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  • Feeling Good in My Skirt and Heels

    I’m Jackie,  22 years old, with  lots of brown curly hair, a smooth shaved body that tops like to enjoy. Many tops love fucking a pretty crossdressing bitch like me.  I love my earrings, pearl necklace, and pink nails.  I love wearing pretty boots and cute sneaks.

    I love my mornings. I am just wearing my white lace panties and my white Keds.  I play with my hole and fuck myself with 8” dildo. As I fuck myself, I suck the toe of my knee high red leather boot.  The toe of the boot fills my hungry mouth.  Fucking and sucking I shoot a  huge load that lands on my boot.  I lick my cum off the gorgeous red leather.

    I live with Jeff. Jeff enjoys watching me play with myself and gets hard.  Jeff gets hard just looking at my pretty ass in white lace. He worships my beautiful ass which he has rimmed and fucked  numerous times. Jeff is 6 ft, weighs 175, and has dark brown hair.  He goes down on my laced ass-works it, licks it and runs his huge erection on my crack. Precum leaks out of his dick on to my panties.   Jeff pulls my panties off and sticks them in my mouth. 

    “Enjoy my lovely precum, pretty bitch girl.”

    I suck on the white lace and taste his warm precum.

    “Suck on your pretty panties while I fuck you.”

    I feel Jeff’s hardness enter my pussy and fill it.

    “Oh yeah, boss fuck me.  I love your cock so much.”

    I am on my back with my Keds in the air.  Jeff loves my Keds; he licks and kisses them as he fucks me.   I come seeing his lips on my white sneaks while Jeff drops his warm load deep inside his bitch.   OH. FUUUUUUUUCK

    We head to the shower where Jeff pisses on my ass.  I love his warm golden shower on my ass. Jeff gets hard pissing on my ass and enters  me again and fucks me till he shoots this load on my ass and hole. 

    Jeff likes to pick out my wardrobe for the day.  He picks a pale pink top,  white skirt, and knee high black laced leather boots with 21/2 heels.  I work in clothing stores that caters to gays so this outfit is perfect.  I get hard when I put on the skirt; I just love wearing a skirt. I want to look  and feel pretty. 

    “You’re such a pretty bitch in your white skirt and black boots.  I could fuck you again now.”

    “Just think of me during the day so you are rock hard when you get home.  You love to fuck me in my skirt and boots”

    “Yeah, I can’t wait, sweetheart.”

    In work that day a queer tells me how cute I look and kisses me in the change room.

     I wear bottomless briefs in  light blue to accommodate the occasional fucker who has to satisfy himself with a quickie.

    I get home before Jeff.   I am wearing pink laced panties, my white skirt,  and knee high black laced boots with heels. When Jeff gets back, we have a beer and talk about the day.  We rub each other’s crotches.  I lift my skirt  so Jeff can see my ass wrapped in pink lace.

    “Oh fuck your ass looks so hot in pretty pink lace”

    Jeff starts eating my pink laced ass.

    “Yeah boss, do my pretty ass and then fuck me.”

    “Oh fuck, I am going to come on the pink lace..   OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

    Jeff pulls my panties off and sticks my pink panties in my mouth to suck  his cum.  He gets hard again seeing my sucking the panties.  He enters me again.  I am in ecstasy sucking on my cum soaked panties and being fucked.  Jeff holds my boots as he fucks me.

     It doesn’t long for both of us to come again.

    AUUUUUUUUUUH!

    “Fuck I love my pretty bitch in her laced panties and just want to keep fucking you.”

  • Anal Exploring Nudist Neighbor Besties

    All depicted activities and persons are full-consenting adults and are over 18 years old at all times.

    I always knew my best friend and neighbour, Mark Hunt, was hiding a big, dark, taboo secret. I had my suspicions, but many were quite ridiculously wild; especially in my younger years…yes; vampires, werewolves, cannibals, sacrificial sex cults, satanic witches, or who knew what!

    What made it even creepier was that three years ago, his twin brother, Connor, transitioned from male to female, in a quite goth punk-like manner. Connor was a great guy, very handsome, always had all the girls and even many of the boys fawning over him, as they also fawned over my best friend, Bro Mark.

    I will tell you that although at that time, many or most of us were not sure of our sexuality or orientation, we were open-minded and embraced Connor becoming Caitlan. Wow! Once, after the age of 18, the breasts formed, and the hair grew long. She shaved her smooth skin and did up all her makeup. Most of us teens were in awe of her beauty and attractiveness. She was fucking hot! And the thought of a big, hard cock with that hot body and tits…made for great 18+ jerk-off sessions for all of us, I am sure!

    My name is William Stevens; most call me Billy, Will, and William are just not me. I have lived beside Mark and the Hunts since we were both born. It was funny because he was born on December 31st, and I was born on January 1st, the next day and year. NY Eves’ and days were always a blast together with the dual birthday bonanzas!

    We were now approaching 19 years old in six months; it was late June of our 18th year. We lived in a very fortunate, upper-middle-class neighbourhood in a large city in Canada. Our parents are all professionals in law, medicine, accounting and IT.

    What I found a bit off was that 85%+ of the time, he insisted on sleeping over at my place for sleepovers. The few times I slept over at his place, his parents and brother (Later sister) were out of town. Our homes were mirror images of one another, two-story, three bedrooms, master ensuite and Jack and Jill shared bathrooms; a three-piece bath and shower off the main floor great room and a large three-piece shower on the basement level with a walkout patio and sliding glass doors to our back yards with large inground all-season pools and hot tubs – yes the sweet life indeed!

    Yes, of course, we had fun, normal teen boy experiences growing up, but nothing ever very sexual…a few skinny dips with parents not home, and naturally watched shit online, but no sex or anything at all really. We each dated a few girls and giggled about how we shared our making out, but never anything permanent or steady, in high school. As far as I knew, we were both still virgins.

    After we turned 18 this year, we did see each other nude in the 18+ showers. I was thrilled, as although we both are in great shape, I am a bit shorter than Mark, standing at about 5ft 10”. Mark is a towering 6ft 2”. I weighed 150 pounds, and Mark weighed 160 pounds; so, both of us are lean and defined. He has lovely blond curly hair and looks much like the supermodel, Owen Lindberg. I think I am like a hot, late teenage version of Joseph Gordon-Levitt, but even hotter, with longer, dark hair, and both of us have awesome blue eyes and gleaming straight teeth. My eyebrows are a bit thick and heavy, but Mark always smiled and said to leave them; they look nice.

    I was always jealous of Mark and his gorgeousness, but over the years and especially as we grew into young men now, one area I had beat him hands down was my huge fucking cock! I guess it’s hereditary, as my older brother has the same. Right now, at 18.5 years, my soft cock is 6” long and thick with a thick hairy bush and big, low-hanging balls as big as large peanut shells. Hard, I clock out at a very proud cut of 9” in length, and 6.5” in thickness around the circumference, with a nice slight curve. Mark, I think is about a bit over 7” long and not quite as thick; the balls are not quite as big, but still, he is so gorgeous.

    In the 18+ school showers, many of the guys could not keep their eyes off us side by side, especially when we started to get half hard. It’s fun over 18 all showering together, seeing our dripping cocks and balls, knowing we are all going home and jerking off about same sex shower fun! Both Mark and I played on the basketball, football, swim, and wrestling teams; not famous, but we had fun. We had often gotten partial erections under our clothes this year and in the 18+ showers. It happens to late teen 18+boys! All normal.

    Anyway, back to the current events. I was somewhat excited, yet very anxious and fearful for the following year. My mom and dad decided to undertake a whole-home renovation, a full remodel from top to bottom, gutting and tearing it out to redo it entirely. My older brother, Mike, went off to University in Vancouver, but I was undecided. Mom, Sonya, the Thoracic and abdominal surgeon and Dad, the lawyer, both took sabbaticals in Europe to study medicine and law in multiple countries for 12 months. So, with our family home being torn apart, and me not deciding what I was doing with my life, they begged Mark and the Hunts to take me in for a whole fucking year! My cock stirred as I thought of virgin-busting sex with Mark. Oh Fuck Yes!

    They seemed reluctant, but after some whispers from Mark, they thought it would work out OK. I think there was some financial benefit, but it was pretty evident that none of us were struggling financially. Mark was also excited that I would be living with them, but I sensed that something scary was about to be revealed, a bomb about to drop. My mind started to think about what it would be like to have sex with my best friend. I was still undecided what I wanted, but I knew I wanted to try topping and bottoming with a guy…a hot guy just like my bestie bro Mark.

    Over this Thursday and Friday, we moved all my belongings, except for the furniture, into the Hunts’ basement. They had moved down a huge king-size bed for me to sleep in. It was incredibly comfortable and of ultra-high quality, as was everything in their home.

    That Saturday, I hugged Mom and Dad goodbye, and they headed off for a year away. Mark and I headed down to his basement, turned on the TV, sat on a couch beside my bed, and found the channel with some MMA I hoped for. He seemed overly quiet and nervous.

    I asked, “Mark… buddy…are you like ok with this or…. You seem nervous and weirdly quiet.”

    Mark huffed and puffed and was about to say something when his eyes bulged out; his parents were at the backyard sliding doors coming inside from their pool. Does not sound like a big deal, other than the fact that they both were completely naked!

    Mrs. Hunt (Lisa) giggled and said, “Sorry to barge in, boys, we just need to shower off the pool water. Don’t mind us.” Lisa was gorgeous, perfect face, body, and tits, even though she was like 40 or so…she was lovely. I glanced at Mr. Hunt (Peter) and smirked because Mark had the same 7” + cock as he.

    Just as they were entering the bathroom, Lisa hollered, “Mark, don’t forget to help Billy get comfortable in our home when we come out, ok?”

    Marked sighed and said, half pissed off, “Yes, Mom- Fuck!”

    I suddenly had the urge to piss, so I said, “Bro, I need to take a piss, so I will go upstairs and be right back…ok?”

    Mark sighed and said, “Yeah, sure, but we need to chat when you’re back, ok, so don’t fuck around.”

    I screwed up my face but ran up the stairs to the main level. I had been in their home before and knew where the bathroom was, and our homes were mirror images of one another (At least up to the point of our getting remodelled). I tried to open the main floor bath door, but it was locked. I really had to piss, so I decided to run up the stairs to the Jack & Jill bathroom that Mark shared with Trans sis Caitlan. I was in the process of relieving myself of a power piss; I heard moaning and groaning and a bed bouncing in Caitlan’s bedroom on the other side of the adjoining door. WTF, I thought! It grew louder and sounded like super hot fucking. I could not resist and slowly opened the pocket door just enough to spy on Caitlan and her gay boyfriend, Brad.

    Everybody knew Brad was gay and that they had been dating for a few months. I immediately became hard as iron, as Caitlan had Brad’s fair-sized cock up her ass, and her girl cock was bouncing away, dripping cum all over Brad’s stomach as they moaned and groaned in the throes of pleasure and passion. My huge cock was so swollen, dripping and excited. Seeing Brad’s cock pound up Caitlan’s ass was so exciting to me. I had been fingering myself for a while these past few months, dreaming of Mark, but for all intents and purposes, I was an anal virgin. Now, as my cock swelled and damn near tore my shorts, I was longing for anal sex and a guy’s cock in my ass…Oh Fuck…am I gay…or bi?

    Just then, I noticed her bedroom door was open, and Mom Lisa poked her head in and said, “Caitlan dear, when you and Brad are done fucking, please go outside to the pool and wait for Mark to welcome out Billy. Hopefully, all naked and relaxed in our naturist open sex environment.” She giggled as I saw Mr. Hunt stick his finger up her ass and pussy, and they stumbled like teens down the hall for more sex, it sounded like in the master bedroom.

    My heart was pounding, and I was white as a sheet as I looked in the mirror. My huge over 9” cock was straining to burst out. I was dizzy and confused as my head spun wildly. I came to my senses and realized I would be expected to live nude within their walls and yard for an entire year; perhaps even engage in sex with…with all of them!! Holy shit! I just had a huge hands-free cum blow at the thought of that! My shorts were drenched…It was a massive cum. I started to cover my mouth; it was such a great hands-free cum!

    I took a big breath and said to myself, “Fuck-it, just do it, you pussy!” I stripped completely naked and took my shorts, shoes, and undies in hand down the stairs to the basement. Mark was completely nude and stroking his cock, watching some bisexual porn. My cock was raging hard and semen oozing from the slit like never before. Mark finally caught me in the corner of his eye; he was shocked but then laughed as he saw me naked with my huge cock, and said,

    “Figured it all out, did you…Holy Fuck, Billy! You have a huge fucking gorgeous cock! I have never seen you so hard and big. Fuck it is massive for your smaller frame…can hardly wait to feel that in my boy-cunt!”

    I answered, “Touch it, Mark!” He licked his lips as he stroked up and down my cock with the pre-cum dripping from my glans hole like a nicked milk bag.

    Mark asked, “So Billy…like we never talked much about sex and guys and guy sex…so like what do you think you sort of want here with me and all of us and my natural open sex family?” As he continued to lick his lips and stroke my purple titanium penis.

    I answered, “I want it all, buddy! Oral, anal, rimming, maybe fisting, toys, group bisexual orgies with all of you boys and girls. Mark, I have wanted to try gay sex with you for so long.”

    He answered, smiling, “I know, Billy. I know we were both in denial. I have wanted it all with you as well. But the day is young, and Mom and Dad are expecting us out at the pool. Please, no embarrassment, as they will love the massive erections on us. Brad, Caitlan, and Dad will also be hard as rock. We are going to play family full-body contact pool volleyball first!

    I answered, grinning ear to ear, “Fuck Yeah!”

  • A Gentle Man – A Fierce Fucker

    Lyon coffee festival in france

     The coffee festival in Lyon brings together roasters, baristas, and coffee enthusiasts from across France. Visitors immerse themselves in tastings, workshops, and competitions, discovering the artistry behind coffee-making. The aroma of freshly brewed espresso fills the air, mingling with the scent of buttery French pastries. Discussions revolve around sustainability, brewing techniques, and the future of specialty coffee.

    I was invited to this event by Alain, a 23-year-old coffee merchant’s son from France.  We met in my Philosophy of Communication class, where he led a seminar on the ethics of persuasion in advertising. When he answered my blanket email about opportunities for festival study during my sabbatical, he invited me to Lyon, where, he said, I could explore the art and culture of specialty coffee at the Lyon Coffee Festival, sampling rare brews and discussing coffee as a storytelling medium.

    I met Alain early in the morning, the crisp French air carrying the faint scent of fresh pastries and strong coffee as we made our way to a charming café nearby.  Alain, with his dark hair and sharp eyes, greeted me with his usual warmth and a quick, “Ça va?” He was dressed casually in a simple t-shirt and jeans, but his elegance, even in casual wear, always seemed to stand out. We settled into a cozy corner of the café, where a bistro table was already set with a basket of baguette slices and croissants, a dish of apricot jam, a pat of butter, a small coffee pot, a carafe of orange juice, a plate of Comté cheese, and a bowl of yogurt with honey.

    Alain told me that at breakfast I should eat like a king (“Petit-déjeuner comme un roi,” he said) and loaded my plate with slices of baguette, a croissant, a wedge of Comté cheese, a spoonful of apricot jam, and a generous serving of yogurt with honey. He poured me a cup from the small coffee pot and added a glass of orange juice, and set the tray before me.

    “Petit-déjeuner comme un roi,” he said in his beautiful French. “At breakfast eat like you were a king.”

    “I see,” I said. “I hope you will help, this is too much. Dig in!”

    “Don’t worry about me,” Alain said dreamily. “We are in no hurry. I’ll get me something.”

    No one around us seemed to be in a hurry, I noticed. A young woman across from us was carefully unwrapping a pastry, savoring each bite slowly, while an older man at the next table spoke loudly on his phone, waving his arm in an animated conversation with someone. There was a child two tables away from us, intently dipping a piece of bread into a bowl of milk, while a young couple sitting nearby exchanged smiles and quiet words, clearly sharing an early morning moment before the busyness of the day.

    As I was finishing the food, Alain quickly grabbed a croissant with a few gulps of orange juice and was on his feet. 

    “We’ll take a boat to the Festival,” he said.

    We left the café and walked a few blocks toward the river. The narrow streets of Lyon were already bustling with morning activity—shopkeepers were unlocking their doors, and the scent of fresh bread wafted from a nearby boulangerie. We passed cafés with people already crowding the outdoor tables, enjoying their own petit-déjeuners, and I couldn’t help but notice the calm, almost timeless pace of the city.

    We reached the pier, where our riverboat awaited. There were not so many passengers that day, so we chose to sit outside at a large round table.  The engine came to life, the French flag at the bow fluttered in the wind, and we sailed off.  Soon we floated slowly past the pastel façades of the Vieux Lyon. Their Renaissance windows and wrought-iron balconies leaned slightly over the narrow streets below. The river reflected the warm colors of the old town. Hidden traboules—passageways once used by silk merchants— could be seen snaking between the buildings.

    Then we passed the graceful arches of the Passerelle du Palais de Justice. The slender footbridge stretched over the water, leading to the imposing courthouse. Its classical columns stood in perfect symmetry. Beyond it, the Basilique Notre-Dame de Fourvière crowned the hill. Its white towers rose above the city like silhouettes of watchful guardians. A little farther, the glass curves of the Musée des Confluences stood at the meeting point of the Rhône and Saône. The new building created a stark contrast to the stone of the old city.

    Finally, we passed the Île Barbe, a quiet green island in the river. The remains of a medieval abbey stood there. Its weathered stone walls rose among old trees. Ivy covered the arched windows, and what was left of the bell tower reached toward the sky. The place looked untouched by time, silent and seemingly living an absolutely separate life from the city.

     

    A few bends later, we moored at a small pier near the Coffee Fest grounds. The air here smelled of fresh coffee and roasted nuts. Stalls lined the waterfront, and striped awnings cast shadows over tables. Baristas worked behind heavy machines, pulling shots and steaming milk. People stood around tasting stations, talking and laughing between sips. Alain stepped onto the dock first and looked back, as if making sure I was there before stepping into the middle of it all.

    We headed to the heart of the coffee festival, where we were invited to a blind coffee-tasting experience, an activity I was both curious and excited about. The room was set up with long tables covered in white cloths, each place marked with a small card displaying a number. Alain led me to a seat, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he explained the rules. The idea was to taste a selection of carefully brewed coffees without knowing which beans were used, allowing us to focus solely on the flavors. We were asked to note the aromas, acidity, and aftertaste of each cup.

    The first coffee had a fruity, bright flavor, with a sharp acidity that made my mouth tingle. The second was smoother, with a nutty taste and a slight sweetness. The third coffee had a deep, earthy flavor with hints of cocoa, while the fourth was more floral, with a delicate, tea-like quality. The fifth had a strong, smoky taste with a bold finish.

    Around the table, the other tasters shared their thoughts. One woman noted the sharpness of the first coffee but found the second one a bit too mellow. A man beside me struggled with the earthy coffee, saying it tasted too heavy. Another person praised the floral notes in the fourth, while the fifth coffee made a younger man wrinkle his nose, unable to appreciate the smokiness.

    When the tasting ended, the master of the event, an old man who looked like an artist in retirement with a fancy beret and a scarf around his neck, declared the winner. He gestured to the man sitting across from me, who had confidently identified every coffee’s unique notes.  Surprisingly, Alain took second place, having missed just one point. For prizes, the winner received a handmade ceramic mug and a bag of rare coffee beans, while Alain got a beautifully crafted coffee spoon and a voucher for a coffee brewing workshop.

    After the tasting session, we went on to what Alain called an “eco seminar.” At the seminar, the host explained the process of creating artificial leather from used coffee grounds. The room was lively with activity as participants gathered around large workstations. We mixed coffee grounds with natural binders to form a strong, flexible material. The host showed us how to knead the mixture, working the grounds into a soft, smooth substance. He explained that this process not only recycled coffee waste but also supported sustainable practices.

    Around us, a group of young people made wallets and small bags, their faces focused as they proudly showed off their work. A couple of women laughed as they compared the designs of their small pouches, while a man at the far end carefully stitched the edges of a piece of leather he was turning into a notebook cover.

    I left with a small, coffee-scented wallet—a simple money folder with uneven corners and an attempt at a design that resembled a small book. The button was sewn slightly to the side, but despite the imperfect stitching, the folder kept its shape for a year and served me well.

    … Later in the evening, Alain invited me to his family villa for a relaxed supper. His parents, who were sophisticated and polished, nevertheless welcomed me with warm smiles and polite conversation.  I was invited to the living room, which was tastefully decorated, with dark wooden furniture and a large fireplace at the center, where a fire crackled softly.  We were seated at a large mahogany table with a well-starched tablecloth on it, and Alain and his dad lit up flavorful smokes.

    Alain’s father, dressed in a well-tailored suit, asked me numerous questions about my work and research, and my impression of his son, and I was happy to tell him that Alain had aced my course and that we have since developed what can be called a friendship. Then this soft spoken man finally smiled and tapped the arm of his son in approval.

    His mother, elegant in a silk blouse, offered us a platter of cheeses—creamy brie, sharp comté, and tangy chèvre—along with warm slices of baguette and a small bowl of olives. She also gave us pâté to spread on the bread and a few delicate slices of jambon de Paris for variety. She also poured us each a glass of chilled wine, and for dessert, served fresh figs, sweet just enough to balance the richness of the cheeses.

    After the meal, and another smoke for the three of us on the second floor balcony overlooking a sprawling garden, Alain led me upstairs to the attic, a spacious, cozy room with low ceilings and an atmosphere of quiet comfort. Through the skylights, I could see the stars beginning to appear in the darkening sky. Alain returned shortly after with a bottle of the strongest coffee liqueur I had ever tasted. He poured us both a glass, and the rich, dark liquid felt warm and inviting. Its deep, roasted flavor lingered on my tongue.

    The villa was now peaceful and quiet, and we spent the rest of the evening talking about the festival, our days back in school, and everything in between. The strong coffee liqueur, served in delicate crystal glasses, was the perfect nightcap, and we toasted to good memories and new adventures.

    My Takeaways

    The French are gallant, gentle people with a huge heart.  They care about their country and treasure their traditions.  They work hard to keep the country safe and clean, and their elegance and manners are world-renowned.  I wasn’t at all tired after the eventful day because it was so slow and measured, and I brought back with me my endless affection for France, and a surprisingly durable eco-friendly wallet, where for a while I kept a picture of Alain I took that night.

    An evening with Alain

    Ah, Transformation!

    Ah, transformation!  At first you see a tender, polite, shy and delicate man who seems like he would be an angel in bed, and it makes you wonder if he can at all be a top for your hungry bottom.  And then a miracle happens: this guy has a brutal side and a huge dick, and his little body turns powerful and controlling!

    Remember Alain, a coffee shop owner’s son who took me around the Coffee Festival and then hosted me on the attic of his luxurious villa?  He brought me up to the third floor and showed me my room, and I was getting ready to just jerk off and go to bed, when he staggered back up the stairs.

    At 3 a.m. I found myself being fucked by Alain, who was growling, cussing and spitting on my back from the effort with which he stuck his unexpectedly huge dick into my burning ass…

     

    …The soft glow of a polished brass lamp bathed Alain’s pale face as he poured another shot of coffee liqueur into a sleek glass. The third-floor attic of his villa was a clean, posh, and cozy retreat around us—with polished wooden beams, a spotless hardwood floor, a thick wool rug, and a small, cushioned armchair tucked beneath the slanted ceiling across from a large and soft square bed. “Un petit goût de France,” he said with a coy smile, his long hair spilling over his shoulders like on a Renaissance painting, his voice lilting in that effeminate way that had always made me underestimate him as I soon found.

    We’d been sipping the liqueur in complete darkness for an hour, the bitter-sweet burn loosening my tongue and my inhibitions, and when a dribble of the dark liquid streaked down his chin, I reached out—half laughing, half daring—and wiped it with my thumb, smearing it across his pale skin.

    He giggled, and it was a strangely high-pitched sound, like a call of a night bird.  Then he mirrored me, brushing a streak from my cheek, his slender fingers lingering longer than necessary. Then—quite fast—his touch turned to a caress, and then—sudden and reckless—he leaned in, licking the sticky residue from my jaw. His tongue felt hot and wet on my cheek. I froze, startled by the shift, but then his lips found mine, insistent and sloppy, tasting of coffee and something feral beneath his tender façade. Then he pulled me into a kiss that felt less like seduction and more like a claim.

    In a minute, we were in bed.  Alain’s little body surprised me with its brutal strength. I could feel him through his tight jeans, a hard ridge pressing against my thigh, and my own cock twitched in response, straining against the fabric of my slacks. His hands roamed, delicate fingers dug into my shoulders with unexpected force, and I arched up, grinding against him.  This contact of our two yet “clothed” dicks made my head spin.

    He laughed again, but it was lower now, a throaty sound that didn’t match the soft sweep of his hair brushing my face. Our hips rocked together, denim and cotton being a maddening barrier, and I felt the entire length of him—impossibly firm, too huge for his slim frame, wildly insistent—rubbing against me.

    “Tu aimes ça, professeur?” he purred, his accent thick, and I groaned, too drunk on liqueur and lust to care that this was my student, his attic, my ruin.

    Clothes came off in a frenzy—my trembling hands yanked at his shirt, his nimble ones tore at my belt, buttons popping like gunfire. When his jeans finally slid down, I stopped, unable to breathe at the sight of his cock: a heavy, thick log jutting from his pale, hairless frame, the contrast stark against the wild, dark bush of pubic hair at its base. The head was broad, flushed a deep pink, glistening slightly, the foreskin pulled back just enough to reveal a ridge that promised both pleasure and pain; his balls hung low, heavy and asymmetrical, the ballsack dotted with tiny red pimples.

    I stared, mesmerized by the sheer size, the way it curved slightly to the right, a big blue vein pulsing along the shaft. It looked grotesque and beautiful, a weapon on this waifish boy with his faggy manners and tender smile, and I felt a jolt of fear—or was it awe?—as he stared down at me, fully aware of the power he wielded. “C’est pour toi,” he said, voice dropping an octave, and I swallowed hard, already imagining it splitting me open.

    I couldn’t resist tasting him first, wrapping my lips around that monstrous head, the salt and musk overwhelming me as I struggled to take more. He groaned, and now it was a deep, masculine sound, and tangled his fingers in my hair, but it lasted only a moment before he pulled me off, flipping me onto my stomach with a strength that shocked me.

    “Non, comme ça,” he growled, and then he was on me, his huge cock pressing against my ass, trying to force its way in—dry at first, burning, tearing a yelp from my throat imploring him for mercy.

    He relented and added some cream that he grabbed from the night table, and then he came in again, in one smooth long motion, his hands giving me fierce slaps on my back.

    … He fucked me hard, relentlessly, and I moaned and growled like a wounded bear. His hips slammed against me, and a brutal rhythm shook my whole body. He snarled something dirty and horny in French, and his voice sounded like a gravelly roar, quite different from the simpering tone I knew. His hands gripped my hips, and his nails dug in as he pulled me back onto him. The stretch hurt as the thickness of this French monster split me open. Then it shifted, and painful pleasure rolled over me in thick waves when his cockhead hit something deep inside me.

    In this painful delight, my vision blurred. He leaned over me. His chest, slick with sweat, pressed against my back. Fucking me now, he was mumbling various French curses, sounding like a soldier, not a poet and romantic I had known. At first his tempo started slow and he moved with long, deep thrusts. Then the pace quickened. Short, sharp jolts replaced the steady slap-slap-slap of the machine-like beginning.  Not it was “pu-u-u-ushhh… pu-u-u-ush… Slap! Slap! Slap!” and different variations thereof, the number of slow pushes and hard thrusts varying indefinitely.  I could hear him breathe in time with his thrusts, and tiny drops of saliva trickled onto my back – or was it sweat?

    The pleasant pain then changed into searing pleasure. That massive cockhead pounded my prostate, hard and unforgiving, as he panted heavily on top of me, moaning slightly with every of his thrusts, with plaintive short wails in between like he was about to cry.

    The sensation of the approaching orgasm kicked off right at the top of the cockhead. Initially, it itched just a bit. That itch then grew sharper and prickly with each of Alan’s thrusts. After a short while, it gradually spread down the shaft of my dick. The buildup to the short wave of pleasure was instantaneous: I had just enough time to put my hand down and stop the drops of cum from spoiling the expensive sheets.

    “Alain—fuck—” My voice broke. He kept going and drove harder. His growls grew louder, and at the edge of his orgasm he screamed at the top of his voice. Then he pulled out, and it felt like a cork leaving the bottle. Soon there came another scream, and then there was a hot, wet splash. Three thick and invisible streaks of his cum landed on my back.

    I collapsed, trembling, his weight still half on me, his breath ragged in my ear. The boy I’d thought soft and fragile was gone; this was a man, rough and commanding, his curses—“Bordel, t’es serré”—still echoing in that deep, guttural tone as he smeared his cum into my skin with a possessive hand. I was wrecked, undone, and yet somehow sated in a way I hadn’t expected.

    Then, all of a sudden there was a knock on the door:

    “Messieurs, essayez de faire moins de bruit, respectez cette maison!” (Gentlemen, please mind your manners, respect this house!”)

    “Va-t’en, toi!” (Go to hell, you!) Alain grumbled in response.

    We pulled a soft cotton sheet over us and settled, our naked bodies touching each other. Alain pressed against me, his body lax again now, and I felt the limp barrel of his cock—still hairy, still improbably large even soft—nestling against my ass, as a quiet reminder of what had happened between us.  I turned my head slightly, catching the faint glint of his long hair spread across the pillow, and wondered how I’d misjudged him so completely.

    “What shall we tell your dad in the morning?” I whispered.

    “Not like they don’t do the same,” he responded.  “I just pretend I am deaf.”

    Exhaustion took me fast, and as I dozed off, I felt his arm drape over me—not tender, but heavy, proprietary. The last thing I heard was his breathing, steady and deep, a masculine sound from that deceptively delicate frame, and I slipped into sleep, having been owned in a way I hadn’t anticipated by a student named Alain from France…

    In the morning his father seemed polite but distant, and Alain’s mother served us a delicious breakfast of croissants, jam and coffee.  Alain drove me back to my hotel, nice, polite, cheerful and light, talking about a joint conference in January, his plans for graduate school… and I couldn’t take my eyes off his crotch–now realizing how big and visible it was even limp, and then perhaps even was it?

     

    My Takeaways

    Never try to guess what a soft and delicate man will be like in bed.  Alain taught me that a twinky slim boy can be a relentless master in bed, who will make you scream in agony, and ask for mercy as he pounds you with his huge cock. 

    Alain and I sometimes have online sex.  It is enough for him to see me naked to get hard and start cursing like a sailor and jerking his cock violently, his hair flying all over the place.  It takes him just a minute to cum, which I, too, appreciate.  And then we talk about philosophy, sitting there naked, and he is again the sweet smiling gentle person he really isn’t deep inside.

  • A change is coming

    Cody entered the deli feeling starved. It was nearly two o’clock and breakfast had been gone for some time. He moved to the line to order, debating turkey or ham, or maybe the club, he was so hungry he struggled to decide. As he stepped up behind two young women they turned and looked at him, then smiled. He smiled back for it stroked his ego how women looked at him. How they appraised him, sized him up. He was twenty-eight, had his own company acting as a middleman between the micro-brewers and distillers in the towns and cities nearby, helping them sell their products across the region in bars and restaurants. He had little overhead and got to drink free when he visited one of the bars.

    The young women finally turned back around, and he smirked, thinking far too young, probably still in high school or just graduated like his youngest brother, Charlie. He could admit he was attracted to them but all he could think once past his appraisal of them was how it wouldn’t take long for one of them to get all serious. Start talking about marriage, a family, and Cody didn’t want to hear it. He heard enough from his mother, how he should be getting serious with someone and thinking about settling down.

    Voices behind him and he turned to see Luke Davenport stroll in. Twenty-three, the same age as Cynthia, their middle sister of the five of them. He looked at the blonde, blue eyed boy, for to him, anyone younger was still a boy or girl. But Luke was no boy, and he knew the build revealed by the tank top and shorts was mostly from swimming. Luke crossed the dining room and entered the corridor for the restrooms.

    Cody turned and stepped up to the cashier to order, letting the thought develop that he would mess around with Luke if given a chance. He was curious what it would be like, and he imagined sinking his cock in that round ass, fucking it until he pumped a load into it, maybe two or three, before he was finished, and he smiled at the thought. The young woman ringing him up smiled back and he knew he misled her.

    He carried the little number sign to a booth at the front of the restaurant where he could stare out at passing traffic. He leaned back and took out his cellphone, scrolling through the text messages, then emails, seeing Monday would be busy.

    Several voices, boisterous and familiar, came into the deli and Cody looked up to see it was the geek squad as he derisively referred to them. The four guys that were Charlie’s best friends. He had seen them enough over the years, watching them go from little kids to young men, now graduated from high school. He knew the four would be going to college in the fall same as his little brother, each one brilliant in some way. Looking at them get in line, he had to admit they were attractive too, despite their sloppy dress and carefree attitude about their appearance, except for Kenneth, the one who did care but in ways that were different. The other three needed a haircut and clothes that fit properly. But he could recite each one’s stats. It was bad enough he knew his brother’s stats but that was in his face every time he saw him.

    Charlie, the punk, had grown to be the tallest of the three of them that were the boys of the family. He was five foot ten and weighed a nice muscular one hundred eight-two pounds, but Christoper was an inch taller, with a lean build, so their jesting back and forth never went anywhere. But when the punk of a little brother grew to six foot two inches tall, it was almost an insult, for the little geek didn’t deserve such height. He seemed oblivious to how girls about his age tried to flirt with him when he had turned fifteen. But over the last year, Charlie seemed to wake up, realize his wavy black hair and dark brown eyes and smooth baby face were an attraction. In fact, Cody knew the punk was on a date at that moment. Which was why Charlie wasn’t with the geek squad.

    The geek squad. Cody watched them order one by one, as he considered each one in a physical manner. It was easy, far too easy, for he had caught them skinny dipping in their pool far too often over the years, not one of them shy about their nudity. And despite him accusing them of playing video games all the time, he knew they rode mountain bicycles all over the region, putting who knows how many miles on each one of them. And of course they liked to swim, two of them on the swim team during their high school years, and all of them going to the lake at the park or to the beach or in the pool at home. It gave each one of them a lean build with just enough definition to be attractive. He thought about how he would do any one of them if given a chance, and it made him feel embarrassed to think of it when Tony looked his way and waved. He waved back then watched one of the staff bring his order.

    Tony Collins was his height of five foot ten with brown hair and blue eyes and a cock that made him jealous, for it hung longer than his own when flaccid. He imaged holding it while fucking Tony in the ass. And Tony had a fine ass. Nice and round and he imagined his face buried between the cheeks.

    Simon Jackson came away from the line joking with Tony about something. Simon was five foot eight or so with reddish-brown hair and green eyes and a tanned skin tone. Cody wondered if Simon had any idea how fucking attractive, he was to girls. And to him. He pictured Simon when he last saw him naked. A cock that hung about as long as his own, but it was thicker, and he wondered what it would look like erect. Would it be a lot thicker than his own? He smirked at the thought of Simon having such a cock. But then there was the body. A nice matt of dark hair on the chest and a trail down to the crotch and hairy legs he wondered how they would feel with his legs rubbing alongside them while fucking that punk’s ass.

    Cody chuckled at how gay he was becoming with his thoughts of fucking guys, but he knew he had considered it for some time, ever since he saw Paul McCullough strip naked in P.E. Two years older and hung like a fucking horse. Paul was the one that made him acknowledge how he considered it. But after thirteen years, he had never acted on it, keeping to the women for dates or just hook ups to fuck around.

    Cody heard Percy Bennett tell Simon and Tony to take the table in the middle of the room, the big round one that could sit six. He looked at the boy in the group, the one that was five foot three and had such a baby face, he was cute. Just boyishly cute, for there was no other way to describe it. Light blonde hair, blue eyes, and a perfect round ass. What was surprising was the cock, one that looked three or four inches long when flaccid and so thick it seemed out of proportion to the body. He told himself Percy had to have been partially aroused but every time he saw that boy naked, that cock was hanging long and thick. For a second, Cody imagined Percy fucking him, then he pushed the idiotic notion away, for if anyone was going to be doing the fucking, it was him.

    “Percy, grab me some napkins.”

    It was Kenneth Patterson. The tallest of the group, at six foot three, just a bit taller than Charlie. Kenneth was the rebel of the group, the one with earrings in each ear and his short hair dyed platinum blonde. He also knew Kenneth had a tattoo on his back, some mythical looking dragon with its head on the right shoulder blade, and a body that curved down the back with the tail turned back up. It was an impressive looking thing, one that Charlie had not stopped talking about since Kenneth got it.

    You should see the size of it; it covers Kenneth’s whole back.

    He had seen it on numerous occasions. And the naked ass and…

    I can’t believe his mom and dad let him do it.

    I don’t think I could do it. He said the needle did hurt and it took hours to do.

    Could you get one?

    What do you think mom and dad would say if I came in with a tattoo on my arm or around my ankle?

    Cody wondered what it would be like to sit for hours getting such a large tattoo. He had seen it numerous times, and it even distracted him from looking at Kenneth’s nice ass just the other night when he caught the five of them skinny dipping again. But there was no denying the cock the punk had hanging between his legs. Uncut. Long. Impossibly long. No man should have such a cock. He had a nice seven-inch cock that filled his hand nicely when he masturbated. Kenneth must have to use both hands. Then he imagined holding the long legs, spread wide apart, fucking Kenneth in the ass while watching him jack off. That would be hot, he admitted to himself as he watched Kenneth stroll to the table where the other three were seated.

    He turned to look out the window, chastising himself for considering fucking Charlie’s friends. There were ten years between them, ten years that had seemed like an eon of time when he was younger and the boys were just little kids.

    “Kenneth, are you really going to get your nipples pierced?” said Tony.

    Cody looked around, surprised that Kenneth would do it, then realizing it would be just one more thing by the rebel. He wondered about it, both nipples having some metal through them. It had to hurt like a mother fucker to get it done and he winced at the thought of some large gauge needle going through one of his nipples. He watched the guys joking with Kenneth.

    Percy turned to him, grinning like a fool. “Hey, Cody, would you get your nipples pierced?” Percy and the others laughed.

    “Only if the girl I was fucking really wanted me too,” Cody replied, wanting to push the conversation in a manner that might embarrass the boys. He should have known better.

    Kenneth turned toward him with a grin that could only be described as devilish. “What if your daddy told you to do?”

    Cody was surprised by the reference, for he knew Kenneth didn’t mean his father, but some man who would want to dominate him, use him sexually. He shook his head as if the thought was nonsense, for he couldn’t think of a response to such a statement, but what really caught him off guard was how the other three were not surprised by what Kenneth said, instead they were laughing about it.

    Nasty fucks, Cody thought as he turned to finish his sandwich and get out of there. As he ate, he heard their banter and wondered if they were like this when Charlie was with them. Then he wondered if his little brother was like this. He pictured Charlie when he was about ten, just a naïve little kid, then he glanced around trying to picture Charlie with the others, adding to their banter.

     

    Cody was about to stand to leave when Tony called out to him.

    “Yes, Tony?”

    “Charlie said you got this huge flat screen television.”

    “Yep, it fills the whole damn wall in the back room,” said Cody, referring to what most would call a family room but to him it was just the back room, the one he lived in the most.

    “How’s the picture? Does it have good color?” said Kenneth.

    “It’s great.”

    “I bet watching porn on it is amazing,” said Simon, making the others giggle like schoolgirls.

    “The tits fill the whole screen,” Cody joked back.

    “I bet it makes a small cock look huge,” said Tony.

    “I wouldn’t know,” said Cody, not liking the direction the conversation could take.

    “You just watch lesbian porn?” said Percy, and the four of them howled with laughter.

    “No, but…”

    “I bet Kenneth’s wouldn’t fit on the screen,” said Simon, making them laugh harder.

    “Okay, guys, I’m outta here. The Tigers are playing at five.”

    “Can we come over and watch the game?” said Tony.

    Cody hesitated. He told himself to say no, that he didn’t need four little kids in his house, seeing the lie of it in front of him. He tried to think of one good reason to tell them no.

    By the end of the night, he wouldn’t be able to say no to one of them.

     

    “…and the Tigers end the inning with no runs again. They’re behind by four after that homerun hit by…”

    “Fucking hell,” exclaimed Cody, disgusted by how badly his team was getting beat, and by their own mistakes.

    “I can’t imagine losing so badly,” said Tony.

    “Damn, I didn’t know they would be so bad this year,” said Simon.

    “I’ve had enough,” said Cody, flipping the television to a movie channel.

    “I saw that movie,” said Kenneth. “It’s not too bad.”

    “That is not a ringing endorsement,” said Percy.

    Kenneth shrugged his shoulders.

    Cody stewed with his frustration of how badly his team was playing, then he finished his beer. He looked around the room, still surprised one of the geek squad hadn’t asked for a beer or if they could hit the liquor stash in the kitchen. He set the empty bottle on the side table and took note of the four of them, Kenneth and Simon on the sofa, Simon with his back to the nearest arm and feet in Kenneth’s lap. On the floor sat Tony with Percy lying on his side, head propped up, and Cody saw Percy reach over and rub Tony’s leg. It all seemed wrong. Too intimate, the four of them far too comfortable with each other. He considered how they acted at his parent’s home, especially at the pool, and realized they were the same there, the four of them always touching and leaning on each other. Only Charlie seemed to be the one who sat separate from the others, the one not to be in the middle of some horsing around. Instead, he was the one that sat to the side and encouraged it, pushed one of the others to do something that would rile someone into reacting.

    “I’ve got to piss,” said Tony, climbing to his feet.

    “Me too,” said Percy, doing the same.

    “There’s only one bathroom,” said Cody.

    “We know,” said Percy, following Tony out of the room.

    Cody didn’t like it. Only girls were supposed to go together to the bathroom. What would Percy and Tony do? Hold each other’s dicks while they piss. The image became vivid, picturing Percy, then Tony naked.

    “Hey Cody, let’s play some music. This movie is not that good,” said Simon.

    Cody flipped the television to his laptop then brought up some of his favorite music.

    “You listen to this shit?” said Kenneth, smiling at Cody.

    “Yes. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

    “No, I’m good. It’s okay,” Kenneth replied.

    The music played and Cody wondered what they were supposed to do. Play video games? Talk about some geek stuff? He saw Kenneth rub Simon’s foot, a real massage technique, and he wondered if they did it for each other all the time, and if so, how far did they go. Did they get naked? Massage bare ass cheeks, maybe…maybe stroke cock and…

    “Fuck, I need another beer,” said Cody, coming to his feet. “Can I get you guys something?”

    “No, I’m good,” said Kenneth.

    “I’m good too,” said Simon.

    Cody went into the small kitchen and pulled out a beer, twisted off the top, and stood at the sink looking at his reflection in the window as he took a drink, then another.

     

    “Hey, Cody has a king size bed,” yelled Tony, his voice carrying through the house.

    “What are you doing in my room?” yelled Cody, leaning against the counter, beer bottle held in two fingers. “Fuck, I’ve got to get them out of this house,” he whispered. Then he heard Kenneth and Simon say something, but he was unable to make it out. He looked up into the window again, seeing a twenty-eight-year-old man who was thinking about sex with his little brother’s friends. He clutched the side of the countertop and pushed against it, shaking his head. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, taking a drink then pacing in a circle fighting the urge to try something with one of them versus telling them to leave.

    “Cody, come here,” said Tony.

    “What?”

    “Just come here, will ya?”

    Cody turned to face his reflection in the window, took another long drink, then set the bottle down, and left the kitchen. He went into the dining room, finding it still dark, the lights off in it and the living room, but the hall light was on, its light cutting across the dining room floor in a distorted rectangle. He entered it, heading to his bedroom at the back of the house. The door was open, but no light came out of the room.

    “Okay guys, what are you playing at,” said Cody as he drew near the door. 

    “Cody, come here,” uttered Tony in a low voice.

    Cody felt his heart race, for he knew the four of them were up to something. He moved up to the door and looked into the bedroom. Laying across the bed was Tony and Simon, both naked, playing with each other’s cock. Kenneth stood on the near side watching, and at the foot of the bed, Percy was pulling each foot free of his jeans.

    “What the fuck are you doing?” said Cody.

    “We were bored with the television. Aren’t you bored with it?” said Simon.

    “Guys, I think you should go home. I’ll forget about seeing—”

    “Cody, don’t be like this. We’ve seen how you look at us,” said Kenneth, who came to stand in front of Cody. His pants were undone and his cock angled out half hard.

    “Kenneth…don’t…put your cock back in your pants,” said Cody.

    “No. I want you to take your cock out. Come on Cody, don’t be so shy.”

    Cody felt Kenneth take his hand and suddenly he was being led to his bed, one that seemed such a threat to the way he viewed himself. He wasn’t supposed to act on those thoughts. It was okay to have them but only as long as he didn’t do anything, he could hold on to his vision of himself. But Simon and Tony lay on his bed, naked, stroking each other’s cock and he felt his own stir. As he drew near, Percy climbed onto the bed and lay between Tony and Simon. Tony kissed Percy and Simon sucked his cock.

    “Jesus,” Cody uttered as he came to stand by the bed, his shadow cutting across the three bodies on it. Then Kenneth held him by the back of the neck and pulled him into a kiss. He tried to pull away, tried to push Kenneth back, then he moaned and kissed him back. Hands held his ass, fingers working each cheek, then pulled him against Kenneth. He felt the cock push against his stomach, then slide upward as they came together.

    “I knew he wanted it,” whispered Tony.

    Kenneth pulled back and Cody looked at the dark silhouette standing over him.

    “Take my clothes off,” said Kenneth.

    Cody reached out to the military style shirt and worked the buttons free. It fell open and he slid it from the shoulders letting it drop to the floor. He looked at the long lean torso and he wanted to run his hands over it. He wanted to touch Kenneth. To feel the nipples and the smooth skin. He wanted to lean forward and kiss and tongue a nipple, all those things he had seen late at night online. But he couldn’t do it because it would mean something, what he couldn’t imagine as he reached out to the black pants and tugged on the leather belt with its two rows of eyelets. Then he slipped the button free, tugged the zipper down and spread the front of the pants and worked them down until they fell around the ankles.

    “Jesus,” Cody uttered for Kenneth was aroused, his cock pushing outward. It looked even bigger in the dim light.

    “Take my boxers off,” said Kenneth, his voice neutral, just a statement of what Cody was to do.

    Cody took the boxers by the waistband and worked them over the cock and down the legs. He stooped in front of Kenneth, afraid to look up at that cock, instead focusing his attention on the boxers and pants around the ankles. He had to take off the black boots to get the pants and boxers off, and he untied them as he heard Percy moan, then Simon getting noisy sucking Percy’s cock. He wanted to look up and see what the boys on the bed were doing, but he would also see Kenneth’s cock in his face. He couldn’t do it…not yet.

    Cody worked the boots off each foot, then the socks. He took the pants off, then slipped the boxers free, tossing them to one side. He started to stand, and hands pushed down on his shoulders. He finally looked up and saw the cock in his face. It was thick and hung impossibly long. Kenneth stroked it, lifting it up letting the head smack Cody in the face, then drag across his lips.

    “Suck it. Come on Cody, you know you want it,” whispered Kenneth.

    Cody took the cock at the base of it feeling its girth within his hand, and he held it up and just looked at it. Another man’s cock, and he had to admit Kenneth was no boy, not with such an impressive cock. He brought the head to his lips and licked it, licked it again, then he kissed it, moving along its length until at the base, then he leaned lower and licked the tightening sac, feeling the nuts move with his ministration. The hands tightened their hold on his shoulders.

    Cody worked his lips back along the cock until at the head and without thinking of it, slipped them over it and pushed forward. The cock stretched his jaws wide until it felt as it would unhinge them and Cody had only half of it. He pulled back slowly, then pushed forward again. He kept moving, sucking his first cock. Kenneth’s cock, one he had seen often wondering how anyone could take it, as he did his goddamn best to do so. He pushed forward as far as he could, getting maybe an inch or so further down it.

    “Come on, Cody, you can take more of me than that,” said Kenneth.

    Hands held Cody by the head as cock pushed into his mouth, pushed until the head was in his throat cutting off his air, and Kenneth tried to push more into his mouth. He choked and tried to breathe, and Kenneth pulled back letting him suck in much needed air. Then he took the cock, pushed forward as far as he could, and when he pulled back, he held the head of the cock in his mouth, tongue trying to work around it.

    He worked on the cock until Kenneth was starting to move the hips, pushing the cock into his mouth as he held still. Then Kenneth pulled back leaving him gasping.

    “Not yet,” said Kenneth.

    Kenneth helped Cody come to his feet and stripped him, slowly, methodically, each garment laid on the dresser. When Cody was naked, cock angled up with such arousal it was flexing up and down, Kenneth took it in hand and stroked it until Cody was trying to push it through the fist.

    “Get on the bed,” Kenneth whispered in Cody’s ear, then tongued it making Cody shutter.

    Cody turned and saw Percy on his hands and knees, Tony fucking him. Simon was underneath Percy, and Cody realized Percy and Simon were sucking each other as Tony fucked Percy’s ass. He wondered where to get on the bed, but he wanted to be closer to the three of them. He wanted to get down there and see up close Percy’s mouth on Simon, or Simon’s mouth on Percy, sucking noisily, and he wanted to get to where he could see Tony’s cock pumping Percy’s ass. He moved down onto the bed and turned to lie next to Simon and watched him suck Percy.

    “Tony,” said Kenneth.

    Cody saw Tony pull back from Percy revealing a cock that had to be eight inches with an arrow shaped head. Then Tony got off the bed and he turned back to Simon sucking Percy. The bed rocked and someone was lifting his legs, and he turned to see Tony raising them by the ankles while moving up between them. Something hit him on the cheek, and he turned to see Kenneth by the bed at his head, hitting him on the face with that cock.

    “Suck me. Come on Cody, suck my cock,” said Kenneth.

    As Tony played with his ass, Cody sucked Kenneth’s cock, did the best he could to take more than half of it. He felt a finger penetrate his ass, then another, knowing sooner or later Tony would penetrate him with cock. He sucked Kenneth trying to think of it, someone about to fuck his ass, but he couldn’t focus but on how he felt. So aroused, it made him breathless.

    Cody shuddered and moaned around Kenneth’s cock as Tony’s cock bore into his ass. It felt twice as big, and as it bore into his depths, so slowly he was acutely aware of every inch stretching his ass open and it made him wonder if it would ever end.

    “Fuck he’s tight,” said Tony.

    “That’s why I wanted you to go first,” said Kenneth.

    “I wonder if he can take Percy,” said Tony as he spread the legs further apart and pushed deeper.

    Percy cried out and the bed shook as he pumped a load down Simon’s throat. Then Simon moaned around Percy’s cock and Percy sucked noisily taking Simon’s load.

     

    Cody felt Tony sink into his depths, pumping cock with a steady rhythm and it aroused him. Made his own cock harden with every shove into his depths. He clutched the bed no longer thinking of his fears and expectations placed on him by others and himself. He relished the feel of Tony inside him and watching Percy and Simon shift around until Percy was sitting against the headboard. No way, he thought as Simon backed up to Percy and worked his ass over that thick cock.

    Percy held his thick cock up, fingers not able to close around it, and Simon moved down until his ass touched it. He rocked back and forth, rubbing his ass over the head, then he settled on it and slowly stretched to take it.

    “Goddamn,” uttered Cody, rocking with Tony’s fuck.

    Cody began to work his ass, pushing up, trying to get Tony deeper as he watched Percy’s cock disappear into Simon’s ass. Slowly, inch by thick inch, the cock was enveloped by the ass. Simon shuddered, grimaced, then threw his head back and sank the rest of the way down until seated on it.

    “Simon has an ass made to fuck,” whispered Kenneth in Cody’s ear.

    “Yeah,” uttered Cody as he watched Simon start to move, upward, slowly, then back down. He felt a hand move over his abdomen, brush past his hard cock, over his tight sac, then down to his ass, fingers slipping down his stretched hole and Tony’s cock pumping into it. Tony slowed to a stop and a finger pushed into Cody next to the cock and he shivered with how it stretched him open more. Tony moved alongside the finger and Cody moaned.

    The finger pulled out, then the cock, and Cody almost exclaimed NO, but then he felt the bed rock and watched Kenneth taking Tony’s place, slow stroking a very hard and very big cock. It looked nearly a foot long and he wanted to tell him Kenneth he didn’t think he could take it, it was too big, but he tiled his head back and closed his eyes as Kenneth slapped his ass with it.

    Cody shivered and cried out as Kenneth penetrated him. The stretch of his hole to take the bigger cock was a pain/pleasure that made his own cock flex with his arousal to the point he wanted to cum. Kenneth pushed into him slowly and he felt every goddamn inch push into his ass. Every thick inch that gave him a fullness of penetration he couldn’t comprehend.  A kiss to his neck, then another push inward until hips pressed against his ass.

    “Damn, Kenneth, he’s took all of it,” said Tony.

    I took all of Kenneth’s cock, Cody thought as the felt the hips grind against his ass.

    “Are you ready for me to fuck you,” whispered Kenneth in Cody’s ear.

    Cody pushed his ass upward against the hips. “Fuck me. Fuck me; do it.”

    Cody angled his ass up while Kenneth slow fucked him, worked cock in his ass with short strokes, then gradually increased how far the cock was tugged outward until Kenneth was hovering over him tugging the cock nearly free, then pushing back in all the way. Cody looked over and saw Simon working his ass on Percy’s cock, his entire body undulating, working the ass up and down, at times grinding it down on the thick cock. Simon took his own cock in hand and stroked it, moved his hand with a rhythm that matched the way he moved his ass, slow full strokes.

    Cody felt his own cock flex as Kenneth increased the pace of their fuck. Harder, faster, Kenneth began to bang hips against his ass. It seemed impossible that such a big cock fucking him would feel so good, his ass loosened to the penetration. He didn’t want it to stop. “Fuck. Fuck me. Fuck me harder,” Cody cried out. Then Tony was moving down in front of him and put a cock in his face. He opened his mouth and took it; every inch Tony pushed into his mouth as Kenneth hammered his ass.

    Then the cocks were pulled away, leaving him feeling empty.

    “Roll over,” said Kenneth.

    Cody didn’t hesitate to flip to his stomach. He looked back at Kenneth, cock sticking straight out, then he looked up in time to see Simon come, spraying cum over chest and stomach before Tony blocked his view, putting cock back to his lips. He took it, moaning around it as Tony pushed into his mouth. As he worked his mouth on the cock, Kenneth kicked his legs together and straddled him. Cock slapped his ass, then pressed against his hole. Then Kenneth buried it inside making him shiver and moan again.

    As he sucked Tony, Kenneth hammered his ass. The bed rocked beneath them and the sound of hips smacking against his ass echoed in the room.

    “Fuck, Kenneth, tear that ass up,” said Simon.

    Kenneth pushed into his ass the way and held still. He felt a shift on the bed as Kenneth leaned over him and kissed Tony as hips began to fuck again. To work cock in his ass, pushing inward all the way. The bed began to rock and squeak again, and it seemed to spur Kenneth to fuck harder. Hips smacked down on his ass as the bed began to bang into the wall.

    “I’m going to cum,” exclaimed Tony.

    Cody didn’t hesitate to lock his lips around the cock and push his mouth down it as far as he could. It swelled thicker, flexed on his tongue, then gushed wad after wad filling his mouth.

    “Fuck, take it. Take it,” exclaimed Tony.

    Kenneth didn’t slow, fucked with such physicality, Cody swallowed Tony’s load then moaned with the feel of it. How Kenneth battered his insides until he wanted to cum. Tony moved away, and Simon took his place.

    “Clean it off,” said Simon.

    Cody took the slimy cock, using his lips and tongue to clean it off and as he did, the cock responded, getting erect again, and he kept working his mouth on it wanting to get Simon off. As he sucked Simon, he rocked with Kenneth’s fuck.

    “Fuck, fuck, take me, take my cock,” exclaimed Kenneth as he began to sweat.

    Cody lost all sense of time and perceived nothing but cock. Simon’s cock he was sucking and Kenneth’s cock that was fucking his ass, rocking him with the force of it. His own cock ached for release as it pressed into the bed with every shove into his ass. Simon began to push cock into his mouth with greater urgency and knew he had Simon on the verge of release. He reached up and around the lean body, taking the ass and pulling Simon forward filling his mouth with the cock.

    “Fuck!” Simon exclaimed.

    Cody felt the cock swell and flex, the erupt, pumping cum down his throat. He swallowed and tongued the cock until Simon was pulling back.

    “Stop, stop, I can’t take anymore,” said Simon.

    Cody gasped for breath then looked back at Kenneth, unbelieving the stamina, how Kenneth could just fuck and fuck. He saw the flushed face, the body that glistened with sweat, undulating with such force.

    “Fuck me. Fuck me,” Cody exclaimed.

    Kenneth didn’t slow, just hammered his ass until the rhythm was off. Kenneth jammed cock into his ass. Sweat rained down on him and he shuddered with how Kenneth battered his insides until he couldn’t hold back. His cock erupted, soaking the bed around the spurting head as his ass spasm around Kenneth’s cock. Then Kenneth buried cock into his ass and shuddered with release.

     

    Cody lay on the bed breathing hard. His cock laying on his stomach going flaccid. Percy moved next to him and leaned over and took his cock in the mouth. He shuddered and gasped as the mouth moved on it. He looked over to see Kenneth, Tony, and Simon tangled together next to him, touching and kissing and toying with cocks. He watched the intimacy as his cock hardened in Percy’s mouth. He felt a hand slip between his legs and finger his cum leaking hole. One finger, two fingers, then three worked it while Percy sucked his cock. He quickly became erect, cock so hard, he wanted sex. Raw sex. He wanted to be fucked.

    Cody sat up and pushed Percy to his back and he moved over the lean body and worked his ass over the thick cock. He felt the way it rubbed his ass and thighs, and he moved over it while stroking his cock.

    “Go on, Cody, sit on it,” uttered Tony.

    “Yeah, Cody, you know you want it,” said Kenneth.

    Cody knew they were right. He really wanted to feel that thick fucking cock inside him, and he rose on knees, reached back and held it up. It felt the huge thickness of it, and he moved down on it until pressed against his ass. Hands came down on his thighs and fingers dug into the muscle. He looked down at Percy who was looking at how cock was against his ass, and he let his weight carry him down. He stretched, painfully, to take it, then he shuddered with his arousal as he eased further down on it, taking the flared head. His own cock began to drool on Percy’s stomach. He was gasping for breath and felt his skin flush hot, sweat beading up on it, and he eased down further. He kept moving down, slowly, each descent stretching him wider, until he had nearly all of it and he held still, waiting for his hole to loosen to the penetration.

    “Fuck, you’ve got most of it,” said Simon.

    “Cody,” uttered Percy.

    Cody looked down and saw the desire, the pure lust of wanting this fuck, and he moved, upward, slowly, feeling the thick cock slide through his opening. Then he moved down. He kept moving, up and down, until fucking his ass on the cock. It made his own cock flex with his arousal at the fullness of penetration, how that thick cock seemed to bore into him. He leaned back until resting on one hand, and worked his ass up and down, faster, harder, until his ass smacked down on Percy’s hips. He took his own cock in hand and stroked it with the same urgency.

    The bed rocked and squeaked as Cody fucked his ass on Percy’s cock. He kept up his brutal pace, smacking his ass down on Percy’s hips. It was too much. How that thick cock stretched him open and bore into his depths. It banged his insides until he saw stars He threw his head back and came. Cum rained down on his chest and stomach and his ass spasm tightly around the cock as he kept moving on it.

    Percy began to shove upward, and Cody sat upright looking down at him. “Pump it in me. Come on, you punk, pump that shit in me,” he exclaimed.

    Percy sat up, hugged the larger body then pulled it down on his cock, all the way down, and shuddered with his own release.

     

     

    Charlie drove around Cody’s place, pulling up to the carport behind Cody’s truck. He looked over at Kenneth’s 4Runner and Percy’s Accord parked to the side. He smirked, wondering what his friends were doing at Cody’s, not sure he believed the obvious. He climbed out expecting someone to come to the door, but the house was quiet, not even the light on over the kitchen sink, the one usually on if Cody was stirring around inside. He went to the back door, finding it unlocked, and eased inside.

    Charlie knew his friends were gay, all four of them. He had known since tenth grade when Percy came out then listened as each of the other three confessed, they too were gay. It was too much, so ironic, he wondered what was wrong with him to not be gay. Over the years he found changes in the way they interacted, but most days nothing changed. They still battled at video games, sometimes pushing and shoving each other playfully during a close game. They rode their bikes for miles talking of their dreams, of wanting out of high school, anxious to get to college. They traded books, went to movies, and talked about their longings for another, Charlie mentioning Cheryl or Ivy or Lisa, three girls in their grade he liked. For his friends, they joked about some of the boys in their grade, then some older, more mature, and how they wanted to go out with them. Then Kenneth asked Charlie if Cody would be willing. It had been a ludicrous suggestion, too outlandish to consider. But walking into the dark quiet kitchen he had to reconsider his big brother.

    Charlie knew the undertones of what his friends would suggest when talking about other boys, the sexual nature of it and at some point, he knew the four of them were starting to mess around with each other. To what extent Charlie wasn’t sure, but after graduation, he found out the four of them were doing it together, all four of them, and for a brief moment he had felt left out. But then the realization of what he had been thinking made him laugh, for he never desired his friends in a sexual nature. Not once had he considered it, and for his friends’ part, they never tried anything with him, Kenneth saying they respected him too much to do so.

    But what about Cody. The suggestion had made him laugh, then he thought of Cody’s bravado, how he put on such a display of being a man, a man who dated some of the most attractive girls but never to the point a relationship developed between them. Had Cody been compensating for having sexual yearnings for other guys and too afraid to act on it? Until he saw his friends’ vehicles at Cody’s it seemed far-fetched, but now, not so much. He wondered which of his friends had been the one to get Cody to relent, if in fact they had done something. Maybe he would find they had just watched the game then got too drunk to drive. He would find Kenneth and Percy in the spare bedroom. Maybe all four of them would be in there.

    But moving through the dining room into the hall, he knew there would be no one in the spare bedroom. Kenneth had wanted to mess around with Cody for far too long to let an opportunity pass. And the others would have egged it on, maneuvered Cody into submitting to Kenneth. Submit. The term held such connotation, but he knew if anything happened, it would involve his big brother submitting to Kenneth. He saw no other way for anything to happen between him and his friends.

    Cody’s bedroom door was ajar and the only light coming through the gap was sunlight filtered through the cheap blinds Cody had over the windows. He knew he should call out to Cody, ask if he was up, but in the past, he had taken pleasure in waking up his brother after a night of drinking too much, once even jumping on the bed making it rock and shake until Cody looked like he would puke.  To his way of thinking, this was no different, making him smile was he eased the door open.

     

    Charlie gasped, then looked at bodies intertwined on the bed. He shook his head and pushed the door all the way open and stood in the door. Percy and Simon were on the near side of the bed holding each other. Tony was in the middle laying flat on his back, and on the far side, Kenneth was holding his brother, spooned against the back. They were all naked and from the way clothes were scattered on the floor and the disheveled nature of the bed, it was obvious they had fucked last night.

    Kenneth had finally gotten his big brother in bed.

    “Hey, you nasty fucks, are you going to sleep all day?” said Charlie.

    Cody rolled off the bed, clumsily, staggering to his feet. The others slowly stirred and sat up as he looked at Charlie, holding his hands in front of his morning erection.

    “Charlie, what the fuck. What are you doing here?”

    “I wanted to see if you wanted to go for a bike ride, but I see you’ve had your exercise.”

    “Charlie, this isn’t—”

    Cody looked down at the four guys on his bed, all naked, all four with erections, then he looked at his little brother and he sighed.

    “You guys get cleaned up and dressed and I’ll see what is in the kitchen to make a late breakfast,” said Charlie as he stepped away and headed back to the kitchen.

    The bedroom door stood wide open, and Cody stared at the empty door frame wondering just how Charlie did it. How he could be so accepting and not freaked out to find his brother in bed with his four friends. He looked down at Kenneth seeing him smile.

    “You planned this?”

    “Not really a plan, but yes, I wanted to hook up with you,” said Kenneth.

    “And Charlie knew.”

    “Oh yeah. When we told Charlie about the guys we wanted to mess around with, Kenneth would always mention you,” said Tony sitting up and stroking his cock. “Someone want to blow me before we get up?”

    “NO, no, Charlie is in the kitchen. No more; get up and dressed,” said Cody.

    Tony shrugged, then slid off the foot of the bed as Percy and Simon stretched. Kenneth climbed to his feet standing next to Cody, close, barely a foot between them. “You want to shower with me before we get dressed?”

    “No,” said Cody pushing past Kenneth who was smiling.

     

    Cody entered the diner, groaning at the awful Christmas music playing. There was a small tree on the front counter where you paid, and decorations hung around the room. Outside it was warm and sunny, anything but holiday weather.

    “Just one,” said Sharon, one of the wait staff.

    “Yep, just me,” Cody replied.

    He followed Sharon to a booth along the side wall, and he slid into it where he could see who entered the diner or walked past on the sidewalk. She laid a menu in front of him and asked for his drink order. When she moved away, Cody looked around the dining room, seeing a few couples, two older, probably grandparents, one couple maybe even great-grandparents. The others were younger, probably not yet married. He saw a man take a woman’s hand and say something that made her laugh. It all looked like one of those cheesy holiday movies with its perfect ending and nothing bad ever happened. A fairytale, for Cody didn’t feel like any of it was real, not really.

    He had thought his life was perfect. He was twenty-eight, had his own place, and up until last summer, dated frequently, for there always seemed to be a woman wanting to go out with him. There still were, but after that evening at his place, he had to face the fact of who he was as a person. Before there had been all the consideration of sex with another man. To get in bed with them when so many considered it wrong, and it challenged his persona he had carefully crafted. The jock in high school, the guy who worked out and considered how he was dressed, how his hair was cut, wanting to please his family and impress the women.

    Then he thought of Charlie’s friends. Charlie had jokingly called them nasty fucks, and they were, damn they had been so sexually driven. He pictured how Simon rode Percy’s cock, how he had sucked Tony, then Simon, and let Kenneth fuck him. It had been so fucking pleasurable he had let the four of them return to his house for the rest of the summer, and each time he went further, eventually having all four fuck him, once Simon and Tony at the same time. His cock stirred with the memory of it.

    Toward the end of summer, just when he was preparing for the day the four left for college, Kenneth showed up alone. He had invited him in, wondering if it was just a social visit. He found himself leaning over the arm of the sofa getting fucked. Then he had been on the bed, legs held against Kenneth’s chest getting fucked again, then again in the shower, pressed against the wall with Kenneth pushing every goddamn inch into his ass and pumping out another load.

    Cody considered once again that last parting with Kenneth, how there seemed to be something Kenneth wanted to say, until he nervously blurted out how their summer fling had been fun and hoped Kenneth had fun at college.

    Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be great, Kenneth had stated, then after another short silence, added, take care of yourself, Cody.

    When Kenneth had drove away, he felt unmoored. He admonished himself for it and did his best to get back to the life he had created. He went out with Tina whom he met at the bluegrass musical festival the town holds every year. Nothing happened because he proceeded to get drunk, making her take him home. So, he drifted through the fall, calling Charlie to see how college was going for him, and somewhere along the way, he would ask about Kenneth. Kenneth was at the same university but in a different dorm, and Charlie always said he was doing fine.

    Fine. What the fuck did that mean.

    A few times, Charlie seemed to know what he was thinking, better than himself, and told him to call Kenneth and see how he was doing, giving him Kenneth’s telephone number. He never dared to call it, for what could it possibly accomplish. He lived outside of town and operated his business. It was a good profession, and he enjoyed it, and he got to live in the countryside, but he could not see Kenneth remaining in the town, therefore he tried not to consider what it would mean otherwise.

    The door swung open, and Cody looked up and froze, holding his breath. Kenneth walked in, alone, looking different. The clothes were like the dark military style Kenneth favored but the hair was longer but no longer dyed blonde, and in the light, he saw it had a purple tint to it. Kenneth looked around the room until he saw him. They stared at each other until Cody felt he had to do something. He waved Kenneth over, pointing at the opposite side of the table.

    “Hey Cody. You sure you want to be seen with me?” said Kenneth.

    “Sit down, Kenneth,” Cody replied, smiling for he was honestly glad to see him.

    Cody knew what Kenneth meant about being seen with him. It came out all four of Charlie’s friends were gay some time after they left for college. The initial rumors even had Charlie gay too. Cody wanted to say something about it, but Charlie told him to forget it, that he would rather be considered gay like his friends than like some of the assholes judging them.

    Cody knew Charlie was more mature than he was, comfortable in his own skin in a way he wished he possessed.

     “How was your first semester?” said Cody.

    “Good. I did well in all my classes.”

    “Of course, you five guys were always the smartest fucks in school.”

    Kenneth grinned, then leaned forward, closing the distance between them. “What about you?”

    “I’m fine.”

    “Fine? What a bullshit word. Are you dating anyone?”

    “No.”

    “No?”

    “What? I’m playing the—”

    “Don’t bullshit me, Cody. Charlie told me what your parents said. How you’ve been isolating yourself, and the last time they knew you to go out with someone, you got shit faced drunk.”

    “That’s an exaggeration.”

    “Is it?”

    Cody felt like he couldn’t breathe. Kenneth seemed able to see him like no one else.

    “What do you want me to say?”

    “Do you know what my major is?” said Kenneth, changing the subject.

    “Something to do with computers.”

    “I’m focusing on Software developer but with an eye on data scientists.”

    “Data scientists?”

    “I’ve been doing side work for a few companies,” said Kenneth, then he laughed. “Did you know Charlie, Simon, and I have been doing side projects for over a year?”

    “No. Charlie never mentioned it.”

    “We found some businesses in the region that wanted to update their systems, and we got them to let us do it, doing it cheaper than any company would do it, and a hell of a lot better too.”

    “And you guys are still doing this?”

    “Yes, but with larger and larger companies. Did you know Charlie didn’t come home right after the term ended because he was needed in Atlanta?”

    “No, he said he was going to hang out with a friend for a few days.”

    “That liar,” Kenneth replied.

    “So, why tell me this?”

    “Because we want to have our own company and are looking to get established as fast as we can after we graduate.”

    “And…”

    “Right now, we have a customer base that is about a hundred fifty-mile radius of here and we’re thinking of staying in the area instead of going west to compete with established companies. We can keep expanding here in the southeast and live somewhere in the region. There are airports not too far away for when we need to travel, but a lot of what we do can be done online.”

    Cody began to see what Kenneth was getting at. “You may work from…you may live here?”

    “Yes. Charlie and Simon said they wanted to stay in the region too.”

    “Simon? I figured he would go where Percy goes.”

    Kenneth smiled. “You saw it too. I think Percy will go where Simon goes.”

    “What about Tony?”

    “Tony is the free bird amongst us. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t end up in Europe or Japan.”

    “Wow.”

    “But Cody, does this make you look at me differently?”

    Cody sat back feeling the possibilities unfold before him. “Yes,” he replied.

     

     

    “Whatever It Takes” by Imagine Dragons played through the house. Shirts lay on the floor of the hall. Inside Cody’s bedroom the rest of their clothes lay scattered across the floor. Cody lay on his back, legs wrapped around the narrow waist as the ass moved up and down pumping cock into his depths. He clung to Kenneth, held the sweaty body against his own, relishing the feel of their fuck, the fullness of the penetration, and how Kenneth could fuck so gently after the physicality of their first fuck.

    “Fuck…fuck me,” Cody said breathlessly.

    Kenneth kissed the neck, then up to the ear, tonguing its curvature making Cody shudder. Cody moaned and Kenneth kissed him on the lips. It was the first time for Cody to be so intimate with another man, and he kissed Kenneth back hungrily.

    “Thunder”, another Imagine Dragons’ song, came on, and Kenneth continued to fuck Cody, to push into his depths relentlessly. Cody felt the way the body undulated against his own, pushing and rubbing and sliding over his slick skin. He tilted his head back and felt the lips move down his neck.

    Kenneth rose to his knees and guided Cody to roll to his hands and knees. Cody held his head down and moaned as Kenneth penetrated him again, sank all the way into his ass, pressing hips against it. Then Kenneth fucked, worked cock inside him making his own swing between his thighs. A hand took it, stroked it, making Cody shiver.

    “Please don’t push me away,” said Kenneth.

    “No…not anymore,” Cody uttered.

    Cody felt it, the surge of imminent release. His toes curled and he was pushing back trying to increase Kenneth’s penetration. Then he came, cock spurting wad after wad as the hand stroked it.

    “Kenneth! Please,” Cody exclaimed, too sensitive for further stimulation of his cock, and Kenneth held his waist and fucked. Fucked with an urgency, a primitive need for release.

    “Cody!” Kenneth cried out as he shoved into him and came.

     

    Six Years Later

    Kenneth navigated through the parking area, just a graveled area above the heavy timber barn built not for any farming operation. It was built for special events, mostly weddings in the rural area. It sat four miles south of the town and had people come from a large part of the region. They parked next to the Rivian that belonged to Simon and Percy and climbed out. They entered the large main hall, the one that ran down the middle of the barn and moved down the aisle decorated with white flowers.

    Near the front they slipped into the row of chairs behind Cody’s parents and siblings, all except Charlie. It was Charlie’s wedding day, marrying the woman he met in his sophomore year. Cody saw the looks; some still not used to seeing him with Kenneth. It made him smile, devilishly, thinking most of the guys judging them were probably jealous.

    “Cody, I like that coat,” Cody’s mother said.

    “Thanks. Kenneth got it for me.”

    “I knew you didn’t pick it out,” she joked.

    The woman marrying Charlie and Ava came to the front of the hall and music began, bringing everyone to silence. Kenneth took Cody’s hand and leaned over. “When are you going to ask me to marry you?”

    Charlie’s sisters stifled a laugh and Christopher turned and smiled at Kenneth. “You know you’ll have to do the asking.”

    “Then I’ll ask,” Kenneth replied, making Cody smile.


    To get in touch with the author, send them an email.


  • A Camping Trip with My Husband & My Brother

    This is all fiction and this story has incest & piss features so if you think you’ll feel please don’t read this story. Also, English is not my first language, so… sorry for mistakes. 


    Well, before starting my story I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Connor, a 20 year old college student. Even though my body is not all muscular I do work out from time to time. I’m not a tall person- like, 1.80cm-ish. My boyfriend is Jack, he is23 and he like a huge muscle-bear and we have been together for 3 years. He is 1.92cm, and has a huge muscular body with a little bit of fat. He is like covered in fur, which I love a lot to be honest. His dick is 18cm, thick. I always have a hard time taking it but that’s the fun part for me, the challenge. Last but not least, my brother, Lucas. He turned 18 a few months ago and he was gonna start college a week later. He is “the twink”. He is short, hairless, and skinny, though he always claimed that he is straight. He was a shy kid and never had a girlfriend before but we believed him as there is no reason for him to hide himself. Even though he is a shy kid, he was always close to Jack and that made me happy. I was happy to see my brother getting along with my boyfriend. So, to congratulate him for college we decided to take him camping. He loves nature, and we needed a break from the city, and he accepted. As my parents know my boyfriend well, there was no issue with this. We had only one tent, so we were all gonna sleep in that but it was fine with us.When the day came, Jack came to our house. He looked ready for camping. To be honest, this was my first time so I left everything to Jack, he handled it all. I brought a lube in case we needed it and it was full, so we could have fun freely when Lucas swims. Normally, according to plan Jack was gonna drive the car, but he told me that he is really sleepy so I agreed to ride the car. He sit right behind me so I couldn’t see him but it was OK, I needed to focus on the road. I was hoping that I could talk with my brother, but Lucas told that he is sleepy too so he sat back. Luckily, the drive was not long, like two hours maybe. When I looked back, I saw that Lucas was lying and I couldn’t see his face. I guessed that he put his head on Jack’s lap. I was fine with it though, he was my little brother after all. 

     

    After like 15 minutes I thought the smell got kinda changed. I could’ve sworn that it smelled like cum, it was like… a nice smell to me. When my boyfriend cums in his boxers and makes me smell it after, that’s how the smell was. I thought maybe one of them scratched their crotch and the reason for the smell is that but I still looked back again. My boyfriend was sleeping but I couldn’t see his lap though I saw that Lucas had a boner but I try to focus on the road again. It was empty but I couldn’t take any risks. After like 10 minutes, I heard panting noises. I checked Jack again. His eyes were closed but he was smiling. I thought about some things but I didn’t want to believe so I focused on the road again. Only half an hour was left. When we arrived, I woke them up and it was like nothing happened, so I thought I maybe dreamed the voice. We found a nice spot next to the river and Jack told us that he can handle the tent, but we need to find wood and sticks for fire to cook marshmallows at night. Lucas and I started searching for wood. We weren’t really far from the river but I lost Lucas for a few minutes. I panicked but before shouting for him I saw him hiding behind a tree. Jack was pissing in the river and Lucas was watching him. I got shocked and couldn’t move for a while, but before Jack was done he looked to our way and I immediately hide. I didn’t know how to act or speak. My brother was watching my boyfriend piss! That was not all. When Jack saw Lucas, he made a sign for Lucas to come, and he did! Lucas went next to Jack and my boyfriend pushed his head, making him sit on the ground. I was still hiding behind a tree, watching them secretly. He told Lucas something. I couldn’t hear but I saw his mouth moving, and after Lucas opened his mouth, and Jack started pissing in my brother’s mouth. I couldn’t believe my eyes. When Jack was nearly done peeing, Lucas stared sucking Jack’s dick and Jack pushed Lucas’s head all the way to his pubes. As I like him hairy, he hasn’t shaved for months and it was like a forest there. “So… that was the smell in the car” I thought. Lucas must’ve sucked his cock in the car too, while he was sleeping. I saw Lucas closing his eyes. He was sniffing my boyfriend’s pubic hair while jerking off to himself. This must made my boyfriend hornier because he stared face-fucking my brother, making his eyes watery. I could hear Jack’s huge saggy balls hitting my little brother’s face. While watching them in shock, I realized that my dick has never been this hard. I wanted to jerk off so bad but when I was gonna start Jack started to cum in Lucas’ mouth. Lucas got up and Jack smacked his ass and said something. I went back in the forest as I didn’t want to get caught but I could never forget what I saw. A few minutes later Lucas came to me and I asked him why his eyes were red like he cried, and he told me that he accidentally swallowed his saliva so he started coughing a lot. I acted like I believed him I knew the real reason is my dear boyfriend fucked my little brother’s mouth. We went back to the tent with what we’ve collected. I saw Jack and he hugged and kissed me, saying that he loves me a lot. I believe him, but I also know that he wants other asses and mouths to fuck. We sat next to the river and talked a bit. Lucas was very excited for college and we were there to support him. The problem was, whenever I looked at my brother I always saw him like he’s sucking my boyfriend’s cock. I hoped that it would pass, because I don’t know how I could talk about this to anyone. Jack and Lucas wanted to get in the water but I was not in the mood, so I told them I was gonna read a book. They told me it’s fine and they went to the river. It was kinda shallow so I can see them standing in the water. I tried to forget what I saw and read the book but after a few minutes, it looks like I fell asleep. When I woke up, I couldn’t see neither Lucas nor Jack. I knew something was happening. I quietly went back to our tent and on the way I saw Lucas getting out of the tent. It looks like they fucked. I said “Hey” to Lucas and acted like I didn’t know about anything. He told me that he needs to pee and I said fine and went to the tent. The smell was there, I know they fucked. Jack was shocked but he already wore his clothes back. I told him that I was really horny and I needed to suck his cock. He told me that he is not in the mood but I didn’t care. I started kissing his neck and he got hard immediately. He told me that I need to deserve his cock and he raised his arms. He wasn’t wearing anything except for his shorts so when he raised his arms, I saw his hairy and sweaty armpits. I started sniffing his hairy armpits while playing with his cock over his shorts. I felt his cock directly, he wasn’t wearing any boxers. I raised my head to suck his cock but he pushed my face into his sweaty armpits and ordered me to lick. I started licking his armpits and started playing my cock too. Then when I was gonna suck his cock he told me to stop and asked what if Lucas comes back and I said him that I’ll only lick for a few minutes. Before he replies I took his shorts off and started sucking his hairy cock. I was right. Before I came, he came to my brother. The taste, the smell, I knew it all. I told him that his cock is really delicious and then we heard my brother. He was taking a video for his friend so we went outside too. We sat and talked a bit more and ate marshmallows. This trip was only for a day, so we went to sleep early because we wanted to wake up early and take a walk in nature. When we slept, my brother said that it was cold as we were really close to the river, and he wanted to sleep between us. I saw Jack smile and I immediately knew that they were gonna fuck tonight. So… I did what everyone would do, I accepted it. When we went to bed, I acted like I was sleeping like 10 minutes later. I heard a sound, it was the lube’s sound, and then Jack said “Are you ready?” and all I heard was a silent moan. I was facing my brother but I couldn’t open my face. After like a minute I saw Jack getting faster. I was really impressed, like, how can my lil’ “so called straight” bro could take my boyfriend’s huge cock? I mean, even I have hard times getting used to it. I wonder how many times they’ve fucked today. I tried to take a peek by opening only one of my eyes and saw that my brother’s eyes were closed with pleasure and my boyfriend put his hands into my bro’s mouth. He was getting fucked while sucking my boyfriend’s fingers. I got so hard. While laying next to me, my boyfriend was destroying my brother’s hole. Lucas raised his legs so Jack could fuck him faster and easier. Lucas’ cock was hard too and he started to jerk off. Jack fucked Lucas for 10 minutes and all I can do was trying to take a peek with one eye open. When Jack was close he whispered that he was close so I started with playing with my own cock, hoping that they don’t see it under the spread. I opened my eyes one last time before cumming to my hand and saw that Jack was choking Lucas with each thrust, and Lucas was jerking off as fast as possible, it was clear that he liked it. Jack was using my brother like a sex toy. They both came at the same time, and Lucas’ cum even came to my face. I hope that he didn’t see it because I wanted to taste my brother’s cum. I came to my shorts and with one last peak, I saw my boyfriend taking the cum from Lucas’ destroyed asshole and made Lucas eat his cum. He sucked my boyfriend’s cum covered fingers. After a few minutes I saw Jack snoring so I turned my back and licked my brother’s cum – it was tasty. 

     

    In the morning, everything was “normal”. It looks like neither of them saw me jerking off to them. I woke up last, so I was pretty sure something happened again. When I brought the lube, I thought Jack & I were gonna fuck. I didn’t know that my boyfriend would fuck my brother. Anyway, we changed and decided to take a walk before returning home. When we were walking the two of them told me that they needed to piss, and I knew something was gonna happen again. And something happened again. I watched them go to the river again, but this time my brother bent over, and my boyfriend took his dick, put it inside my brother. I didn’t expect them to fuck as they don’t have much time, but Jack didn’t push his dick all the way. He only put the tip and his eyes were rolled with pleasure. I understood that he was pissing in my brother’s hole. After a few seconds my boyfriend slapped Lucas’ ass and Lucas squatted. He sucked Jack’s cock’s tip and started squirting the piss. When he was done, he got up and I went back to the road as fast as possible. We walked for an hour and decided to turn back.Jack, again handled the tent and we handled the cleaning. On the way home, I told them that I was tired and sat on the back. I laid and acted like I was sleeping again. Not much, a few minutes later I heard sucking noises. I opened my eyes and saw that Lucas was sucking Jack’s cock again. A few minutes later Jack moaned and cum. He panicked thinking that I would wake up but I acted like I didn’t hear it. When we arrived home, Jack woke me up by kissing. He told me had so much fun and hugged us, but I could swear that I saw him grabbing Lucas’ ass. After this trip, we haven’t made a new plan though. And lube? It was empty… We are really cool and thinking about moving together with Jack, but he still doesn’t know that I know he fucked my brother. Maybe I should get revenge by getting fucked by his best friend, who knows?

  • The Farm Worker

    My name is Paul. I’m a bit thick, but with a well-built, stocky frame. 5’9″, curly fair hair and blue eyes. I developed young, and was the envy of many school buddies. My evenings from about 13 were spent masturbating, and still have my favourite wank pants, now yellow from countless loads. I’ve always been proud of my body, and work at keeping in shape. I wouldn’t have described myself as gay, but girls never did it for me, even though I lost my virginity to one at a school dance.  

    I was shit at school, leaving with few qualifications, (which I now bitterly regret) and little job prospects. For a couple of years, I drifted from one crappy job to another, usually getting fired for poor attendance, or being rude to customers, I’m not a ‘people person’.

    I had just turned 18, and saw an advert in the local paper for a farm hand, live-in. I saw this as a great opportunity to get away from home, dad was always picking on me for being ‘a useless waster’. I applied and went for an interview, in a farmhouse down a long gravel drive. The farm was owned by a Harry, a man in his 50s, already looking older from a lifetime working outside. His wife had died in childbirth, when the last of their three sons were born, and he was now the same age as me. Harry explained that it would be hard work for little money, but all meals were provided, and I could share a bedroom with Jack, who was my age. George, 23, and Jimmy, 25 also shared a room. I saw this as the perfect opportunity to start afresh and prove my wanker of a dad wrong. We shook hands, and I said I could start in aa week’s time. I spent the week sorting out enough clothes, and mum dropped me off Sunday evening, a week later.

    The family couldn’t have been more welcoming, saying how difficult it had been to manage, and another pair of hands would tip the balance. I was shown to my room, a double bed that I would have to share with Jack. The first thing I noticed about the family, was how strong they were, with broad chests and huge biceps. It never occurred to me that  may have a liking for men, but these were proper men, built like brick shit houses. Jack had a round face, with stubble and kind eyes. George and Jimmy had bigger beards, as did Harry. I don’t suppose there’s much point in being clean shaven, when there’s no one else around. We spent the evening chatting and getting to know each other, by bedtime they felt like old friends. 

    I used the bathroom and slipped into bed, leaving my boxers on. Jack wandered in, bollock naked, a fat, uncut penis flopping from side to side, and snuggled in beside me. “It’s nice having someone to share with, I get lonely by my own”, he whispered, and put his arm around me, spooning. Surprisingly, my dick reacted. I tried to put it out of my mind, but the more I did so, the harder it got. Jack kissed me on the back of the neck, and I could feel his hardness up my crack, but it felt so natural. From another bedroom, I heard groaning, what I first took to be someone being ill, but then realised they were having sex. Perhaps a girl had come. Jack ignored it, and started to rub my abs and tweak my nipples. My cock got harder. My brain was telling me to stop, but when he put his hand on my dick through the flimsy cotton. I gave in. I turned to face him. In the near darkness, I saw his smiling eyes, with an urgency in them that I didn’t understand. Our lips met. I knew what I wanted. I slid my boxers off, glad to release my dick, and we rubbed our bodies together. Our kissing became more passionate. He kissed my neck, then my nipples, working his way down the bed, until he engulfed my cock, the first time anyone had done that. I couldn’t stop myself from exploding in his mouth. He came back up the bed and we kissed again my semen swapping into my mouth. “Wank me”, he pleaded, so I put my head on his tummy and tossed him. 6 or 7 jets hit me in the face. Next door, it sounded like murder was being committed as someone was getting fucked to death. We fell asleep in each other’s arms. 

    We were up next morning at 5.30, showered, breakfast, and out. Jack was going to teach me to drive the tractor. The others went off to feed the livestock and milk the cows. I got the hang of driving quite quickly, and we set off down a country lane. The air was crisp as the sun crept over the horizon. We came to a barn, where I practiced lifting bales and moving them with the tractor. I’d been concentrating so hard, I hadn’t noticed Jack stroking my thigh, and slipping his dick out of his flies, and it hadn’t occurred to me that Jack didn’t use underwear. I glanced down and pearls of precum were on his piss slit. I turned the engine off, and we kissed again. Climbing down from the cab, he led me behind a load of bales, where he kissed me, unbuttoning my shirt and jeans as he did so. I knew what he wanted to do, and I felt powerless to stop him, in fact I desperately wanted it. We lay in the hay, kissing and making out. Our jeans dropped round our ankles. He slid down my body and sucked me. This time I controlled myself. He turned me over and pulling my cheeks apart, ran his tongue up and down my crack, finishing on my ring, a sensation I had never known. All I could say was “Please be gentle”. A wet finger replaced the tongue and it wormed its way inside me. Two fingers went in and I thought I would explode. I tried to relax, and steadied myself for what I knew was coming. His cockhead was on my entrance. He held my hips and pushed gently, my ring gave way and he was inside me. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would, and he started humping. I tossed myself in time with him, slowly building up speed. “I’m gonna cum”, he shouted and my virginity was gone. I squirted over the hay. We gathered ourselves up and headed back to the farm in time for lunch, home made soup. During the afternoon, I learned to drive the fork lift. Tomorrow, the work would start. 

    We spent the evening watching TV and had a few beers, but it was early to bed and early starts, by 9 pm we were in bed. I dispensed with the boxers, preferring the feel of skin on skin. We kissed again. Quietly, he asked if I’d like to fuck him. I didn’t need asking twice, and copied what he did to me earlier. He held his legs apart, and I mounted him. We kissed and fucked for half an hour before we came together. We slept soundly in a sticky mess.

    From the next bedroom, the sound of love-making was coming again. I asked Jack, nonchalantly, he replied that George and Jimmy often fuck, and sometimes dad joins in as well. I felt my dick stir again, even though I’d only just cum.  

  • The Black Horse

    The road was deserted and pitch black. Not a single light anywhere, and I was pushing my motorbike along the road with a puncture, hoping to find somewhere to stop for assistance. Then I saw a light in the distance. It was a pub called “The Black Horse”.

    Pushing the bike towards it, I found the car park empty except for one car. I leaned the bike on the stand and tried to go inside, but realised it had closed for the night, and so, frustration piling on me, I sat on the bench in the beer garden and rolled a cigarette.

    The tobacco crackled softly as I packed it tight. The flame from my lighter flared, illuminating my hands for a second before settling into a steady glow. Leaning back against the cold wood, I became absorbed by my own company, the rhythmic drag of smoke, the distant hoot of an owl, the vast emptiness pressing in from all sides. This solitude felt strangely comforting after the panic of being stranded.

    A crunch of gravel broke the silence. I looked up. A man stood at the edge of the beer garden, silhouetted against the dim light leaking from a back window of the pub. He was probably in his forties, solidly built, wearing worn jeans and a thick jumper. “A bit late to be admiring the view,” he said finally, his voice a low rumble. It wasn’t hostile; it was just matter-of-fact.

    I froze mid-drag, the cigarette tip glowing fiercely. “Sorry,” I stammered, smoke escaping my lips. “Got a puncture. The bike’s dead and I saw the light…” My voice trailed off, suddenly acutely aware of how exposed I looked.

    I was wearing a thin cotton tank top, which felt flimsy against the night, but it wasn’t chilly. It was one of those warm English nights that we occasionally got to enjoy. My shorts offered zero protection for riding a motorbike, but I was young and didn’t feel the cold like my parents.

    Likewise, my trainers seemed ridiculously inadequate for the journey, but I didn’t care as the memory of the crowded, sweaty party I’d left hours ago felt like it belonged to another lifetime entirely.

    The stranger shifted his weight, boots grinding on the gravel. “I see,” he said, his tone flat. “I assume you’ve arranged recovery? AA or someone?” He gestured vaguely towards the darkened road with a calloused hand.

    I crushed the cigarette butt under my trainer, the ember dying instantly. “Actually,” I mumbled, wiping grit from my palms onto my shorts, “I don’t have a membership in anything that can assist.” The admission tasted sour. “I don’t suppose you have a phone I could use?”

    The request felt huge, echoing in the quiet garden. “Just to call my dad? He’s got a van and we only live 15 miles away.” My voice sounded thin, pleading, even to my own ears.

    The man took a slow step forward, emerging from the deep shadow. Moonlight caught the lines around his eyes, etched deep like dry riverbeds. He studied me, his gaze lingering on my worn trainers, the thin tank top clinging to my shoulders. “Tell you what, young man,” he said, the low rumble softening almost imperceptibly. “I can help. But it might cost you. Do you have any money?”

    I felt my face flush hot despite the cool night air. My fingers instinctively brushed the empty pocket of my shorts. “No,” I confessed, the word scraping out. “I’ve got nothing. Not a penny.”

    The man chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. He stepped fully into the dim light leaking from the pub’s back window. His eyes, sharp and assessing, travelled slowly down my thin tank top, lingered on the frayed hem of my shorts, and settled on my worn trainers. “You look like you’ve been to one of those gay parties they hold down the road a few miles,” he stated, his voice flat, devoid of judgment but heavy with implication.

    “You one of those shirt lifters, boy?

    I froze, the warmth of the night suddenly turning cold against my skin. My mind raced back to the crowded, sweaty house party I’d fled hours earlier, the pulsing music, the laughter, the fleeting touches. Had it been that obvious? Or was he just fishing? Panic tightened my throat. “I… I was at a party,” I stammered, avoiding the specifics. “Just left early, and we don’t say shirt lifters these days. It’s not very PC, you know.”

    The man nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t do woke nonsense, boy and, well, since you’ve got no money, perhaps you can pay me in kind.”

    “What do you want me to do?” I asked.

    The man chuckled again, low and rough like stones tumbling in a barrel. “Have you ever heard the saying, ‘give the shirt off your back’?” His gaze slid pointedly to my thin tank top. “Seems fitting.” He gestured towards the darkened pub. “I run this place on my own, and sometimes, it’s very lonely.

    I stared blankly, my eighteen-year-old mind scrambling. Was he asking for my clothes? That made no sense; they were worthless, soaked in sweat and roadside dust. Maybe he needed rags for cleaning? The thought felt absurd, but exhaustion and desperation clouded my judgment. “My… shirt?” I echoed, confusion tightening my voice. “It’s just an old tank top.” I tugged self-consciously at the damp cotton clinging to my chest.

    The landlord’s chuckle deepened, a sound like gravel shifting. “Not just the shirt, lad.” His eyes held mine, unblinking. “The saying. You understand the meaning, don’t you? Giving everything you have.” He paused, letting the implication hang heavy in the warm night air. “When someone helps you out, you offer what you can.” His gaze drifted pointedly down my body again, lingering on the bare skin of my legs below my shorts. “Seems you’ve got something I might find… diverting. For a little while.” A slow, deliberate smile touched his lips, devoid of warmth. “Helps with the loneliness, you know.”

    My breath hitched. The implication slammed into me with brutal clarity. “You want me to….”

    “If you want to get home,” he responded. “It’s not every day I meet someone as handsome as you, and so, my offer is, you strip off and show me a good time, and I will run you and your motorbike home.”

    His words hung in the air, thick and suffocating. My throat tightened. Eighteen years old, stranded, facing a choice that wasn’t a choice at all.

    “I’ve never been with a guy your age. I’ve only been with mates my age.”

    The landlord shrugged, his gaze unwavering. “First time for everything, lad.” As he stepped closer, the scent of stale beer and tobacco clung to him. “The offer stands, or you walk away now, your choice.”

    “I don’t even know you,” I told him.

    “You know enough,” he replied. “My name’s Bill. I pour pints here six nights a week.” He took another step closer, his shadow swallowing mine. “And you’re stranded. Choices are simple tonight, lad. Strip or walk.”

    My palms slicked against my thighs. The warm air felt suddenly thick, pressing against my bare arms like damp cloth. Bill’s eyes, hard, assessing, scraped over me. I imagined calloused hands gripping too tight, teeth breaking skin, the kind of rough handling I’d heard whispered about in locker rooms. The kind that left bruises shaped like fingerprints. My throat clicked dryly as I swallowed.

    “You’re not one of those rough guys, are you?” I demanded.

    Bill’s smile vanished. His eyes narrowed into slits. “Rough?” The word came out sharp as broken glass. “You think I’m some back-alley thug?” He took another step, looming over me now. The pub light caught his face fully, revealing a jagged scar running from temple to jawline. “I run a business. I offer fair trade.” His calloused hand shot out, gripping my wrist. Not painfully, but with terrifying finality. “Decide. Now. But in answer to your question, I have never been rough with anyone unless they liked it.”

    I flinched, the grip cold and unyielding. Resignation washed over me, thick and cold. “Fine,” I breathed, the word tasting like ash. “What do you like to do, Bill?” My voice was flat, stripped bare. “Just… tell me what you want.”

    Bill released my wrist. His expression didn’t soften, but the predatory glint sharpened. “Lie back,” he commanded, nodding towards the wooden bench. “On your back. Arms above your head.”

    The cold wood pressed through the thin cotton of my tank top as I obeyed, the rough grain catching on the fabric as Bill stood at the end of the bench.

    His calloused hand slid slowly beneath the hem of my top, palm rough against my stomach. I flinched at the sudden, intimate contact, the warmth of his skin a shocking contrast to the cool night air. His fingers explored upwards, tracing ribs I could feel too sharply, pushing the thin cotton higher until it bunched under my armpits, exposing my chest completely.

    “Beautiful, quite beautiful,” I heard him say as his fingers explored my nipples, my body enjoying his tender touch. Perhaps I was going to enjoy this after all, I said to myself.

    His hands travelled down my torso, fingers tracing the faint ridges of my abdomen before settling at the waistband of my shorts. The button popped open with a soft snick, the sound unnervingly loud in the stillness. His knuckles brushed against my hip bone as he worked the zip down, the metal teeth parting slowly.

    Cool air rushed against my exposed skin below my navel, making me shiver despite the warm night. I kept my arms rigidly above my head, fingers digging into the splintered wood of the bench, staring fixedly at the black canvas of sky pinpricked with indifferent stars.

    His breath hitched slightly, a low, appreciative hum vibrating in his chest as he peeled the shorts down over my hips. The rough denim scraped against my thighs before pooling around my ankles as he pulled my trainers off, along with the shorts.

    The cool night air washed over me, leaving me clad only in thin cotton Y-fronts. The sudden exposure made my skin prickle.

    Before I could react, Bill buried his face against my groin. The coarse stubble of his jaw rasped against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs through the thin cotton. His mouth was hot, shockingly so, as he sucked firmly, the material clinging tightly, outlining everything. The sensation was intense, immediate, a wet, insistent pressure enveloping my balls and the hardening length trapped beneath the fabric.

    Bill pulled back slightly, his breath hot against the damp patch he’d created. He chuckled, low and dark. “You don’t have skid marks in those Y-fronts of yours?” he asked, his voice thick with amusement and something darker.

    “Not that I’m aware,” I answer honestly. “I keep myself clean. Nothing worse than skid marks to ruin the moment,” I clarified.

    His fingers hooked into the waistband, pulling the elastic taut against my hipbones. “Wouldn’t be the first lad I’ve seen with skid marks on his underwear. Perhaps I should have a closer look.”

    He leaned in again, inhaling deeply against the fabric covering my crotch. “Smells clean enough… just sweat and damp. Are you leaking, boy?”

    His tongue pressed hard against the cotton, tracing the outline of my cockhead through the damp material. The friction was maddening, amplified by the wet heat of his mouth as my fingers clawed at the splintered wood above my head.

    “Probably,” I said. “I tend to leak loads when I’m hard.”

    Bill chuckled, the vibration humming through the thin cotton against my skin. “Good lad, that’s the way I like it”, he murmured.

    His fingers dug into the elastic waistband, peeling the Y-fronts down my hips. Cool air rushed over my exposed cock, already slick and straining as I now lay naked on the bench, my Y-Fronts caught around my knees.

    The old man didn’t hesitate. His mouth engulfed me, hot, wet, and shockingly skilled. His tongue swirled around the head, then slid down the shaft with deliberate pressure. I gasped, arching off the bench, fingers scrabbling against the rough wood. The sensation was overwhelming, too much, too fast, but I didn’t want it to stop.

    He knew exactly what he was doing. His hands pinned my hips firmly to the bench while his head bobbed rhythmically, taking me deep. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation, just practised, relentless efficiency.

    My resistance dissolved. My arms fell limply above my head, my legs spread wider, surrendering completely to the sheer intensity of his ministrations. He owned this moment, and I was just along for the ride, gasping and trembling beneath him.

    “Christ, lad,” Bill murmured, pulling off my cock for a breath, his lips slick. “You taste better than I expected.”

    He spat onto his palm, slicked his hand, and wrapped it firmly around my shaft, pumping slowly while his thumb rubbed circles over the leaking tip. “You like that?” It wasn’t really a question. His other hand slid beneath me, rough fingers kneading my arse cheek. “Bet you’d like it more without these,” as he tugged at the Y-fronts still bunched at my knees, dropping them onto the dirty ground by his feet.

    His calloused palm slid back beneath me, fingers probing firmly between my cheeks. I froze, a jolt of panic slicing through the haze of pleasure. “Bill… I…”

    “Relax,” he commanded, his voice thick. His spit-slicked finger pressed insistently against my hole. “Just relax.” He leaned down again, his mouth reclaiming my cock with renewed hunger, sucking hard, deep. The dual sensation, the wet heat pulling me in, the blunt pressure pushing there, short-circuited my thoughts.

    A ragged moan tore from my throat as his finger breached me, rough and sudden. It burned, a sharp, intrusive sting, but Bill didn’t pause. He worked it shallowly, in time with the sucking rhythm, while his other hand kept pumping my shaft. The pain blurred with the overwhelming pleasure radiating from my cock, creating a dizzying, confusing cocktail of sensation. My hips bucked wildly, trapped between his hands, surrendering utterly to the invasion and the ecstasy.

    He pulled his mouth off with a wet pop, leaving me gasping. “Good boy,” he rasped, his voice thick with exertion. His finger inside me curled, probing deeper. “Tight. Very tight.” He spat again, slicking a second finger. “But we’ll loosen you up.”

    The blunt pressure intensified, stretching, burning. I cried out, a raw sound swallowed by the vast night. He leaned close, his breath hot on my ear. “You wanted help, didn’t you? This is the price. Take it.”

    His fingers pushed deeper, relentless. The pain was a white-hot spike, but beneath it, a terrifying, unwanted spark of something else flickered, a deep, shameful pulse of pleasure coiling low in my gut.

    His thumb found my perineum, pressing hard as his fingers twisted inside me. My cock, impossibly, throbbed harder, leaking onto my stomach. He chuckled, low and dark. “See? Your body knows what it needs.” He began scissoring his fingers slowly, stretching me wider. The burn was excruciating, yet the rhythmic pressure against that hidden spot sent jolts through my core. My legs trembled violently, spread wide. He was right. My treacherous body was responding, arching into the violation, seeking more of that sickening, shameful friction.

    Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers with a slick sound. The abrupt emptiness was almost worse. Before I could gasp, his weight shifted. The rough denim of his jeans scraped against my inner thighs as he knelt between my legs.

    I heard the rasp of a zip, the rustle of fabric. My eyes flew open. Moonlight glinted off his thick, heavy cock, already slick and hard as his jeans and underwear were slipped down towards his thighs.

    He spat into his palm, slicking himself with brutal efficiency. “Deep breath, lad,” he grunted, positioning himself.

    The blunt, swollen head pressed against me, impossibly large. Panic surged. “Bill, wait”, I choked out, but his hand clamped over my mouth, silencing me. His other hand gripped my hip, fingers digging in like iron. He pushed.

    The tearing pain was blinding. A strangled scream tore from my throat against his palm. He didn’t stop. He pushed harder, grunting with effort, burying himself to the hilt after pushing a few times.

    The stretch was unbearable, a fire consuming me from the inside. Tears streamed down my temples. He held himself there, buried deep, his breath ragged against my ear. “There. All in.”

    He shifted his weight, grinding his hips. The movement sent fresh waves of agony through me. “Tighter than a virgin,” he rasped, a cruel amusement in his tone. “But you’ll loosen up. You’ll learn to take it.” He began to move, slow, deliberate thrusts that felt like being split apart. Each withdrawal was a relief, each invasion a fresh torment. My body was rigid, locked in shock and pain, the unwanted pleasure utterly drowned out.

    He settled into a rhythm, heavy and relentless. The rough wood of the bench scraped my back raw with each thrust. His calloused hand remained clamped over my mouth, muffling my choked gasps and whimpers. The other hand gripped my hip, his fingers like steel bands, holding me pinned, forcing me to take his full weight and length. His breath was hot and sour against my neck, smelling of stale beer and tobacco. The night air felt cold on my exposed skin, a stark contrast to the burning heat inside me.

    Distantly, the owl hooted again, a lonely sound that mocked my utter helplessness. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t trying to be. This was payment. Extraction. His hips pistoned, driving deep, forcing my body to accommodate him. Tears blurred my vision, mixing with sweat on my face. The pain was a constant, grinding presence, centred deep in my core.

    He grunted with each thrust, a low, animal sound of exertion and satisfaction. “That’s it, lad,” he panted, his voice rough. “Take it. Take what you owe.” His pace quickened slightly, the friction intensifying the raw, burning ache. My fingernails dug into the wood above my head, splinters embedding themselves in my skin. There was no escape. Only the relentless rhythm of his body claims its price.

    His hand left my mouth, sliding down to grip my throat, not squeezing, just holding. Possessing. His thumb pressed against my pulse point, feeling its frantic flutter. “Look at me,” he commanded. I forced my eyes open, meeting his. They were dark, intense, and focused solely on his own pleasure. There was no kindness there, only a cold, detached hunger. He leaned closer, his weight crushing my chest. “You’re doing well,” he rasped, though it felt like mockery. “Better than some.”

    He shifted his angle slightly, driving deeper. A fresh wave of agony tore through me, stealing my breath. I cried out, a broken sound. He chuckled, the vibration rumbling through his chest into mine. “Sensitive spot?” he taunted, deliberately grinding against it again. My vision swam. The pain was overwhelming, yet beneath it, a terrifying, involuntary spasm of pleasure clenched deep inside me, betraying my horror. Bill felt it. His eyes gleamed. “There it is,” he hissed. “Your body knows its place.”

    He increased his tempo, pounding into me with renewed force, using my body ruthlessly, chasing his own release. The bench creaked violently under the assault. I squeezed my eyes shut again, biting my lip until I tasted blood, trying to retreat into the darkness behind my eyelids as he took everything he demanded.

    His grip on my throat tightened slightly, his breathing turning ragged and urgent. “Almost there, lad,” he grunted, the words harsh against my ear. “Almost paid in full.” His thrusts became erratic, deeper, harder, each one jolting my entire frame. I braced myself, muscles locked against the invasion, but it was futile. With a final, guttural groan, he slammed deep and held there, shuddering as he emptied himself inside me. The hot rush was a violation that made my stomach churn.

    He collapsed forward, his weight crushing me, his sweat-slick chest pressing against mine. For a few seconds, the only sounds were his ragged breathing and the frantic thud of my own heart. Then he pushed himself up, withdrawing roughly. The sudden emptiness was a different kind of agony, followed by a hot, sticky trickle down my inner thigh. He stood, zipping his jeans with a sharp rasp, his expression unreadable in the gloom. “Right,” he said, his voice flat, businesslike again. “That’s settled.”

    He turned without another word and walked towards the back door of the pub, his boots crunching on the gravel as he pulled his underwear and jeans up. He paused at the door, silhouetted against the dim light. “Bring your bike round the back. I’ll get the van.” The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone in the sudden, echoing silence.

    I lay there trembling, exposed and aching on the rough wood. The cold night air bit at my sweat-damp skin. Slowly, painfully, I pushed myself up, wincing at the raw throb deep inside. My clothes lay discarded on the gravel, but I decided not to get dressed, choosing to remain in my tank top.

    I reached for my Y-Fronts that lay on the ground almost next to my shorts. The tank top felt like a flimsy shield as I tugged it down over my bruised ribs. My trainers were cold and gritty as I shoved my feet into them, but I didn’t put my Y-Fronts and shorts back on, preferring to dribble his seed from my body.

    I looked at my motorbike, leaning forlornly on its stand. Home was fifteen miles away. The thought of sitting on that saddle made me feel sick. But Bill would be back with the van. The deal was done. I took a shaky breath, the taste of blood and salt still on my lips and started pushing the bike towards the back of the pub, each step sending a fresh wave of shame and pain through my battered body. The gravel crunched under my worn trainers, the only sound in the vast, indifferent dark.

    Bill emerged from the back door as I rounded the corner. He’d changed into a grease-stained work shirt, his expression blank as he surveyed me. “Put it in the back,” he grunted, gesturing towards an old, battered transit van with the rear doors already open. The ramp was steep. My arms trembled as I heaved the heavy bike up, every muscle screaming even with Bill’s help.

    “You not getting dressed, boy?” he asked.

    “I’m dribbling cum,” was all I could say as I climbed into the passenger seat.

    Bill grunted, slamming the van door shut. The engine coughed to life, filling the cab with fumes and thick silence. We drove through winding country lanes, the headlights slicing through the darkness. My bare buttocks stuck to the cracked vinyl seat, the rhythmic vibration of the van sending fresh aches through my bruised body. Bill kept his eyes fixed on the road, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

    After several miles, his rough hand suddenly landed on my thigh, making me jump. He didn’t look over. “Sorry,” he muttered, the word thick and unfamiliar. His fingers slid higher, brushing the edge of my tank top where it met bare skin. “Back there. I got a bit… carried away.” His thumb traced a slow circle near my hip bone, a gesture almost tender. “Been a long time since I… well. Too long.”

    I flinched away instinctively. “You hurt me, Bill,” I whispered, staring straight ahead at the dark road. My voice cracked. “It hurt a lot.” The memory of that tearing invasion flooded back. The blinding pain, the crushing weight, the helplessness. Tears welled hot and sudden, spilling over. “I didn’t want it like that.”

    Bill’s hand withdrew slowly. He cleared his throat, the sound rough in the confined space. “I know,” he said, quieter now. “Didn’t mean to… go that hard.” He glanced sideways, his profile harsh in the dashboard glow. “It’s been years since I touched someone like you. Someone… beautiful.” The word sounded strange coming from him, almost awkward. “I got carried away.” He paused, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “I forgot myself.”

    He shifted in his seat, one hand leaving the wheel to dig into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a small tube of lube, half-used. “See?” as he held it up. “I should’ve used it, and I’m sorry, but urgency overtook me, and I forgot myself.”

    He placed the tube on the cracked dashboard between us, a silent offering. “Maybe… maybe next time?” His voice was gruff, hesitant. “If there is a next time. With the lube, I could show you… It doesn’t have to hurt.”

    The words hung in the air, thick with implication. Next time. The thought should have revolted me. The pain, the violation, the sheer terror of being pinned and used. Yet… a treacherous warmth bloomed low in my belly, completely at odds with the raw ache still throbbing deep inside.

    His roughness hadn’t been indifference. It had been hunger. A desperate, consuming need focused entirely on me. He hadn’t just wanted sex; he’d wanted to possess, to dominate, to claim something, and in that perverted, twisted way, it felt… validating. Proof I wasn’t just a quick, forgettable fuck.

    The tube of lube lay between us like a peace offering. He wasn’t apologising for the act, only the pain and roughness. The distinction mattered. He’d taken what he wanted, brutally, but now… now he was offering something else. A promise.

    “Maybe,” I whispered, the word thick in my dry throat. “If you promise.” I swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “Promise it won’t be… like that again, I might come to the pub to say hello.”

    Bill’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, then relaxed. A low sound escaped him, almost a sigh. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice rough but softer than before. “Properly, next time, how it should feel.”

    The van rattled along the narrow lane, hedgerows scraping the sides. His hand returned to my thigh, calloused but gentler now, resting heavy and warm. I didn’t pull away. The heat of his palm seeped into my skin, a strange anchor in the whirlwind of shame and confusion. His seed still trickled down my inner thigh, sticky against the vinyl seat. Each bump in the road sent a dull throb through me, a raw reminder of what he’d taken.

    “Whereabouts?” Bill asked, his voice low. The question felt loaded. Not just directions, but an unspoken line being drawn, back to normalcy, back to before the bench.

    “Maple Drive,” I managed. “Number seventeen.”

    He nodded curtly, his hand tightening slightly on my thigh. We drove the remaining miles in silence, the van’s rattling engine the only sound besides my own shaky breaths. When we finally pulled up outside my darkened house, Bill killed the engine. The sudden quietness felt heavy.

    For a moment, neither of us moved. Then, without a word, Bill climbed out. He walked around to the back of the van, his movements efficient. He lowered the ramp with practised ease. I slid out of the passenger seat, the cold night air biting my exposed skin. Bill stood beside the motorbike, waiting. His gaze lingered on me, bare-legged, shirt clinging damply, his seed still drying on my thighs. He didn’t smile, but his eyes held a new intensity, a quiet possessiveness.

    He gestured silently towards my discarded clothes piled near the ramp. I picked up the Y-Fronts, the cotton stiff and cold. Bill stepped closer. His large, rough hands were surprisingly gentle as he helped guide my trembling legs into the Y-Fronts, his knuckles brushing my sensitive skin. He tugged them up slowly, carefully smoothing the fabric over my hips.

    The motion was almost tender, a stark contrast to the forcefulness earlier. Next came the shorts. He held them open, and I stepped in, wincing as the denim scraped against tender flesh. He pulled them up, buttoned and zipped them with deliberate care, his fingers lingering near the fly for a heartbeat too long.

    “Right,” he murmured, his voice gravelly. “Best get inside, lad,” he said finally. “Before someone wakes.”

    I nodded, unable to meet his eyes. With stiff, aching movements, I pushed the bike down the drive, the wheels crunching on the gravel. As I wheeled the bike towards the garage, I heard the van door slam shut, the engine cough back to life. Headlights swept across the front lawn as he reversed out, then vanished down the deserted street.

    I crept into the house, my family none the wiser, as I fell into bed thinking about what had happened. Had I been raped? No, I decided. Bill just got carried away, and it was then that I decided I liked his roughness to a certain degree and perhaps I could tame him a little, looking for that balance that could work for both of us.


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  • The Anatomy Project

    The doorbell rang right on time. My heart started beating faster, even though I tried to look calm. I opened the door and saw Jake, his hair slightly messy, wearing a sports sweatshirt and sweatpants, as if he had just come back from the gym. He smelled fresh and of deodorant, which I knew all too well.

    “Hey, man. You said it was something important,” he said as he came in.

    “It is important,” I replied, closing the door. “It’s about my anatomy project. If I don’t do it, I won’t pass the semester.”

    He sat down on the couch, looking at me with slight amusement. “So, do you want me to help you study muscles or something?”

    “Not exactly.” I sat down across from him and slid a few pages describing the project toward him to make it look serious. “The topic is the reactions of muscles and the nervous system to stimuli. I need a model on whom I can study tension, movement, breathing… everything in a completely professional manner.”

    He raised his eyebrows. “A model? Sounds like something photographers do, not students. Am I supposed to come here, stand there, and you’ll be writing something down?”

    “Yes, exactly. No photos, just notes,” I assured him calmly. “But there’s one condition. The model has to be… naked.”

    Jake froze, staring at me. “Wait, you mean… completely naked?”

    I nodded slowly. “I know it’s weird. But Jake, seriously, I don’t have anyone else who looks as good as you. Your muscle structure is perfect for this project.”

    He sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. “What if my girlfriend finds out? Dude, she won’t understand that it’s for science.”

    “She’ll never find out,” I said confidently, looking him straight in the eye. “It’s our secret. No one else will know.”

    He was silent for a moment. I could see the struggle going on in his head. Finally, he took a deep breath and nodded.

    “Okay… do whatever you want with me. I trust you.”

    Those words hit me harder than I wanted to show. A green light lit up in my head.

    It was the beginning of a game that I controlled, and Jake had no idea how far I would take it.

    Jake stood in the middle of my living room, slightly tense, his hands in his sweatpants pockets.

    “So… how exactly is this going to work?” he asked, looking at me with slight anxiety.

    I smiled calmly, as if I were talking about something completely ordinary. “First, I need to examine your muscles at rest. We’ll start with the basics: tension, breathing, body reactions. It’s all purely scientific.”

    “Okay…” he nodded, but his eyebrows drew together in a narrow line. “Should I be in my boxer shorts or…?”

    “Preferably naked,” I replied matter-of-factly, as if it were obvious. “The muscles must be fully visible, otherwise the results will not be reliable.”

    I saw his lips part slightly and his gaze shift to the side.

    ”But to make you feel more comfortable…“ I added calmly, ”…I’ll stay in my boxers. This is supposed to be comfortable for you, Jake.”

    His shoulders relaxed slightly, though the tension was still visible. “Seriously, I feel like an idiot,” he muttered, taking off his sweatshirt.

    Then his T-shirt. Each movement revealed more of his perfect body, broad shoulders, chest glistening with sweat after training, six-pack that looked like something out of a poster.

    Finally, he slowly slid off his pants and boxers. He stood before me completely naked, clearly tense, his eyes fixed on the floor.

    Meanwhile, I took off my T-shirt and pants, leaving me in black, tight-fitting boxers.

    “Okay,” I said calmly, picking up my notebook.

    “Stand up straight, legs slightly apart. Breathe normally.”

    I walked up to him and touched his shoulders with my hands. His skin was warm and tense. I moved my hands slowly over his shoulders, chest, and stomach, commenting in a professional tone:

    “Muscles at rest… even tension… steady breathing.”

    Jake was silent, trying to calm down, but I could see him trembling slightly.

    Desire was buzzing in my head, even though on the outside I looked like a calm researcher.

    Every inch of his body begged for more.

    I crouched in front of him with my notebook in hand, but in reality, I was barely focusing on pretending to be professional. Jake stood straight, naked, still slightly tense, and I slowly moved my hands over his thighs. His skin was hot, his muscles tense as strings.

    “Okay… breathe deeply,” I said in a calm, scientific tone. “I want to check your muscles’ reaction to a change in stimulus.”

    My fingers slowly moved higher, toward the inside of his thighs. I could see his body reacting, his muscles trembling with uncontrollable tension. His nipples were clearly hardened on his chest, and his breathing was becoming heavier.

    “Matt…” His voice trembled as I touched places that no one but his girlfriend had ever touched. “This is… a little weird.”

    I looked up at him, keeping my expression perfectly calm. “Relax. It’s a natural bodily reaction to stimulation. Breathe. Don’t think about it.”

    He swallowed, nodded, trying to comply. He stood in front of me, tense, his eyes fixed on the wall, as if trying to pretend it was still just a project.

    My hands moved even higher, almost brushing against his crotch. And then it happened, his cock twitched and within seconds it became rock hard, rising sharply. Jake froze, red as a beet.

    “Fuck…” he hissed, covering himself with his hands. “Matt, I didn’t… it’s not like that, I didn’t mean to…”

    I calmly placed my hand on his wrists and pulled them aside. “Don’t be ashamed. It’s a completely normal physiological reaction. Your body is simply responding to stimuli. It has nothing to do with… anything else.”

    His breathing quickened even more, but he didn’t protest.

    I knew I had just crossed the first boundary, and even if he felt it, he couldn’t back out now.

    I calmly wrote a few words in my notebook, as if everything was under control, while only one thought pulsed in my head:

    Jake is starting to react exactly as I wanted him to.

    I stood right in front of him, and his cock was hard, tense, rising toward my hand as if inviting me. Jake stood motionless, clearly embarrassed, red up to his neck.

    “Matt…” he managed, taking a step back. “I don’t think… we should…”

    I interrupted him in a calm, cool tone. “It’s just science. Now I need to test the maximum response of your nervous and muscular systems. There’s nothing wrong with that, Jake. Your body speaks for itself.”

    He looked at me for a moment, as if searching my face for confirmation that it was true. Finally, he nodded, though his eyes still showed embarrassment.

    I slowly raised my hand and wrapped it around his cock. It was hot, pulsing in time with his racing heart. Jake held his breath and his hips jerked reflexively.

    “Abdominal muscles… tense,” I murmured softly, sliding my hand up and down his hard shaft. “Heart rate spiking… nerve response extremely strong…”

    “Matt… oh, fuck…” he moaned, closing his eyes.

    I quickened my movements, feeling his whole body tremble. His thighs were tense, his toes curled in a helpless spasm, and his head fell back.

    “It’s natural, Jake. Don’t fight it. Let your body respond.” My words were calm, but underneath them lay a desire he couldn’t see.

    A few seconds later, his hips jerked violently, and I felt a hot stream of cum spilling over my hand. Jake let out a loud moan, trembling like after an intense workout, then went still, panting heavily.

    I let him go slowly, reached for my notebook, and wrote down a few seemingly indifferent words. “Reaction recorded. Excellent result.” I looked at him with cool calm. “That’s all for today.”

    Jake sat on the couch, dazed and embarrassed, trying to convince himself that it was still just an experiment.

    And I knew one thing: I had just broken his first barrier.


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  • Sucking Off A Straight Guy

    The morning in the hotel was quiet.  When I came downstairs for breakfast, my former student João, who had arrived in the wee hours of the morning, was already waiting for me in the hotel café, hunched over a cup of espresso, his hoodie sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the ragged burn scars on his arms. His long fingers were cradling a small cup of strong coffee. 

    “Hi, João,” I said. “Morning! I am starving!  What’s for breakfast here besides coffee?”

    He quietly coughed a greeting in return and said:

    “Hi, Mars.  Haven’t looked yet. Let’s go and check out.”

    We walked towards the buffet where an array of sandwiches sat neatly arranged on wooden trays, each labeled in tidy handwriting. There were six options: the tosta mista, two slices of bread toasted to a crunch that overflowed with melted ham and cheese; the sandes de frango with shredded chicken and a dash of piri-piri hot pepper; the prego no pão, a simple steak sandwich oozing flavorful garlic butter; the sandes de atum, a tuna sandwich with olives; the sandes de ovo, an egg salad sandwich with parsley; and the bifana, a marinated pork sandwich with a smear of mustard. 

    João coughed again, helping his voice to come back to life after a long night.

    “I’d j-just take the t-tosta mista… it’s, uh, s-safe,” he said with his familiar stammer. “C-can’t mess it up. And it w-won’t—” He stopped himself, clearing his throat before adding, “—won’t get in the way of c-coffee.” His eyes flicked toward mine, unsure whether I’d approve of his choice. 

    “I trust you,” I said. “The tosta mista it is, then.”

    I made myself a large latte at the coffee station, scooped two ham-and-cheese sandwiches, and we sat down to eat in comfortable silence.  As minutes passed, the café around us started buzzing with the easy morning chatter of many international visitors in town for the festival. The air was filled with the scent of toasted bread and freshly brewed coffee.

    After a while, my silent companion João glanced up. “You just got in, right?”

    “Yeah, flew in from London last night. The hotel’s decent, though the walls are thin. Could hear someone arguing about soccer at midnight.”

    João huffed a quiet laugh.

    “S-sounds s-so Porto,” he said. He then tore off a piece of crust and chewed it thoughtfully. “I took the train from Lisbon.  I live in the suburbs, technically. Not much going on there, so… I figured why not c-come here for a c-c-couple of days?” He shrugged, rubbing a thumb absently over the side of his cup.

    “And where are you staying?” I asked.

    “Got a half-room in the attic of this place,” João said, tearing off another piece of crust. “Not bad—except for the stairs.” 

    “No elevators to the attic?” 

    He smirked. “Nope. Have to take the back stairs. Narrow as hell.” 

    I nodded, taking another sip of my latte. “How’s your throat?” 

    He coughed lightly into his fist. “Managing.” 

    I knew well that Joao had had a bad accident in one of his fire shows last year, and burned his throat badly.  He had three surgeries and now wore a big scarf around his neck to hide an ugly surgical scar.

    We finished our breakfast, watching the steady flow of people coming and going, and I asked about our plans for the day. 

    “Festival stuff later, obviously,” João said, standing up and stretching. “But first, I need to grab a few comics. There’s a second-hand shop not far from here. You’ll like it—feels like the owner has never thrown anything away.” 

    So, we wandered into one of Porto’s quirkiest bookshops, a cramped space overflowing with graphic novels, indie zines, and secondhand comics stacked haphazardly on wooden shelves. João moved around the shop with purpose, flipping through pages of the comics with careful fingers. He picked out a few Portuguese comic books, and then admitted, almost shyly, that he liked to redraw scenes—sometimes changing small details, sometimes adding entirely new panels to twist the story. (“Not… uh, to s-sell or anything. Just… for f-fun.”)

    I had never heard him talk about drawing before, and for a moment, I imagined him hunched over a desk late at night, lost in his own versions of these worlds. I bought a comic for myself, more to remember the meeting than to actually read it later, and João volunteered to carry it.

     From the bookshop, we stepped out into the narrow streets of Porto, the city already humming with the energy of the festival. João tucked his comics and mine under his arm as we walked, weaving past groups of tourists clutching guidebooks and locals chatting by café doors. The air carried sweet aromas of roasted chestnuts, fresh bread, and something faintly metallic from the river. 

    The further we went, the more the festival atmosphere unfolded in front of our eyes. Banners in deep hues of red and gold were draped across balconies, fluttering in the breeze. We met several street musicians along the way—there was an accordion player outside a pastry shop, and further down the street, near a tram stop, there was a trio with guitars and a tambourine. João barely glanced at them, but in the corner of my eye I caught him clicking his fingers in time for the rhythm as we passed. 

    As we approached the embankment, the road sloped downward, gradually revealing the shimmering Douro River. The Ribeira district was already alive with early festivities. The collapsible market stalls already lined the waterfront, selling everything from ceramic swallow figurines to sets of embroidered linen. A small crowd gathered around the stand selling ginjinha, and we could hear, from far away, the happy clinking of tiny glasses and people laughing. Across the river, Vila Nova de Gaia’s port wine cellars stood in neat rows, their names painted boldly onto red-tiled rooftops. 

    We ended up lingering by the embankment for nearly three hours, letting the city’s rhythm pull us along. We wandered through the market stalls, where João spent some time browsing old festival posters while I studied and took pictures of hand-painted tiles. At one point, we too stopped for a drink—and enjoyed tiny cups of *ginjinha* cherry liqueur served from a wooden booth. The sweet syrupy liquid first warmed our throats, and then sank to our stomachs, leaving a hot trail behind.  João sipped his slowly, watching the boats drift by, while I downed three in rapid succession, enjoying the rich cherry taste.

    Then we sat for a while on a stone ledge near the water.  The sun climbed higher and higher, and the performers began to gather—there was a juggler setting up near the bridge, and a woman in a bright skirt wove through the growing crowd balancing a tray of pastel de nata on her head. João didn’t say much, but now and then, I caught him sketching absentmindedly with a fingertip on the dusty surface of the stone, tracing out shapes only to brush them away. 

    João was the best person in the world to sit quietly with, especially since I didn’t want to strain his throat with too much conversation.

    Then we got up lazily and continued strolling along the water’s edge, past moored rabelos—the flat-bottomed boats once used to transport barrels of port up and down the river. Soon we passed a couple of kids throwing bread crusts to ducks, their giggles carrying over the sound of lapping waves. The festival had only just begun, but Porto was already shifting into celebration mode.

    Several hours later we went for a long, unhurried lunch at a small tasca tucked in a narrow side street, away from the tourist crowds. João recommended that I order a generous helping of tripas à moda do Porto, a hearty tripe stew that I was reluctant to try but did anyway, if only to see his expression when I took the first bite.

    João watched, silent, as I chewed, then grinned with a corner of his mouth again, while his eyes remained steely cold in his usual manner. “N-not… uh, as b-bad as it sounds, right?” The stew was surprisingly rich, and I had to admit he was right.  With the soup came a bowl of sautéed kale, a huge basket of crusty bread, and a glass of madeira for both of us.

    By the afternoon, the city had fully transformed. São João wasn’t a festival for quiet contemplation—it was going to be loud, chaotic, and full of traditions that bordered on the absurd. One such crazy adventure unraveled on the banks of the Douro, where several teams of young people had gathered for the fireworks battle, setting up elaborate rigs, launching bursts of color into the yet bright sky, and trying to outdo one another. The air smelled of smoke and gunpowder, and the sky above the river lit in a rainbow of colors. 

    The first to launch were the cascata fireworks, the golden fountains that sprayed upward like molten metal, cascading back down in shimmering droplets before fading into the dusk. Then came the palmeiras, massive bursts that unfurled like palm fronds, their bright tendrils arching over the water before dissolving. The cometas followed—quick, sharp streaks of white and blue shooting up in rapid succession, leaving thin glowing trails before vanishing. Another team set off a series of crisantemos, large, symmetrical bursts that bloomed in perfect spheres, each petal of fire crackling as it expanded outward. Then came the serpenteantes, spiraling trails of red and green that wove unpredictably across the sky, twisting and writhing before popping in a flurry of sparks. The kamuro fireworks, thick with golden tails, lingered the longest, trailing heavy embers like slow-falling stars. And finally, the silbadores, small but piercingly bright, whistled high into the air before exploding in erratic, popping bursts, sending the crowd into delighted laughter. 

    When the night deepened, we joined the main event—the lantern procession—walking with the crowd as hundreds of small, glowing paper lanterns floated into the sky. There was something dreamlike about the scene—the warm flickering lights rising against the deep blue of the night, carried upward by the breeze.

    As we walked, there was a bunch of things happening around us.  A little girl, no older than six, clutched her lantern with both hands, her face scrunched in concentration as she tried to keep it steady. A group of teenagers raced ahead, laughing, releasing their lanterns all at once as if launching them into a race. An elderly couple held their lantern together, whispering something to each other before letting it go. Someone had drawn a smiling sun on theirs, the light inside making it glow like a cheerful happy face. One lantern got caught in a tree for a moment before the wind freed it, sending it bobbing upward. Near us, a young man kissed the top of his girlfriend’s head just as they released their lantern. A stray dog wove through the

    crowd, sniffing curiously at people’s feet before vanishing into the night.

    In the distance, musicians played soft, lilting tunes, their melodies blending with the hum of the festival. João, for once, looked completely at peace, watching the lanterns as if seeing something beyond them. And above it all, the lanterns drifted higher and higher, merging with the stars. 

    As the evening stretched on, João checked his watch and exhaled through his nose. “N-need to s-s-set up,” he muttered, tucking his comics into his hoodie pocket. Without further explanation, he turned toward the iron arches of the Dom Luís I Bridge, where street performers were already staking out their spaces.

    I followed. Soon he found a spot beneath the bridge, near a wide clearing where a loose crowd had gathered. João unzipped his bag, pulled out a small metal canister, and poured a thin stream of clear liquid into a shallow dish. He moved methodically, testing the wind with his fingers, and stretching his shoulders.

    As the sun dipped lower, he began his first number. With a quick inhale, he lifted a torch to his lips and exhaled sharply—an eruption of fire roared outward, curling into the air like a living thing. The crowd gasped, some stepping back instinctively. He moved seamlessly into the next trick, letting a thin stream of fuel dribble from his lips before igniting it, sending a trail of small, flickering embers cascading down his chin like a fiery waterfall. The light caught on the faint burn scars along his arms, turning them into shifting patterns of gold and shadow.

    Previously, João had barely spoken to me about his performance, but during his act he was a different person. The awkward hesitations vanished. The fire in his hands was an angry violent beast—but a tamed beast, following his orders.

    He continued with the fire palms, letting flames dance across his hands as if they were merely an extension of his skin. The crowd gasped as he clapped them together, extinguishing them in an instant. Then came the meteor swing, when he spun two flaming orbs around him in rapid, almost hypnotic arcs, tracing circles of light in the air. After that he moved seamlessly into the dragon’s breath, tilting his head back and expelling a massive plume of fire from his lips, the flames licking upward toward the bridge above. 

    Next, he balanced a flaming staff across his shoulders, rolling it across his back before catching it effortlessly and sending it spinning through the air. To the wild screams for encore, he did it several times with fire of different colors.  Then he continued with the serpent’s whip, snapping a length of rope soaked in fuel, sending bursts of flame cracking into the night like lightning. 

    Then, for the finale, he stepped forward and gestured for someone from the crowd to join him. A young woman hesitated, then accepted, stepping onto the stage. João positioned her carefully, placing his firm but reassuring hand on her shoulder. Then, with a deep breath, he ignited a line of fuel on the ground, sending a wall of fire erupting around them. With the girl held securely in one of  his strong arms, he raised his torch high, releasing a curtain of flames into the air, the fire twisting and curling above them like a living thing before vanishing into the night. 

    The crowd erupted in cheers. João, drenched in sweat, let the young woman down, wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his hoodie, and took a long and deep bow.

    “Not bad, huh?” he mouthed, catching my eye, the corner of his lips twitching in the closest thing to a grin. 

    As we left the festival behind, João fell into step beside the young woman who had volunteered to participate in the fire wall trick. She was tall, with dark curls pulled into a loose bun, her dress still catching the glow of distant lanterns. João cleared his throat again, glancing at me before mumbling:

    “Uh, P-professor, this is Ana. My… uh, friend. And… uh, a-admirer, I guess.” His lips twitched in a barely-there smirk, and Ana rolled her eyes, nudging him lightly. 

    João slung his arm around Ana, and her eyes widened with awe as she clung closer to his chest. They made their way through the thinning crowd toward the exit. I trailed behind, watching his broad shoulders swaying and the girl’s hand brushing his hip. From afar I heard his low and rough laughter—they walked and walked, almost leaving me in the dust without a backward glance.

    Then, just past the last stalls of the festival, he stopped abruptly, his boots scuffing the dirt, and turned, waiting for me with an impatient tilt of his head, his blue eyes glinting under the strung-up lights. To me at this moment he looked like a tiger roaming the jungle, big, wild, and dangerous, carrying a limp baby antelope in his jaws.

    By the time we reached the hotel, the city had quieted, the night settling into that peaceful lull just before dawn. João and Ana exchanged glances before they turned toward the stairs to his fifth floor half-room. “Good night, Professor,” he said, his voice even, unreadable. 

    I watched as they disappeared down the hallway, their quiet laughter fading into the dim light. Young ones, I thought, shaking my head as I closed my door and prepared for bed.

     

    My takeaways

    I have never before seen as much fire in my life, a real ocean of flickering flames, the loud hum of voices, the cracks of the fireworks and bits of music.  I am yet to see as many happy people of all ages who came together to celebrate. I already miss the joyous atmosphere of this holiday, the booming of fireworks and the children’s loud cheers!

    I wish we had more of such festivities in every country of the world because the released lanterns and people in happy masks showed to me their kindred spirit and their love for their beautiful city, which they gladly shared with the world.

     

    An evening with João

    Ah, Sucking a Straight Guy!

    Ah, sucking a straight guy off! On numerous occasions throughout my life I have enjoyed the adventure of making a straight guy horny and then sucking him off – with varying degrees of satisfaction. 

    Remember João, a Portuguese guy who took me on a day of fun adventures in Porto, where we watched fireworks and joined the lantern procession?  We returned to our hotel, and João disappeared down the hallway with a girl fan who was almost dripping her juices in anticipation.

    … By 3 a.m. I was on my knees with João’s hard cock in my mouth. He moaned, his hips shifting as he took control, guiding me. Even now, I can feel it—the way his thick cockhead pressed against the roof of my mouth, and his balls brushed my chin. It was messy, wild, and unforgettable.

    … I was already in bed when João knocked on my door, his broad silhouette filling the doorway against the dim hallway light. He held a bottle of port wine in one hand, the deep ruby liquid sloshing faintly as he stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. His dark eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and exhaustion, his unruly mane of dreadlocks clinging to his sweat-damp forehead.

    “She dumped me,” he said hoarsely with his sexy Portuguese accent.

    He set the bottle on my cluttered coffee table and sank into the armchair, stretching his legs out.

    “What happened?” I asked. “She seemed to be so… for it…”

    “Found out I just wanted a blow job tonight—nothing else, you know? Got these damn burns, hurts too much for anything more. Then she wrinkled her nose, said I stunk of kerosene, apologized like she pitied me, and walked out.”

    He laughed bitterly, rubbing one hand over his stubbled jaw, the faint scent of fuel and smoke wafting off him. It wasn’t unpleasant to me—just raw, alive, like the fire he tamed for a living.

    I grabbed a tube of aloe lotion from the bathroom, thinking that the cool gel would be a pleasant contrast to the heat radiating off him.

    “Let me help,” I offered, nodding toward the angry red patches peeking out from his rolled-up sleeves. He shrugged, peeling off his soot-streaked shirt with a wince, revealing a lean, muscled frame with many marks of his trade. The burns were fresh—two jagged streaks on his forearms, a smaller one curling along the side of his neck, and another low on his back, just above the waistband of his jeans. He smelled faintly of ash, kerosene and sweat, and it was truly a primal mix that stirred something in me as I approached him. He didn’t protest, just watched me with those sparkling blue, unreadable eyes as I squeezed the lotion into my palms and started rubbing it into his skin, gently but firmly, feeling the tension in his muscles ease under my touch.

    I worked slowly, my fingers tracing the burns with care. On his arms, the skin was rough, still warm from the fire’s kisses, and he hissed softly sucking in the air through his teeth as the cool lotion sank in. The one on his neck was trickier—I brushed his hair aside, my breath grazing his ear. As I spread the gel over the tender spot gently, his pulse jumped beneath my fingertips. The burn on his lower back forced me closer, and I went down on my knees, tugging his jeans down an inch to reach it. He shifted, muttering something in Portuguese under his breath, then stood abruptly, hooking his thumbs into his waistband. “There’s one more,” he said, voice low, almost daring. He shoved his jeans and underwear down in one motion, revealing a final burn—a large, fierce red mark just above the curve of his ass. His skin there was smooth, taut, and I swallowed hard, feeling my hands trembling slightly while I was dabbing the lotion on. The intimacy of the moment crackled between us like static. I was standing next to a handsome naked straight guy, feeling my dick harden.

    Then, without warning, João’s hand closed over mine, guiding it forward around his hip. My fingers brushed something hard, thick, pulsing with heat, and I froze as I felt his erection—solid and venous, standing straight out, perfectly horizontal and steel hard. He didn’t say a word, just let out a low, wheezing breath as my hand instinctively wrapped around the hot surface, pulsating under my palm.

    I could feel the blood surging through him, the weight of his hardon feeling so heavy and real in my hand. He shifted from one foot to the other, planting his feet wider, and I pressed myself closer, my chest against his back, and my breath warm on his spine as I started to stroke him. His hands roamed up his own body, kneading his chest, sliding down to his flat stomach, muscles flexing under his touch as he surrendered to the rhythm I set.

    He turned suddenly, and there it was now in front of me—his cock in full view, a thick, venous log that made my mouth water. It was shorter than I’d expected but quite broad, the loose foreskin peeled back to reveal a glistening, swollen head, flushed dark with arousal. His balls hung low, huge and heavy, swaying slightly with each deep wheezing kerosene-smelling breath he took, rising and falling like a tide. The veins snaked up the shaft, pulsing faintly, and a bead of precum glistened at the tip, catching the dim light. I couldn’t look away, the sight of it mesmerized me.  His quiet submission was, for me, a perfect mix of power and vulnerability that sent a jolt straight through my balls and made my dick itch painfully in anticipation.

    I felt drawn to it like a moth to flame, and, encouraged by his excited breathing and lack of any comment, began with slow, teasing licks along the underside of his cock. My tongue flattened against the thick veins, tracing their winding paths from the base to the tip, feeling the subtle ridges of his dick’s cavernous bodies. I moved up and down slowly, savoring the texture, enjoying the faint roughness of his skin and the way it twitched under my touch.  Each of my licks was long and languid, coating him in my spit, and I could hear his breath breaking above me, and a couple of quiet curse words slipping out in Portuguese as I explored every inch of that pulsing underside, coaxing out the first faint taste of him.

    Then I shifted, focusing on the head, swirling my tongue around it in tight, relentless circles. I zeroed in on the slit, flicking over it with quick, precise darts of the tip of my tongue, tasting the sharp, salty precum that welled up more and more with every circle. My lips hovered around the sensitive ridge as I continued, the wet slurping sounds now filling the air between us. His hips jerked slightly, a low groan rumbling from his chest, and I kept at it—teasing, relentless—until his thighs tensed and his fingers flexed at his sides, the pleasure visibly building in the way he struggled to stay still.

    Next, I wrapped my lips around the tip, sucking hard in short, sharp bursts. I kept it shallow, my mouth creating a tight seal just over the head, pulling in the air with quick, forceful pulses that made him gasp. My tongue pressed flat against the underside while I sucked, adding pressure, and I let my teeth graze his shaft ever so slightly—just enough to hint at danger without crossing the line.

    Each burst felt like a jolt of electricity, making him shake. The rhythm had him rocking forward, his hands hovering near my head like he wasn’t sure whether to push me off or pull me closer, his breath coming faster now, ragged and uneven.

    I changed pace, taking him deeper, letting his salty dick slide now to the back of my throat in long, slow strokes. My lips stretched wide around his girth, the weight of his dick heavy on my tongue as I relaxed my jaw and fought the urge to gag. I breathed in through my nose, and the scent of him—musk and kerosene—flooded my senses.  Gagging, slurping and moaning, I continued taking him in, letting him feel the wet heat of my mouth enveloping him fully. My hands gripped his thighs and my fingers dug into the firm muscle there. Time after time, for several joyous unending minutes I took him in  again and again, saliva dripping down my chin, and his low hoarse moans vibrating through me like a reward.

    Finally, I pulled back and went messy—covering his shaking dick with wet, sloppy kisses all the way down the shaft, my lips dragging over the veins, smearing spit and precum in a shameless display of how horny I was for him. I nuzzled his balls, pressing my face against their heavy warmth, kissing and sucking lightly at the tender skin, breathing him in deep. Then my tongue darted out, lapping at the base before sliding back up, leaving a glistening trail. I was no longer a professor, not the academic writing a paper but a raw, unrestrained animal, and I could gratefully feel his body trembling, hear the excited wheezes in his throat as I worshipped every part of him, my own arousal spiking at the sheer abandon of that moment.

    His excitement built fast, too—his breaths turned deep and uneven, punctuated by low moans that soon grew into long hoarse growls. He started shifting restlessly, stepping from foot to foot, his hands tangling in my hair as he pushed his dick in harder against the roof of my mouth. His precum soon flooded my tongue, thick and bitter, dripping down my chin as he thrust his dick more and more shallowly, his control finally fraying. Sometimes he’d pull back just to slap my cheeks lightly with his cock, the wet smack of it sending an electric shock through me, or he’d tug my hair, forcing me deeper until I could barely breathe, uttering short aggressive moans and growls, feeling desperate on the edge to his utmost pleasure.

    My own arousal was unbearable now, with tight heat coiling in my balls, surging up my shaft. I reached down, pinching my foreskin between my fingers, shaking it fast and rough until I couldn’t hold back. I burst in a shuddering rush, a huge cumshot spilling into the pocket of my foreskin, warm and sticky, my whole body trembling with the release. A second later João let out a guttural growl, his cock throbbing in my mouth as he came, too—four hot, thick spurts hit the back of my throat. I swallowed what I could, the rest spilling over my lips.  His cum was sweet and smelled of the cherry liqueur. 

    He pulled out, still half-hard, and again slapped his dick across my face—once, twice—the heavy, wet weight of it sending delicious bolts of pleasure through my body. I leaned into it, loving the lewdness, the sheer physicality of him marking me like that.  When soon his dick turned into a small thick button with a large overhang, and hid between the balls in the hairy ballsack, we stumbled to the sofa, collapsing in a tangle of limbs, sweat-slick and breathless.

    He sprawled out, one arm flung over his eyes, and chuckled hoarsely.

    “I knew you were gay,” he said, matter-of-factly, like it was nothing. “Getting s-sucked by a g-g-guy? Not faggish on my end—just yours. I’ve got a g-girlfriend in Lisbon, you see. This is just… c-convenience.” He smirked and took a swig of the port wine from the bottle. “You suck well, khem-khem, I can see… uh, exp-perience…”  He was laughing at me now, drunk and spent, but what did I care if I had just seen him convulse in pleasure that no man before me had ever given him.

     

    My Takeaways

    Nothing beats sucking a straight guy.  For some reason the feeling that this dick usually gets hard only for pussies and having it straining in my mouth felt very horny.  I also like it how most straight guys release their bi-ness into the air of the room when they get carried away by the stronger touch, a bigger mouth, stronger lips and a bit of biting on what they think is their root of maleness.  I then like see them change from the growling animal into a relaxed heap of relief. 

    Next day João was his usual, if only too hung over, self.  He silently took me to the airport and gave me a big hug at the gate, and I felt for the last time, the outline of his dick on my leg. 

    He and I keep calling each other back and forth and messaging on Facebook, but since then he has been cautious not to invite me anywhere anymore.  Next year he is getting married.  To this day I imagine his lucky fiancée giving him a good long suck as he shudders and wails and spills threads of cum into her little mouth, with her gagging and him saying in hot whisper: “C-caralho, tão bom,” and “N-não para”—stuttering through his consonants in a sexy way that even thinking about makes me hard, right now as I write this.

  • Avery’s Dream

    “Hurry the fuck up!”

    “I’m drying off.”

    It’s been a nightmare since my older brother returned from university. And the worst problem is that he won’t be leaving until their break is over; four more weeks. Some may view it has a chance to catch up. I’m not one of those people. My brother is exactly like my father: a big, muscular, towering giant who annoy the shit out of me, yet I cannot seem to love them both.

    Pounding on my door draws my attention. Then the door swings open, banging against the wall. Thank goodness for the rubber stopper cushioning the impact.

    “Are you out of your mind?” I shout at the hulking figure rushing past me. Elliot quickly unzips is jeans and lets loose. “You were taking too long. My bladder was about to burst.” He glances at me over his shoulder and smirks. “Nice ass.”

    “Fuck off!” Luckily, I’m facing away from him, and he can’t see my blush. This has been a reoccurring theme for the longest time. Ever since I’ve came out of the closet I have been seeking — without realizing it — attention. And I found it . . . in my father and older brother.

    Mom has been the “silent” parent throughout my life. Always working extra shifts at the hospital. Thankfully Dad hasn’t been as absent; he owns his own construction company. They did well for themselves in life even though they married young. Dad got Mom pregnant when they were both starting final year in high school. Elliot was born a couple weeks after they graduated. I came along when they were 23, Elliot was five.

    One would expect that being 23 himself that he would have finished his four-year course already. He didn’t, he’s still in his second year. The parties at his frat have been keeping him occupied. I’m starting to think that he’s busy getting his degree in partying.

    At least Elliot knew what he wanted to go and study when he was a final-year high school student; I’m still unsure. I’m thinking of doing Dad’s admin until I’ve decided.

    The toilet flushing reminds me that I’m still naked in front of my hunky brother. I rush out of the bathroom and run down the hall towards my room. I quickly get dressed in my pajamas and go downstairs. I can hear the television playing some sports channel. Although sports aren’t my forte, I still join Dad on the sofa. Dad throws his hairy arm over my shoulder, and I snuggle against him.

    I’m immediately enveloped by Dad’s body heat. It’s almost too much, but I don’t move a muscle. When the screen moves to show the commentators Dad finally speaks to me. “Hey, baby.” His baritone voice washes over me and makes me shiver. “Hey, Dad.”

    Heavy footfalls make both of us towards the stairs. Elliot reaches the final step and pulls his shirt back into position. “You still coming to get me at the party, Pops?” Party? I didn’t know that he’s going out today. It’s Saturday, does he not want to spend time with his family?

    I scoff inwardly at this though. That’s so hypocritical of me: I don’t want to spend every single second with them, and I expect him to? He scratches his left triceps with his right hand. I nearly whimper at the sight of his arm bulging and almost ripping through the seams. I can’t help but think of what his hairy arm would feel like wrapped around my throat.

    The “attention” thing I talked earlier about is clearly false. I’m infatuated with both my brother and Dad. I’m lusting after them. I won’t tell them though. I wouldn’t want to scare them away; I’d rather keep this infatuation hidden than ruin my relationship with the two immediate people in my family. “I didn’t forget, Elliot. I’ll send Avery to come pick you up.”

    I jolt upright. “Me?” I ask glaring at them both. “I need my beauty sleep.”

    “It’s not working, bro,” Elliot says and walks towards the front door, “I’ll see you at two.” Two?! It’s only eight. I have to stay awake for six hours! I don’t have the patience or energy for that. The front door closes. “Really, Dad. Me? I don’t even know where this party is.”

    “It’s at Michael’s place,” is all Dad says. Michael is Elliot’s high school friend and works for Dad. “But I don’t want to Dad,” I whine. Dad rubs my head, and the weight of his hand nearly sends me spiraling. Everything of him is exponentially larger than mine. This thought makes me whimper softly. I know that that thought is true for both Elliot and Dad: I’ve seen them both in their sleepwear — only briefs. They both fill out that pouch to near combustion. Those gay erotic stories I read always seem to have a dominant counterpart with a twelve-inch appendage. I live in one of those stories. There’s no doubt in my mind that either one (or both) of them have this organ.

    “Don’t be like that. Be a good boy for Dad and go get your brother later tonight.” This time I must fight the urge to whimper loudly. Fuck! I know Dad’s only joking, but him calling me a “good boy” has me nearly creaming my pajama bottoms. Just to get my mind off what just transpired, I relent and quickly dart upstairs to my room.

    If I’m going to have to wait for six hours, I need to do something to stay awake. I lock my door and fall on the bed. If I don’t do something about this incest-induced erection, I’ll still have it when I must go and fetch Elliot.

     

                                                   _______________________

     

    The alarm I set earlier blares out way too loud. I scramble to shut it off; I know Dad and Mom went to bed many hours ago. It’s quarter-to-two. Thankfully Michael’s place isn’t too far from here so the drive over will only take a moment. I begrudgingly get up and get dressed in more comfortable clothes. If I know Elliot, I’ll have to go inside and drag him out by the ears. And I’m not entering Michael’s place in my pajamas.

    When I’m dressed, I quietly creep down the stairs, trying to avoid the parts I know that creaks loudly. I grab Dad’s car keys. I open the garage door and climb in the car.

    I’m relieved when there’s no one else on the road: I hate driving at night. Before I even turn into Michael’s street, I can feel the car vibrating from the bass playing from his humongous speakers. I remember that he bragged when he got them in high school; he was more protective over them than his own gifted car.

    I shut off the ignition when I’m parked behind one of the party-goer’s cars. The vibration gets even worse when I near the front door. It feels as if my eardrums are close to exploding. The door is unlocked and opens easily. I immediately see Michael: front and center. He’s holding up a red keg while someone else pours different liquids into it. The unfortunate soul at the receiving end of the concoction looks dazed out of his mind. That is not stopping him from guzzling down the liquid, though.

    A quick scan across the room shows that Elliot is not on the first floor. Jealousy boils in me. I’m not stupid. I know what he’s most likely up to, but I can’t help myself. I want him all to myself and don’t want to share. Unless it’s with Dad. A thought races through my head. Imagine being filled with them both. At the same time. I shudder. I’ll need to prepare my virgin ass if that is to happen.

    Michael spots me and enthusiastically waves me over. I make my way over as fast as possible, not wanting to be here any longer than needed. “Buddy! You looking for Elliot?” he asks, slurring his words a bit.

    “Yeah. You know where he is?”

    He shakes his head. “Haven’t seen him in a while. He better not have pussied out. It’s almost his turn to chug the keg,” he says, tapping the funnel part. “When you see him tell him he’s needed.”

    The hell I am! I’m not going to wait for hours in the car while he gets lucky upstairs with someone’s daughter. But I don’t tell Michael that. I only smile at him and make my way to the stairs. He’ll most likely forget that we even had this conversation in a few minutes. I take a quick glance over my shoulder when I reach the bottom stair. My suspicions are correct: he’s already urging the man on to pour more alcohol into the keg.

    The walk up the stairs seem to go on for eternity. I’m dreading what I might find in one of these rooms. I know that I won’t find it pleasing in any way, shape or form. Luckily Michael’s home doesn’t have too many rooms, and I follow Elliot’s voice easily.

    “That’s it, baby. Slowly.” And I’m rock hard again within seconds. When I stand in front of the room I’m sure his voice is coming from I find the door ajar.

    Should I? Will I be able to take it? Seeing him with a woman that is. The slurping sounds from inside only continue while I’m debating on what to do. Open the door or wait downstairs? If I wait this will most likely escalate into full-on fucking. And that sight I will never get out of my head. The jealousy-sadness combination will also never leave me. I guess that leaves me with only one option: open the door and act unconcerned about what is happening in front of me.

    When I finally have the courage to open the door, my blood turns frigid. “Fuck, Avery. Good boy!”

    What the fuck!