body wasn’t just fit—it was lethal. Built not for vanity but for performance. Every inch a result of discipline and precision.

His biceps twitched subtly as he ran a hand through his wet hair, veins rising along his forearms like carved stone. Water streamed down the curve of his shoulders, over the broad sweep of his back, then pooled briefly at the small of his spine before following the curve of his glutes—round, high, sculpted—barely concealed beneath that slick white fabric.

He stood still for a moment, catching his breath after his swim, his chest rising and falling with calm intensity. He wasn’t posing. He didn’t have to. The quiet confidence in his posture, the stillness of his gaze—like he knew exactly what kind of effect he had—was more seductive than any performance.

From across the pool, Nick watched him, transfixed. Every instinct urged him to look away, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t just desire—it was gravity. The kind of slow, inescapable pull that rewrites what you think you want. He wasn’t just admiring a body; he was being undone by it.

By the sheer masculinity. By the power and ease.

By the fact that a simple white speedo, wet and clinging, had become a weapon.
And the man wearing it—completely, utterly in command.

Nick was confronted with one, inescapable fact. He admired Daniel beyond comprehension.  Although Nick’s own physique, and presence were formidable, the only thing he could see was the gap between what he was and what he aspired to be.

Daniel turned, as though on cue.

He didn’t wave. Didn’t beckon. He simply met Nick’s eyes and waited.  Waited to see if Nick would step into his future.

Nick walked across the pool deck, conscious of every breath, every glance. He tried to keep his gaze up, avoid scanning the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath Daniel’s transparent suit and what laid beneath. But it was impossible not to notice. Daniel wasn’t just attractive—he was sculpted.  Magnetic. Dangerous.

“Right on time,” Daniel said, his voice calm, confident. “Of course.  That’s my boy.”

“I didn’t want to be late,” Nick replied, managing a grin.

Daniel smiled faintly. “You’re not the type.”

They talked for a few minutes—about traffic, the heat, the pool’s water temp. But under the small talk was a current of knowing. This wasn’t an accident. Daniel had crafted the scene, set the tone, and watched as Nick walked willingly into it.

“You bring a suit?” Daniel asked finally.

Nick nodded and motioned to his bag, “In here.”

“Come on, you can change inside.”

The house interior was exactly what Nick expected: sleek, tasteful, minimalist. Dark woods, soft leather, a few pieces of abstract art that suggested power and precision.

Daniel pointed him toward a guest room. “Towels in the cabinet. Join me when you’re ready.”

Alone, Nick peeled off his shirt and jeans, heart pounding. He held both swimsuits in his hands for a long moment before choosing the speedo.  He breathed a sigh of relief as he’d brought two suits to be able to choose after seeing what Daniel was wearing. 

He selected his tiny, sexy speedo and pulled it up over his hips and thickening cock.  If he was doing this, he was doing it all the way.

As he looked in the mirror at his youthful, muscled jock body, he adjusted his swelling cock, and muttered, “Stay down, man,” under his breath. His cock didn’t respond; in fact it was pushing the boundaries of decency. But that was his way of telling Daniel, I’m up for whatever you have in mind.

When he stepped outside, Daniel was back in the water, back-stroking slowly through a warm-up lap. Nick stood at the end of the pool ready to dive, but Daniel stopped him.  “Wait, before you dive in…”  but said no more.  He simply stared at Nick, appraised him as if he were up for auction.  Nick should’ve felt uncomfortable, but he loved being physically admired. 

The speedo Nick had chosen was black—low-rise, high-cut, daring. It barely clung to his hips, and what it revealed was… impressive.

Daniel felt it at once—not lust, though that was certainly there—but something closer to satisfaction. Confirmation.

The boy was built.  But he was still a boy.   A boy who needed to learn to be a man.

Six-foot-one, maybe six-two, every inch of him balanced in that uncanny, post-athlete way—tight in the waist, thick in the thighs, shoulders still broad with college conditioning, but no longer trying to prove anything to a coach or crowd. His chest was smooth and firm, lightly dusted with blond hair that caught the sun like fine down. It narrowed to an abdomen that, once sharply cut, was beginning to show the evidence of a less disciplined life.

His arms hung with easy rhythm at his sides—roped with subtle veins and sinew, not for show, but from use. The remnants of someone who spent years throwing heat from a mound.

Daniel’s eyes fell lower. The black Speedo sat tight over a pronounced V-line, slung so low it threatened to expose more than it concealed. His thighs were a thing of power—dense, pushing slightly outward with each step, betraying strength that showcased his college athleticism. Daniel could see the faint crease where leg met torso, the kind of definition that only came from years of explosive training.

And then the boy instinctively turned around, ostensibly to glance at the house behind him, but in reality to showcase his ass.   It was all Daniel needed. The backside—Jesus. His glutes were high and round, two carved, taut muscles barely contained by the thin stretch of fabric. They moved subtly with each shift of his weight, and Daniel felt something tighten in his own chest.

But for all Nick’s athleticism, there was still opportunity.  Opportunity for the discipline it takes to be a man.  Nick was a boy.  Daniel was a man.

Nick looked over, unsure, maybe shy. Daniel smiled, slowly.

Yes. This was what he’d waited for. All the controlled meetings, the careful office glances, the veiled instructions, the calibrated pressure—it had led to this. To the boy standing nearly naked before him, offering his body with more than just skin. Offering access. Readiness.

Nick didn’t know what this moment meant yet.

But Daniel did.

As if to explain the delay, Daniel said lightly, ”Just evaluating the competition….exploring the possibilities.”

“The competition?  Possibilities?” Nick asked, after diving in and surfacing.

“Yes,” Daniel replied, “The challenge you present.”

Nick dove in and treaded water, not knowing how to respond.

Daniel didn’t waste any time: “800 meters. Eight laps. Winner gets bragging rights. Loser pays the price. No questions.” He said it with a smile, but the edge in his tone made Nick shiver.

“Deal,” Nick said. “What kind of price?”

“Winner decides.”

They lined up, pushed off.

Nick was fast—fast enough that he led comfortably for the first seven laps. Years of athletic training kicked in, every stroke precise, powerful. But in the last lap, Daniel surged forward, cutting through the water like a blade.

He touched the wall several seconds before Nick.

Nick panted, resting his arms on the deck. “You were sandbagging.”

Daniel grinned. “Of course I was. I told you—discipline.”

Daniel leapt out of the pool and extended a hand heaving Nick from the water with surprising force—intentionally reinforcing his superiority.  Daniel pulled Nick in for a congratulatory hug…bare chests wet and close, a slap on the ass, and a brief graze of their water-soaked bulges. Nick prayed his body wouldn’t betray him. It didn’t—barely.

Daniel handed him a towel and nodded toward the bar. “Drink?”

They sipped gin and tonics in the loungers for much of the afternoon and, eventually, the sun drifting toward gold. Still in their speedos, Nick felt strangely relaxed, even vulnerable.

“So,” Daniel said, swirling his glass. “Tell me about you. Real stuff.”

They talked. About baseball, about Nick’s childhood, swimming, old girlfriends. His father came up—inevitably.

“We’re… not close,” Nick admitted. “He never really cared unless I won something. Even then, it felt like I was still chasing him.

Daniel watched him carefully. “You’re not chasing him now. You’re chasing something else.”

Nick laughed softly. The gin and tonics were opening him up. “Maybe. Maybe I just want someone to see me. Really see me.”

“I do,” Daniel said.

The words landed between them like a match in dry grass.

“And you?” Nick asked, awkwardly shifting the focus. “Family? Relationships?”

“Never married, a couple long-term relationships, but my work always came first. You’ve seen me in action.  I need structure. Control. People who can follow.”

Nick’s throat tightened. “You sound like a coach.”

Daniel smiled darkly. “I’m both a coach and a leader.  Coaches demand compliance. But I train men to surrender—with loyalty, and more.”

Nick was at a loss for words.  The implications of Daniel’s seemingly nonchalant utterances were growing more and more ominous….and desirable.   The silence stretching between them growing increasingly prophetic.

Nick turned toward him, trying to be nonchalant. “So, I lost the race…what price am I paying?”

Daniel stood and drained the last of his cocktail.

“Come inside,” he said as he grabbed his hand to pull him up. “I’ll show you.”

The sliding glass door whispered shut behind them, sealing the warm air inside Daniel’s house. The scent of cedar and citrus hung in the stillness. Daniel guided Nick into the house, but Nick didn’t need much encouragement.  He knew he had to pay the price of losing.  He didn’t know what it was but hoped it would have something to do with Daniel’s provocative innuendo.  Nick knew he shouldn’t be here tonight, should’ve even reported Daniel to HR, but now it was too late.  He had committed and he had to pay.  And he was desperately eager to find out what that price would be.

Nick felt his damp speedo clinging tighter with every step as Daniel led him through the open-plan living room.  And the further they were away from the pool wearing so little, the more he became aware of his near-nudity. But after the race, the sun, and the gin & tonics, it was as if were in a trance.  He had only one thing on his mind….paying the price.  But first he’d have to find out what it was. 

Daniel didn’t speak. He simply nodded to the couch, retrieving a bottle of red from the sideboard and pouring two glasses with care.

Nick sat. The upholstery, soft against his still-wet skin, only amplified the strange vulnerability creeping over him. When Daniel joined him on the couch—bare thighs brushing just slightly—it sent a silent shiver up Nick’s spine.

Daniel handed him the wine, turned to him, and then raised his glass.  As he turned, their now bare legs pressed against each other

“To truth,” he said.

Nick offered a nervous smile and clinked.

After a moment’s quiet, Daniel spoke. “Before I share your penalty for losing the race, I want you to hear something very clearly.”

Nick looked over, heart already racing.

“Nothing that happens tonight, or in the future will change your future at Bishop & King. You’re off to an exceptional start. Everyone sees it—clients, your team, me. You’re smart, driven, curious… and, frankly, sexy as hell.” He winked. “So, no matter what’s said here tonight, your position is secure. You have my word.”

Nick exhaled slowly. “Okay?”

Daniel swirled his wine. “Now. About that price.”   Daniel paused for effect and then continued.  “I have to start with the truth.  The race was a setup.  I knew full well you’d lose.  The 800 meter was my event in college and I’ve lost little time since then. You called it right when you said I sandbagged to let you think you’d win and then came in for the kill.  That’s why I set up the bet the way I did…loser pays the price; winner decides what the price is.”

Nick, sensing where this may be going, simply responded, “OK?”

Daniel continued, “The price you’ll pay for your loss is the following…the truth.  I don’t think you’ll be surprised to hear that I have some strong feelings about you, feelings that explain my…” he paused, searching for the right word…”interest in you.  The questions I have for you won’t be easy to answer.  You’ll have to dig deep.   Perhaps you don’t even know the truth yourself.  But I want you to try.  Will you?”

Nick turned toward him, wary. “So you’re saying the price I have to pay is the truth?”

“That’s right.” Daniel set his glass down. “No games. Just honesty. Deal?”

Nick hesitated, somewhat disappointed the price wasn’t more straightforward…say a blow job.  But then nodded.

“First question,” Daniel said, his voice calm but penetrating. “I think I know the answer to this, but I’d like you to confirm you’re gay.”

The words landed like a drop of ink in water—simple, but spreading fast.

Nick opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and still in denial, offered, “I… I don’t know.”

Daniel waited, offering only quiet.

Nick continued, eyes locked on his knees, and keenly aware of where his bare leg was brushing against Daniel’s.  He thought for several moments, then took a deep breath, “I mean… I’ve tried with girls. I really have. Several times, but nothing ever happened. Never really clicked.”   Another long pause, ”But with guys…there’s something there. I think about it. I try to push it away, I don’t want to have those feelings, but they keep coming back.”  Nick seemed relieved at finally being able to talk about to someone he could trust.  The dam had broken and he eagerly continued…”I’ve had some—encounters. College. Nothing romantic, not even a real date. Mostly anonymous.”   Nick stopped talking as if he were finished, but Daniel knew there was more to be said.  Waiting patiently, Nick blurted out, now with tears forming in his eyes, “I think about it all the time.  I can’t NOT think about it.  I have an entire fantasy life that looks nothing like my real life…”

Daniel put his arm across the back of the couch and let his hand fall and caress Nick’s neck and shoulders.  This was a pivotal moment for Nick and he seemed to welcome the gesture.

Pulling Nick into him, Daniel continued. “When you think about men, what exactly are you imagining?”

Nick tightened up again and pulled away slightly. “It’s not really… romance. It’s more…” and he paused for nearly a full minute…”what they’d do to me. What I want them to do to me.”

Daniel said nothing.  He just let that sit there and allowed Nick to own his truth.  Finally, his eyes narrowed slightly, and he gently added, “Say more.”

Nick shifted, as though the words might physically hurt. “In the fantasies, I’m never the one in charge. It’s always someone older. Bigger. In control.”

He blinked fast, but the tears came anyway, punctuating his humiliation.  Not heaving sobs, but streams of hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

Daniel placed a hand gently on his back pulling him closer again, his palm steady. “Take your time.”

Nick wiped his face with the back of his hand. “I don’t know why it’s so hard to say this. I just… in my fantasizes, I’m on my knees…” then, taking a deep breath added, “..sucking their cocks. Sometimes they’re… rough. Sometimes I can’t even breathe right. But I want it. I get off on it.”

Daniel didn’t move. Just listened.

“I lick their holes. They love it. And I get off on them loving it.  There’s more than one; sometimes a bunch of them. They get rough and order me to keep going. I fantasize about them cumming on my face and forcing me to eat it.  And when they cum inside me…” Nick’s voice broke again, eyes now wet, “that’s when I know I’ve done it right. That I pleased them. That I was worth it.”

He curled slightly, chest tight, ashamed, and then broke into sobs adding in barely a whisper, “I love it when they call me names….make me their bitch…”

Daniel tightened his arm around him, pulling him in even closer. “Breathe, my friend, just breathe….”

The room was silent except for Nick’s hitched breaths, slowly getting back to normal.

After a while, Daniel asked gently, “What do you find more powerful…the pleasure you receive from sexual act itself?  Giving sexual pleasure to another?  Being degraded?”

Nick thought. He’d never thought about it that way.   He paused and answered, “All of them, but mostly the last two.  I get off more when they cum than when I do. I get off when they call me names.  I’ve never actually done any of this, so I don’t know what’s real and what’s in my imagination, I….I….” unable to finish the sentence, Nick burst into sobs and curled up into Daniel’s embrace.

Daniel hugged Nick with a power Nick had never felt before.  Although still shocked at what he had revealed, an enormous burden had been lifted.  And he couldn’t escape the irony that the embrace he was receiving from Daniel, still a near stranger, was warmer and more comforting than any he’d ever received from his own father. “Nick, you haven’t told me anything I didn’t already know. To men like me, you radiate the need to serve. But what’s important here is that you’ve acknowledged it…to yourself.  You’ve given yourself permission to own it.”

Still feeling the heaves of Nick’s quieting sobs, he leaned in closer, voice low. “There’s nothing broken in what you think you like. It doesn’t make you weak or lesser or anything else society might tell you. It takes strength to serve. To give. And when you do it honestly, from a place of truth… it becomes something beautiful. Powerful.”

Nick, finally able to breathe normally, looked up and stared at him, the weight of years beginning to lift—just slightly.

Daniel continued. “You weren’t meant to dominate. You were meant to offer yourself. Not out of weakness—but out of instinct. Of alignment.”

Nick leaned into Daniel’s embrace. He couldn’t believe the words that left his mouth just moments ago—couldn’t believe the comfort Daniels arms and words provided—but none of it felt wrong. It felt terrifyingly… right.

Daniel rocked him slowly, like something sacred had passed between them.

After a long silence, Daniel whispered, “You okay?”

Nick looked up. His voice was small, but steady. “Yeah.  Embarrassed.  But okay.”

Daniel smiled and brushed a damp strand of hair from Nick’s forehead.

“I’m here for you, little man,” he said, then leaned in and kissed him—slow, soft, sure. “You’re safe with me.”

And for the first time in his life, Nick let himself believe it.  He felt completely safe.  Daniel laid back into the couch with one foot on the floor and pulled Nick into him, Nick’s back to Daniel’s front, with Daniel’s arms around him tightly, grazing his torso as they laid there.

The stillness in the room was thicker now—Nick near-naked in Daniel’s arms, the late afternoon sun dipping toward dusk, casting golden bands across the polished floors. He could feel the soft rhythm of Daniel’s breathing behind him, steady and grounded. His own breath came shallower, more erratic. Most importantly, he could see that NIck’s speedo could barely contain his cock.  He could see it desperately trying to escape its Lycra prison.  He’d probably never been this hard, Daniel thought to himself.   

Daniel reached down and gently cupped Nick’s throbbing bulge, followed by his voice, low and close against his ear.

“So, little man,” he said softly, “are you ready to begin your training? Ready to find out if those fantasies are real… or just dreams?”

Electricity raced through Nick’s body. He nodded before finding the courage to answer.

“Yes, sir.”

A quiet pause, like an unseen door swinging shut behind him.

“And it needs to be said, you can trust me.  As you take this first step, and beyond…” and here he forcefully squeezed Nick’s cock, “…there may be discomfort, even pain, but I’ll never expect more from you than you can give…than you’ll want to give.  Is that understood?”

Eagerly, and with a hint of a smile in his voice, Nick replied, “Yes, sir”

“Good,” Daniel said. “Now lose the speedo.”

End of Chapter 2

---

Note to Readers

Thanks for joining me on Nick and Daniel’s journey.  I’ve been away for a while working on this story.  It’s been a personal passion for me as there’s a quite a bit of both Nick and Daniel in me.  I hope you hang in for their twists and turns.  This is a long story, but I think you’ll find it rewarding, particularly the conclusion.  And please share your thoughts in the comment section or at [email protected].

Full disclosure:   As I’ve been writing this story, on more than one occasion I noticed thematic similarities to some of the stories written by Broken Boundaries on this site.  I reached out to him to share my observations and assure him I wasn’t plagiarizing him and it so happens we appear to get off on many of the same things.  We’ve talked more about this since and had a laugh over it.  This will be the first time he’s read this this story, so I wonder if he’ll agree. And if you like this story, check out his on this site; they’re terrific.

With the click of the lock, the soft thud of his laptop bag against the floor, and the immediate loosening of his tie, Austin was home. He set his phone face down, the hook up app pings silenced. He was ready for a night in. Pizza and Netflix. And… the faint, familiar scent of cleaning spray… and sweat… and protein powder. Cade was home.

Austin found him sprawling on the living room couch, phone held loosely above his face. His broad, hairless chest rose and fell with the slow rhythm of someone perfectly at ease. His short dark hair was still damp from a recent shower—that ridiculous caesar cut he’d sported since freshman year college. Still the same silver chain necklace too. Probably home just after a workout, gauging by the swell of his chest and biceps, pumped.

“Rough one, corporate slave?” Cade’s voice was a low rumble, nearly monotone, his eyes still glued to his screen.

Austin stood in the doorway, well shaped forearms crossed—a flex that would have gotten the attention of any other guy. “Just saving the world, one spreadsheet at a time. Still on the job hunt, or are you just taking selfies of your abs again?”

Cade was an all-purpose jock. Always had been. Even more built than Austin, with his own chiseled abs—though most would say Austin was more handsome, amber eyed and year-round golden tan.

Cade chuckled, a deep, rolling sound, and stretched, muscles flexing smoothly beneath his ivory skin. “World’s not ready for me. Or my biceps.”

Austin snorted, unbuttoning his fitted shirt. “If only thirst trap likes paid the rent.”

Their conversation, their apartment—their lives—felt like a natural extension of the years in the dorm room they’d shared since freshman move-in day. Two strangers, two athletic scholarships, and an immediate, undeniable sync. 

It was like they’d been custom-made for each other—a two-man unit navigating college life, then the first stumbling steps into adulthood. They’d spent countless hours at the gym, spotting each other on heavy lifts, reading each other’s effort, knowing instinctively when the other had given it all—needed to share the load.

Even now, Cade wasn’t a guest. While he was out of work he quietly anchored their domestic life, shouldering the daily upkeep that Austin’s busy schedule often precluded. He could be a total space cadet, but somehow the apartment was always spotless and the fridge never empty.  

They were practically a couple, everyone joked—and they were, almost. Eighty percent of the picture was perfect. It was just that last twenty that didn’t quite fit the frame.

As Austin pulled a glass from the cupboard he studied Cade on the sofa, in the early evening light. The natural athleticism in his form, the power he’d painstakingly built in it still gave Austin a dull pang of desire. He’d gotten used to it—like a favorite ache you lived with so long you  couldn’t remember a time without it.

Cade was perfectly comfortable with Austin being gay—he’d proved it hundreds of times. But Cade was just as relentlessly, unapologetically straight. That was the chasm no amount of shared history or natural fit  could fully bridge, the one problem—at least from Austin’s perspective.

It wasn’t that Austin didn’t lack for opportunities. He had his own nights out, his own string of hook ups and dates. But in the end he always returned home. Life with Cade, imperfect as it was—that was the real deal, the eighty percent. The last twenty that Cade couldn’t or wouldn’t give, that was the compromise. 

 

Sometimes, when the apartment was quiet and the TV flickered blue shadows on the wall, he let himself imagine: what if Cade was the kind of guy who wanted him—not just mostly, but all the way? He never lingered on it long. Reality was already pretty damn good.

He leaned against the counter, his well shaped forearms crossed—an unconscious flex that would have gotten any other guy’s attention. “Netflix and pizza?”

Cade finally looked up from his phone, his voice carefully flat. “Nah, man. Got plans. Going out.”

Oh. Okay. That usually meant just one thing.

“By the way,” Cade said, his voice casual, but shifting topics. “Did the internet bill come in? I got a loan from my dad so I—”

Austin waved a dismissive hand, already knowing the answer, already handling it. “Nah, on autopay. I got it.” 

It was their unspoken agreement, another piece of the load Austin willingly carried.

Austin spent the next hour or so in a familiar rhythm—ordered Thai, picked out a movie he’d been meaning to watch. He ate slowly, his phone buzzing with pings, new messages from profiles he’d swiped right on earlier in the day. He didn’t need to look to know, no. Not tonight. He wasn’t interested in a random hookup, a pale imitation of the singular intimacy he knew was coming.

After cleaning up, he showered and finally settled into bed, the screen glow of his phone a small beacon in the dim room. He was just drifting off when he heard the muffled sound of the apartment door opening and closing softly. An eager giggle, Cade’s low murmur.

Austin didn’t need to open his eyes to know Cade wasn’t alone. 

Her feminine voice seemed odd, out of place in the masculine retreat of the apartment. Then Cade again, clear enough to catch a phrase. “Told you I’d be worth the wait.” His Boston accent always seemed more pronounced during a hook up.

Her response was immediate, a breathless laugh. “Oh, I believe it.” Jesus, she practically purred.

Austin pictured it: Cade probably resting a hand on the top of the door frame—his V-shaped torso on full display, radiating potent jock energy. Effortlessly drawing her deeper into the apartment, into his bedroom—as if there was any question where they’d be headed.

He heard the patter of her heels and then the deeper fall of Cade’s steps behind her. The distinctive click of Cade’s bedroom door, a pause and then the faint squeak of bedsprings.

And then, the real show began.

It started subtly—a rhythmic creak that built slowly, but undeniably. Then murmurs deepened into groans, sharp intakes of breath, the unmistakable sounds of the bed pushing against the shared wall—bodies pressing, pushing.

There was a reason he called Cade “the machine” in college, and that hadn’t changed. The machine was at work. 

Cade’s unbridled energy and the strength of his body—honed for sports and the gym, repurposed for sex—was always effective at drawing out the groans and cries of the girls under him. That and the rest—the rhythmic creaks of the bed, the hammering at the wall—it was all par for the course. 

Austin rolled his eyes at the ceiling, a wry smile tugging at his mouth. He’d heard it all before, and if he was honest, he half-enjoyed the performance, already half-hard by the time the first headboard thud landed.

A consuming wave of anticipation built in him, and he twice checked to be sure his door was slightly ajar—and then a third time. The crucial invitation.

Then, a sound that cut through the wall—a high, drawn-out cry, female screams that broke into raw, shuddering moans, and then again, the bed slamming harder. The machine was in full throttle. 

Austin knew that sound, knew its timing. Cade always made sure she got off before he did—whichever she, of the countless shes. It was part of his M.O., part of why he was the machine. And for Austin, it only intensified the raw anticipation.

Looking down at his own sculpted body, he’d never understand why Cade went for that when he could have all of this. Sex with guys was so much better—none of that fake screaming, just honest grunts and two hot loads. At least they had their ritual—the unspoken bond no one else could touch.

He knew the sounds of Cade’s own building climax, and imagined it—sweat slicking his broad back, his body a force of nature. Beads dropping from the handsome slope of his nose. The pace picked up, then hard slams, Cade’s guttural “Hnnnh. Hnnnnh. HNNHH—”

Then, abruptly, it stopped. The rhythmic pounding fell away into heavy silence. A few hushed words. Austin inferred the rustling of clothes, then the bathroom door closing after a flush. And she was gone.

The apartment was still, but the silence hummed with a different kind of energy now. Austin tried to keep his heart from pounding hard, staring at the sliver of light from the hall falling through his slightly ajar door.

Then, the slow pad of bare feet on the hardwood floor, coming directly to Austin’s room. Every muscle in his body tightened as the door swung open.

Cade stood there. Naked.

He filled the doorway, a familiar silhouette against the faint glow from the living room. Even so, Austin could sense the grin forming on his face. He stepped into the room, catching the dim light from the window.

His skin was flushed, glistening, muscles visibly pumping from his recent exertion. His broad, hairless chest heaved softly with each slowing breath—a raw, post-fuck heat that hit Austin like a wave. 

 

Cade’s mouth quirked. “She’s gone,” he said, voice low and casual. “But I saved something for you.”

In his hand, held high, like a peace offering, the condom, the head full and swaying, almost hypnotic as it hung from his fingers.

Austin’s lips curled, eyes flicking from Cade’s face to the condom. “You always know how to make a guy feel special.”

Cade stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him with his foot. “You want it?”

Austin nodded, keeping his gaze steady. “You know I do.”

Cade crossed the room, slow and deliberate, climbing up onto the bed, nearing Austin. He dangled the condom just out of reach, grinning. “You gonna beg for it this time, or just take it like a champ?”

Austin cocked an eyebrow, hand sliding under the covers. “Why don’t you see what you can get out of me?”

Cade chuckled, low and warm, settling his weight, his calf brushing Austin’s. “Every time, man. You never disappoint.”

Despite his tone, Austin was aware of a subtle clench of his jaw, a momentary tightening that spoke of the choice—a small sacrifice made for this exact moment. He’d never said it—never would—but he could have gone condomless, found more pleasure. But here he was, holding the proof of his singular affection for his friend.

He leaned in, close enough that Austin could taste the salt on his skin, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Say please.”

Austin hesitated for effect, then: “Please.”

Cade grinned, satisfied, and brought the condom to Austin’s lips. “Open up, champ.”

Austin parted his lips, looking up at Cade through his lashes. “Don’t get cocky.”

Cade snorted. “Little late for that.”

He tilted the condom, letting the semen pool against the tip. “All for you. Don’t waste a drop.”

Austin wrapped a hand around Cade’s wrist, steadying him, and let Cade pour the load into his mouth. It was warm, not hot, coating his tongue and throat—the metallic tang, the visceral texture. His gag reflex fought it for only a split second, and then, his Adam’s apple bobbing, he swallowed it down, a total body peace washing over him.

As Cade’s seed went down his gullet a deep groan rose from him—his muscles tensed, his body seized as he shot his own load. His shuddering breath was filled by Cade’s fuck scent, and past that his beauty, the raw reality of his load.

Cade watched, pupils a little blown, breathing picking up again. His cock twitched, hardening a fraction more—the machine, never fully at rest.  His thumb brushed Austin’s hip, and for a second, it looked like he might let himself get pulled under, too—but then he pulled back, settling for a soft nudge of his knee against Austin’s. “You know this gets me going, right? It’s fucking hot, seeing you do that. Just… not like that.” He gestured vaguely toward the door, where the girl had left. 

They both understood. They had since the first time, in the dorms—half-drunk, half-dare, but the moment when they found the most honest expression of their friendship. When the last wall almost came down.

Cade pulled back, swung his legs over the side of the bed, the mattress creaking softly. “I need a shower.”  His voice was already returning to its familiar, easy tone. 

He pushed himself to his feet, thighs flexing, his entire body still covered in a sheen of sweat, his semi catching the light. With a practiced  flick of his wrist, he tossed the condom into the small waste bin near the door. The soft thud was barely audible.

For Austin, the intense haze was beginning to recede. He heard the bathroom door open, then the familiar rush of water. Well. He might fish out the condom later, if he was still restless.

He moved with quiet purpose, knowing Cade would be starving after that kind of exertion. In the kitchen he pulled out a few leftover Thai takeout boxes from the refrigerator, and assessed the options.

He set a pan on the stove and began to combine the remnants, cleared a spot for two whisked eggs, creating a new, impromptu rice noodle dish with quick stir-fried bok choy and chicken, a thin sliced omelet on the side. The scent of garlic and soy quickly filled the apartment, beating back the lingering remnants of perfume and the steam from the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Cade emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a low-slung towel that clung to his hips, the few stray dark hairs on his lower abs trailing into it. He padded into the living room, heading for the couch, grabbing the remote, water still beading on his back.

Austin carried the steaming bowls into the living room and settled onto the opposite end of the sofa from Cade, setting the bowls on the sofa tray between them. 

Cade flipped through channels. He knew what they both liked, what they both abided, finally settling on a compromise.

Austin picked up his own bowl, chopsticks poised,  nudged Cade’s bowl closer to him— pushing it gently into his reach. 

Cade took it without looking.  “Thanks,” he muttered softly, taking a first mouthful, a plume of steam rising from his perfectly carved lips. 

Austin let himself settle into the couch, warm and loose from food and sex and the simple comfort of the room. He could see Cade’s towel had unfurled, one end covering the rise of his cock, a hip carelessly exposed.

This was the part he’d miss most if it ever ended—the easy after, the shared routine where nothing had to be said. Tomorrow would be more spreadsheets, more of Cade’s dumb playlist blasting as he carefully, lovingly, cleaned the stovetop. Austin found himself looking forward to it.

They weren’t perfect. Not the whole package. But eighty percent? That was a hell of a start. And if that was possible… what about ninety? Or all the way?

Austin caught Cade’s eye, a slow smile passing between them. Whatever the future held, for now, this was more than enough.

END

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Author’s note: if you’d like to be notified of future story drops please let me know at [email protected]. Your contact information will not be shared.

Mike meets Chuck

Andrew and I were able to keep our relationship to ourselves for the remainder of the school year. It wasn’t like we were ashamed of it, but in 1977 it was better for us to not have to put up with all the prejudiced people judging us. Not only did we have the gay thing to deal with, but the whole racial issue was another can of worms we didn’t want to open. I just kept thinking about Walter and Ellis, while these issues were difficult for us, they would have been much worse for them. Andrew and I didn’t worry too much about what anyone else thought, we knew how we felt about each other, and I for one was the happiest I had ever been.

I continued to look for any more information on Walter or Ellis, Andrew would help me whenever he had time. So far, we had found out that Walter’s dad did indeed die in the house fire on the day of Walter’s last journal entry. One paper reported that there may have been two bodies in the house fire. That article worried me the most, I really hoped that there wasn’t a second body in that house. I just couldn’t stand the thought of Walter dying in that fire. We found another article that said the sheriff’s son had drowned in the pond on the following day. About a year later the sheriff resigned after some sort of scandal, we were still looking for any details on that. I wasn’t sure if this had anything to do with Walter, but it seemed like too much of a coincidence to just disregard. I still had found absolutely nothing on Ellis Jackson or any of his family.

As our first year of classes were winding up, I decided I was going to stay in Memphis for the summer. I was going to need to find a place to live and a job to pay for it.

I headed downtown to the Memphis Press, the local daily newspaper. I walked into the lobby of the paper and found the reception desk empty. I waited for someone to come back, but after about ten minutes I was still waiting. I walked over to a set of doors and opened them to find a large room with about 20 desks scattered around and people on the phone and typing on typewriters. I caught the eye of a large gruff looking guy at the end of one of the rows as he hung up his phone.

He bellowed “Hey kid, what are you looking for?”

I stepped in, “Sorry to bother you sir, I was looking to apply for a job. I was wondering if there were any openings here?”

He asked, “What kind of job are you looking for?”

I stammered, “Well sir, I am a journalism student at the University. I would be willing to do whatever was needed just to get a start in the business.”

He rolled his eyes, “I am not ‘sir’, kid, I’m Chuck. You ever work at a paper before?”

Chuck looked to be in his late forties to early fifties, with a receding, greying hairline. He was wearing a dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up and his tie was loosened around his neck. He was looking at me over the top of a pair of half glasses. He appeared to have worked at the paper for a long time and was certainly a no-nonsense type of man.

I said, “Yes sir, er… I mean Chuck. I worked on my hometown paper back in Westburg when I was in high school and on both my high school and college papers. I have brought a copy of each paper to show you some of my writing.”

He chuckled, “You came in prepared kid, that is a refreshing change.” He turned and yelled into an office behind him, “Hey Fred, do we still have money to hire a copy boy in the budget?”

I heard a voice from the office, “I guess so, everyone that I interviewed wasn’t worth a damn. If you find someone, just remember you are the one that has to deal with them, not me. You’re stuck with them.”

Chuck said, “Let me see those papers.”

I handled them to him and waited while he read. He asked, “This you, Mike Jennings?”

I nodded, “Yes sir… Chuck.”

He handed the papers back, “What year are you in college?”

I said, “I’m just finishing my first year, I was hoping to stay in Memphis and work through the summer. If it works out, I would like to work parttime when school starts back up in the fall.”

He asked, “Do you know how to type?”

I said, “Yes.”

“File, make copies?”

“Yes sir.”

He looked at me over the top of his glasses, “Work on the sir thing, do you know how to take pictures?”

I nodded, “Yes sir, sorry, I mean Chuck, and I took a lot of photos for Mr. Johnson back home.”

He sighed, “Don’t tell me you’re sorry, it’s a sign of weakness. Be here Monday morning at 8. I’ll give you one week, if you don’t piss me off, you can stay.”

I grinned, “Thank you, I’ll be here.”

I went right to the library, I knew Andrew was working and I told him my news. He congratulated me, and we made plans to go out for supper to celebrate.

We sat at our table waiting for our waiter to bring our food. I was telling Andrew all about my brief interview, such as it was.

I said, “Now that I have a job, I am going to need to find a place to stay. I have to be out of the dorm in a week.”

Andrew was going to stay in town for the summer as well; he was going to work at the library full time and take a couple of summer classes. There would be other students taking classes, so the library was still open. Most of the others that worked in the library during the school year were going home for the summer.

He said, “They do keep one dorm open during the summer, maybe you could get a room there.”

I shrugged, “Maybe, is that where you’re staying?”

He nodded, “I guess so.”

I thought about it for a minute, I didn’t want to rush things or make any assumptions. I felt like I was ready to move in with Andrew, but we had never talked about it. I didn’t know if Andrew was in the same place as I was.

I took a deep breath and asked, “What do you think about us trying to find a place together?””

He smiled, “I kind of wanted to suggest that, but I wasn’t sure how you felt about it.”

I smiled back, “I want us to be together as much as we can.”

Andrew took my hand and said, “Me too, we’ll start looking for a place tomorrow.”

The waiter sat our plates down and with a smile and said, “Here you go guys, enjoy, if you need anything else just holler.”

The next morning, I read through the classified ads and found a couple apartments for rent. I made appointments and headed out to the first one. I arrived and was greeted by the building manager; the building was three stories and contained twelve units. It was a newer building and just a little more expensive than I was comfortable with, but I took the tour. The manager told me that she lived in one of the apartments, no pets, or parties and in the single bedroom units only one person was allowed unless it was a married couple. I finished the tour and thanked her; I told her I had a couple more places to look at and I would let her know. She told me that she had another appointment this afternoon and the first to pay the deposit, gets the apartment. I thanked her again and left for my next appointment. It was in a more run-down area of town, but I decided to look anyway. The rent was more affordable; it was the basement of a large house with the owner living on the main floor. When he gave me the tour, he never even put out his cigarette and it wasn’t very clean. Again, I thanked him for his time and told him I would let him know if I wanted to take it.

The last appointment was with a property management company; the owner lived in another state and hired the company to keep the building rented. I was greeted by Ann, a nice lady that gave me a quick tour. The apartment was in a converted house that had three units. Two were two bedrooms and already rented. The one she showed me was a single bedroom. The rent was affordable, and she told me the same rules that I had heard on the first appointment. She said the management company is supposed to check on things every month or so but admitted that due to the large number of properties that they manage, they usually only check once a year. Unless they get complaints from the neighbors or other tenants. I decided she didn’t need to know that Andrew would be living with me, if she ever stopped by when he was there, I would just tell her he was visiting. I gave her a check for the deposit, and we went back to the office and signed the lease.

Andrew and I moved in the next weekend. When we met the other tenants, I knew that we wouldn’t have any issues with them, as they weren’t necessarily following all the rules either.

We finished unpacking and were both beat, so we went to get some takeout pizza and settled in for the night. We watched a little tv and sat on the couch with Andrew laying his head on my chest as I had my arm laying across his chest.

I kiss the top of his head, “God Andrew, this feels so right, I love being with you.”

He looked up at me, “Me too Mike, I feel so safe with your arm around me.”

I said, “I imagine this is what Walter and Ellis were taking about in the journal.”

He nodded, “Yeah, I think you’re right. What do you think happened to them?”

I sighed, “I don’t know, but I will find out… someday.”

We held each other in silence for a few minutes.

Andrew kissed me, “I need a shower would you like to join me?”

I grinned, “Like you have to ask.”

We showered and got each other worked up and headed to bed, we made love like it was the first time. We slept in each other’s arms, and it was the best night’s sleep that I have ever had. I never wanted to sleep without Andrew ever again.

Mike’s First Day at the Press

I arrived at the paper about ten minutes before 8 on Monday morning. I told the lady at the reception desk that I was reporting for work, and that Chuck had told me to ask for him. She looked me over and picked up her phone and started to dial. Just then the door to the office flew open.

Chuck walked out, “Good you’re here. Come on kid, we got a house fire.”

He handed me a camera as we walked out the front door. We got in his car and sped down the street. We arrived as the fire department was pulling hoses across the front lawn of a house in a rough part of town.

Chuck walked over to start talking to the neighbors that were gathering on the next lawn.

He said, “Take a lot of pictures and stay out of the way of the firemen.”

I started snapping pictures from every angle I could think of, being careful to stay behind the caution tape that had just been put up. The camera was fairly new and had a nice telephoto lens, so I was able to get some good shots. I saw some charred marks out in the driveway and made sure to get close ups. The firemen had gotten the fire under control and were starting to sift through the ashes for any clues to the origin of the fire. The police and fire marshal were also asking the neighbors and any other witnesses questions.

Chuck waved me over to the car, “Come on kid, the fire marshal is going to send me his report when he finishes it. We need to get back to the office and get those pictures developed so I can get the story in this afternoon’s edition.”

As we drove back to office, he asked, “What did you see kid? What stood out to you?”

I said, “I got few pictures of what I thought were tire marks on the driveway that lead to the house. But now I kind of think that they were where gas was poured on the pavement and was lit to burn the house.”

He snorted, “Damn kid, my instinct about you was right. I saw those too, I think it was arson. You know I usually don’t report on simple house fires; that’s a story for first year reporters. I am doing a series of stories on drug gangs, and this house is one their hangouts. The fire was probably set by their rival gang.”

We got back to office; Chuck showed me where the film lab was. We went back to his desk; there was a small table set up behind him.

He said, “That is your desk, here take my notes over to copy machine and make a copy of them. I need to make a phone call.”

I copied the pages and handed them to Chuck as he was hanging up the phone.

He handed me back the copies that I had made, “Here kid, use my notes to write your story. I am going to write mine and we will see how you do. The lab should have the pictures back to us in an hour.”

There was a notepad and pencils on my table, I sat and wrote out my article. Chuck started to type his.

Just as Chuck had said, a young guy delivered our pictures about an hour later. I was putting the finishing touches on my article. Chuck had finished typing ten minutes earlier and was in Fred’s office. I learned Fred was the editor, Chuck’s boss.

I heard him say, “Looks good. As soon as the photos get here, find the best one and go ahead and run the story.”

We looked through the pictures, Chuck picked the one he liked best. He showed me how to file a story. We went back to his desk, and I handed him my story. He nodded his head as he read it.

He said, “Not bad kid, better than I was expecting from a first-year journalism student. The pictures were very good too, and good job picking up on the signs of arson.”

I smiled as I went back to my desk. I was feeling really good about my first day of work. I was starting to see through Chuck’s rough exterior. I think under that tough guy act was a kind, caring man. I think I’m going to like working here.

I spent the rest of my day making copies and running papers to other reporters. And learning how to file things so Chuck could find them later. I went home at the end of the day feeling very good about my first day, I couldn’t wait to get home and tell Andrew all about it. Damn that was a good feeling, having someone that I could talk to about my day, and I wanted to hear about his too.

Andrew was making supper as I walked in the door, he rushed to me and gave me a big kiss, “So tell me, how was your day?”

I grinned, “God Andrew, it was great.” I filled him in on all the details, he sat smiling at me the whole time as I rambled on and on.

After I finished, I said, “So how about your day? You started that class that you have been dying to take. How was it?”

It was my turn to smile as he told me all about the teacher and how great he was and how he knew he was going to love the class.

We ate our supper and after we cleaned up, Andrew said, “We both had such a great day, I think we both deserve a little reward.”

I grinned, “What kind of reward did you have in mind?”

He reached down and unzipped my pants; we were both naked before we made it to our bedroom. Yes “our” bedroom, I will never get tired of saying that.

We wrapped our arms around each other as we fell onto the bed. Our hard, leaking cocks were smearing precum all over our stomachs. Our lips remained locked together as Andrew rolled on top of me and then I rolled on top of him. I broke our kiss and began to work my way down his chest and stomach, leaving kisses all the way. I stopped briefly at his pert nipples to give them the treatment they deserved. God, his body was beautiful.

I continued down until I reached that perfect ebony, hooded, one-eyed slab of man meat. I fondled Andrews cum-filled, chocolate nuts, I lapped up the pearl of precum that I had coaxed out. Andrew moaned as I took his entire tool into my mouth. It still tasted as good as it did the first time I savored it. Andrew pulled me off his cock and up for a kiss, then pushed me onto my back and gave me the same love that I had just given him. He didn’t stop there; he gave my nuts a good sucking and moved down to my waiting pucker. God, I loved it when Andrew licked my ass and fucked me with his tongue. I held my legs up, so he had all the access he wanted as my head swam in pleasure.

I finally panted, “Damn it Andrew, will you fuck me already?”

He grinned as he moved into position and granted my eloquent request. He was soon pounding me as we had resumed kissing. I had my arms locked around his neck and my legs around his ass; I wasn’t going to let him get away. When I felt Anderw start to tense up, I knew he was close, so was I. We both groaned and I felt Andrew’s love juices fill my gut and mine spilled out between our heaving chests. It felt like Andrew’s cum was shooting right threw me and coming out of my over sensitive love stick. Andrew went limp on top of me as our tongues continued to dance. As his cum covered cock slipped from my well used hole. Andrew rolled beside me as we tried to catch our breath.

I sighed, “That’s what I call a reward.”

Andrew chuckled, “Yeah, I can’t disagree.”

We held each other and Andrew asked, “Have I told you today that I love you?”

I smiled and kissed his cheek, “Yes, several times. But you can tell me again.”

He grinned, “I love you.”

I said, “I love you too.”

We fell asleep feeling very content. Andrew’s classes were going well, I loved my new job, and we were both in the arms of the man that we loved.

The rest of the summer went by very fast; I was still loving my job and Chuck was teaching me a lot. As gruff as he was, I think he enjoyed having me around and I was doing my best not to “piss him off”.

Andrew and I had settled into our life together and I still can’t remember a time when either of us were mad or even upset with each other. School was going to be starting in two weeks, and I had worked out my schedule with Chuck so I could get the most hours as possible at the paper. I walked into the apartment after work to a ringing telephone; I set my bag down.

“Hello”

“Hi Mike, it’s mom.”

“Hi mom, how are you?’

I just heard her crying.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

 

To be Continued…

Lines in the Sand

© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

I stayed kneeling by Sean’s feet, my posture straight, hands resting lightly on my thighs, eyes lowered, not out of shame but because it was what I knew was expected. Sean hadn’t told me to stay like this, but he hadn’t told me to move either.

They watched TV for nearly an hour, lounging across the sectional like it was any other lazy afternoon, beers in hand, laughing at some trashy reality show. Jason’s socks were kicked off early, his bare feet propped up on the coffee table, toes splayed and relaxed. Sean said very little, his arm slung casually over the back of the couch. The only time either of them addressed me was when they needed something.

“Another round,” Sean said, tipping his bottle toward me.

“Get the chips, pig,” Jason added a few minutes later, without even glancing my way.

The word landed like a slap.

Pig.

No one had ever called me that before. Not until Jason and the rim chair. The sound of it scraped something raw inside me, tore straight through whatever fragile identity I had left. Not boy. Not slave. Not even Blake. Just pig. Filthy. Groveling. Less than human.

My cheeks burned as I stood, unsure whether the flush was from shame or something far worse, something needful. I hated it. I hated that the word made my caged cock twitch, that it echoed in my skull like some perverse accolade. I hated that I looked toward Sean, hoping—needing—to see his reaction.

But Sean didn’t correct him. He didn’t say a word.

That silence was worse than any insult. It meant consent. Approval. Permission.

And so I fetched the chips without protest, the word pig now lodged in my chest like a second name.

Each time, I rose quietly to obey, padding barefoot into the kitchen, still fully naked, still flushed from earlier. My cock remained caged, heavy and useless between my thighs. I could feel Jason’s eyes on me when I turned my back. Sometimes Sean’s too. But they didn’t speak to me, not in any real sense. I was background. Furniture. A tool that fetched and followed orders.

And yet, even in that silence, I yearned.

Sean looked so at ease, sprawled with one knee bent, lips curled into the faintest smirk. I caught him glancing at me once, not with cruelty, but with something far worse: complete control. The kind that didn’t need words. He knew what he was doing to me. He liked it.

Jason, meanwhile, barely masked his hunger. Every movement of mine seemed to amuse him. He kept adjusting himself beneath his gym shorts, his cock clearly half-hard for most of the episode, but made no move to hide it.

When the credits rolled on the second episode, Sean stretched slowly and drained the last of his beer. He set the bottle down with a click and turned to Jason.

“You still want another go?”

Jason smirked like a man offered dessert. “Hell yeah. I’ve been thinking about that little tongue all afternoon.”

Sean glanced down at me, then stood. “Blake. Go wait in the punishment room. Naked, kneeling. Hands behind your back. Eyes on the floor. Don’t move until we arrive.”

My heart kicked into gear. “Yes, Master,” I said quietly, already rising.

As I padded down the hall, the chill of the condo’s floors crept up my legs, sharpening the edge of anticipation. I passed the cage on the way and caught my reflection in the darkened glass of a side cabinet—naked, flushed, collared, caged. I looked exactly like what I was: a submissive being handed off.

Inside the punishment room, the air was cooler. Still. The bench and restraints were in their usual places. The rim chair had been cleaned and placed squarely in the center, already positioned like a stage piece waiting for its scene.

I knelt exactly as Sean had ordered—palms clasped behind my back, knees spread slightly, spine straight. My breath came shallow. I heard the low hum of their voices in the living room for a moment longer… then footsteps approaching.

Then the door opened.

The punishment room door creaked open, and I didn’t lift my eyes. I heard Jason’s footsteps first, confident, unhurried, followed by the more measured steps I already knew by sound alone: Sean.

They said nothing at first. I remained perfectly still, just as I’d been ordered. My skin buzzed with tension. I could feel their eyes on me, appraising, expectant.

Then Jason’s voice broke the silence.

“Look at that. Already in position.” He stepped into my peripheral vision. “Pig’s learning.”

There it was again—pig. The word landed with a humiliating finality, like a brand. Not slave, not pet, not boy. Just filth. Just animal. I should have hated it. Part of me did. But the caged throb between my legs said otherwise. And worse than the word itself was Sean’s silence. He didn’t object. Didn’t flinch. That meant approval.

That meant it was real.

“Chair,” Sean said.

Jason dragged the rim chair to the center of the room, the metal legs screeching against the concrete like a warning siren. He plopped down into it like a man settling in for a show, then looked up at Sean.

“You want front row, or should I take the reins?”

Sean crossed the room behind me, not answering right away. I could feel him beside me, his heat, his presence, then the cool bite of his fingers on the restraints as he locked my wrists in place beneath the chair. Methodical. Familiar.

“I said you could use him,” Sean replied, finally. “Doesn’t mean I’m giving him to you.”

Jason just chuckled. “Relax. I know he’s yours.”

He pulled his jeans down to his thighs, his cock semi-hard, his ass hovering just above my face. The scent rolled down immediately—sweat, musk, something deeper. The rawness of it made my throat tighten.

“You know what to do,” Jason said, voice low and expectant. “Beg for it.”

“Please, Sir,” I whispered. “Let me serve you. Let me worship your ass.”

He laughed softly. “Filthy little pig.”

The word had more weight this time. It slid into me like it belonged there.

I leaned in.

The first lick was the hardest. Not just because of the taste—bitter, salty, unwashed—but because it marked another line crossed. Another piece of Blake Everett given away. My tongue hesitated for only a second, then pressed forward into the seam of Jason’s cheeks, finding the heat and dampness, the dense smell that clung to his skin like a second layer.

Jason sighed above me, settling into the chair as though my mouth were nothing more than a luxury cushion.

I focused on rhythm. On pleasing. On staying in motion.

Each flick of my tongue carried me deeper into something I couldn’t quite name—humiliation, maybe, or devotion, or both. I didn’t know if I wanted Jason’s approval. But I desperately wanted Sean to be pleased. I needed him to see what I could endure. What I would become for him.

Jason shifted his weight back, pressing his ass harder into my face, the smell thickening, growing stronger by the second. My eyes watered, but I didn’t stop. My tongue circled and probed, tracing the contours of his hole, pushing against it, diving in. I moaned reflexively, the vibrations making Jason groan.

Then Sean spoke.

His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the thick air with a prideful certainty.

“Look at him go,” Sean said, his tone smooth, almost clinical. “You’ve trained him well.”

The praise punched straight through me. Not because it came from Jason—but because it didn’t. It came from Sean. My Master. The one who mattered. The one who saw me. My chest swelled with something that wasn’t pride exactly, but it was close.

Jason laughed, breath hitching with pleasure. “You’re right. He’s definitely into it.” He reached down and gave my hair a sharp tug. “A little pig with a tongue built for ass.”

My cheeks burned, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t even falter.

The word pig had started as a slap. Now it was sinking in, changing me from the inside. I didn’t want it. But it was Sean’s silence that made it stick. If he didn’t object, maybe that’s what I was.

I pushed my tongue deeper, ignoring the taste, the scent, the ache in my jaw. Jason groaned louder, his fingers tightening in my hair, and I knew I was doing something right. That was all I needed.

Because even when it was Jason using me, it was Sean I was really serving

Jason groaned again, louder this time, shifting his hips to grind his ass down against my face. “God, this hole’s soaked,” he muttered. “You like it filthy, huh, pig?”

I moaned around his flesh, my tongue never stopping. My jaw throbbed. My nose was pressed so deep between his cheeks that every breath was his scent. Sweat. Musk. Something darker. It made my head swim.

I didn’t like it.

But I needed it.

More than that, I needed Sean to see that I could take it. That I wouldn’t flinch. That I would debase myself to this depth, even for someone else, because it pleased him.

Behind me, Sean moved. A soft scrape of a chair leg on concrete. Then a pause. Then a rhythmic sound, bare skin on skin. Slow. Intentional.

I didn’t dare look. I didn’t need to. I knew what he was doing.

The realization sent a jolt through me.

He was getting off on this. On me. On the sight of Jason using my mouth like a cleaning tool, and me licking and moaning like I was grateful. I hated how hard that made me. Or would have made me, if my cock weren’t still trapped in its cage, stiff and straining uselessly against cold metal.

Jason shifted forward slightly, and my tongue slipped from his hole with a wet sound. He slapped my cheek with the inside of his thigh.

“Don’t stop now,” he said. “Get your face back in there. That hole’s not clean yet.”

I leaned back in instantly, tongue pushing deeper, faster. My jaw screamed in protest, but I ignored it. All that mattered was motion. Contact. Service.

The taste had dulled into something almost bearable—salt, musk, stale sweat. But it was the scent that lingered. That clung to me. That soaked into my nose, my mouth, my memory.

Jason groaned above me, voice taut. He was stroking himself. “That’s it. Bury your snout, pig. Get in there. Clean every inch.”

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and ground my face harder between his cheeks, the pressure unrelenting. I could barely breathe, but I didn’t fight it.

Behind me, Sean kept stroking.

I didn’t see him, didn’t dare turn my head, but I felt him. The weight of his attention, the slick rhythm of his hand, the shallow hitch in his breathing. He was watching me be used, and getting off on it.

And that made everything bearable.

Jason groaned louder. “Fucking hell. You trained this pig right, Sean. I might take him home.”

Sean’s voice was quiet. Controlled. “This one’s mine.”

Jason chuckled, but didn’t press it. Instead, he reached down and grabbed the back of my head with both hands, pulling me tighter into his ass. “C’mon, dig in. Get that tongue moving. You want to please your Master, don’t you?”

I whimpered against him, the word Master sending a spike through my chest. But it wasn’t Jason I wanted to please. Not really.

It was the man sitting behind me.

The one jerking off while watching me humiliate myself.

That was the difference. Jason was a sadist. Sean was something else. Something more terrifying. Something more complete.

Jason’s body began to tremble, his thighs tensing. I felt every movement, every shift of muscle against my cheeks. He was getting close.

“Good pig,” he panted. “That’s it. Fucking tongue-whore. I bet you’d eat a man out after he shit if Sean told you to.”

The words punched through me.

But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

My tongue kept working, my breath huffing into the mess of sweat and hair and heat. Jason’s moans came faster, rougher. I heard a gasp behind me—Sean’s—and the rhythm of his stroking faltered for a moment.

He was close too.

I wanted to scream. Use me. Use me, not just watch.

But I said nothing. Just tongued Jason’s hole like my life depended on it.

Jason’s breathing grew more erratic, his fingers tightening in my hair. His thighs tensed around my head as he leaned back and let out a rough, satisfied groan.

“Fuck… yeah… that’s it…”

I heard the slick, rhythmic sound above me—his fist working his cock in time with my tongue. Fast. Focused. The sloppy sound of wet skin on skin filled the room, obscene and deliberate.

He was getting off to the feel of my tongue inside him. To the sight of my face buried in his filthy ass.

“Fucking give it, pig,” he grunted, digging his heels into the floor for leverage. “That’s your place. You live between cheeks now.”

My tongue kept moving, faster, deeper, ignoring the ache in my jaw, the burning in my lungs. Every moan he gave was a reward. Every grunt was a confirmation that I was performing exactly the way I was supposed to.

I didn’t care that it was Jason. I cared that Sean was behind me, watching it all. And touching himself.

I could hear the smooth rhythm of Sean’s strokes, more restrained than Jason’s, but steady. Focused. Every sound, every command, every slick lick I delivered into Jason’s crack fed him.

Jason’s body jerked above me, his hand a blur on his cock, until with a guttural cry he came, thick, hot spurts hitting the floor around me in wet, irregular slaps. I couldn’t see where they landed, but I felt the tremor ripple through his thighs, his ass clenching tight around my tongue as the orgasm overtook him.

He collapsed into the chair with a breathless grunt, his chest heaving.

I stayed kneeling, my face still pressed between his cheeks, tongue limp but ready.

Jason laughed softly, then shifted forward slightly, his weight settling more heavily on the rim chair.

“You fucking love this, don’t you?”

I said nothing, unsure if I was even allowed to answer.

Then I felt it—the toe of his foot, nudging between my thighs.

“Look at this cage,” he murmured, amused. “Little thing’s trying to explode.”

He prodded it again with his foot, making the metal dig sharply into my skin. My whole body trembled.

“What would you do to cum, pig?”

My mouth was dry, but I answered honestly. “Anything, Sir.”

Jason chuckled. “Anything, huh?”

He let the word hang in the air for a moment, letting the weight of it settle.

“Even drink my piss?”

I froze for a heartbeat. The question hit like a slap, sharp and immediate. But Sean still hadn’t said a word. He was letting this unfold. He was watching.

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered.

Jason laughed—low, delighted, cruel. “Good pig.”

He didn’t stand. He didn’t even shift much.

He waited.

I watched as his cock softened in front of me, slowly deflating between his thighs, still slick with spit and cum. Then, with a casual reach of one hand, he angled it downward, threading it back between his legs through the opening in the rim chair. His cockhead came to rest just over the bowl’s center, a few inches above my open mouth.

I didn’t move. I didn’t speak.

This wasn’t performance anymore. This was something else. Something worse.

He leaned back and relaxed.

A second later, the stream came, hot, bitter, direct.

The first splash hit the back of my tongue. I gagged, but kept my mouth open, swallowing hard. The taste was vile, more acidic than sweat, thicker than expected. Sharp enough to sting. It poured from him like it had been building up all day.

I swallowed again. And again.

Jason’s cock twitched against my lip, its shaft resting against the curve of my mouth as the piss flowed in thick pulses. My chin was soaked, rivulets running down my neck and chest. He made no effort to aim cleanly. That wasn’t the point.

“Drink it all,” he said, voice almost conversational now. “No waste. You said anything.”

I swallowed greedily, shame burning hotter than the piss itself. My body trembled, knees aching against the cold floor. The taste was overwhelming. I could feel it in my sinuses, taste it in the back of my throat.

And behind me, Sean’s breath caught again—short, sharp.

He had cum watching me drink Jason’s piss.

He had enjoyed this.

And that made me moan.

When the stream stopped, Jason let his soft cock dangle lazily between his legs for a moment, tapping the tip once against my tongue before sitting back with a satisfied sigh.

My lips, chin, and chest were soaked. The piss pooled beneath me on the floor, warm and foul-smelling. My throat still burned from swallowing it down, and the taste—sharp, acrid, unmistakable—clung stubbornly to the back of my tongue.

I remained where I was, frozen beneath the rim chair, my face still close to Jason’s ass, breath shallow, mouth half open.

And then the shame hit.

Not the clean shame of a mistake or a moral breach. This was deeper. Stranger. I hadn’t just performed the act, I had surrendered to it. For Sean. For the smallest chance to please him. And even now, soaked in piss, used like a toilet, I was still waiting for some sign of approval.

Behind me, I could hear the steady rhythm of Sean’s hand on his cock. Slower now. Controlled. He still hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t touched me. He had simply watched.

That silence said everything.

Jason broke it first.

“Think he’s earned the right to cum?”

The question wasn’t addressed to me. It was directed toward Sean. And only then did it dawn on me—Jason never had that authority. He could piss in my mouth. Grind his ass into my face. Use me like a toy.

But even then… he still had to ask permission.

My stomach flipped.

Sean didn’t answer immediately. I didn’t dare turn around.

Then I heard the creak of his chair as he stood.

His footsteps approached slowly—calm, heavy with intention. When he crouched behind me, I felt his fingers on the cage. Cold metal clicked against warmer flesh. A key turned in the lock, and the tight pressure around my cock released with a sudden, dizzying wave of sensation.

He didn’t say a word.

He didn’t have to.

He stood again and stepped back.

I was hard in seconds—fully, painfully erect. My cock throbbed with months of backed-up need and the lingering heat of degradation.

Jason chuckled from above.

“I guess that’s a yes!”

Sean wasn’t entirely satisfied though.

“Get back in there,” he said. “You can cum—but only while your tongue’s in his hole.”

Jason shifted his weight in the chair, spreading his cheeks once more, repositioning himself to give me full access.

I hesitated—not because I was unwilling, but because of what it meant.

To cum this way.

With the piss still fresh on my breath. With my mouth buried in the same unwashed crack I’d already cleaned, licked, and been smothered by. With Sean watching me climax while servicing another man in the filthiest way possible.

Jason’s voice was low. Amused. “It’ll teach you, pig. Every time you cum, your brain should flash to this smell. This taste. Your orgasms will be rewired.”

I whimpered, my knees spreading wider beneath the chair as I pressed forward.

My tongue re-entered him without resistance. I felt the heat immediately, felt the familiar bitterness of sweat and the tang of piss-slick skin.

And I began to stroke.

Slow at first, shuddering at the sensation of my own hand on my freed cock. It was overwhelming. Too much, too fast. My body buzzed from the release of pressure alone. But it was the context, the filth, that pushed me closer with terrifying speed.

Jason moaned above me, leaning back into the seat, shifting his weight to grind harder against my face. “That’s it,” he said. “Don’t you dare stop licking.”

I didn’t.

I stroked harder, faster, my fist a blur. My tongue moved in circles, tracing the slick ring of his hole, pushing deeper whenever I could.

I could taste everything. And I hated that it turned me on.

But Sean was watching. Sean had unlocked me.

And I needed him to see that I could do it. That I could cum like this. That I could be what he wanted.

The orgasm hit like a gunshot.

I cried out, muffled by Jason’s ass, as cum erupted from me in thick, uncontrollable spurts, coating the floor, my thighs, the base of the rim chair. My body convulsed, tongue still buried, jaw screaming from effort.

I twitched and convulsed uncontrollably; my orgasms intensity multiplied by the length of time I had been denied. Sean and Jason laughed at my spasmatic motions, making the experience even more humiliating, but I didn’t pull away.

Not until the last drop was spent.

I collapsed forward, my forehead nearly touching the floor, breath ragged, every nerve ending vibrating from the orgasm that had just ripped through me. My cock was still twitching, softening slowly in the aftermath. For a split second, I thought I might be allowed a reprieve.

Jason didn’t even give me a second.

“That was pathetic,” he said flatly. “Look at this fucking mess.”

His tone wasn’t angry. Just disgusted, like I was a broken machine that had leaked all over his floor.

My head turned slightly. There was cum everywhere. Mine. His. A puddled mix smeared across the hardwood floor, streaking down the chair leg, dotting the floor near my knees.

“What do you think this is?” Jason continued. “Some kind of spa day? Get cleaning, pig. All of it. Tongue only.”

My stomach clenched. The last thing I wanted was to move. My body was still recovering—sensitive, flooded with endorphins, jaw sore from earlier. But none of that mattered. I didn’t dare protest.

Because Sean still hadn’t said a word.

He was still watching.

I pulled back from beneath the chair, the restraints long since undone, and dropped to all fours in the middle of the mess. The first spot I found was a thick glob that had landed just inches from Jason’s foot. I leaned down and licked it up, warm, sticky, slightly bitter. My own.

The next streak was longer, ropes of Jason’s cum stretching across the cold concrete in uneven lines.

I stared at it for a moment. The smell was different. Heavier. Muskier. Not mine.

But I didn’t hesitate long.

I bent and dragged my tongue across it, wincing at the thickness, the taste. I swallowed it down. It stuck to the back of my throat, clinging like oil. I gagged softly, but kept going.

Jason watched from the rim chair, lazily stroking his half-hard cock as he guided me. “There. Under the chair leg. You missed that one. And don’t skip the drops that landed by the cabinet.”

I moved where he pointed, my tongue darting out again and again, dragging through slick patches of cum, mixing my own with his on the tip of my tongue until I couldn’t tell which was which.

My lips were coated. My chin dripped.

I was crawling in it. Lapping it up like it was dinner.

I had just swallowed the last drop when Jason leaned back in the rim chair, stretching with a casual, satisfied grunt. His eyes dropped lazily to where I knelt, still trembling, still trying to catch my breath.

“You did well today, pig,” he said, voice light and conversational. “Next time, I’ll make you eat my shit if you want to cum.”

The words landed like a slap across the face.

I froze.

My stomach flipped—hard. That wasn’t innuendo. That wasn’t a threat dressed as a joke. That was intent. Cold, blunt, vile.

And before I could even form a thought, Sean’s voice cut through the room.

“No.”

It was quiet. Calm. But final in a way that stopped everything.

Jason looked over, one brow arched. “No?”

Sean stepped forward from where he’d been standing—fully clothed again, still composed, but unmistakably serious.

“That’s not happening,” he said, his tone still even, but with none of the warmth he usually reserved for teasing or control. “He’s mine. I don’t care how far he’s willing to go; that’s a line I don’t allow crossed.”

Jason blinked. Then gave a slight shrug, both hands lifted in mock apology. “Was just messing around, man.”

Sean didn’t blink. “Don’t.”

Silence.

And for a moment—I felt it. That flicker of something dangerous and comforting tangled together in my chest. Sean had said no. Not just to protect his property, but to protect me.

He had drawn a line.

And I would’ve stayed there—in that fragile warmth—if only for a second longer.

But Sean wasn’t finished.

He turned to me, crouched down slowly so we were face to face, and dragged his fingers across the corner of my mouth, scooping a small, pearly streak I’d missed.

He held it between his fingers, looked me in the eye, and said softly:

“You missed a spot, pig. Lick.”

And just like that, the warmth evaporated.

I opened my mouth without hesitation.

The taste hit my tongue—a mix of Jason’s cum and my own humiliation—and I swallowed as ordered.

The look Sean gave me then wasn’t cruel. It was worse. It was patient.

I’ll protect you. But don’t ever forget what you are.

And I didn’t.

Jason stretched and stood, lazily tucking his hoodie into place. “Might need to borrow him  sometime,” he said with a grin.

Sean didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Just give me a heads-up.”

Jason laughed, zipping up. “I will. Or I’ll just crash your place with tequila again.”

Sean smirked faintly. “Next time bring something decent.”

“Please,” Jason scoffed. “I drink for effect, not taste.”

They moved toward the door together.

“Grab drinks soon?” Jason asked.

Sean nodded once. “Yeah. I’ll text.”

Jason turned back briefly, eyes flicking to me with a final note of amusement. “Later, pig.”

Then he was gone.

The silence that followed was complete.

Sean stood there for another moment, then finally turned his gaze toward me. “Bathroom. Now.”

I rose stiffly to my feet, legs trembling, body sore. I followed.

The bathroom was warm from earlier. Sean turned on the shower and stepped aside. “You know the drill.”

I nodded.

No shortcuts. No deviations. I washed myself exactly as I knew he liked. His gaze never left me. When I dried off, he handed me a clean cloth, then led me out of the bathroom.

Back in the bedroom, the cage sat open.

Sean pointed. “Inside.”

I crawled in without protest, curling into the familiar posture. He locked the door with a clean, final click.

He didn’t say goodnight. Just turned and walked toward his bed.

And I curled into myself, still sore, jaw aching, my skin scrubbed clean but my mouth unable to forget the tastes that had passed through it.

But beneath the ache, beneath the exhaustion and silence, one truth pulsed through me like a heartbeat:

Sean had said no.

He had stopped Jason. He had drawn a line.

And that meant more to me than any orgasm ever could.

---

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Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

Long form M/M erotic stories for a discerning audience

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If you enjoyed this story, you’ll probably also enjoy Great Dane’s new story: The Weight of Obedience which is just getting rolling on this site (at the time I posted this lol).

Brad strolled through the bustling quad of Saint Blasius College, his six-foot-four frame casting a shadow that stretched like a sundial as the late afternoon sun blazed above. His muscular physique, honed from years of swimming, rippled beneath his college tee.

The fabric clung to Brad’s broad chest and taut abs, hinting at the masculine power that lurked beneath. His sandy blond hair was cropped short, a style that emphasized the sharp angles of his jaw and the piercing blue of his eyes. He moved with the ease of an athlete, his stride long and confident, his shoulders thrown back.

As Brad approached the swimming pool, the scent of chlorine and the distant splashes grew stronger, signaling the end of his workout and the start of a much-needed shower. He stepped into the locker room, the coolness of the tiles a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the day outside. His gym duffel bag thumped against his leg as he made his way to his locker, the echoes bouncing off the tiles and mixing with the murmur of his teammates changing.

The locker room was full of masculine grunts and shouts. He didn’t notice the strange glint of light that pierced through the high windows, nor the shadow that grew with each step he took toward the showers.

His thoughts were on his upcoming swim meet, his mind racing with the strategies and the competition. The sound of his locker unlatching was drowned out by the cacophony of the nearby showers turning on. 

The room was a fog of steam, obscuring the tiles and the naked figures around him. He didn’t see the blue-ish shadow detach from the wall, didn’t hear the quiet hiss of something foreign displacing the air around him All Brad knew was the sudden, overwhelming sensation of weightlessness, the world around him fading into a kaleidoscope of color, the sound of his own startled gasp echoing in his ears.

Then, everything went dark. When Brad awoke, it was to a world that was not his own. He lay on a cold, metal slab, his skin sticking to the unyielding surface. The room was dimly lit, the air thick and humid, and the smell…it was unlike anything he had ever encountered. It was a mix of welding rods,  metallic and something faintly sweet, like the scent of ozone after a summer storm, but with a hint of something…otherworldly.

Brad tried to sit up, but his muscles protested, uncooperative and weak. Panic began to set in, his heart hammering in his chest. He was not in the college swimming pool anymore. This was no dream. This was something far more sinister.

A figure approached, the light glinting off its skin. Brad’s vision swam, focusing and refocusing until the alien came into view. Xolo, as he would come to know it, was a creature of beauty and terror in equal measure. Standing at 5’5″, its skin a pearlescent blue that seemed to shimmer with an inner light.

The creature had no hair, large pulsating male genitals that throbbed and pulsed in a mesmeric sort of way, and eyes that were large and black, like pools of ink. The alien’s gaze fell to Brad’s crotch, and he realized with a start that he was naked. He tried to cover himself, a primal instinct, but his arms felt leaden and useless.

With a grace that belied its curiosity, Xolo picked up an inspection device. It approached Brad, its movements clinical, deliberate and precise. It took Brad’s testicles in its slender, soft hands and began to measure them, the cold metal of the device pressing into his skin. The alien felt one testicle then the other,  taking its time.

Brad could do nothing but gasp and whimper, his body betraying his fear as his cock throbbed involuntarily. Xolo’s eyes grew wide with what Brad could only interpret as excitement. It murmured something in a language that was nothing but a series of clicks and sighs, the sounds oddly soothing despite the situation.

The alien then turned its attention to Brad’s semi erect cock, a side effect of the fear and confusion that swamped him. Xolo’s touch was gentle, almost reverent, as it took a swab and began to rub it along the shaft, collecting…what? Brad didn’t know, but he felt a strange, electric thrill at the touch. The alien’s obsession with his genitals was palpable, its excitement radiating through the room. 

Xolo took the sample and placed it into a small container before stepping back to observe its prize. Brad’s mind raced, trying to understand what was happening, what this creature wanted from him. His heart hammered, his cock became fully erect, his body a battleground of fear and arousal. This encounter would redefine Brad’s understanding of pleasure, power, and the limits of his own desires. Brad suspected the alien was secreting chemicals from its skin that affected emotions.

“Please,” Brad croaked out, his voice hoarse with fear. “I don’t want this. I’m not…I’m not into guys.” He tried to explain, to rationalize, but the words sounded hollow even to his own ears. Xolo’s response was a low, guttural laugh that sent a shiver down Brad’s spine.

“You humans,” Xolo said, its voice a melodic hum that seemed to resonate within Brad’s very soul. “You are all the same. The ones with the most to offer are always the most…resistant.” It spoke in a language that Brad didn’t understand, yet the meaning was clear. The alien leaned in closer, its eyes boring into Brad’s, and suddenly, Brad’s thoughts were no longer his own.

A warmth spread through his mind, a sensation that was at once comforting and invasive. Xolo was in his head, sifting through his deepest, darkest secrets. It knew every fantasy Brad had ever had, every time he’d stolen a glance at a teammate in the locker room, every time he’d jerked off to thoughts of another guy, things that made him blush.

The alien’s laugh grew louder as he reviewed the images in Brad’s head, a sound that seemed to echo through Brad’s very being. “They all say that,” Xolo murmured, its voice now a part of Brad’s thoughts. “Your body tells a different story.” Brad felt a sudden, sharp stab of embarrassment as Xolo pulled a memory from the depths of his psyche, a time when he’d been caught looking.

The alien played the memory before Brad’s eyes, a silent film of his own hidden sexual desires. It was as if Xolo had peeled back the layers of his mind and exposed Brad’s true self, laid bare before this extra-terrestrial judge.

Brad’s rection grew stronger, despite his protests, his body responding to the alien’s touch in a way that defied his own conscious will. He was trapped, both physically and mentally, and as the alien leaned in closer, its breath warm and alien against his skin, Brad realized that he was being fed a mixture of disinhibitorsand stimulants from the slime on Xolo’s skin and about to become the star of a very different kind of show. 

The world around him was spinning out of control, but the only thing that remained clear was the unquenchable hunger in Xolo’s eyes. This creature had abducted him for a purpose, and that purpose was about to be made all too clear. Brad’s fate was now in the hands…or whatever the alien had in place of hands…of his captor, and he had no idea what was in store for him next.

Xolo reached for a sleek device that lay on a nearby tray, its design both foreign and unmistakably intimate. A human sperm milker, Brad realized with a mix of horror and fascination, something he had only ever seen in his most secret, most depraved fantasies. The alien turned it over in its slender fingers, admiring the gleaming chrome, before pressing a button on its side.

The device whirred to life, the sound sending a shiver down Brad’s spine. Xolo held it up, the light glinting off the various attachments, and Brad could see that it was designed with a disturbing level of precision for this very purpose.

The alien leaned in, its gaze locked on Brad’s face as it placed the device against his balls, the cold metal sending a jolt of shock through him. It was a strange, unsettling sensation, one that was only heightened by the gentle stroking of Xolo’s digits along his cock.

The app that Xolo had initiated began to guide the device, sending pulses of vibration that grew stronger and more insistent, coaxing Brad’s body to produce what the alien so clearly desired. He felt the beginnings of arousal, a betrayal of his own desires that was both thrilling and terrifying.

With a firm, almost clinical touch, Xolo slid the device along Brad’s shaft, pausing at the piss slit. Brad gasped as the alien’s eyes lit up, a clear sign that this was what it had been waiting for. The tip of the device hovered for a moment before it was pushed into place, the sensation so intense that Brad’s vision swam.

The device was designed to be snug, to keep Brad’s cock in a state of constant stimulation, and as Xolo secured it with a series of clicks and snaps, Brad knew that there was no going back. He was now bound to this alien’s will, his body a vessel for its research, his pleasure a currency to be mined and studied.

The alien’s voice, still a hum in Brad’s head, grew soothing as it explained that this process would be ongoing. The device was good for hundreds of hours of use, and Xolo had no intention of wasting any of it. Brad’s body would be pushed to its limits, his every sensation recorded and analyzed.

The thought was overwhelming, a mix of fear and excitement that washed over him in waves. He could feel his orgasm building, his body responding to the alien’s ministrations despite his protests. This was his new reality, a prison of pleasure and pain, and Brad had no idea how he was going to survive it.

As Xolo stepped back, admiring its handiwork, Brad felt the first spurt of sperm leave his body, the sensation strange and exhilarating. He was producing sperm, not for reproduction, but for the alien’s research, and as he lay there, panting and trembling, he knew that this was only the beginning. The device was now a part of him, an extension of his very being, and as it began to pulse and vibrate with a mind of its own, he understood that his life would never be the same.

He was no longer Brad, the college freshman and swim star; he was a specimen, a curiosity, a prize to be studied and used.

Xolo’s excitement grew, the alien’s eyes glued to the device as it worked its magic and milked Brad. Brad could feel his muscles tensing, his breathing erratic as the climax approached. He didn’t know what the alien intended to do with his sperm, but he knew that he was going to be providing it for a very long time.

The sensations grew more intense, the vibrations more urgent, and Brad could do nothing but give in to the alien’s will. He was going to cum, and as much as he wanted to fight it, he knew that it was going to be unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

The alien leaned in, its breath hot on Brad’s skin, and whispered sweet nothings into his ear, urging him to relax, to let go. The world narrowed to the pulsing rhythm of the device, to the alien’s insistent whispers, and the anticipation of what was to come.

With a flick of its wrist, Xolo unfurled a tentacle from within its own body, a slithering, iridescent length that Brad hadn’t noticed before. It was the size of a thick, glistening snake, and as it writhed and twisted in the air, Brad felt a fresh wave of horror. This was Xolo’s pièce de résistance, a specialist part of Xolo’s body designed to maximize sperm production by stimulating the human male’s most sensitive spot.

Brad felt the tip of the tentacle probe at his hole, cold and slippery with a lubricant that seemed to dribble from the very pores of the alien flesh. It was a sensation unlike any he’d ever felt, a violation so intimate it seemed to reach into his very soul. He tensed, his body screaming in protest, but Xolo’s voice in his head was firm, the gentle stroking of its claws on his cock a silent command to accept his fate.

With a gentle but firm pressure, the tentacle slid into Brad’s ass, the sensation so foreign that he couldn’t help but cry out. The tentacle was alive with sensation, moving and pulsing of its own accord, sending waves of pleasure that seemed to bypass his mind’s objections and go straight to his cock.

As the tentacle buried itself to the hilt, Brad felt a deep, internal throb, his prostate being massaged in a way that no human hand could ever replicate. The pleasure was intense, bordering on pain, and he could feel his body responding despite his fear. His cock swelled even further within the confines of the device, and the vibrations grew stronger.

Xolo’s eyes gleamed with triumph as it watched Brad’s reaction, its own excitement obvious. The alien whispered more encouragement into Brad’s ear, its breath hot and wet, as it began to manipulate the tentacle with a skill that suggested a great deal of practice.

The sensations grew more intense, the tentacle moving in a way that was both soothing and maddening. Brad could feel his orgasm building, a crescendo that seemed to stretch on forever. He was no longer in control of his own body; it was a plaything for this alien’s twisted desires. He was a means to an end, a source of something that this creature found utterly fascinating.

The tentacle slithered and coiled inside him, the pressure on his prostate growing unbearable, and then, with a final, agonizing push, Brad spilled his seed. His body bucking against the device as he was flooded with pleasure that seemed to drown out everything else. He screamed, a raw, primal sound, as ropes of sperm shot from his cock, filling the collection chamber of the device with a warmth that was both satisfying and degrading. Immediately, the device measured and weighed the seed.

The tentacle retreated, sliding out of Brad with an audible pop, leaving him feeling both empty and utterly used. Xolo’s voice filled his head again, a glow of satisfaction that sent shivers down Brad’s spine. The alien leaned in closer, its eyes gleaming with excitement as it studied the readings on a nearby screen. 

“Your body produces more than we anticipated,” it murmured. “Your genetic material is quite… potent.” 

Brad felt a flicker of pride, quickly followed by the cold reality of his situation. He was nothing more than a lab rat, a source of pleasure for an alien species that had no understanding of consent or human dignity.

As the device continued to pulse around his sensitive cock, Brad couldn’t help but feel a strange, twisted excitement. He was the center of Xolo’s world, the object of its obsessive fascination. The alien’s hunger for his sperm was insatiable, and as much as Brad wanted to fight it, he was drawn in by the power dynamics at play.

Brad was the hunted, the prey, and Xolo was the hunter, the predator. Brad’s ass felt stretched and used, he knew that this was only the beginning of a journey that would test the very limits of his sanity and his sexuality. The alien’s obsession had only just begun, and Brad was about to learn just how deep the rabbit hole went.

Brad was no longer a man but a machine, a tool for the alien’s research and he had begun to crave the alien’s touch, the feeling of those tentacles inside him, the warm embrace of the milker on his cock. He found himself eagerly awaiting the next session, his thoughts consumed by the alien’s whispers, the feel of its claws on his skin.

Brad was a creature of desire now, living for the moments when Xolo would come to him, would claim him once more. The boundaries between pleasure and pain blurred until they were indistinguishable, and Brad reveled in the delicious agony of it all.

Alfie

The door opens in less than a second, only this time it isn’t Darren. “You’ve been ignoring me” Alfie practically growls as he steps back. As soon as I step into the hallway he leaps forward, slamming the door behind me, his arm over my shoulder, backing me against the door. All I can focus on is the sweat patch under his armpit, I should be pissed at him, but I’m not, I want to rub my face all over that patch of musky sweat. I swallow and look up into his eyes, he sways slightly as he grins down at me. He’s been drinking, and he’s too young to handle his beer. “Chill out man” I mutter, not sounding as confident as I’d like. “Oh I’m chilled… but you better tell me why you’ve been ignoring me young man” he chuckles as he speaks, stepping closer to force me further against the door. His strong chest is warm against me , surrounding me in his scent, beer sweat and teenage horn. “First of all” I whispher as my hand presses against his firm chest, his t shirt feels damp against my hand. “You’re six years younger than me. And this can’t happen Alfie…” I begin. A long, sweaty finger covers my lips and he leans down over me. I think he’s trying to intimidate me, but then he swivels his head around and his lips are brushing against my ear. I shiver slightly as he speaks, “I only wanted to return the favour baby”. His hard bulge is pushed against my stomach as he begins to nip at my earlobe. The arrogant little bastard knows what he wants, I’ll give him that. I manage to break my trance enough to say with shaky breath “What favour is that then?”. His warm breath tickles my neck and cheek as his chuckles, still ghosting kisses over my jaw. “I gave you a taste of the goods…” his hand grips my wrist and forces my hand down to his bulge, I instinctively grip it. “You did… but Alfie…” He grips my chin roughly and forces me to look up at him as he rolls his hips, pushing his bulge into my hand further. “Shh, stop acting all innocent. You loved my little game… didn’t you baby?” His voice is low, calm, and he’s not wrong. Before I can answer he leans back, looks down at me and spits. The spit somehow lands directly in my mouth. It’s warm, and thick, and I can’t help but swallow it, fuck it’s delicious. “I asked you a question Alex” he tugs my shoulder roughly and flips me, my face now pressing against the door. There’s no point in trying to free myself, he’s too strong. “Yes… I did… I think” I whimpher, trying to avoid his burning gaze. The heat, his scent, and this interaction are too much for me, my cock is leaking in my boxers and my brain feels overwhelmed. I feel him step closer, his auror alone controlling my body. The weight if his body presses against my sweaty back, his bulge now resting against my arse, but he isn’t grinding, isn’t pushing, almost as if he’s waiting for permission. Which at this point seems odd. “I thought so, now, you can walk this sexy little arse upstairs, lay down like a good boy and spread these skinny little legs in the air so that I can eat this tight little boy pussy… or I can go show dad what’s in your backpack… hmm?” The threat doesn’t register at first, just his warm breath teasing my ear… “You little shi…” I begin, but instantly stop when his large hand hits the door, inches from my nose. “Shh, you’re a thief Alex. And a slut. Now I like that, but you seem ashamed… I’m ordering you to shut the fuck up and be what you really are” his hand is in my hair, his nose digs into my cheek and his lips scrape against my jaw as he speaks “upstairs, now” he barks. He let’s go and steps back, I only nod and begin to walk towards the stairs. My arse stings as soon as his hand connects, but the whispered “good boy” that follows stops me from complaining. The ruckus outside tells me nobody will even notice Alfie is gone, I’m going to have to go through with this… My mind keeps screaming no, but my cock seems to disagree as I awkwardly shuffle up the narrow staircase.

   Alfies room is pretty much what I expected, a cluttered mess that stinks of teenage boy, dirty socks and boxers litter the floor, his large bed in the centre of the room unmade. The door clicking shut behind me snaps me out of my thoughts. I turn to see Alfie with a sheepish grin on his face “Didn’t think you’d actually come up here…” he steps closer. I match his energy and step closer too, looking up at him I say quitely “Didn’t leave me with much choice did you…”. More gently than I’d expect, his large hands wrap around my hips and tug me against his strong body, as he nuzzles my hair he says “Oh come on, we both know I wouldn’t say anything… and it’s not like you’re scared of anyone, let alone my dad” his hands roam my back, grouping my ass roughly. “Not scared no, but he is my boss Alf, that was a shitty move” I should push him away, stop this now, but I don’t. Instead, I find myself inching closer to his pit, to that beautiful stain, his scent already flooding my senses. Warm fingers slip into the back of my jeans, tracing small circles on my ass cheeks. “Sorry, your profile made it look like you enjoyed an alpha… I’ll make it up to you” he promises, his bulge poking into my hip. “Oh, I do, but never threaten me again” I don’t sound nearly as strict as I mean too. He only chuckles at this as he pulls away slightly and catches my gaze. His cocky grin returns as lifts his arm, flexing. “See something you like huh?” He teases. I nod, leaning closer. “Answer” he demands. “Yes sir… your scent is strong, and that stain under your pit is distracting…” he cuts me off by pressing a sweaty finger against my lips. A rough hand on the back of my head pushes my face towards his pit, I don’t fight it, and when my nose brushes against that wet patch I lose myself entirely. I hear myself moan as I inhale the scent, it’s intoxicating, all consuming. He stinks, and I love it. “Proper little piggy ain’t ya?” He teases, my answer is muffled as I moan into his pit. My entire face rubs around the warm fabric of his ripe pit, I push mybface into it hard, needing more. Without warning, he lifts me effortlessly, and the second I remove my face from his armpit his mouth crashes against mine. It’s soft at first, his lips warm and teasing, but then his mouth opens around my lips, and my tongue is given entrance into his warm, wet mouth. I’m not given much time to explore the wet warmth of his mouth, before I can even think about the taste of him my head is roughly pulled back by my hair, and my face is slammed back into the thick wetness of his armpit. I can barely breath, the scent and taste of stale sweat overwhelming my senses, all I can do is moan into his pit. He pulls away, but I’m already intoxicated and addicted, so I dive forward back into his heavenly musk, lapping up his thick sweat greedily. His armpit is so all consuming I barely hear his laughter. He pushes me away with an arrogant scoff and cups my chin roughly. “You look so pretty painted with my sweat piggy” his thumb traces my jawline softly, and then he roughly grips my hair again. I look up at him, my heart thumping, hornier than I’ve been for a long time. He releases me and steps back, “you like what you see?” He teases arrogantly. I take a second to look him up and down, really taking in his body, his lean, pale body glistens with sweat, his light patch of chest hair leads all the way the centre if his torso and dossapears into his wasteband, my eyes trace his voice line. I nod. He motions me closer, I step forward and begin to kiss his collarbone, I trail kisses over his moist skin until I reach his nipple. I suckle it, and begin to teasingly flick my tongue over it as its stiffens. His large hand relaxes on the back of my head as my kisses move over towards the centre of his chest, when I feel weight pushing down at the top of my head I know it’s time to move downwards. I follow the thin trail of hair, moisture surrounding my lips, the taste if his sweat, both fresh and old, now a familiar taste in my mouth. The room fills with sensual moans as I flick my tongue into his musky belly button, I savour the taste, inhaling his scent deeply as I reach his waste band. He tuts and grips my chin, forcing me to look up at him, his thumb brushes my lower lip, instinctively my mouth opens, and instantly a large glob of spit lands in my mouth. I swallow happily as he says “No more cock for you today piggy, you’re too greedy, crawl to the bed” his voice is low, demanding. I abide and turn, I crawl towards the bed, when I notice the cum stained boxers I have to resist the urge and keep myself moving. As soon as I climb onto the bed my shorts are roughly pulled down. I’m about to speak when a strong hand connects with my arse, I moan loudly, sounding like a desperate bitch in heat. My boxers are ripped down before the next hit, making the sting more intense. “Such a fat arse on such a skinny little thing” he breathes huskily, clearly horny at the sight of me. “Thankyou sir” I say quitely. No more hits come, nothing foes for a while, and then I hear a low growl. Suddenly, a chill travels up my spine as a warm finger traces down my crack, circling my tight hole. I moan gently as he touches me, I arch my back and push my arse backwards towards his touch. He slaps my right cheek hard, “Don’t act desperate” he orders, he finger gently rubs over my hole. He grips my hips roughly, and pulls me back against his bulge, rough fingers slip under my shirt and scratch down my spine as he rubs his bulge against me. I whimpher, desperately wanting him to claim me. I feel his hips begin to grind, his bulge rubbing my sensitive hole, he viciously grips my hair and pulls me up so that I’m sitting, my back against his strong body, his warm breath on my neck. A strong arm snakes around and tightens around my neck, his teeth tug on my earlobe as he whisphers ” What do you want, boy?”. I moan ans whimpher, sweat pooling on my forehead as I attempt to form an answer. “ANSWER, SLUT” he demands aggressively, his intimidating voice rattling directly into my ear. I shouldn’t be turned on by aggression, I shouldn’t be turned on by the stench of his room, by the taste of stale sweat that coats his body. But when he grips my hard bulge and pushes his against my bare arse, it’s clear that I am. “You sir… I want… I want your cock sir, use my hole sir, please…” I begin to beg pathetically, I’m almost ashamed of myself. But deep down, this is exactly what I want. His grip on my neck loosens slightly as he chuckles loudly, a warm wet tongue slithers up my cheek. “You’re sexy when you’re pathetic” he whisphers. He throws me down onto his bed roughly, but all I can think is how nice his sheets smell (because they reek of him, his sweaty, unique, young alpha scent). I’m not sure what’s happening until I feel his breath ghosting over my desperate hole. Before I can even beg, his warm tongue begins to circle my hole, agonisingly slow. He’s torturing me deliberately, I look over my shoulder and see his young, handsome face grinning at me from between my cheeks. He licks his lips slowly, then parts my cheeks and dives in. I moan loudlybas his tongue pushes inside me, he eats my arse deep, passionately, putting all of his effort into it. I’m not sure how long he spends devouring my arse, but eventually he pulls away with a vulgar slurp. He slaps my arse hard, turns, and grabs his shirt. “You haven’t earned my cock yet” he laughs as he walks out if the room. Leaving me confused, hard, and desperate. Eventually I pull my shorts back over my wet, puckering hole and bury my shame deep inside. I slowly make my way out if his room on shaky legs, I close his door and turn, slamming straight into someone. “Shit, sorry” I mumble. The man steps back laughing, it’s Darren.

A lack of willpower and a surprising result.

(24 Hours Later)

That next night I lay there in the darkness of the tent, hearing his breathing start to slow and regulate, then become that familiar soft snore. I knew he was asleep. Again, the sleeping bag had been tossed back and this time he was going “commando”. Sleeping naked.

I thought to myself. “DON” T DO ANYTHING JUST GO TO SLEEP” But the lust of an 18 yr. old is a powerful thing. As he snored slightly louder. Again, as if controlled by an invisible force my had reached over and my thumb moved slowly over the head and down the exposed shaft…

I took a deep breath bent down and put my face close to his cock smelling the musky scent. I leaned in farther opening my. mouth and taking the head and about a quarter inch of the shaft into my mouth.

I watched his chest rise and fall steadily. as I moved my tongue over the smooth skin of his cock. Again, I felt him harden between my lips I glanced back up, his eyes were still closed but his breathing increased in speed. I wondered if he was dreaming. then slowly took his entire length into my mouth as he became rock hard. I eased his cock deep into the back of my throat and tried to move up and down. I looked back up again, his eyes were still closed. but there was slight smile on his lips. I figured this will end one of two ways. He was dreaming of some chick blowing him … or he was awake but not stopping me… either way. I wasn’t going to waste the chance.

I started sucking faster and deeper… as I reached up and gently brushed my fingers across his pecs… feeling the nipples harden … His hips arched up slightly and I worried I had gone too far. and I jerked back and killed the light. I lay there, the only sound was His breathing…

I reached over and eased the top of his sleeping bag over him, and I leaned back and lay there in shock over what I had just done. Then the silence is broken by the sound of his voice…

“That was nice….”

I froze there in the dark, my mind raced with the hope that maybe he was just talking in his sleep to whomever he was dreaming of… I turned and looked over … my eyes had adjusted to the dark…thanks to the moonlight outside. I saw him, eyes open. Looking right at me with an odd smile on his face…

“I…. I…” started to stammer, trying to think of something to say. Horrified that I had just destroyed our friendship because I couldn’t hold back my own teenage lust.

I sat up… and looked anywhere but at him. Then oddly enough I felt a sudden calm come over me. If this was in fact the end of my life at least I would go out honestly. My feelings were out in open. No use pretending this was anything other than what it was.

So, I turned to face him. “So… I guess you see… that I’m… well …. Attracted to you “. I took a deep breath, in for a penny in for a pound, I looked him in the eye and confessed everything.

“I have had it bad for you for years. all those backrubs were just an excuse to touch you. what happened tonight is unforgivable, I couldn’t help it. And I don’t imagine you can forgive me. and I totally understand that you obviously want to at the very least change tent partners. You need to know that I never would do or say anything that would. …I mean….”

I realized I was babbling at this point and stopped talking. He had not said a word.

I stared down at the floor of the tent. He looked at me. I closed my eyes and brace for the words of shock, anger, and disgust that I knew were coming. Resigned to whatever happened next, as I was totally responsible for what had happened.

He cleared his throat. I glanced up. He had this odd expression on his face. Like he knew something I didn’t.

Finally, he broke the silence; “So… yeah, I know. How you feel I mean… I’ve known for a long time… I mean, the whole backrub thing was kind of a hint. Plus, it was really
obvious when I could feel… how excited you are when you uh… straddle me…”

I sat there. Feeling the burning sensation of intense embarrassment in my face, thinking if there ever was a time for giant sinkhole to open and swallow me. now would be a great time.

I finally met his gaze. all I managed to say was “…Sorry.” This odd half smile crossed his face. He looked at me and said; “Really? I’m not.”

The hard drive of my brain crashed…. My head snapped up; “Wait…what?”

He moved slightly closer to me. And I felt the body heat radiating off both of us in the cool night air inside the tent. He continued; “Since we are telling the truth now, I’m going to ask you something. And I want you to answer completely honestly. Ok?”

I swallowed hard and nodded. Not sure what to expect. He moved even closer to me, practically nosed to nose. His eyes locked on mine. “So, if you had known for sure that there was no chance of me waking up and you were free to do whatever you wanted with no consequences…… what would you have done? The truth now….”

I looked at him and took a deep breath; “I’d never do anything that would hurt you or put you in any danger. I…. I…” my eyes shifted back down the floor. I knew there was no choice but total honesty at this point; “I’m…. I think I’m in love with you “.

He smiled, and leaned in closer; “I know… But I am asking, if you had total free reign to do anything you wanted tonight… what would you have done?” My mouth went dry, and I stared at his lips… and then looked him in the eye and whispered “…Everything.”

He smiled what I can only describe as the evillest smile I had ever seen. Then he leaned in, his mouth is right next to my right ear…. I shivered as he lightly slid his hands down my back. and whispered; “Then tomorrow night…. Do everything.” He then abruptly pulled away lay back down and cheerfully said “good night!”

I fell back on my camping pad and sleeping bag stunned by what just happened. And finally, exhaustion took hold and I fell asleep.

In the morning he wakes up and with an evil look and says, “Hey, you, ok? You look tired, more trouble sleeping? “I can’t believe we are having this conversation but fine, I’ll play along. I say that I had some trouble getting to sleep. But feel fine. He replies that he slept GREAT. I raise one eyebrow at that, but he clearly is going to act like nothing happened.

He smirks and stretches that damn sexy body and then leans in close and whispered; “Yeah, I find I can sleep really well in this tent… in fact I am pretty sure I will sleep more soundly tonight than I have EVER slept…” Then he has the nerve to WINK…. Cheeky bastard!

The day that follows is sheer hell.

It is like the day is one long exercise in how he can drive me insane. Our main activity that day is Lifesaving Skills, and we are practice partners. I get down the Swimming beach early, but he is there ahead of me, wearing those green speedos.

Somebody just kill me…

Of course, today is the water test to complete the badge. The first test is the cross-arm water carry where we must pull someone to safety by wrapping an arm around their chest and pulling the other person out of the water.

It’s our turn, we jump in the water, and he begins to feign drowning. I swim up behind him, wrap my arm around his chest and start to tow him to shore. When I notice he is GRINDING his ass into my groin. I immediately sprout a raging hard on. He leans his head back and with that evil smile says “Gee…water must not be that cold today.”

The urge to dunk him is almost overwhelming. But somehow, I get through the rest of the class.

Thankfully at this point our schedules diverge and I don’t see him until it’s that evening, at the closing campfire. Our group does two skits and afterwards we are busy packing up the campsite for check out and the trip home tomorrow.

Finally, around 11pm I head back to the tent. He was already there in his sleeping bag. I notice his green speedos are nowhere to be seen in the pile of clothes. He then remarks how he is going to “sleep like the dead:” and turns off the light and with that same evil smile saying, “good night!”

I lie there in dark not sure what to do, when I hear the clear sound of a sleeping bag unzipping and the top cover being tossed back…

It feels like time as slowed down, the silence in our tent is deafening. I look over and see him silhouetted in the dim moonlight shining through the canvas of the tent. I see his chest rising and falling in a clearly exaggerated manner as his hand slides down across the bulge in the clearly visible green speedos.

He actually makes a “snoring sound” which the sly smile on his face clearly gives away as fake… he then hooks his thumb into the waistband of those briefs and slides one side down as his hardening cock pops up.in full view.

My brain basically shuts down and I slowly sit up. I know if I do this there is no going back. This is essentially admitting to myself what I have always known but desperately tried to avoid facing the truth of. I’m gay and I want to have sex with my friend.

I take a deep breath and think, “Well if this all some kind of sick joke and he beats the crap out of me, at least I’ll have died happy.” I stand up slide my shorts off, freeing my own painfully hard erection. In the dim light I see what looks like his eyes slightly open but clearly, he is still going with the whole fast asleep act. I whisper very quietly: “Ok then… let’s see just how far you are willing to hike down this trail…”

I crouch down and my face moves within half an inch of his cock. I allow my hot breath to move slowly along the shaft. The effect is obvious even in the dark I can see him getting hard. I figure it’s now or never. So, I move up and position my body over his in a push up position. Hovering over him by a few inches.

He shifts just slightly so his cock is aligned with mine and I lower myself down. The moment my cock touches his we both become rock hard. It feels like my cock just connected with a live electric wire. The sensation is nearly overwhelming. I feel him slowly start to move. Thrusting up grinding his cock against mine. We both let out a simultaneous moan.

That is the final crack in my wall of caution I crush my body into his grinding furiously against him. I feel his hands move up my back pressing the back of my head forward. My mouth connects with his and my tongue slides past his lips has his tongue wrestles with mine. I let out a slow deep moan.

The feelings are so intense, and I don’t want this to end too soon. So, I break away and move down his toros with my mouth stopping at each pec licking, sucking, and gently biting each round tanned nipple. He arches his back and groans; “Oh shit…. That’s amazing!”

I move down to his groin and run my tongue long the shaft of his cock easing it into my mouth. I slowly move up and down taking him deeper each time until I can deep throat him. His hands move to the sides of my head. and I hear him whisper. “Wait…. I want yours.”

He shifts position, so his head is at my crotch and mine is at his Then in perfect synchronization we take each other’s cock in our mouths.

Time stops as we 69 each other. I motion for him to stop as I am getting close. He waves me off and speeds up his oral attack on my cock. The sensation of pre-orgasm begins to build I keep indicating he should stop, but clearly, he had other ideas.

He doubles his efforts taking my cock faster and deeper down his throat as I grip him harder to let him know that if he doesn’t want what is about to happen, he should stop, I hear him chuckle… as he takes me balls deep down his throat.

I lose vision in both eyes as I only see stars while the most intense orgasm in human history tears through me and I erupt in his mouth. As I return to my senses, he is lying next to me propped up on his elbow [with a very smug smile.

He is about to say something. I stop him and push him back down on to the sleeping bag taking his cock into my mouth and sucking as he gets fully hard again.

I reach over to my pack and pull out a travel size bottle of baby oil and cover his cock with it while I attack his mouth with mine. Then I roll sidewise so his cock is pressing against my ass. And I whisper “No holding back, I want this. I want you. So don’t stop until you are empty”

He rolls over and slowly slides his cock into me and starts gently thrusting in and out. I squeeze down on his with my glutes in a pulsing action. It is the most incredible pain-to pleasure feeling I have ever felt. I hear him moan “Oh…Fuuuuucck!”, and I am instantly rock hard again

He speeds up. I Squeeze harder and pulse faster I feel his breath begin to get ragged I know he is getting close I push hard against him and feel him bite down on the nape of my neck, this causes me to have another orgasm as his own load explodes deep into me.

He rolls off me, and we lie there panting. I look over at him and chuckle. He smiles and asks what was funny. I smile back running my hands over his back. “I wonder what merit badge this would be.”

He laughs and presses his cock against mine. And I feel his mouth against my neck as he whispers…. “Let’s consider it a …. Mutual research project.”

I looked forward to more research. But after that night, we never spoke of it again, and over the weeks that followed an awkward distance developed. To the point we didn’t even say goodbye after graduation.

(To be Continued)