Blog

I was heading over to my boy. Pulled into his driveway in my big black Ford pickup, engine rumbling low like it knew exactly why we were here. I climbed out of the cab, leather jacket hanging loose over my chest, black tee stretched tight across the muscle underneath. The crunch of my cowboy boots on gravel masked the faint rasp of denim as my thick thighs brushed with every step.

The door wasn’t locked. It never was. I walked straight in, down the stairs to the basement.

He was ready—exactly how he should be. Leather harness framing his pumped chest, jockstrap soaked in his own juice, cigar smoldering between his fingers. Sweat glistening over his muscles. Sitting there like he belonged, waiting for me.

The air was heavy—smoke, sweat, and the faint tang of piss. My boots hit the concrete floor with sharp, echoing steps, aviators still hiding my eyes. His silver gaze snapped to me, hunger already burning.

I took the cigar from him without a word, drew deep, let the smoke burn my lungs. My hand sank into his hair, holding him there. He didn’t move. Just stared up, breathing faster, waiting for my next move.

When we first met online, I’d pegged him as the alpha type—built like a god in his early sixties, tattoos, thick grey beard, eyes that could cut glass. But it didn’t take long to see the truth. He didn’t want control. He wanted to surrender it. To me.

That thought alone had me hard for weeks. The idea of making this silver-daddy muscle beast kneel, making him mine, breaking him down until all that was left was my boy.

The collar around his neck wasn’t just decoration. It was proof. My lock. My mark.

I hooked my fingers through it and yanked him forward, close enough to share my breath. Another drag from the cigar, then I blew the smoke straight into his face. He grinned through it, eyes half-lidded, soaking in the control.

I kissed him—deep, filthy, tongue pushing into him, forcing him to take it. He moaned into the smoke, his mouth clinging to mine while my grip on his collar kept him right where I wanted him.

When I pulled back, he stayed there, kneeling, eyes locked on me like I was the only thing in the world. I stepped closer, my bulge brushing his face.

He leaned in slow, breathing me in—heat, leather, denim. His stare pinned to my crotch as it swelled against the fabric.

“Can I touch it?” he whispered.

I gave a slow nod, cigar hanging from my lips. His grin turned wicked.

His hands traced the length of my bulge, making it throb under his touch, then his tongue slid out, licking along the seam. He was starving for it. I could feel the need radiating off him, every muscle coiled tight with want.

But I wasn’t giving in. Not yet. He needed to ache for it.

“Get up,” I ordered. His head snapped up, confusion flashing across his face.

I slid my jacket back on, flicked ash to the floor. “We’re going out. You’re mine, and tonight the world’s gonna see it.”

His hesitation lasted only a second before that hunger shifted—different now. He knew what it meant. This wasn’t just a scene. This was public. This was me showing him off.

“Vest on. Just the vest. Chaps, jockstrap. Nothing else.”

He nodded, obedient. I grabbed his collar, hauling him toward the front door, pressing in behind him so my cock ground into his back through the leather.

“You’ll be a good boy, won’t you?” I murmured in his ear.

He smiled.

We climbed into my truck, my cigar hanging from my lips. He sat as a passenger, his hand resting on my crotch the whole ride—stroking, gripping, worshipping me in silence.

The bar wasn’t far. His favorite spot. A leather joint, packed with the kind of men who knew him. Muscled, older, respected. But tonight, things had changed.

We walked in.

Every head turned.

People saw him first—tall, jacked, wrapped in leather—but they noticed something different. The swagger wasn’t his anymore. It was mine. He wasn’t leading. He was following. And when they looked at me—leathered up, boots stomping, bulge heavy in my jeans—they understood.

He was owned.

I took a seat at the bar, legs spread wide, cock on display. Ordered myself a whiskey. Got him a beer. Then, without hesitation, I grabbed his collar and pulled him in hard, locking lips, forcing the kiss so everyone could see. It wasn’t tender—it was possession. It was claiming.

Eyes watched, jaws dropped.

When I let him go, he stayed standing by my side, waiting silently, needing my signal. I sipped my drink. He did the same.

My hand dropped to his ass—slid down those chaps, fingers massaging his exposed hole. His eyes fluttered. His knees buckled. The crowd watched, their curiosity turning into raw lust.

They knew now. This muscle god? This beast of a man? He was mine.

His friends started to come over—nervous, curious, aroused. Guys who used to talk to him like an equal now glanced at me first. They introduced themselves, pretending at small talk, but I saw the way they looked—at him, at me, at the tension.

And he? He kept looking at me, silently begging for approval to engage his friends.  Wanting to serve.

I’d occasionally tug him close by the collar, kiss him deep again—just to remind everyone who he belonged to. The air was thick with heat, with unspoken want. I couldn’t tell what turned them on more—the idea of fucking him, or being him.

A few got bolder. Their hands slid over his ass, fingers tracing his crack. I didn’t stop them. I watched.

I watched him tremble with arousal. Watched him fall deeper under. He was gone—drowning in the attention, in the humiliation, in the pride of being mine.

He was in heaven.

The room was caught in it—hooked on the power play, the tension between us. Guys stared me down like they were begging for a shot, a signal, anything that gave them permission to join in.

But I just smiled.

This night was about me and him.

Every time things got too heated—hands getting too bold, touches lingering too long—I stepped in, pulled him close, reclaimed him.

I didn’t have to say a word.

Eventually, I lit a fresh cigar—despite the no-smoking sign. No one said a damn thing. They just watched. Watched him kneel between my legs, eyes locked on me, knowing exactly what that cigar meant.

We were getting close to heading home.

More men gathered—trying to flirt, to talk, trying to get in. But I wasn’t having it.

They could look. They could want.

But they’d never have him.

This muscle god—the one they all used to worship—was mine now. Owned. Collared. And soon, taken.

Before we left, I wanted to give the boys at the bar a show. Let them see exactly what this muscle god was to me—and what was going to happen the second we got home.

I grabbed him by the collar, pulled him in so he stood between my legs while I sat back at the bar. He looked down at me, obedient, breath shallow, waiting.

I took a long, slow drag on my cigar.

Then I pulled him down by the collar, lips just inches from mine. I exhaled—blowing thick smoke into his open mouth. He sucked it down like it was my cock. Like he needed it to breathe.

Another tug on the collar brought him to his knees.

Right there in the middle of the bar.

He looked up at me, eyes on fire, hands rubbing along the bulge in my jeans, mouth begging. But I wasn’t giving him cock—not yet.

Instead, I spat on my boot.

And he knew.

He dropped his head, tongue out, and started lapping it up, dragging his mouth along the leather, licking and cleaning like the good fuckpet he was.

His ass stuck up high behind him—on display. Submission carved into every muscle.

The room watched.

I took another puff of the cigar and let my free hand roam over his backside. I spread his cheeks, slow and deliberate, giving the crowd a clear look at what was waiting for me later. His hole twitched under my fingers.

He kept licking. Worshiping my boot like it was holy.

And the crowd? They were locked in. Hungry.

I grabbed the collar again and pulled him back up—set him on my thigh like he belonged there. His ass rested on my knee, my hand gripping tight as I kept smoking, looking around the bar.

I drained my whiskey. Tapped ash from the cigar.

Then stood.

Still holding his collar, I dragged him behind me to the exit. The bar parted like a wave—every man’s eyes fixed on us, watching, knowing. Thinking about what was coming.

Out at my truck, he leaned against the passenger door, watching me with that raw, impatient hunger. I could see it in his eyes — he needed it now. I took the cigar from my lips, grabbed him by the arm, and hauled him to the back of the truck. The tailgate dropped with a clang. I climbed in, spreading my legs wide, leaning back, cigar lit and glowing in the dark, body relaxed but dangerous. I looked like I owned the fucking night.

“Go on,” I said. “You’ve earned a treat.”

He dropped to his knees immediately. He knew what that meant.

His hands were shaking as he unzipped my jeans and pulled out my thick, hard 8-inch cock—already dripping with precum.

And then he went to work.

Fast. Desperate. Like he hadn’t eaten in days and my cock was his only meal.

His saliva soaked me—dripping down the shaft, pooling in my lap, running to my balls. He licked it all back up like a starving dog, tongue swirling, throat opening, eyes locked on mine.

He was possessed.

From the corner of my vision, I caught the bar’s doorway — a few of the boys had stepped outside to watch. I let them. Let them see my hand in his hair, my boots braced on the tailgate, cigar smoke drifting over his head while he worked me like a man possessed.

I leaned back, thick gar between my teeth, legs wide. A fucking spectacle.

Their eyes weren’t on him.

They were on me.

On the man getting serviced like a boss.

I was close. Too close. But I wasn’t ready to let go. Not here. Not yet.

He was still catching his breath, mouth wet from the work he’d been doing on me, when I put a hand to his chest and eased him back from my cock.

“That’s enough,” I said, voice low. “For now.”

His eyes flashed with that hungry, desperate look, but he stayed where I told him. I slid off the tailgate, boots hitting the dirt, and pointed down.

“Clean them.”

He dropped instantly, head lowering, tongue tracing the leather from heel to toe. The grit from the lot crunched faintly under his knees as he worked. I stood over him, my cigar clamped between my teeth, one hand cupping my balls, watching the way his shoulders moved with each long lick.

The boys at the bar door were still watching, the night air full of the scent of smoke and whiskey. I tapped ash onto the ground beside him, not caring that he saw it. He just kept polishing, licking, sucking at the damp spot where I’d spat earlier until both boots shone under the parking lot lights.

When he was done, I hooked my toe under his chin and forced his gaze up to mine. I leaned in, then hocked up a large ball of saliva and spat it in his open mouth. He swallowed it like it was gospel.

I kept him kneeling there, head resting lightly against my thigh, not touching, not moving—just knowing he was mine until I was ready to take him home and finish what I’d started.

I tucked myself back in, zipped up, stood tall.

He stepped aside while I opened the door for him. He climbed into the passenger seat, obedient.

I walked around, climbed in behind the wheel, cigar still burning, window down.

And as we pulled away, I gave a slow wave to the men outside the bar—every one of them still staring, wondering what it would be like to be him.

Or to serve me.

The drive back was slow and deliberate.

The boy couldn’t keep his hands off me. One palm on my thigh, the other brushing my cock through my jeans, over and over. I’d let him stroke for a few seconds, then remove his hand, just to watch the need burn hotter in his eyes.

Every now and then I’d catch him staring at me while I drove—cigar between my lips, smoke rolling from my mouth—like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to fuck me or worship me.

I wanted him starving by the time we got home.

When I pulled into his driveway, I took a long final draw on my cigar and threw it aside. I grabbed his collar, yanked him in close, and exhaled thick smoke into his face. Then I kissed him hard—tongue deep, hand tight on the collar, choking him just enough to make him gasp as he sucked the smoke from my mouth.

His cock was like a steel rod pressing against me. I slid my hand down, cupped him through the leather, made him moan loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

I got out of the truck first. He followed slowly—partly because his erection made it hard to walk, partly because he knew exactly where this was headed.

Inside, I sat down in his big leather chair, legs spread, bulge front and center. He went to drop to his knees instantly, but I stopped him with a raised hand.

“Not yet, boy. Daddy needs a drink… and a cigar.”

He got it. Whiskey—large pour, ice. Then he went to the drawer and pulled out the monster—an 80-ring lunatic stick. That was his signal. That meant he wanted to be worked over.

He placed the drink on the table beside me, slid the cigar between my lips, and lit it. I took my time with that first drag, filling my lungs before blowing the smoke straight into his face. He held the lighter longer than he needed to—like he was getting off on the flame, the heat, the ritual.

I hooked a finger into his jockstrap, tugged him close. Felt the thick, leaking heat of his cock pressing into my palm. His leather was warm against my tongue as I traced along his shaft through the strap. Then I freed him—his 7-inch cock springing out heavy and wet with precum.

I grabbed the base, brought the head to my lips, and tasted him. Thick, salty, raw. My tongue swirled over the head, sucking down the leak before sliding my mouth lower, deeper, until I had him fully buried in my throat.

He groaned—low and guttural—his hands twitching like he didn’t know whether to hold still or grab my head. I reached behind him, slipped my fingers under the leather at his ass, found his hole already stretched and slick. The boy had prepped himself for me.

I pulled back, wiped my mouth, and looked up at him. “Smoke that cigar, boy.”

He took it, lips closing around it like he’d done it a hundred times. And he had—that was the point. This was a man who’d been serviced while smoking plenty of times. Now he was the one holding the cigar while me, his owner, worked his cock.

That confusion—of me being in the role he normally gave others—just made him hotter.

My fingers worked his hole as he drew on the cigar, exhaling slow, his cock twitching in my hand. I could feel he was close, but I wasn’t giving him that.

I let go. Spun him around.

Bent him over hard so his ass was in my face. I buried my tongue in his hole, deep and messy, lapping up the musk and slick, feeling him grind back against me, desperate.

But this ass was ready. Too ready.

I stood, plucked the cigar from his lips, and put it back between mine. That was the signal—playtime was over.

I shoved him forward, bending him hard over the arm of the chair. Rubbed my cock along his hole, teasing, making him beg. Then I slammed into him in one brutal stroke.

He took it—his whole body shuddering, a raw yell tearing from his throat before dropping into a deep groan as I bottomed out, balls heavy against him.

I pulled back and drove in again, harder. Again. Again. The rhythm turned savage, my hips pounding him while smoke curled from my mouth, drifting into the air between us.

He was gone—moaning, pleading, his voice breaking as I fucked him harder, faster. Hours of tension, the teasing at the bar, the drive home—it all poured into every thrust.

I grabbed his harness, yanked him upright so his back was against my chest, and kept slamming into him. My teeth grazed his ear as I growled, “Mine.”

That was all it took.

I drove deep, holding him locked against me as I unloaded inside him—stream after stream, filling him until I could feel it dripping down my cock.

His body went slack against me, but I kept my grip, my cock still buried, the smoke from my cigar curling up past both our faces.

I stayed inside him for a long moment, letting him feel the weight of my cock still deep, the heat of my breath against his neck. My hand was still locked on his harness—reminding him he was being held, not just standing there.

When I finally pulled out, the sound was obscene, and my cum spilled down his thighs. I didn’t let him move. I reached for my cigar, took a slow drag, and blew the smoke over the mess running down his legs.

“Don’t touch yourself,” I said. My tone was calm now, but the command was solid steel.

I stepped back and let him stand on his own, swaying a little, flushed, breathing hard. I took my drink, sipped slow, then tipped the glass to his lips so he could have some—because I wanted him drinking from my hand, not his.

He swallowed, eyes still hazy, and I wiped the corner of his mouth with my thumb before shoving that same thumb between his lips. He sucked it automatically.

“Go clean up,” I said, “but don’t shower. I want my scent on you.”

He nodded, still standing tall but with that posture that said owned. When he came back, I was in the chair again, cigar in hand, legs spread. I made him kneel between them—not to service me again, but to stay there. Quiet. Close.

That was aftercare my way—keeping him where I could look down and know he was exactly where he belonged

Checkout first two parts of this romance story here.

---

I thought a new country would fix me.

That was the plan. New city. New flat. New version of me who didn’t lie awake every night thinking about a boy who broke my heart without even calling it a breakup.

But somehow, even in the middle of England, with clouds smothering the sky and red-bricked buildings that all look the same, I’m still thinking about Luke.

The plane landed in a light drizzle. The kind that wasn’t quite rain, just mist that clung to your skin like breath. The customs line was long. A kid screamed for ten minutes straight. And when I stepped outside into the arrivals bay, dragging my suitcase behind me, I felt exactly the same as I had back home, just colder.

The drive to Ashgrave University took an hour. The campus looked like a movie set for a moody drama; wrought iron gates, gothic towers, ivy crawling up the stone walls. The air smelled different here. Wetter. Older. Like pavement and rain and something I couldn’t name.

The cab driver asked if I was excited. I said yes.

I lied.

My flat was on the second floor of a long brick building just off campus. Not a dorm, exactly. More like university housing with a shared kitchen and three bedrooms. It was cute. Modern. Clean. At least until we moved in.

Min, my flatmate was already there when I arrived.

He opened the door wearing soft grey joggers and a tank top that looked like it was stolen off a luxury runway. His skin practically glowed. Like K-drama actor levels of glow. Floppy black hair. Big eyes. A warm smile that made you forget you were jetlagged and homesick and one emotional sneeze away from crying.

“Troy?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“I’m Min.” He smiled. “Your new favorite person. Come in.”

We clicked fast.

Min was the kind of guy who made things feel easier than they were. He offered me tea before I’d even unpacked. Sat cross-legged on the counter while I wrestled my bags open. Made fun of how many sweaters I’d packed. Called my accent cute. Called himself a skincare fairy. Told me he had a girlfriend… Yuki, who was in the girl’s dorm a block over and who would absolutely love me.

By the second day, I believed him.

We explored the local shops, grabbed bubble tea, and made fun of the campus map that looked like it was designed by a dyslexic crow. He took me to the best local coffee shop (tiny tables, cute barista, overpriced muffins), helped me decode the British grading system, and let me use one of his fancy serums when I woke up with plane-induced dry skin.

And for a second… a small, fleeting second, I started to think maybe I could forget Luke.

That maybe there was something new starting here. Maybe Min was a sign. The way he touched my arm when he laughed. The way he always made sure I was walking on the inside of the street. The little glances that could have meant something.

He was model-beautiful. Lean, long-legged, impossibly soft-looking. The kind of person you’d swipe right on and then swipe again just in case. I caught myself staring more than once.

But there was no spark.

Not the kind that burned.

Not the kind that hurt.

And he had a girlfriend too.

“I can tell what you’re thinking,” Min said one night, flopping onto my bed as I tried to organize my textbooks.

I looked up. “What am I thinking?”

“That you’re into me,” he deadpanned.

I blinked. “Wow. Full offense, you sound like a narcissist.”

He grinned. “Please. Everyone’s into me. But relax. I’m taken. Happily.”

“Yuki, right?”

He nodded dreamily. “She’s the only person I’d marry before thirty.”

I laughed. “I didn’t say I was into you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t have to. It’s the eyes. You’ve got the soft eyes.”

“Maybe I just have bad vision.”

Min kicked his legs like a kid. “Well, tough luck. This face? Taken. You’ll survive.”

I rolled my eyes. But deep down, I was relieved. Because even though he was everything Luke wasn’t… open, talkative, affectionate in ways that didn’t feel secret, he still wasn’t what I needed.

Our third flatmate was more of a ghost.

Min had told me about him. “Theo,” he said. “Tall. Gym-obsessed. Had a brutal breakup recently. He’s been kind of… in his own world.”

For the first few days, I didn’t see him at all. Just heard the faint thud of weights from his room. The occasional cupboard opening and closing. Maybe a flush. Maybe not. It was like living with a shadow.

Until tonight.

Min and I were on the couch, both in sweats, watching a K-drama I barely understood. I was halfway through my second cup of instant hot chocolate, debating whether I was full or just sad, when the front door opened.

Footsteps. Heavy. Slow. Someone dropped a gym bag on the floor.

Then I saw him.

Tank top. Big headphones around his neck. Black joggers. Hair damp. Shoulders broad enough to cast a shadow. He walked through the flat like it didn’t matter who was watching. Like gravity bent toward him. He didn’t look at me. Not even a nod.

And yet I could not look away.

There are people you clock the moment they walk into a room. Not because they’re trying. Not because they’re loud. Just because they are. Theo was that. He didn’t carry himself like a guy who knew he was hot… he carried himself like someone who didn’t care. Tall. Built. Sharp jaw and a mouth that looked naturally smug. Even soaked from the gym and silent as a ghost, he looked like an Abercrombie ad that had come to life just to ruin me.

I watched him vanish down the hall. Something in my chest fluttered and dropped.

“Oh,” I said, low under my breath.

Min didn’t even glance up from the screen. “Yeah,” he said like he could hear my thoughts. “He’s totally your type.”

Min and I had already reached the kind of closeness where me being into guys was just a part of the air between us. There wasn’t some big reveal. No awkward moment. He just knew. Probably before I even said anything.

Since day two, he and Yuki had taken it upon themselves to wingman the hell out of me. We’d walk across campus and they’d point out guys like they were on some kind of scouting mission.

“Ooh, him,” Yuki would whisper. “The economics major. He’s got a baby face. Want me to go introduce you?”

“No, thank you,” I’d laugh, but Min would already be halfway to calling him over.

Some days I forgot how new everything still was. That I had only just landed here. That back home, I was still the boy who got his heart broken by someone who never said the word boyfriend out loud.

And now?

Now I was sitting in this warm, dim-lit flat in a city that didn’t know my name. I had a best friend who wore sheet masks and made bad jokes. A girl who kept calling me cute. A second-hand mug of cocoa in my hands.

And I had just seen what Theo looked like.

I blinked at the hallway he had disappeared down.

Yeah. I think I might finally be ready to forget Luke.

___________________

Mornings in the flat had become their own little ritual.

Min was already a creature of routine; he liked his fruit sliced a certain way, liked the blinds open exactly halfway, liked blasting soft K-pop on the speaker while he moved around the kitchen like it was a dance floor. Yuki showed up most days unannounced, barefoot in someone else’s hoodie, carrying iced coffee and stories from her dorm that made Min roll his eyes and me laugh half-asleep. And me? I floated. Still figuring out how to belong in this new place, still nursing the dull ache of everything I had left behind.

We were comfortable. In sync. We had become a strange little trio, but it worked.

That morning, I was perched on the kitchen counter in my usual half-awake fog, wearing just boxers and an old T-shirt. Yuki was spinning a dramatic tale about her flatmate getting caught sneaking in a Tinder date at 3AM, her voice bouncing off the walls with the kind of casual chaos only she could bring. Min stood by the kitchen sink, humming to himself as he poured oat milk into his cereal, hair still wet from his own shower. Everything felt familiar.

Until the bathroom door creaked open.

A soft sound. Innocent. But something in the air changed.

Then I saw him.

Theo stepped out in nothing but a towel slung dangerously low around his hips. It wasn’t just low; it was indecent. You could see the carved V of his hips, the smooth line trailing down from his abs, disappearing beneath the fabric. His skin glistened slightly, still damp, the morning light catching on the curve of his chest and the slope of his shoulder. His hair was messy, pushed back like he’d run a hand through it while toweling off.

He looked like he belonged in an ad. No; he looked like he’d stepped out of one.

But it wasn’t just how hot he was. It was the way he moved. Effortlessly. Like he didn’t care who saw him. Like he was immune to being looked at.

He walked toward the kitchen like no one else was there. No greeting. No glance. Just Theo, shirtless and damp, completely unbothered.

It wasn’t until he stopped directly in front of me that I realized what he was doing. The milk was in the middle of the counter. I hadn’t even noticed. He leaned across me to reach it, one hand bracing on the counter beside my thigh, the other stretching toward the bottle.

And suddenly, he was right there.

His bare chest close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin. His scent hit me like a truck; fresh and clean, soap and warmth and something deeply male. I caught myself holding my breath, eyes glued to the way his muscles moved beneath his skin. His bicep flexed as he reached. His abs tensed. A droplet of water rolled down his side and disappeared into the towel. My gaze dropped before I could stop it…down the line of his torso, to the way the towel clung to his hips, dipping slightly as he leaned.

He didn’t look at me. Not once. And somehow, that made it worse.

Then came the loud, fake cough.

Yuki.

Theo didn’t react. Just grabbed the milk, stepped back, and walked straight to his room. The door shut quietly behind him.

Silence filled the kitchen like smoke.

I was still staring at the hallway when Yuki said, flatly, “Nope. Absolutely not.”

Min let out a quiet laugh. “That’s Theo for you.”

“What the fuck was that,” I asked, half-laughing, half-dying.

“That was your very attractive, very oblivious roommate in a towel,” Yuki said, eyebrows raised. “And that was you about to pass out.”

“I was not about to pass out.”, I laughed.

“Your pupils were dilated,” she said, sipping her coffee like a scientist confirming her findings. “You clenched your thighs. It was like watching a nature documentary.”

Min was grinning but trying to hide it. “You should’ve seen your face, bro.”

I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead. “He didn’t even say hi.”

“He never does,” Min said. “He’s either at the gym or in his room. Not much of a talker.”

“Is he, uh…” I hesitated. “Straight?”

Min tilted his head. “Bi.”

That landed with a thud in my chest.

I blinked. “Wait. What?”

“He dated Bailey for a year. But before that, a guy named Calum, I think. Two years. Broke up before moving here.”

I turned to Yuki, who looked… unamused.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” she said. “I mean, it does. But not for you. You’re not about to fall for your roommate.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

Yuki crossed her arms. “Troy, no. That is literally the one unspoken rule. You do not fall for your roommate. It gets messy.”

“I’m not falling for him,” I said. “I just… noticed he was hot.”

Min snorted. “You didn’t notice, bro. You practically had an orgasm.”

“I didn’t expect him to look like that,” I muttered.

“He’s always at the gym,” Min said with a shrug. “He’s basically married to leg day.”

I sat there quietly for a moment, my pulse still uneven. My heart felt like it had taken off without me. I hadn’t expected this. I had barely even spoken to Theo. He hadn’t even looked at me. But that one moment; the closeness, the heat, the sound of water still dripping from his skin…I couldn’t lie to myself.

He was beautiful.

And dangerous.

Yuki pointed a finger at me. “No daydreaming. I will physically spray you with a water bottle if I catch you staring at him again.”

Min leaned on the counter, grinning. “So… freshers’ party tomorrow?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Everyone keeps talking about it.”

“You should come,” Yuki said. “It’s gonna be wild. Campus-wide thing. Apparently, last year someone climbed the fountain in their underwear.”

“Will Theo be there?” I asked before thinking it through.

They both stared at me like I had said it in slow motion.

I tried to play it off. “Just wondering. Since he lives here.”

Min gave me a look. “He doesn’t really go out. Parties aren’t his thing.”

“Oh.”

“But,” Min added, “I could probably talk him into it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Sure I do,” he said. “I’ll be your wingman. You just sit there and look flustered.”

Yuki groaned. “God. This is going to be a disaster.”

Min turned to her. “Come on. Don’t act like you’re not invested.”

Yuki rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Fine..”

Min clapped his hands once. “It’s settled, then. Operation Win Over The Hot Roommate is on.”

I shook my head, laughing despite myself. “You guys are the worst.”

But when I went back to my room later that night, closed the door, and lay back on my bed, all I could see was the way his body had moved. The clean line of his back. The silence that followed him. And I knew.

I was in trouble.

I might be into my painfully hot, emotionally unavailable, gym-addicted roommate.

---

If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Patreon.

---

A Step Forward, Then a Pause

The takeout containers were still open on the coffee table. On my plate, half-finished rice and a skewer of grilled meat gone cold. I’d barely eaten. Just moved things around with my chopsticks while Zack ate beside me in silence. The quiet wasn’t awkward. But it wasn’t easy either. It felt like something thick hanging in the air.

We sat close. Not touching, but close enough that I could feel the heat still radiating off him. He’d just pulled on his briefs, finally covering what I’d had in my mouth not long ago. His chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths—broad and steady, like nothing had changed. Legs spread without shame. Utterly relaxed.

And then there was me. Still fully dressed. Shirt buttoned to the collar. Pants creased and stiff across my lap. I hadn’t undressed. Hadn’t even opened my belt. Just dropped to my knees and lost myself. Now I sat in the aftermath—cool stickiness in my briefs, fabric damp and clinging. I hadn’t even touched myself. Just the feel of him in my mouth, the weight of his hand, the sound of his voice as he praised me… and I’d come. Hard.

He stood eventually and walked away. Left me sitting there. “I’ll be out in a bit,” was all he said.

Now I was alone.

I stared at the blank screen of the TV, my reflection faint in the glass—flushed cheeks, mussed hair, a thousand-yard stare I couldn’t shake. My lips still tingled. My jaw ached, just faintly, like a reminder. And underneath it all, low and steady, it was still there—that slow, stubborn throb he’d left behind.

I shifted on the couch, the movement stiff and awkward. My thighs buzzed. My chest tightened every time the memory hit—his weight on my tongue, the way his muscles locked when he came, that ragged, unfiltered sound that escaped him. I’d pulled that from him. That was me.

And after, he hadn’t rushed me out the door. He’d lingered in the moment like it meant something. Then told me I should stay.

Still, I couldn’t settle. My body felt too full, too wired. My skin prickled where he’d touched me. My shirt clung damp against my back. I was hot and chilled all at once, heart still racing with the need I hadn’t managed to shake.

And the worst part—what scared me most—was how much I still wanted more.

In the background, the shower kept running—a soft, steady rhythm that faded into the quiet. I stared at the dark screen, unfocused. The water stopped.

A few minutes passed. Maybe more. I could hear him moving at the end of the hall. The scrape of the towel. A drawer opening. The muffled thud of a closet door swinging shut.

Then I heard him again—closer this time. Bare feet on hardwood. Calm and casual. He stepped into view, still damp from the shower, towel slung low on his hips. His chest rose slowly with each breath, water catching the light on his skin.

I didn’t mean to stare. But I did.

Everything in me pulled taut again. My body was responding to him, and wanted more.

He met my eyes for just a second, with a look that made it impossible to pretend things hadn’t changed.

~~~~~~

Zack didn’t say anything. He just walked past me, barefoot on the hardwood. I felt the heat roll off him as he passed.

My head turned on instinct, pulled by something I didn’t bother resisting. Water clung to his skin, droplets sliding along the planes of his back, catching in the shallow groove of his spine. The muscles there moved with quiet purpose. The kind of strength you didn’t need to prove.

He paused for a second, one hand braced casually against the wall. The towel dipped slightly, revealing the taut line of his obliques, the curve of his ass barely hidden. I swallowed, hard.

Then, finally, he looked back at me. Calm. Dark. Unbothered. Like he already knew what I was thinking—what I hadn’t let myself think out loud.

And then he kept walking. Past the couch. Down the hall. Never said a word. He didn’t ask if I was coming. Every step was a dare. A quiet challenge. Like he already knew exactly what I’d do.

I stood. The air felt thick and charged, like it had shifted around us. 

I followed, my eyes locked on the broad sweep of his shoulders, the way his lats flared and narrowed down to that towel. His back moved with quiet force, impossible to ignore. Every step felt deliberate.

When he reached the bedroom, he paused in the doorway.

My breath caught. My skin felt too tight. My heart was hammering in a way that wasn’t fear.

Then, quiet, calm, he turned to ask me, “You ready to stop pretending you don’t want this?”

I didn’t answer right away. I couldn’t.  The words caught somewhere in my chest, too heavy to lift, too true to ignore.

Because I did want this. I had followed him down the hall. I hadn’t looked away. I felt stripped bare under the question, exposed in a way that left me dizzy.

But I didn’t want to retreat.

My hands stayed open at my sides. My breath shook as I looked up at him, then past him, into the room. I wanted to say something to ground myself. But nothing came. Just the heat building in my chest, the pull of everything he made me feel.

And maybe that was enough.

He held my gaze like he already knew.

So I stepped forward. Just to be closer.

~~~~~~

The bedroom felt like him. Modern. Masculine. Nothing precious. A low bed with a dark grey duvet, a pair of big dumbbells on the floor, clean gym gear folded on the dresser. A flatscreen hung opposite the bed.

A poster hung on the wall. I didn’t notice it right away—but when I did, it stopped me in my tracks.

Zack.

Shirtless. Ripped. Caught mid-rep in a perfectly lit gym, conditioning sharpened by shadows and sweat. It wasn’t just hot—it was intimidating. Intense and surreal. Muscles built on a frame most guys would kill for—and sculpted with the kind of discipline most could never sustain.

I stared too long.

“I can get you a copy from the folks at Titan Fitness, if you want?” 

His voice came from behind me—closer than I expected. Calm. Amused.

I turned slightly but didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My mouth had gone dry.

He passed me without touching. No smirk. No glance. Just that same steady confidence. The kind of presence that didn’t need to posture.

He stopped at the foot of the bed. Said nothing. Then let the towel drop.

He stood there, naked. Completely unbothered. Flaunting it like he knew the poster had lit the fuse—and now he was showing me the real thing.

A quiet challenge. Like he wanted to see if I could even look away.

His back was impossibly broad. Shoulders thick and square, tapering down to a narrow waist that made every part of him look built to provoke. The curve of his ass, the width of his thighs, the faint sheen of moisture still clinging to his skin—it all looked so perfectly deliberate. 

He stood there for a beat, giving me every angle. Then, finally, he sat on the bed. Slow. Unrushed. Forearms on his knees, elbows wide, chest bunching. His cock hung heavy between his legs, soft, but only just.

I stared. My hands twitching like they didn’t know whether to reach or retreat. My whole body was buzzing, hot in places I didn’t want to admit. And still, I was getting hard. Just from looking at him. From letting myself be this obvious. From not being able to stop.

Finally, he smiled. “Do you really think I don’t see you, Simon?”

His voice was low. Even. But it landed like a hand on my chest—firm, unyielding.

“The way you look at me,” he went on. “Like I’m the one thing you told yourself you couldn’t want. But you haven’t stopped staring. Not since the pub.”

I didn’t move. My throat had gone dry. Even swallowing felt like it would betray me.

He wasn’t accusing me. He was just telling it like it is.

His gaze didn’t waver.

“You think I don’t notice? The way you tense when I move. The way your eyes track every stretch, every shift, like you’re memorizing what it feels like to want something you think you can’t have.”

It hit like a flush behind my eyes. A heat blooming up from my chest. He’d seen all of it. Every flicker. Every stolen glance. And now he was peeling it back—deliberate, relentless.

“And still,” he said, “you act like this is being… inflicted upon you.” He paused to let that sink in before continuing. “Like you haven’t already made your choice.”

My stomach pulled tight. I blinked, hard. Part of me wanted to tell him no. That he was wrong. But I couldn’t.

Because I’d followed him into his bedroom instead of walking out the door.

“You’re here because of how I make you feel. Because when I look at you like this…”

His gaze caught mine and held it.

“…you forget how to hide.”

I couldn’t breathe.

He let the silence stretch, like he wanted me to hear the sound of my own heartbeat. Then, quieter, “You’re already in this, Simon. All that’s left is letting go. Letting me take you there.”

My throat burned. He wasn’t wrong. I just stood there. Still tense. Part of me still trying to hold the shape of who I’d been before Zack had barrelled back into my life.

He leaned back then, planting his hands behind him, legs still spread, abs tightening as he shifted. His whole torso flexed with the movement—chest rising, traps drawing tight. There was nothing guarded about him. Nothing defensive. He was open. At ease. Like the room belonged to him. Like I belonged there too, if I wanted.

The contrast between us felt absurd

“You don’t get it yet,” he said. “But we fit.”

I looked at him. Blinking. My eyes widened before I could stop them, a quiet shudder tightening my chest. I didn’t know what I expected—some line, maybe. Some tease. But his face was genuine.

And that undid me more than anything.

“When I walk into a room,” he said, “I know what people see.”

He shifted slightly, like this was any other conversation.

“But they’re not really seeing me. They’re seeing what they expect from a guy who looks like this. The size. The build. The way I move.”

His tone stayed steady—measured, grounded. He wasn’t trying to convince me. He was just telling his truth.

“I know what they want. They want to be entertained. Impressed. Or they want me to tone it down. Be less than I am—so they don’t have to admit what they’re not.”

His voice stayed steady, matter-of-fact. Like it was just a cost he’d learned to live with. 

“But not you.”

His voice stayed low. Level.

“You look at me like I’m everything you want. Like I don’t have to do anything but show up.”

My throat caught.

“You’re scared,” he said. “I’ve seen it since day one.”

His voice was low, steady. Not calling me out. Just reading me.

“But you still come closer. Every time. You can’t fight it—you feel it. And then you move toward it anyway.”

Zack stood. Slow. Controlled. Every muscle engaged as he rose in front of me. His full weight shifting upright, towering in the quiet space between us.

He took a slow step forward. 

“That gets me,” he said. “The hunger under all that hesitation. Like your body already decided before your mind caught up.”

He held my gaze. His chest rose with a deep breath.

“I’ve never felt that from anyone before. Not like this. Guy or girl. No one’s ever wanted me like that.”

My mouth was dry. I didn’t trust it to open.

“You’re still figuring it out. But I can feel it. I don’t have to hold anything back with you. I get to be all of it. And you still stay.”

He let that hang for a second, then added, quieter, “That kind of pull… it’s not always fair.” His gaze didn’t waver. “It can even be scary. Enough to push some people away.” He paused—just for a breath—then said, “But not you.”

And I just sat there, stomach tightening, pulse climbing, because he was right.

I did like it. The size of him. The way he filled a room. The quiet force that made other people watch their words. I liked being near it—being seen by it. I liked that when Zack turned his attention on me, the rest of the world dropped away.

Like earlier, on the phone, when he’d said he was skipping the date. Choosing me instead. I hadn’t wanted to admit it then, but it made me feel special.

Still did.

And yeah, it scared the fuck out of me how much I liked it.

Because it wasn’t the kind of thing you were supposed to admit out loud. That someone else’s confidence made you feel more alive. That someone like him could walk in like he belonged everywhere—and make you feel like maybe you did too, just by looking at you like that.

I looked down. I didn’t want him to see it hit.

But it had.

My eyes were fixed on the floor, heart racing. My jaw tightened, trying to hold something back. I didn’t know what. Why does that sound like something I’ve needed to hear for years?

I swallowed hard. My eyes stung.

Zack let the silence stretch—just long enough to let it settle, before bringing me back.

“And you looked so damn good with my cock in your mouth,” he said, voice low and steady.

I laughed—sort of. Awkward. Breathless. Embarrassed.

But I looked up at him again.

He was smiling now. 

And I wasn’t moving.

He didn’t speak. Just stepped in close—closer than he had all night. His cock hung heavy between us, already beginning to swell again.

He reached for the hem of my shirt and lifted it up and over my head. My arms went limp, letting him do it. Then he brought his hands to my waistband.

Still, I didn’t move.

He unbuttoned my jeans. Slid them down. Boxers too. I stepped out of them in silence. 

He took one long look at me, bare now in front of him.

Then leaned in and kissed the corner of my mouth. Not hungry. Not soft. Just sure.

Then he pushed me gently back onto the bed.

His hands guided me down like he was laying something valuable in place. His body followed, slow and warm, lowering over mine until I felt the weight of him. His elbows braced on either side of my shoulders. His chest pressed firm to mine. His cock, thicker now, pushed between my cheeks.

He dipped his head beside mine, his mouth at my ear.

And whispered—

“All evening, I’ve been thinking about your mouth. The way you took me. The way you moaned with me still on your tongue.”

He paused. Let it hang there.

“You think that was intense?”

A slow grind of his hips, just enough pressure to feel it.

“I haven’t even started showing you what your body can feel.”

~~~~~~

Zack’s breath warmed the side of my face. His weight settled over me. His chest pressed to mine. His cock, thick and impossibly warm, slid between my cheeks as he shifted, grinding slow, careful friction into the space where I felt most exposed. I gasped.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just stayed there, his mouth at my ear, his breath slow and steady. I felt the weight of his arms braced above my shoulders, the tension in his triceps, the heat of his body caging me in.

“You feel that?” he murmured, voice low and almost lazy. “That’s what you do to me.”

His hips rolled again. His cock dragged along my cleft, sticky and leaking. I could feel the slickness smear against my skin as he rocked gently, never pushing, just… lining me up.

I looked up at him.

His eyes—dark, focused—held mine like he had no intention of looking away. It wasn’t a stare. It was a hold. Like he was pinning me there.

I couldn’t breathe right. My hands gripped his shoulders without thinking, fingertips digging into warm, flexed muscle. 

“You ready?” he asked. 

I didn’t trust my voice. I just nodded.

Then I felt him shift again. His cock slid lower, thick and slick, the head tapping gently at my entrance. Testing. Letting me feel it before he pushed.

He nibbled at my ear. “Stay right here with me,” he whispered. “Let it happen.”

My whole body went still. My heart pounded so loud I could hear it in my ears.

Then he pushed in. Slow. The pressure was dizzying. Heavy. Real. 

I clenched around him and felt him pause, just long enough for my body to adjust. Then he eased forward again—thicker, deeper—until I felt the stretch sharpen.

 “That’s it,” he murmured. “A little more…you’ve got this.”

I reached up, needing something to hold, and found his arms—thick and solid, triceps flexing under my fingers as he kept pressing in. My touch slid instinctively along the line of muscle, gripping harder as he sank deeper. 

I could feel the pulse of him, heat spilling against me, spreading everywhere we touched.

He groaned—just once, low in his throat—and it vibrated into my skin.

When he was fully inside, he didn’t move. Just held there, buried to the base, eyes still locked on mine.

I wasn’t shaking, but I could feel the tremor in my thighs. The burn of being stretched. The weight of him pressing into every part of me.

His hands cupped my face then. One on each side. He leaned down and kissed me—deep, slow, nothing rushed. I moaned into it.

Then he started to move.

He pulled back a few inches, then pushed in again. Kept it slow. Steady. The rhythm built gradually—just enough to let my body adjust before he pushed deeper, harder. His arms slid beneath me, palms gripping my shoulders as he began to fuck me in long, controlled strokes.

“You feel that?” he asked, lips brushing my cheek.

“I—yeah.” It came out rough. Barely a word. But I meant it.

“I’m not stopping,” he whispered. “Not until you come for me.”

My hands roamed without thinking—over his back, his delts, his thick, flaring lats. Every muscle was tight under my fingers, engaged with every thrust. He was working me open. 

And then he angled his hips.

The next stroke hit something that made me jolt—eyes wide, mouth open.

“There,” he said. “That’s your spot.”

I moaned—loud, helpless.

Zack groaned again and pressed harder, deeper. The rhythm got messier, more frantic. His chest slid against mine, sweat beginning to build between us. 

I wrapped my arms around his back, pulled him closer. I needed more. I needed everything.

He was leaking so much now I could feel it dripping from me, every thrust making it worse. I was soaked. Swollen. 

My cock throbbed, pinned between our bodies, untouched—but aching.

He kissed my neck. My ear. Whispered between thrusts:

“I’m gonna feel you come.”

“You’re gonna give it to me.”

“You’re not gonna hold back.”

My back arched. My breath caught. I was right there—so close it hurt. I’d already come once tonight. I hadn’t thought I could again. But this was different.

“Look at me,” he growled.

I did.

And I broke. My whole body jerked, thighs shaking, mouth open in a moan that didn’t sound like mine. I came hard between us, streaking both our stomachs, crying out as my body locked up around his cock. 

He groaned like he’d been waiting for it.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he breathed.

His rhythm broke. He slammed into me one last time, grinding deep as he finally let go. I felt it—hot, full, spilling into me in thick, pulsing waves. His whole body locked above mine, chest heaving, arms trembling.

Then he collapsed over me, bracing his weight on his forearms, forehead against mine.

We stayed like that. Breathing. Pressed together. Silent. Eventually, he kissed me again. Soft. Slow. And whispered, almost to himself.

“You’ll always remember who it was. Because no one else gets to be your first.”

~~~~~~

He was still breathing heavily. Hot against my cheek. He hadn’t pulled out. He just stayed there—inside me, over me, his chest rising and falling against mine, every inch of us still locked together.

I didn’t want him to move.

His fingers traced the side of my face, slow and aimless, like he wasn’t ready to let go. I kept my arms around his back, palms spread across the heat of his skin. His muscles still trembled underneath—small, exhausted twitches that gave away everything his voice didn’t.

“You okay?” he murmured.

I nodded, then swallowed. “Yeah.”

His nose brushed mine. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t speak. He just kissed me again—this one soft and quiet, like he was trying to memorize the way I tasted after falling apart.

I felt him shift slightly, just his hips. His cock still nestled deep, still thick. The smallest movement made me gasp.

“Too much?”

“No,” I whispered.

He stayed still again. Let the moment stretch.

“Feels good being inside you,” he said softly.

His words landed deeper than I expected. Like it surprised him a little, too.

“You opened up for me,” he said. “Took all of me. Every inch.”

I felt my breath catch again.

“That was hot!”

I didn’t say anything. 

Eventually, he pulled out. Gently. No words. Just the slide of skin on skin, a quiet breath. I lay there for a minute, my body humming in the aftermath. Then I got up and showered, the water hot on my skin, trying to process what I’d just done, what I’d just let happen.

Under the spray, it all became so real.

Two weeks ago, I thought I was into girls. Thought I knew exactly who I was. And now? I’d just let Zack fuck me—my first time, with anyone. Every thrust, every sound, still burned into me. My body wasn’t confused. It knew exactly what it wanted. But my head was still catching up, trying to understand what Zack had awoken me to..

When I came out, towel-wrapped and unsure, the charge between us was still there—but now it felt heavier. Not just want anymore. Something quieter. More loaded. Like we’d stepped past something we couldn’t walk back from.

I reached for my clothes, avoiding his eyes.

The silence wasn’t heavy. Just… awkward, for me. Zack looked fine, he looked like Zack. I was the one wondering about what happened when the need burned off and we were just two people again. Did I stay? Was I supposed to? Would he want me to? And if I stayed—what did that make me?

Before I could ask, Zack spoke.

“You could crash here, tonight, if you want.”  He nodded toward the bed.

He wasn’t pushing, just offering. And part of me believed that’s what he really preferred. 

I looked at him—still naked, still calm, still impossibly gorgeous—and felt my stomach twist.
“I… I think I need to go.”

He didn’t try to talk me out of it. “Yeah,” he said. “I kinda figured.”

I dressed quietly. My body was still aching in places I didn’t have words for. I couldn’t even look at the bed without my heart picking up again.

He walked me to the door. Still naked. Still at ease in his skin. Like nothing about what we’d done shook him at all.

At the door, he leaned against the frame, watching me pull on my shoes.

“I had fun,” he said, his voice easy. “I’m pretty sure you did too, Simon. You should let yourself admit that.”

I looked up. He was smiling. 

“You don’t need to have it all figured out,” he added. “Just reach out when you know what you want next.”

I nodded. That was all I could give him.

Then I stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind me.

~~~~~~

Zack’s PoV

The door clicked shut behind him. I stayed where I was, leaning against the frame for a few seconds, listening to the empty hallway.

Part of me wanted to be annoyed. Simon had just left my bed after what we’d done—after the way he’d come apart for me—and he’d still chosen to walk out. He might have spent the night if I’d read him better. If I’d been more patient.

I pushed off the door and crossed the room. Had I miscalculated? I mean, everything I’d said, everything I’d done, was right. But maybe I’d been too much, too soon. Simon wasn’t in a place where he’d just turn over a new leaf for me. Even if I could get him hard by just scratching the back of my head, he’d still need some time and space.

I caught my reflection in the window—naked, still flushed. I thought about Ashley, about the date I’d cancelled without hesitation when I knew Simon was sticking around. A couple weeks ago, I wouldn’t have done that for anyone. Now? I hadn’t even questioned it.

I dropped into the armchair and rubbed my jaw. Seduction had always been my game—read the tells, set the pace, never chase. Simon made me question that playbook out. I didn’t want him because he was hard to get. I wanted him because he was him. Because when he looked at me like he was trying to figure himself out, it made me want to be the answer.

But if I pushed, he’d push back. If I pressed, he’d shut down. I didn’t want him to give in because I wore him down—I wanted him to come to me because it felt right. Because it was what he wanted.

I leaned back, eyes closing for a second. Tonight had been too much, too intense. Next time, I’ll give him more room to find his way.

And I was determined there would be a next time.

---

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

---

A Perfect date!

We met online with him pretending to be a pretty girl while I was trolling for younger sissy types. He was 27 and pretty. I’m much older, and very handsome. He said he couldn’t come out when he was in high school but had always wanted to go to prom in a pretty dress. It sounded like a fun and easy role play. it’d just wear my usual slacks and jacket, and he could dress anyway he liked. 

There is an airport bar on the outskirts of town with a old style dark bar with a dance floor and some retro disco ball sort of decor. Perfect!

We met a few days earlier at the bar for drinks and he loved the place. I told him, sternly:

“I’ll have a room here and I expect us to use it. Use it a lot.”

He looked back at me with his sweet, pretty eyes, slowly nodding his head in agreement. I could tell he was nervous. Perfect!

I booked the room and made my plans to bring some wine and whiskey to the room. I also figured I would bring some fun toys to use on him when things got down and dirty. I do love the sounds a submissive fuck toy makes when I’m ramming his ass while he has a gag of some sort stuffed in his mouth. It’s the best. Of course, you can’t leave their hands free, or they will pull the gag right out. So, some sort of kinky restraints are always in order as well. I decided on cute pink and white leather cuffs, a dog collar and ankle cuffs as well. Perfect!

He sent me a picture of the pink prom dress and some matching pink high heels he planned to wear, for my approval. I got hard right away. I told him they would do.

The plan was for me to pick him up at his apartment, so he could run out, all dressed up, and leap quickly into my car and leave for the hotel. He was nervous one of his neighbors might recognize him in the pink dress and heels. I agreed, but I certainly had other plans. 

He told me he would be alone in his apartment dressing, with his roommate not being home until much later. He wanted a private time to dress in all the pretty lingerie and prom dress for me, with no one else around. He said this would give him plenty of private time with a lot of room to spare. His roommate doesn’t know he secretly wants to be just like a girl sometimes. 

I told him I would be a gentleman and bring him a flower at the front door. He thought that would be ‘Fabulous!’ Perfect!

I packed the pink leather cuffs and the dog collar in my jacket pockets. I brought a panel gag, one of my favorites, in my slacks pocket. It’s the kind that is fashioned like a fat rubber cock, with the head being big and round like a ball. It should barely fit in his mouth with the panel strapped over it, and around his head, holding everything in place. He will be gagged with a fat cock shaped and sized dildo in his mouth, with no way to push it out. 

I expected that when I see him, I’ll be impressed and excited with him in his pretty pink dress and high heels. So, I’ll be ready for round one right away. That was my plan. I was hard, all the way to his apartment. Perfect!

I realized I’d forgotten a flower, but it didn’t matter. When I arrived at his door, he slowly opened it, just a bit, looking out at me, shyly and very nervous. I stood there calmly. Waiting. My hands were behind me, hoping he might think I had the flower there as a surprise. After a moment, he opened the door and invited me in. I stepped in and closed the door behind me. he seemed confused that we were not leaving right away. I stood by the closed front door admiring him in his pretty outfit. I was getting even harder now. I asked him to pose. I wanted photos.

‘Oh my gosh!” He exclaimed. “I’m not all that pretty!”

Well, he was. He has skillfully combed his hair in a cute little flip up over his head and added a pink ribbon to hold it in place. He had carefully applied some basic make up. A little eye liner, some soft pink highlights on his cheekbones, and some pink, peach flavored lipstick. Very soft, very understated. I liked that.

The dress was pink with white ruffles and an open front showing some clever cleavage he has somehow made up with the use of a tight push up bra and some enhancement fillers. The brief outline of a red lace bra was peeking out just slightly behind the ruffles of the dress. His waist was tight and slim. The dress fell over his hips very nicely. He was wearing white hose and the pink heels he had showed me before. 

He was shy at first, posing for my phone’s camera. But as I complimented him and told him how much I was looking forward to tonight, he loosened up and took my suggestions. Sitting, standing, turning, etc. He gently lifted the dress up his smooth shaved legs, at my request. At the top of the stockings were lace surrounds. Holding the stockings up were pretty red lace garters coming down from under the dress. He was wearing a red girdle or a garter belt of some kind. “Very sexy”, I noted. 

Lastly, I asked him to turn away from me. I wanted a nice back shot to complete my small collection of pictures. He turned, but was nervous again. I could tell. He should be. 

I took a few pictures as I moved closer to him. He jumped in surprise when my hand touched his shoulder. 

“You look amazing. I don’t think I can wait for later. I’m sorry, but you will need to make yourself up all over again when I’m done.”

He was surprised I was so close when he turned his head back to respond. I took his head in my hand and held it so I could kiss him, turning him toward me. He tried to resist for just a moment but quickly understood and gave in to my advance. 

“It’s Okay. I’ll have time to redo whatever we ruin.”

We kissed for a long time. Our hand wandering over each other’s bodies. The dress was satin and very slippery. My hands were all over it, and him. 

Him? Well, at that moment, I realized he had become that pretty girl he always dreamed of being. He kissed me like a girl would. He wrapped one arm around my shoulders like a girl would. He slipped his hand into my crotch, grabbing my cock like any horny girl would. My hands ran up and down his long sexy back, over his bottom, and up onto his breasts.

I was already far beyond the foreplay, though. I wanted him. I wanted to blow a big wet load inside him. I was ready to go to home base right now. I didn’t think about him. Or her. I just made an excuse, dropping her over the back of the couch, pulling her dress up over her back, and going for it. 

“I’ll do my best to not ruin your make up, sweetie.”

I agreement, she begged me: “There’s lube in my purse. Please use some, I wasn’t ready for this so soon!”

Perfect!

With that, I pulled the sexy thong back panty down to her knees, spread her sweet round cheeks, sprayed a nice stream of lube in her hole, and pushed my jizz leaking cock right in. 

“OH, my fucking God!” She shrieked like a little girl. It was great!

I mounted her with my hand holding her head face down in the pillows on the couch. She was struggling with her hands and arms waving up and down trying to get hold of something. Her legs spread, one heel off her foot, the other still on. I held her down as I got into a nice fucking rhythm and didn’t stop. 

“You’re going to love this, you little bitch!”

When I felt myself getting very close, I grabbed her tit and squeezed hard. The perky tit, soft silky dress and lace bra felt really sexy in my hand. I pushed her face deeper into the soft couch pillows. I pushed harder, stopped, then jammed in hard again. A squeal came out of her sweet little mouth. I pumped until I released my nasty full load in her tight, slippery little butt cunt. 

I held her there for a few minutes. Catching our breath.

Finally, I lifted myself off of her. I stood up, looking down at the ravaged little slut in the pretty pink dress. Well, the dress was half off of her. The sexy red garter and panties were not where they should be. Her carefully combed hair was a mess. One stocking was pulled down to her knee, the other still barely hanging on by one red garter up by her ass. I was a bit wrinkled as well. I pressed my shirt down and adjusted my slacks. I think I’ll e fine. But she is going to need a bit of a makeover.

I gently spoke, trying to not break the quiet moment. “That was fun. I am looking forward to some dinner and that dance. But I can’t wait for another round. How about you?”

She glanced back over her shoulder at me. Then back down at her wrinkled outfit. Then back, looking into my eyes. She smiled.

Perfect!

---

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

---

Season 1, Episode 3

Three

The Sigma Nu house was not a party, it was a living organism of chaos! The bass from the speakers was so powerful it wasn’t just heard, it was felt (a deep, visceral vibration that resonated in Paul’s bones and rattled his teeth). The air was a thick, humid fog of sweat, spilled beer, weed smoke and cheap perfume. Bodies pressed in from all sides, a writhing, dancing mass of collegiate hedonism. It was the perfect place to get lost. It was the perfect place to start a war.

Luke was in his element, or at least, he was playing the part flawlessly. He stood in the center of the kitchen, a beer in one hand, the other arm still clamped around Pamela’s waist. He was holding court, his voice booming over the music, a triumphant grin plastered on his face. He was the conquering hero, the MVP, the king of the castle! But Paul, watching from the doorway, could see the frantic energy behind his eyes, the slight tremor in his hand as he lifted his beer. He was a man running on pure adrenaline and denial.

Paul let the current of the crowd carry him to the makeshift bar, where he poured himself a generous cup of whatever passed for jungle juice in the giant cooler. It tasted like cheap vodka, pineapple juice and regret. He downed half of it in one go, the burn a welcome shock to his system. He needed to be on Luke’s level. He needed to be reckless.

For the next hour, he just watched them. Every time Luke’s eyes scanned the crowd, searching, until they inevitably found him. Each time their gazes locked, it was a jolt, a silent acknowledgment of the live wire connecting them across the crowded room. He saw every time Luke would then immediately turn his attention back to Pamela, kissing her, grabbing her ass, a desperate, public display of ownership.

Paul just smiled, a cold, knowing smirk, and took another drink.

Finally, Pamela broke away from the scrum, making her way toward him. Her face was flushed, her green eyes sparkling with a mischievous light.

“Having fun hiding in the corner?” she asked, her voice a playful shout over the music.

“Just enjoying the view.” Paul replied, his eyes flicking over her shoulder to where Luke was now locked in a loud, back-slapping conversation with a teammate.

Pamela followed his gaze, then looked back at him, her expression unreadable. “He’s wound pretty tight tonight, isn’t he?”

“He’s got a lot on his mind.” Paul said, the words dripping with double meaning.

Pamela’s smile turned conspiratorial. She leaned closer, her lips near his ear. “I have something that might help with that.” She opened her small clutch purse and showed him a small plastic baggie containing three small, white pills stamped with a little star. “A friend of mine called them ‘magic buttons.’ Said they make the music sound better and everything feel amazing.”

Molly. Of course. The ultimate party drug. The perfect catalyst for a night of blurred lines and bad decisions.

The old Paul would have said no. The smart, controlled chess player would have walked away. But the man standing here tonight, fueled by vodka, jealousy and a burning, reckless anger, didn’t hesitate.

“Why the hell not?” he said, plucking one of the pills from the bag.

He saw a flicker of surprise in Pamela’s eyes. She took one for herself, then looked back at Luke. “Think you can get the king to join us?”

“Watch me!” Paul said.

He moved through the crowd with a newfound purpose. He walked right up to Luke, cutting into his conversation. Luke turned, surprise flashing on his face.

“Hey!” Paul said, his voice low and even. He opened his palm, revealing the small white pill. “Pamela’s passing out party favors. Said it’ll take the edge off.”

Luke stared at the pill in Paul’s hand, then at Paul’s face. He saw the challenge in Paul’s eyes, the reckless abandon. He saw that Paul was done playing by the rules. For a long moment, the noise of the party seemed to fade away. It was just the two of them, standing on the edge of a cliff.

Luke’s jaw tightened. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he took the pill from Paul’s palm, his calloused fingertips brushing against Paul’s skin. The brief touch was electric. He tossed the pill into his mouth and washed it down with the last of his beer, his eyes never leaving Paul’s.

Challenge accepted.

They stood there for a moment, locked in a silent battle of wills, before Pamela rejoined them, looping her arms through both of theirs. “To the three musketeers!” she cheered, pulling them toward the pulsating heart of the dance floor.

Twenty minutes later, the world began to change. The edges of everything softened. The pounding bass of the music wasn’t just a sound anymore, it was a physical wave of pleasure washing over Paul’s skin. The colored lights seemed to trail in the air, painting beautiful, liquid patterns. He felt a surge of warmth spread through his chest, a profound sense of well-being and a deep, empathetic connection to the two people beside him.

He looked at Luke. The frantic energy in his friend’s eyes had been replaced by a wide-eyed wonder. The hard lines of his face had softened. He looked younger, more vulnerable. He caught Paul looking and a slow, genuine smile spread across his face. The first one Paul had seen since the tackle.

Pamela was dancing between them, her body fluid and sensual. She reached out, taking one of Paul’s hands and one of Luke’s, linking them together.

Paul’s hand was holding Luke’s. Their palms were slick with sweat, their fingers intertwined. It was the most natural thing in the world. He could feel the rhythm of Luke’s pulse through his skin, a steady, powerful beat that seemed to sync with his own.

The noise and the crowd began to feel oppressive, the sensory input too much. Paul wanted (no, needed) to be somewhere else. Somewhere with just him.

As if reading his mind, Pamela leaned into Luke’s ear, whispering something. Luke nodded, his eyes still locked on Paul. Then Pamela turned to him.

“This is too much.” she yelled over the music. “Luke’s room is empty. We should go continue our own party there. Just us.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact. The final move in a game that had been playing out all night.

Paul looked at Luke. Luke looked back, his eyes dark and wide with a mixture of drug-fueled euphoria and raw, terrifying desire. He gave a single, almost imperceptible nod.

It was time.

The three of them, hands still linked, moved as one. They pushed their way through the throng of bodies, leaving the cauldron of noise and heat behind. They stepped out into the cool, quiet night air, a silent, unified trio walking toward the inevitable, explosive resolution waiting for them in Room 3B.

---

The walk back was surreal. The cool night air felt like silk against Paul’s skin. The world seemed to have muted its unnecessary background noise, leaving only the sound of their three sets of footsteps on the pavement and the faint, thumping ghost of the party bass. No one spoke. Words felt clumsy, inadequate for the electric current flowing between them.

When they reached their dorm, Luke fumbled with the key, his fingers clumsy. The click of the lock unlocking sounded like a gunshot in the hallway’s silence. He pushed the door open, and they stepped inside Room 3B.

It was exactly as Paul had left it: the single desk lamp casting a warm, intimate glow, creating an island of light in the darkness. Luke let go of Pamela’s hand and moved to the small Bluetooth speaker on his desk. A moment later, a slow, deep, thrumming beat filled the room. It was atmospheric, sensual music. The kind that seeped into your bones and vibrated in your groin.

Paul stood by the door, feeling like an intruder in his own home. He watched as Luke turned to Pamela. The frantic, performing energy was gone, replaced by a slow, deliberate sensuality. The Molly had stripped away his panic, leaving only a pure, distilled essence of want.

Luke’s big hands went to Pamela’s waist, pulling her flush against his massive frame. He lowered his head, and their mouths met in a kiss that was slow, deep and utterly mesmerizing. It wasn’t a performance for a crowd anymore: It was only for Paul.

Paul’s breath caught in his throat. Every sensation was amplified. He could see the way the lamplight carved shadows and highlights across Luke’s flexing back muscles, taste the lingering sweetness of the jungle juice on his tongue. He leaned back against the closed door, his body thrumming with a potent cocktail of MDMA-fueled empathy and raw, desperate lust.

Pamela’s hands roamed up Luke’s chest, her fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt. Luke groaned into her mouth, a low, guttural sound of pure pleasure that shot straight to Paul’s cock. He felt himself growing thick and heavy in his jeans, a familiar, aching hardness.

With a shared, unspoken understanding, their dance became more deliberate. Pamela guided Luke, turning them slightly so that Paul had a perfect view. She was acutely aware of his gaze on her, on them. She was feeding on it, using it to fuel the fire. Her hips began to grind slowly against Luke’s crotch, a lazy, hypnotic rhythm that matched the beat of the music.

“God, Luke…” she whispered, her voice husky as she broke the kiss, her lips trailing down his thick neck. “I want to feel you. All of you.”

Luke’s hands went to the hem of her tight black dress, his movements slow, almost reverent. He pulled it up over her head, revealing her body. She was wearing the lingerie she’d promised: a sheer pink bra and a matching thong that was little more than a triangle of transparent lace, doing absolutely nothing to hide the blonde curls beneath. Her body was stunning, but Paul’s eyes were locked on Luke.

He watched Luke’s face, the raw, undisguised lust in his wide, dark eyes. He watched Luke’s hands as he reached behind her to unhook her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Her breasts, full and tipped with hard, pink nipples, were beautiful, but it was the sight of Luke’s big, calloused hands cupping them that made Paul’s own hands clench into fists at his sides.

Now it was Pamela’s turn. Her nimble fingers went to the buttons of Luke’s shirt, undoing them one by one, revealing the magnificent, sculpted expanse of his chest. She splayed her hands over his pecs, her red-painted nails a stark contrast against his tanned skin. Then her hands moved lower, to the waistband of his jeans. She unbuttoned them, unzipped them, and slowly pushed them down over his powerful hips and thighs, until they pooled around his ankles.

He stood before them in nothing but a pair of tight, vibrant white boxer briefs. The thin fabric was stretched to its absolute limit, struggling to contain the massive, thick bulge of his erection. It was a blatant, nine-inch testament to his arousal, the shape of the thick, heavy head clearly visible.

Paul’s own cock was now a painful, throbbing ache in his pants. Without thinking, he reached down, his hand covering the hard ridge in his jeans, squeezing himself through the rough denim. A soft, involuntary whimper escaped his lips.

The sound, though quiet, cut through the music.

Pamela’s head snapped up. Her green eyes, dark and dilated, found him in the shadows by the door. She saw him. She saw his hand on his crotch, saw the blatant evidence of his arousal, saw the hungry, desperate look on his face.

A slow, wicked smile spread across her lips. She didn’t look away. She held his gaze as she knelt before Luke, her hands stroking the thick, muscular columns of his thighs. She pressed a kiss to the straining fabric of his underwear, right over the head of his cock. Luke threw his head back and groaned, his hands fisting in her blonde hair.

Paul’s own clothes felt like a cage. He shucked his jacket, then pulled his hoodie over his head. He unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them off, standing in the dim light in nothing but his own black jockstrap, the pouch doing little to conceal his fully hard, seven-inch cock. His hand went back to his shaft, his skin slick now, his fingers stroking his length.

Pamela saw the move and smiled widened. She looked from Paul’s hand on his own cock, to Luke’s massive bulge, then back to Paul’s eyes. The invitation was clear, undeniable.

Luke’s eyes were closed, lost in a haze of pleasure as Pamela’s mouth worked magic on him through the thin fabric. He was completely vulnerable.

Pamela looked directly at Paul, her voice a low, seductive purr that wrapped around him like a physical touch.

“Look how fucking hard he is, Paul.” she whispered. “Doesn’t that make you want to touch it too?” She patted the empty space on the floor beside her.

Paul’s mind was a whirlwind of Molly-fueled euphoria and stark, terrifying clarity. The fear was still there, a faint tremor in the back of his mind, but it was drowned out by a tidal wave of want so powerful it was a physical force. It was pulling him forward, stripping away years of repression and longing in a single, inexorable tide. His body moved before his mind could raise another objection.

He pushed off the door and crossed the small room, his eyes locked with Pamela’s, a silent, primal understanding passing between them. He knelt on the cool floor beside her, the worn carpet rough against his knees.

He looked up at his best friend. Luke’s head was still thrown back, his eyes closed, his jaw slack with pleasure. He was lost in his own world of sensation, a god unaware of the new worshipper at his feet.

Paul reached out a trembling hand, his fingers hovering for a second over the thick, muscular expanse of Luke’s thigh before finally making contact. His friend’s skin was hot, the muscle beneath it hard as stone. The simple touch was a jolt of pure electricity shot up Paul’s arm, and he saw Luke’s hips twitch in response.

Pamela gave him a knowing smile. With a shared purpose, she reached for the waistband of Luke’s white boxer briefs. Paul’s hand joined hers, his fingers brushing against hers as they hooked their thumbs into the elastic. Together, they peeled the fabric down.

What was revealed, was a monument of flesh: A thick, nine-inch shaft of pure masculine power, heavy and brutally thick. A web of veins traced a path up the length to the heavy, purpled uncut head, which was weeping a thick, clear droplet of pre-cum. It was more beautiful and more intimidating than Paul had ever imagined. It was the physical manifestation of all his secret, desperate fantasies.

“Oh, fuck…” Paul breathed, the word a prayer.

Pamela took one side, her mouth closing over the thick head. A deep, animalistic groan rumbled in Luke’s chest. Then, she looked at Paul, her eyes daring him. Your turn.

Paul leaned forward, his heart hammering against his ribs. He closed his eyes and let his mouth find the base of Luke’s shaft. The skin was hot, silky, and tasted of salt. It was the most intoxicating taste he had ever known.

He and Pamela worked together, a perfect, unspoken rhythm. Her mouth would slide up as his slid down, their lips and tongues tag-teaming the massive cock between them. Luke was a ship lost in a storm of pleasure, his big hands fisted in the sheets of his bed behind him, his hips beginning to move in slow, searching thrusts.

“Oh fuck, yes!” Luke moaned, his voice a low, gravelly growl. He still hadn’t opened his eyes. He didn’t know. “God, that feels so good… Don’t stop… Fuck, please, don’t ever stop…”

The sound of his friend’s voice, thick with unrestrained lust, sent a fresh wave of heat through Paul. This was real. This was happening. He grew bolder, taking more of the heavy shaft into his mouth, his throat muscles contracting around the incredible thickness.

Then Pamela pulled away, slid up Luke’s body, her wet mouth leaving a trail on his taut stomach as she moved to kiss him, her tongue plunging into his mouth, taking his groans of pleasure for herself.

And just like that, Paul was alone on his knees. He was left kneeling, Luke’s entire massive, throbbing cock now his sole responsibility. He looked down at the magnificent flesh filling his vision, slick with their combined spit. A wave of panic and awe washed over him. He opened his mouth and tried to take it all again. The thick head slid past his lips, his throat opening to accommodate the incredible girth. He took him deeper, the shaft pressing against the back of his throat, and he gagged, a small, choked sound. He pulled back, coughing, his eyes watering.

And that’s when Luke’s eyes snapped open.

His gaze, hazy and unfocused at first, cleared and dropped down his own body. He saw Paul. Kneeling between his legs. His best friend. His roommate. His soulmate. With his cock halfway down his throat, his blue eyes wide and tear-filled, his lips glistening.

The world stopped. The music, the air, time itself! It all ceased to exist. There was only the shocking, undeniable reality of the scene.

Paul froze, terror seizing him. He expected a shout. A shove. He expected disgust, violence, the end of everything.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, he saw a universe of emotions flash through Luke’s dark, dilated eyes. Shock. Disbelief. Confusion. And then… something else. Something hot and dark and powerful. Awe. And then, pure, unadulterated, bone-deep lust.

Paul watched, mesmerized, as Luke’s cock, already impossibly hard, seemed to swell even further in his mouth. It pulsed, a thick, living thing, and another drop of pre-cum leaked from the slit, a salty pearl on Paul’s tongue.

Luke’s hand, which had been tangled in Pamela’s hair, slid down to cup the back of Paul’s head.

“Fuck, Paulie…” Luke breathed, his voice a raw, ragged whisper filled with wonder. “Holy fuck…” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Emboldened, Paul went back to work with a newfound fervor. He licked and sucked with a desperate hunger, his eyes locked on Luke’s, watching his friend’s face contort with a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

“That’s it!” Luke grunted, his hips beginning to thrust again, fucking Paul’s mouth in slow strokes. “Take it all, Paul. Show me how much you want it.”

Paul wanted to give him more. He wanted to taste every inch of him, to worship every part of the body he had coveted for so long. His mouth slid from Luke’s cock, down over the heavy, taut weight of his balls. He licked a path lower, over the perineum, his tongue tracing the seam of skin. He heard Luke’s breath hitch in anticipation.

He reached his goal. He nudged Luke’s thick, muscular ass cheeks apart with his nose and flicked his tongue directly against the tight, puckered ring of his asshole.

The reaction was instantaneous and violent.

A raw, guttural roar ripped from Luke’s throat, a sound so primal it was barely human. His entire body arched off the bed, his back bowing. “HOLY SHIT! PAUL!”

Paul didn’t stop. He laved the sensitive skin with his tongue, circling the tight hole before plunging the tip of his tongue inside. Luke tasted musky and utterly male. He tasted like secret, forbidden pleasure.

“FUCK! YES! RIGHT THERE!” Luke screamed, his voice cracking. He was completely losing control. “Oh god, don’t stop, whatever you do, don’t fucking stop!”

Paul rimmed him with a devoted intensity, his own cock leaking freely into his jockstrap, the pleasure of pleasuring his friend so intensely it was almost an orgasm in itself.

Luke couldn’t take it anymore. He reached down, his hands finding Paul’s shoulders, and hauled him up. His eyes were wild, his face flushed a deep red. “My turn.” he growled.

He gently pushed a dazed Pamela onto her back on the bed, spreading her legs wide. Without a moment’s hesitation, he buried his face between her thighs, his mouth finding her clit with an expert’s precision. Pamela cried out, her fingers fisting in the sheets as Luke’s tongue worked its magic. He was as devoted and intense in his worship of her as Paul had been with him.

He was a hurricane of lust, and they were all caught in his beautiful, destructive path.

Pamela was writhing, her moans filling the room. “Oh god, Luke, yes! I’m so close!”

She writhed, her hips bucking, and then her eyes found Paul, who was watching, mesmerized, his own cock aching.

“Hey, Paul…” she panted, her voice strained. “Why don’t you taste him on me?”

It was the ultimate invitation. Paul crawled onto the bed and positioned himself at the other end. He looked at Luke, whose face was buried in Pamela’s cunt, and then he lowered his own head. Pamela guided him with her hands, pulling his face to her wet, swollen slit. He plunged his tongue in, and the taste was explosive. It was sweet, but it was also him (his friend). The faint, salty taste of his mouth still on her. It was the taste of the three of them, a unique, intoxicating flavor of shared sin.

He felt Luke’s head beside his, their cheeks brushing, their tongues working in tandem, driving Pamela to the brink.

“I’m gonna come!” she screamed, and her body seized, her inner muscles clenching around Paul’s tongue in a powerful, shuddering orgasm.

Luke pulled away, his face slick with her juices. He looked at Paul, a savage, predatory grin on his face. He was no longer a confused boy: he was a god of pure, carnal instinct.

“Now you.” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

He grabbed Paul’s hips and flipped him effortlessly onto his back. Paul landed with a soft thud, his legs falling open, his hard cock pointing at the ceiling, his ass completely exposed and vulnerable. He was spread eagle, completely at Luke’s mercy.

He spit into his own palm, the sound loud and vulgar in the quiet room. He rubbed his hands together and then reached down, slathering his slick saliva all over Paul’s waiting hole and the base of his own massive cock. The touch was both shockingly intimate and brutally efficient.

Paul gasped as Luke’s fingers probed him, stretching him open. “Easy, easy…” Luke soothed, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “Just relax for me.”

He positioned the thick, wet head of his cock at Paul’s entrance and pushed.

Paul cried out, a sharp sound of pain and overwhelming pleasure. He felt a searing, stretching pressure as the thick, blunt crown of Luke’s cock breached him. It was the most intense sensation of his life.

“Fuck, you’re so tight!” Luke groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. He pushed again, slowly, inch by agonizing, blissful inch. Paul’s body screamed in protest and begged for more. He was being filled, claimed, split open by the one person he had ever truly wanted.

Finally, with a last, powerful surge, Luke was all the way inside him. He was buried to the hilt, nine inches of thick, hot flesh filling Paul completely. They both froze, panting, letting Paul’s body adjust to the incredible size of him. Paul could feel Luke’s pulse, a deep, steady throb, deep inside him.

“You feel that?” Luke whispered, his lips brushing against Paul’s ear. “That’s how much I want you.”

And then he began to move. He started slowly, his strokes long and deep, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in, stretching and filling him over and over again. Paul wrapped his legs around Luke’s thick waist, pulling him deeper, taking every incredible inch. The pain had faded, replaced by a pleasure so profound, so all-consuming, it was spiritual.

“Oh god, Luke! FUCK!” Paul cried out, his voice raw.

Luke’s pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, more primal. He was fucking Paul with a desperate, frantic energy, as if trying to make up for years of lost time. The sound of their bodies slapping together, the wet, slick sound of his cock plunging in and out of Paul’s tight ass, filled the room.

“Fuck, I’m so close!” Luke grunted, his rhythm becoming frantic, his powerful body slamming into Paul’s. “Gonna come inside you, Paul. Gonna fill you with my cum.”

The words, the thought of it, sent Paul over the edge. His own orgasm ripped through him, a white-hot flash of pure bliss. He shouted Luke’s name as his own hot seed sprayed across his stomach and chest.

Seeing him come, hearing his name cried out, was all Luke needed. With a final, guttural roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room, Luke drove himself deep inside Paul one last time and held himself there.

Paul felt it. A hot, powerful surge deep inside him. A thick, pulsing gush of hot cum flooding his insides, filling him, branding him. Luke shuddered on top of him, pumping every last drop of his release into him, collapsing onto his chest, his body heavy and slick with their shared sweat.

Paul didn’t know how long this vivid dream would last, but the fact was, even if he woke up right now, he would be more than satisfied.

He was completely exhausted. But he was, in that small moment of his life, completely Luke’s.

---

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

---

Jurassic World Rebirth is the property of Universal Studios

---

Henry Loomis was running for his life.

The raptors were chasing him through the thick tropical jungle.

Henry was sweating from the heat.

The dinosaurs would not stop until they found their prey.

Henry kept running.

A raptor leaped out of the jungle and blocked his way.

Henry’s heart pounded.

The dinosaur lunged toward its human pray.

Henry tried getting out of the way, but the creature claws tore into his legs. He felt an intense pain.

“Get off me!”

Henry Loomis woke up from his nightmare. He had fallen sleep on his couch. Henry was thirty-five years old, five’ 10” 180lbs. He was wearing a Natural Museum t-shirt and a loose-fitting gym short. Henry still felts sleepy when he heard a knock at this front door. He looked through the peephole and saw a man standing outside.

“Dr Loomis I need to speak with you “

 “Henry did not recognize the man was dressed in jeans and a tight shirt that showed up a well-muscled body.

“It’s very important “the man insisted.

“Alright but make it quick.”

Loomis opened the apartment door.

  “Nice to meet you Dr Loomis.”

The man shook Henry’s hand he had a powerful grip.

“I’m really busy right now.”

“Packing for your expedition?” 

“How do you know about that? Are you from the FBI?”

“No exactly”

“Who are you.”

“Owen Grady “the man said as he stepped into the apartment.

“How do you know about me?

“I’ve seen you’re your you tube videos.”

Henry was highly active in the Natural Museums social media sites.

“Grady? your name sounds familiar.”

“I worked at Jurassic World “

“The raptor trainer!” Henry had seen the videos of Grady controlling the raptors.

“You make it sound like a circus act “

“I thought it was very cool.”

“It was until the disaster” Grady said.

“When the dinosaurs escaped.”

“It’s really hot out there.”

Owen unbuttoned the top of his shirt

“Can I get you something to drink?.”

“Sure, a beer would be fine.”

“Be right back.”

Henry went into his kitchen and took a couple of beer bottles from his fridge.

 “Here you go” Henry handed Grady a beer.

“Thanks”

“You live in New York?”

“No just visiting .”

Henry sat down next to his handsome visitor.

“You live here alone?’

“Yeah”

“No girl friends?”   Owen notices a framed photo of Henry standing next to a shirtless man.

“I don’t have time for that” 

“Busy with work”

“How did you find out about the project? .” Henry asked

“The company approach me first told them I was not interested “

“It’s a fantastic offer “

“Hard to turned down that money.”

“It’s not about that for me- it’s a chance to see dinosaurs in the wild.”

Owen could see the way Henry’s eyes lit up when he mentioned the dinosaurs running free in the jungle

“Trust me its more dangerous than it sounds.”

“I’ve been assured we will have top level security.”

“That’s what I thought at Jurassic World and looked how that turned out.”

“Why are you so concern about my safety” Henry asked.

“You seem like a nice guy.”

“I can take care of myself

“You remind me of a nerdy scientist friend from college.”

‘This friend of yours worked for Jurassic World?’

“No, he got involved with some dangerous people and ended up dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that but I’m willing to take the risk.”

Grady reached out and touched Henry’s thigh.

“Just want you to understand the danger.”

“I get it  but- “

Owen grabbed Henry and  gave him a kiss.

“What are you doing?!” Henry pushed the man away

“I thought we had a connection.”

“You go the wrong idea about me “Henry said standing up.

“That bulge in your shorts says otherwise “

Henry realized he had gotten an erection.

“I think you should go.’

“You sure about that Dr Loomis?” Owen spread his thighs displaying a large bulge.

Henry did find the man attractive. Owen was the type of beefy college football jock that needed a tutor but once they got better grades, they would dump Henry and go back to the blonde cheerleader girlfriend

“Just be careful in that jungle.” Owen said 

Henry looked up into Owen’s green eyes. He understood how this man could control raptors.

“I will” Henry stammered.

“Maybe if you get back, we could meet up?” Owen placed his right hand on Henry’s shoulder.’

Henry could not resist and kissed Owen.

“Now that’s more like it”

Henry took off his t-shirt revealing a hairy chest.

“Nice Dr Loomis” Owen said licking Henry’s nipples.

“Kiss me again”

“Are you in charge now Dr Loomis?.”

“You want me to?

“Yeah “

“Get naked!’ Henry commanded

Owen took off his clothes. He had a beefy smooth body. Owen was wearing a pair of white briefs that showed off the outlined of his hard cock

“What now Dr Loomis?”

“Suck my dick!” Henry pulled down his shorts releasing a hard eight-inch dick.

Owen knelt in front of the nerdy scientist and began to give him a blow job.

“Oh fuck”

Henry shoved his dick into Owen’s mouth.

“Yeah “

Henry fell back on the sofa.

“Now it’s your turn “Owen said pointing to his nine-inch erection

Henry licked his lips as he stroked Owen’s cock with his hands.

“Suck my cock Dr Loomis.”

Henry could not resist Owen’s voice.

“Yes sir”

Henry took the hard cock into his mouth.

“Suck it man!’

Owen fucked Henry’s mouth with is cock.

“Deeper ”

Henry could feel the head of the cock in the back of his throat.

“So, fucking hot”

Owen pulled his cock out of Henry’s mouth.

“More please”

Owen lifted Henry and kissed him again.

“I want your ass.”

Owen turned Henry on his back.

“Spread em for me”

Henry laid face down on the sofa.

“It’s hairy like the rest of you.”

Henry felt Owen’s rough hands on this ass.

“Oh yes”

Owen buried his face in Henry’s butt.

Henry could feel the man’s tongue licking his hole.

“Fuck me Owen”

“You want me to Dr Loomis.?”

“Yes, please fuck me now!.”

Henry felt the head of the man’s cock teasing his hole.

“Gonna fuck you good.”

Henry felt the man’s cock penetrating his ass.

“Give to me now!’

Owen began to fuck Henry.

“You like that.?”

“Oh yes yes”

Henry loved the feel of the hard shaft in his ass

“Love this”

Owen had been with men before when he had served in the Navy, but this was more intense. He could feel a deeper connection with the nerdy scientist

“Need to see your eyes.”

Owen made Henry face him.

“Yeah, that’s better.’

Henry wrapped his arms around Owen’s torso.

“Fuck me more “

Owen kissed Henry as they fucked.

“So good”

Henry could feel the shaft vibrating inside his ass.

“Are you cuming?”

“Yes “

Owen ejaculated into his lover’s hole.

“Love you man”

Henry kissed Owen.

“You are still hard.”

Owen looked down and Henry’s cock.

“Suck me please “

Henry watched as Owen went down on his cock.

“Going to cumm “

The pleasure was intense as Henry ejaculated into Owen’s mouth.

“Love it”

Henry wrapped his arms around Owen’s chest he loved the man’s scent.

“So, you are still going on that expedition.”

“Yes “

“I wish I was going with you “Owen said.

“Me too”

“You better get back here in one piece.”

“Why is that Owen?”

“Because next time you are fucking me “

Owen grabbed Henry and kissed him again. He imagined they were both in the jungle. Dinosaurs roaring in the distance as they made love once more.

Sunlight spilled through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the tangled sheets where Marcus and Alex lay entwined. Marcus stirred, pressing a soft kiss to Alex’s shoulder, his muscular arm draped protectively over the younger man’s waist. “Morning, beautiful,” he rumbled, his deep voice vibrating against Alex’s skin. “Last night was incredible.” Alex smiled sleepily, nestling closer into the warmth of Marcus’s hairy chest. “It was… more than I imagined,” he replied, his light beard brushing against Marcus as they shared a few lazy, lingering kisses, the taste of wine and passion still on their lips.

Marcus grinned mischievously, his dark eyes sparkling with playful intent. “I almost forgot—I brought you a present. Something to make this weekend even more fun.” He reached into his bag and handed Alex a neatly wrapped box, tied with a satin ribbon that shimmered in the light.

Alex untied it curiously, lifting the lid to reveal black fishnet stockings and a pair of matching black lacy panties, the delicate fabric intricate and sheer. His eyes widened, a flare of nerves twisting in his stomach. “Are these… for me? I’ve never worn anything like this…” He trailed off, fingering the lace tentatively, the thought of dressing so femininely both thrilling and intimidating.

Marcus chuckled softly, pulling Alex into his lap with strong, gentle hands on his hips. “Hey, no worries, princess, but just imagine how sexy you might feel in them—the way they’ll hug your body and that perfect booty, making you irresistible. If you wear them all weekend, I’ll treat you like royalty, worshiping every inch of you in every room of this cabin. Teasing touches in the kitchen, slow kisses on the porch at sunset… and when the time comes for more, I’ll be so gentle, easing into you with care, making sure it feels nothing but perfect. No pain, just pure bliss.” Alex’s doubts began to melt under the heat of Marcus’s gaze and the promise in his words, replaced by a spark of excitement. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice husky with anticipation. “For you, Daddy.”

Alex slipped into the bathroom to change, the fishnet stockings gliding up his legs like a seductive whisper, hugging his thighs with their intricate weave. The lacy panties followed, the sheer black fabric settling over his hips, the delicate patterns framing his form in a way that made him pause at the mirror. His butt looked irresistible—plump and rounded, the lace clinging to the curves like a second skin, accentuating the soft swell of his cheeks while the sheer material teased hints of smooth skin beneath. The high-cut edges rode up just enough to highlight the firmness from his subtle workouts, creating a tantalizing contrast of innocence and allure that made Alex feel unexpectedly bold and desirable. He turned, admiring how the lace dipped into the cleft, emphasizing his shape in a way that sent a thrill through him.

When he stepped out, shyly posing in the doorway, Marcus’s reaction was visceral—his dark eyes raked over Alex’s body, lingering on the panties, hunger flaring as he drank in the sight. “God, you look stunning,” Marcus breathed, his voice thick with desire, arousal straining evident against his shorts. He rose from the bed, closing the distance in two strides, his hands immediately roaming over the fishnets on Alex’s legs before sliding up to cup his butt through the lace. “This ass… princess, it’s perfection. So plump and juicy, wrapped in that lace like a gift just for your Daddy. The way it fills out the panties, teasing me with every curve—firm yet soft, begging to be touched.” His fingers traced the lacy edges, squeezing gently, savoring the mix of smooth skin and delicate fabric, eliciting a shiver from Alex.

Alex felt a rush of sexiness he’d never known, the lingerie amplifying his confidence as Marcus’s touches ignited sparks. They tumbled back onto the bed, Marcus’s hands and lips exploring every inch, drawing moans of “Daddy” from Alex’s lips, which only spurred Marcus to whisper “princess” in return, their connection deepening with every caress.

By midday, the heat between them had built to a fever pitch. Marcus led Alex to the living room wall, positioning him facing it, hands braced against the cool wood for support. “Stand here for me, princess,” he whispered, his breath hot against Alex’s neck as he knelt behind him. With skilled fingers, he prepared Alex, applying generous lubricant, working slowly to ensure every moment was comfortable and slick. Alex trembled, the lace panties pushed aside just enough, anticipation crackling like electricity in the air.

Marcus rose, his large hands gripping Alex’s hips firmly yet tenderly. “Relax, my princess,” he murmured, lips brushing Alex’s ear, his voice a soothing command. “Daddy’s got you—nice and slow.” He slowly pushed inside, feeling how tight Alex was, hoping he wouldn’t hurt this beautiful boy. He allowed Alex some time to get used to the tip of his thick black cock, while kissing his princess on the neck and caressing the small of his back. Then Marcus slid in gently, the stretch intense yet perfect, filling Alex with a warm, throbbing fullness that sparked waves of ecstasy through his core. It was a profound surrender and empowerment, his body alive with sensation—the deep pressure, the intimate friction—as moans of “Daddy” escaped his lips. Slowly this Adonis inside him withdrew until he was almost fully out, giving Alex some time to recover before he pushed back inside. This movement continued and started to pick up a little speed, as Marcus felt Alex’s opening relax more and more, his princess giving into the other worldly sensations deep inside him. Marcus moved with deliberate rhythm, whispering, “You’re so perfect for me, princess,” his hands roaming the lace-clad form, the fabric adding a tantalizing texture to every thrust.

The tension coiled tighter, Alex’s body responding to each movement, his plump butt pressing back against Marcus, the lace panties framing the scene erotically. Marcus’s pace quickened slightly, his grip tightening as pleasure built. “Princess… I’m close,” he groaned, and with a final, deep thrust, he shot his love inside Alex—a hot, pulsing surge that flooded him with warmth, intimate and claiming, the sensation of being filled so completely sending Alex over the edge. His sphincter tightened around Marcus as he screamed in ecstasy, involuntarily spasming, his legs shaking so hard his butt jiggled in the lace panties, his cum trapped in the panties too. It felt like pure connection, Marcus’s essence marking him from within, waves of bliss radiating as they both cried out, collapsing against the wall in hot, sweaty, sticky ecstasy.

They slid to the floor, entwined and breathless, the cabin now truly their private haven, the ocean’s roar a distant applause.

There was young Jack, twenty one, his Uncle Peter, forty five and his step dad George in his sixties. All three were on a fishing holiday up in the lakes and renting out a remote log cabin where thy could relax and hopefully get together for some hot gay sex. Jack had only just ‘come out’ whereas Peter and George were once straight but converted after experiencing the full delights of sex with men.

“Pull your uncle’s big cock out Jack” said his step dad George.

Jack was sitting on the bed with his uncle Peer and sep dad standing in front of him. All three were dressed in just shorts and ‘T’ shirts and uncle Peter was standing out , literally, as his bulge was pretty impressive.

Jack stroked his uncle’s bulging shorts, feeling the sheer size of what was beneath He grinned up at his uncle’s kind face and the wink his uncle gave him encouraged the lad to undo the shorts and slide them down his uncle’s hairy thighs. The white briefs underneath were soon rolling down too and allowing uncle Peters prick to spring out and throb before his nephew’s eyes.

Jack certainly was wide eyed, the un cut cock was magnificent, the foreskin tightly rolled back exposing a plum of a knob. Jack gripped the shaft in his hand feeling the warmth and strength of the beast.

“Wank him Jack” said his step dad “Wank your uncle’s lovely big cock”.

Jack worked his hand up and down the shaft and too the liberty of holding his uncle’s heavy balls as he did so.

“That’s nice Jack” said his uncle “Keep doing that”. 

Jack’s step dad George was now getting in on the act by tugging at Jack’s ‘T’ shirt and removing it completely exposing the lad’s slightly built torso.

His hands went then to Jack’s shorts and pants and with Jack’s help pulled both off leaving the lad naked and sporting a fine erection.

“Suck on your uncle’s dick lad” said his step dad

“Let’s us get down to some serious gay fun”.

Jack licked hi uncle’s knob and then he ran his tongue down the shaft to his uncle’s balls and back again before taking half of the big cock into his hot mouth. Jack loved the feel of the stiff cock in the cosy warmth of his mouth and he sucked it with some determination and lust.

Meanwhile George, his step dad, was enclosing his hot mouth over the lad’s stiff prick, taking most of it into his mouth for a sensual sucking.

Uncle Peter pulled his ‘T; shirt off exposing a fine toned and hairy chest, the hair trailing down from chest to pubes.

Jack was gobbling his uncle’s cock like a pro at the same time enjoying his step dad’s cock sucking skills on his own throbbing prick.

With the excitement mounting the three of them climbed onto the bed. George had now removed his clothes and was happily sowing off a huge stiff cock that challenged Peter’s.

Jack lay in the middle and was keen to try and take both big cocks into his mouth. The men wanted that too and so knelt either side of the lad and pushed their dicks into Jack’s stretched mouth.

Thee lad sucked them best he could, his slobber running down his chin as he attempted to suck both at the same time. Taking one and then the other seemed easier and the men were soon moaning with Jack’s gobbling of one cock then the other.

Jack’s hands were also busy feeling the four cum loaded balls slapping his chin.

“Wow! He likes sucking cocks” said uncle Peter.

“He’s fucking cock mad” echoed George slapping his cock against Jack’s  knob sucked swollen cheek,

Jack was having the best time  slobbering on both horny stiff cocks as his uncle and step dad reached to fondle his own cock and balls.

“Let’s get our cock slurping lad’s tight hole ready for some deep fucking” said Peter,

Both men pulled away from Jack’s sucking mouth.

“Get your legs up in the air lad” said George “Shoe us that tight fuck hole of yours!.

Jack held his legs up as asked and his uncle Peter dived in and stuck his tongue firmly against the lad’s sphincter and licked hard.

“Spread them cheeks lad” said George “I’ll keep your legs up”.

Jack pulled his arse cheeks apart as George held his legs up allowing Peter good access to the tight arsehole. Peter sucked and tongued on the hole, pushing right in and driving the lad into a moaning frenzy.

“Fuck he’s loving a tongue” said George “Imagine what he’s going to be like when he has a cock up his arse”.

Peter stopped tonguing the lad’s arsehole and let George have a turn. George was soon burying his face and tongue into the lad’s saliva wet hole making Jack squirm and moan . He feasted on the tight arse, his tongue digging in, his mouth covering the arsehole and sucking wildly.

Rolling Jack over onto all fours allowed both old tongues to rim Jack’s arsehole. Peter was licking from the top down and Gorge was underneath his step son licking up, both tongues working their way into the tight arsehole for a rimming Jack would never forget.

The saliva was dripping from the older men’s mouths as they slavered over Jack’s tight fuck hole.

Fingers probed now, opening up the arse together with tongues that would not stop licking.

Jack’s quivering arsehole was at their mercy and beginning to stretch open. His uncle and step dad worked tirelessly with four fingers to probe and open up the lad their tongues aching as they continued to wriggle inside the lad’s saliva wet juicy hole.

“I need my cock inside  the lad said Peter and Jack uttered a moan of sheer approval.

“I want that too” said George “So who’s going first. Who do you want first Jack lad?”

Jack was in a state of euphoria now, his arsehole twitching for more than a tongue.

“Just give me a cock, any cock” said Jack “I need a cock!”.

“He’s a fucking horny slut nephew” said Peter “He’d let anybody fuck him at the moment”.

“Yes!” said Jack wiggling his arse at the men “Cock, any cock any cock at all just fuck me!”.

His uncle Peter got Jack onto his back and opened the lad’s thighs.

“Get stuck in there” encouraged George “Fill that fuck hole with cock”.

The hot knob of Peter’s cock was soon pressing against the saliva wet hole and it was giving way to the pressure letting the bulbous knob edge it’s way inside.

“Oh! Oh! It’s going in” said Jack “It’s going right in”.

A further push and Jack’s arsehole stretched over the dick taking a few more inches  inside.

“Give me the whole length” said Jack “I need all of your cock”.

A hard shove accompanied by a howl had Jack’s arsehole crammed with dick and pulsating frantically.

“You got it all in” said George “Now show the lad what it’s like to be fucked by a real man”.

Peter began t move slowly at first stretching the arsehole more and more until he could get a swing of a fuck going.. Jack was moaning his head off and his step dad was now gobbling on the lad’s prick whilst he was being fucked.

“Oooooh! Oh! Fuck! Fuck! It hurts. oh! Fuck it’s a lovely hurt. Fuck me! Fuck me!”. said Jack, his head tossing from side to side in his sexual anguish.

“Let me get in him” said George. ” his mouth now free of jack’s cock. “I need to fuck my step son really bad”.

George’s cock was bigger than Peter’s and so sensibly taking second shot at Jack’s stretched hole.

Peter pulled is throbbing prick out of his nephew’s hot twitchy arse and George got between his step son’s thighs and sank his cock into the eager fuck hole diving his prick ball deep,

“Fuck! What a tight hole It’s fucking burning my prick up but it feels fucking amazing”.

Jack was whimpering with the sheer size of his step dad’s cock as it fucked him hard.

Gradually Jack was relaxing more and taking the dick deep and nasty. His step dad was a fuck machine and once his prick had stroked over the lad’s prostate their was no going back  despite Peter’s pleas of another fuck of his nephews arse.

The bed was rocking and Jack’s whimpering loudly filled the room as his arse was man pounded.

“Come on let me get in him again” said Peter wanking his own cock.

“Cant let you as I’m so close, so fucking close” said George.

“Cum inside me” begged Jack his eyes now streaming with lustful tears. “Give me your spunk”.

George was on the last stretch now his arse going like the fucking clappers as he jack hammered the lad’s ragged arsehole.

“I’m coming, I’m fucking coming lad. Here the fuck it comes” and George’s whole body stretched out stiff and hard as he spunked his load deep inside Jack’s willing arse. He continued to fuck until  his spunk lubed his thrusts making his cock slip out.

“He’s all yours Peter” said George “Fuck him good”.

Peter could not wait to get back inside the lad his stiff prick sliding in on a river of George’s spunk.

“Fuck me!” pleaded Jack “I need some more fucking”.

“You are one insatiable cum slut Jack” said his uncle “I’m going too enjoy this” and he slid his prick bollock deep up Jack’s cum loaded arsehole.

The fucking was extreme with Peter slamming his dick home whilst wanking the lad . George, not to be excluded, rested his head on Jack’s abdomen in the hopes of a creamy facial.

Uncle Peter was thrusting hard and fast inside his nephew’s hot juicy hole, his fist wanking the lad faster and faster.

George’s hopes of a facial were soon realised when Jack suddenly shot five spurts of spunk across his craggy face. Looking like an advert for condensed milk, George licked around his lips for a taste of his step son’s cum just as Peter announced that he too was coming.

Peter howled like a banshee and spurted his cum deep in Jack’s arsehole, the lad writhing, his arse milking the spunk from his uncle’s draining balls.

Exhausted and fucked out the three of them lay close together hands on each other’s cocks as they drifted into sleep.

The next morning the three of them went fishing on the lake. Jack was complaining of a tingling arse an his uncle and step dad thought it amusing.

As for catching fish their attempts were futile so after three hours they rowed back to shore.

Skinny dipping in the lake seemed to be  the thing to do though Jack said he’d lay on the bank and wait for his uncle and step dad as his arse was pretty uncomfortable still.

Watching the men in the water was fascinating anyway as they were up to high jinks and obviously feeling each other up. Evidence of that was noticeable when they came as both men had stonking big erections . They lay on the bank either side of  Jack and began playing with his prick and balls.

“Think it would be nice if we suck the lad off” said Jack’s step dad “After all he gave up his tight arse for us.

Peter agreed and so both men got down to some serious cock sucking with Jack passively enjoying their hot tongues on his cock.

Peter gobbled both of Jack’s balls into his mouth as George took his step son’s prick right down his throat for a gullet hug. With both of his relatives pleasuring him, Jack just lay back and enjoyed the experience as both men were on top of their game when it came too cock sucking.

Working Jack to the edge was easy and the men edge the lad for a good half an hour with Jack begging to cum.

Finally they let Jack release his load and boy did it spurt high. Globs hit Peter in the face and George’s silver grey hair was streaked with Jack’s jizz.

To further their own pleasure Peter and George began to toss each other off, their cocks above Jack’s sweet face. The lad watched intently waiting for the spurts of cum to fly and when they did his face got plastered.

“Wow! Look at that!” said George “The lad’s face is like a fucking Picasso now”.

Not wanting to waste the cum both men began to lick Jack’s face clean, their tongues lapping at the lad’s lips and cheeks.

“We might not have caught any fish but fuck we’re lucky to have such a young insatiable lad to play with”.

“We have to fuck him again soon once his arse has settled down” said Peter and the three of them made their way back to the cabin.

The cabin itself was in a fine position nestled in the trees and far enough away from the other cabins which were on the other side of the lake. The big open fireplace was obviously a boon in the winter time as too the heavy bed covers which now in the main bedroom had been cast on the floor to create a white cotton base on which the three horny men now indulged in heavy sexual foreplay. 

Uncle Peter had his large throbbing cock inserted up  George’s arse and the old man was moaning with rapturous ecstasy. Giving Jack’s hole further time to calm down,, Peter was ramming George’s arse with a passion.

“Suck your step dad’s dick while I fuck him Jack”. said Peter shunting his arse back and forth.

Jack was happy to oblige and was soon gobbling his step dad’s hefty cock for all he was worth,

George managed to grab Jacks dick as he was getting fucked wanking the lad to the edge and stopping.

“Do you want to fuck your step dad lad?” asked Peter, “Give me a chance to rest my fuck sore cock”.

“Yes lad” said George “It’s been a while since I had a young cock up my arse. Have a go and make me fucking whimper Jack”.

Jack was very keen to get fucking and wanted to do a good job.

His step dad lay on his back with his legs wide open and young Jack took up the challenge and just ploughed his cock up the old man’s arse in one swift thrust that had George groaning out loud.

“Fuck him” said Peter “He likes it deep and hard”

Jack gripped his step dad’s hips and thrust his cock hard.

“Fuck lad! Your cock feels so fucking hot” said George “I love it!”.

Peter got behind Jack to rim the lad’s hole as he fucked. The action had Jack moaning , his fuck sore arsehole  now being soothed by a saliva dripping tongue. Peter spread the lads cheeks to get really stuck up the lad’s bum, his tongue wriggling and digging in even as the young arse was rutting.

“Fuck me harder” said George “Get that young cock deep up my butt”.

Jack was close to creaming particularly with the added thrill of a tongue up his arse and now also a hand squeezing his balls.

Jack’s step dad was ready to be loaded with cum and writhed beneath Jack and his lovely cock as the lad began to gush a load of sperm up his arse.

Peter tugged the lads balls milking the spunk until Jack slipped out of his step dads arse.

Once he was out and dripping pearls onto the sheet, Peter took his lace and slid his cock on Jack’s cum filling the old man’s arse again with his horny cock.

The fuck was now a race to orgasm and Peter went fuck crazy. Their combined moans and groans filled the room expressing their passion and lust as Peter’s cock jerked a bevy of spunk into the old man’s fuck hole. George’s belly rose and fell as he panted heavily, taking the cum with a grateful grin on his face.

“Help me Jack” said Peter “Help me suck your step dad right off”.

Jack was still feeling horny so was soon joining his uncle in a lavish licking of George’s rigid prick.

Getting the old man to cum was a task worth doing and Jack and his uncle slurped and knob sucked the huge cock until it shot four jet’s of jizz into the air.

Jack and Peter watched as the spurts went every which way some though delighting the pair’s open mouths with a taste of honey.

The next day after another hopeless fishing trip the three of them went into town for dinner and a look in a local sex shop. Peter purchased a prostate massager that moved independently and George bought four bottles of assorted poppers. It was going to be another heavy night of gay sex.

As was usual after dinner the three of them were in the bedroom naked. Jack and his step dad were on the bed playing with each other’s cocks and Peter was opening the box containing the prostate massager. It was a black penile shaped object with two rings attached one to fit around the base of a cock and the other to fit snugly around your balls.

Peter loaded it with the batteries and switched the massager on. He laughed as the massager went back and forth in his hand so he showed it off to George and Jack.

“This should get Jack’s hole open for us George” said Peter “Do you want to try it lad?”

“Of course” said Jack, his hole in complete recovery after his uncle and step dad had fucked it ragged.

“Spread your legs then Jack” said his step dad.

Jack obeyed and opened his legs wide. Peter lubed the massager and pushed it into the lad’s tight hole.

Jack’s arse didn’t give too easily so more lube was applied and the black cock slid up him.

Peter put the rings around the lad’s cock and balls and switched on the shunting massager.

Jack moaned as the black dildo fucked back and forth reaching his prostate and sending him into orbit.

The men left the massager going as they knelt beside Jack’s head for some cock sucking. Jack eagerly took one and then the other cock into his mouth and sucked pre cum out of both amidst their heavy breathing and sensual moans.

George had a bottle of poppers in his hand and quickly unscrewed the top so that he could take a big snort before handing the small bottle to Peter.

Peter huffed at the bottle hard and then held it under Jack’s nose as he sucked both their cocks.

Jack, never having tried poppers before, too a massive hit and gobbled their cocks frantically as the vapours  worked their magic.

George and Peter, both glassy eyed and poppered up, clung to each other as Jack continued to slurp the hell out of their big throbbing cocks.

The prostate massager was still going in and out of Jack’s arsehole, it’s relentless thrusts opening up the lad’s arse for the older men.

“Let’s fuck him before we end up creaming his fucking throat” said George, pulling his cock from Jack’s active mouth.

Peter pulled the massager from Jack’s arse leaving the lad’s hole pulsating and open for cock.

George got between his step son’s thighs and rubbed his knob up and down Jack’s fuck ready hole. .A gentle push and George’s swollen knob slid into Jack as Peter grabbed Jack’s cock for a slow wank.

“Fuck me” grizzled Jack “I can take your big cock now”

George took him at his word and began to shaft him , ignoring his whimpers as he fucked the lad hard. 

Peter took the poppers and held them under Jack’s nose, the lad needed a hit and snorted on the pungent vapours, his body writhing against George’s demanding thrusts.

“He’s just loving that” said Peter “He’s loving that big cock of yours slipping up and down his randy little arsehole”.

“Yes!” confirmed Jack “I want to be fucked I want both your cocks. Please give me both of you cocks”

“I think he wants double fucking . is that right lad, you want our two big cocks inside your arse at the same time, fucking you senseless?” .

“Oh! Yes!” replied Jack “My hole will stretch for both of you .Please double fuck my arse, I want your big cocks fucking me together”.

The request was one the old men jumped at. Peter got underneath the lad and slipped his cock up Jack’s now lubed hole and George got on top of the lad and rubbed his knob up against Peter’s.

“He’ll need a snort of poppers to take us both” said George and Peter held the small bottle underneath Jack’s nose as he buried his cock even deep in the lad’s arse. George took the bottle and snorted, the result urging him to push harder. Gradually amidst Jack’s heart stopping moans Peter managed to get half of his cock in,

“More lube, more poppers, more cock!” whimpered Jack, his hole stretching to take the two hard cocks.

Peter pulled out to apply more lube, he also lubed his own arse and grabbing the prostate massager he hooked the two rings over his cock and balls and shoved the massager up his arse switching it on immediately to get himself fucked.

“Try again” said Jack “Try and get your cock inside me, I need two cocks”.

George pushed the poppers bottle underneath Jack’s nose and the lad snorted heavily. He wrapped his legs around his uncle Peter’s waist, making sure his step dad’s cock stayed firmly up his arse, then waited for his uncle’s stiff lubed cock to push inside his already cock packed arsehole.

“He’s hungry for our cocks Peter” said George “So try and get him double fucked”.

Jack, his head swimming with poppers, could only think of one thing and that was ‘cock’ so as soon as he felt the hot tip of his uncle’s knob pushing into his hole he began to moan ecstatically.

Peter pushed harder and gradually his cock slid up alongside George’s in Jack’s hot pulsating arsehole.

A snort at the poppers and his hips were rocking back and forth urgently George too fucking into the lad.

Jack was in cock heaven, he clung to his uncle  Peter whilst his step dad George played with the lad’s cock and balls. Peter was also moaning with the thrust of the prostate massager, his prostate tingling with each hit as he fucked his nephew.

The two older men were determined in their quest to double fuck the lad and stuffed their cocks as deep as they could. A round of poppers and all three were writhing and moaning with sheer ecstasy.

Jack was whimpering and loving every moment, his own cock now being rubbed by his uncle’s abdomen as his uncle fucked. George was still playing with the lad’s balls and with little warning Jack shot his load, creaming his own belly and his uncle’s. George played with the cum, rubbing it all over Jack’s balls and using some to lube around Jack’s hole.

Peter, high on poppers and indulging in the thrusts of the massager, began to cum heavily, his spunk shooting into his nephew at some speed probably due to the munch of Jack’s orgasmic arse muscles.

George followed closely on, his cock spurting a load worthy of a teen. Both cocks , now sloppily wet with cum, continued to fuck until their pricks slipped from Jack’s hole leaving the arse gaping wide and dribbling with spunk.

The heavy breathing and panting of all three together with their slippery sweat wet bodies and spunk dribbles alerted hem to the fact that it had been one hell of a double fucking session.

“Where the fuck do we go from here?” asked George licking at his step son’s creamy belly.

“I guess” said Peter “That we all get ourselves double fucked”.

“Sound’s like a plan to me” said Jack.

The three snuggled together on the bed and were soon in a deep sleep. The only noise in fact was the prostate massager still whirring and fucking Peter’s arse!

I shouldn’t have knocked on Dylan’s door. It was late. Not midnight, but late enough that it counted. I could’ve gone home. Could’ve taken a shower. Slept. Pretended I was a normal person who hadn’t just had slow, tender, eye-contact sex with a Frenchman who called me mon amour.

But no.

I was here. Standing outside Dylan’s apartment like I hadn’t spent the last two hours getting my brains blown out by Elliot.

The door opened fast.

He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, shirtless, in those gray sweatpants he always wore around the apartment. His hair was damp. He’d showered recently. Smelled like clean skin and cologne and maybe mint toothpaste. My stomach flipped.

I tried not to look tired. I was tired. In a very specific way. “Hey,” I said like I’d just dropped by to borrow sugar. “Still up?”

Dylan leaned one arm against the doorframe. His jaw flexed. His eyes moved over me once, slow. “You look like you already had a long night.”

I snorted. “Wow. Thanks.”

“Wasn’t an insult,” he said. “Just an observation.”

I rolled my eyes and stepped past him into the apartment. He didn’t stop me. The place smelled like him. Familiar. Lived in. Unsettlingly comfortable.

He shut the door. Didn’t say a word.

“You always open the door half-naked, or is this a special occasion?” I asked, sinking into the corner of the couch.

“You always show up this late after a date?” he asked back.

Touché.

I gave him a look. “I didn’t say it was a date.”

“You didn’t say it wasn’t.”

Silence hung between us for a second. Then I smirked. “I thought you were above jealousy,” I said, stretching out like I owned the place.

“I’m not jealous,” he said too fast.

I raised a brow. “Sure.”

Dylan crossed the room and stood in front of me. He didn’t sit. Didn’t smirk. Just looked down at me like he was waiting for something. I met his gaze, tried to keep my face unreadable. I knew what he was seeing. Flushed cheeks. Still-rumpled hair. Skin that probably still smelled like Elliot.

And my eyes? Probably tired. In that very specific, very post-fucked way.

“I’m not stupid, Troy,” he said quietly.

“Never said you were.”

“You came from his place.”

I leaned my head back against the couch. “And if I did?”

His jaw flexed again. His hands curled slightly at his sides. I watched him. Waited. Tried to ignore the fact that my body, which should’ve been completely sated, was already reacting. Dylan had that effect. That tension in him. That heat. Even now.

He stepped closer. “You really think he can give you what I can?”

I laughed under my breath. “What, an aneurysm?”

He didn’t laugh. He reached down, caught my chin between his fingers. Not rough. But firm. “You smell like him.”

“So change that.” The words came out before I could stop them.

I regretted them instantly.

Because Dylan leaned down, slow and sure, and kissed me hard. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was claiming. Bruising. Hot. I gasped into his mouth and he used it, tongue sliding in like he already owned me. His hands were on my shoulders, pushing me down, forcing me flat against the couch. My body didn’t resist. Caus I missed being submissive to him.

I gasped. “Careful, Dylan…”

He paused just long enough to raise an eyebrow, lips still hovering over mine. “Careful?”

“I don’t know,” I said, all breath and bravado. “You kissing me is giving off some… emotionally compromised vibes. Starting to look a little jealous. I might think you’re catching feelings.”

He snorted, full sarcasm. “Spaghetti noodle,” he muttered, dragging his fingers along my jaw, “my cock’s already in love with your lips and your hole. My lips are just here for the drama.”

I laughed. Couldn’t help it. “Mm. Classic. So the dick’s in love, but you’re not?”

He dodged my question and proceeded to tug my pants down along with my underwear sliding down my thighs, knuckles brushing my skin. I sucked in a breath. He looked up at me, smug. “You really came straight from him, huh?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Sure,” he muttered, dragging my pants all the way off. “But I can still smell that expensive cologne on you. What’d he do? Feed you grapes in bed while whispering French poetry?”

“He doesn’t speak in clichés.”

“No? Did he sketch you after licking your balls?”

I gave him a sharp look. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet, here you are. Freshly wrecked and still bent over my couch.”

He spread my legs with both hands and glanced down at my ass, tongue poking the inside of my hole. Then he let out a low, amused hum. “Aha,” he said. “I see how it is. You got fucked by your Frenchman, and you’re still not stretched.”

I flushed. “Shut up.”

“No, really,” he went on, dragging his fingers between my cheeks. “You should see your hole after I fuck you. It practically doubles in size.”

“Dylan…”

“Bet he fucked you slow, soft. Probably whispered ‘my love’ while he did it.”

I stayed silent.

He grinned. “Yeah. That tracks. Meanwhile, as far as my dick tells me…” He pushed a finger inside. I gasped. “You like a good pounding.”

His voice dropped, cock hard and heavy against my ass. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

He pushed another finger in, slow but firm, watching my face the whole time like he could read every twitch of pleasure across it. I was already starting to sweat. My hole fluttered around his knuckles, greedy even after everything that had happened just hours ago.

I glared up at him, breath catching. “Are you gonna shut the fuck up and actually stretch me open, or are we just flirting forever?”

That cocky smile widened. His hand slid into my hair, fingers tightening.

“As you wish.”

He yanked my head back with just enough force to make my breath catch. His mouth was back on mine, but this time it wasn’t sweet or slow. It was hungry. All tongue and teeth and heat. His fingers worked deeper inside me as he kissed me like I was something he already owned.

And maybe I was.

I whimpered into his mouth and he used it, tongue sliding in like he already knew the shape of me. His hands were on my shoulders, pushing me flat against the couch. My legs bent instinctively. He dropped down between them, grabbing the lube from somewhere under a cushion, like he knew he’d need it the second I walked in.

“You really let him fuck you?” Dylan said, his voice low and teasing as he poured slick onto his fingers. “Romantic, candlelit, missionary bullshit?”

I didn’t answer. He kept going.

“You know what I see when I look at you right now?” His fingers were back inside me. “I see a hole that missed being treated like a fucking toy.”

I moaned, eyes fluttering. “God, you’re so full of yourself.”

“You’re full of me in a second,” he muttered.

Then he stood, stripped his shirt, and pushed his pants down further, his cock already hard, leaking, heavy in his hand. He looked down at me, spreading lube over it slowly, the way you’d sharpen a knife before slicing something open.

“Turn over.”

He grabbed my waist and flipped me with a grunt, holding me like I weighed nothing. My chest hit the cushions. He spread my ass, spit once, then slid the head of his cock up and down, teasing me.

I moaned loudly. Maybe too loud.

“Careful, Troy,” he said, voice dripping smugness. “Feels like you’re falling in love with my dick.”

I groaned. “Maybe I already am.”

He slammed into me in one smooth thrust.

I gasped, arching. The stretch was instant, deep, dizzying. He didn’t pause. Just pulled back and slammed in again, groaning low under his breath as he bottomed out.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s more like it.”

He set a rhythm, deep and punishing. My breath hitched with every thrust. His hands held my hips, fingers digging into my skin like he was anchoring himself to me. The couch creaked beneath us, the room filled with the sound of slick skin and breathless moans.

“You gonna tell him?” Dylan grunted, fucking harder. “That I fucked you like this? That you came crawling back to me the second he went soft?”

“You…” I gasped. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re mine.”

He leaned down, chest against my back. One hand slipped around, wrapping around my throat. Not tight. Just enough to make me feel it. “Say it,” he whispered into my ear. “Say you missed this.”

I didn’t answer.

He pulled out slowly, just the head left in me. I whimpered. Then he slammed back in and I moaned, biting the couch cushion to muffle the sound.

“Say it.”

“I missed this,” I breathed. “Fuck. I missed it.”

His hand stroked my cock while he fucked me, each thrust perfectly angled to make me gasp.

“You sound so good when you beg.”

“I’m not begging,” I panted.

“You will.”

He kept going, faster, deeper, and I couldn’t pretend anymore. I was moaning, needy, shameless. My body pressed into every thrust like I was starved for it.

“God, Dylan…”

“Yeah,” he groaned. “Take it. Take every inch. Let him kiss your neck and call you pretty. I’ll fuck the part of you he can’t reach.”

My body shook beneath him.

He slowed down, just a little. Pressed kisses to my shoulder. Then my spine. Then my lower back.

“I know you,” he said quietly, cock still buried deep. “You don’t just want sweet. You want this. The stretch. The ache. The ruin.”

I couldn’t answer. Maybe he was right?

He pulled out again. Flipped me over. My legs went up automatically. He shoved his cock back in and started thrusting harder, kissing me again between every stroke, but it wasn’t soft anymore.

It was ownership.

“Keep looking at me,” he whispered. “I want you to see who’s fucking you.”

I did. I watched every second of it.

His thrusts grew rougher, deeper, perfectly angled to make my back arch and my toes curl. He gripped my thighs tighter, driving into me with full, unrelenting power like he was trying to fuck something out of me. Maybe my guilt. Maybe my memory of Elliot’s soft hands and gentler hips. Maybe the part of me that still didn’t know what I wanted.

“Fuck, Dylan…”

“Yeah,” he grunted, grinding deeper. “Say my name again.”

“Dylan…fuck…”

My voice cracked on the syllable. He kissed me hard, tongue forcing past my lips. I moaned into it. My legs were wrapped around his lips, and I could feel everything. His sweat on my chest. His cock slamming into me, fast and possessive. His hand stroking mine like he wasn’t just fucking me…he was laying claim again.

“I bet he kissed you while he fucked you,” Dylan muttered against my throat.

“He did,” I panted.

He growled and slammed harder. “But you came to me.”

I couldn’t argue.

He held my hips down, locking me in place as he started to pound into me.

Thwack

Thwack

Thwack

Every stroke hit just right, slapping against my ass, cock sliding in deep enough to make me gasp.

“You like this more,” he whispered.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

He leaned down and bit my neck, then sucked at the spot. “You want slow kisses and eye contact? Fine. But I know what your body wants. And it’s not poetry. It’s this.”

His hand snaked down and gripped my cock. I gasped.

“I can feel your hole squeezing me,” he said, voice thick. “You’re close, huh?”

“Yes..fuck, so close”

His strokes turned brutal, cock dragging against my prostate with every deep thrust. My back arched again. I was shaking, legs trembling, fingers digging into the couch cushions.

“Say it,” he growled. “Say who’s making you cum.”

“You,” I gasped. “Fuck, Dylan…Aah..”

“Aaah.. uh.. fuu…ckkk”

I came hard. Hot and messy across my own stomach. My hole clenched down on him and he hissed.

Dylan stayed buried inside me, grinding with deep, steady thrusts that left no room for doubt. His eyes stayed locked on mine, intense, almost dark with focus. I was breathless, legs wrapped around him, arms gripping his shoulders. He kissed me again, messier now, wet and hot and hungry. His cock kept hitting that spot, over and over, and I was loving inch of his cock inside me.

The friction, the heat, the pressure…it was overwhelming.

He fucked in deep, his breath stuttering in my ear, and then I felt it. His whole body tightened above me. He let out a low groan, and I felt the heat of his cum spill flood inside me in slow, heavy pulses.

“That’s for you. Keep it in,” he growled.

I gasped, trembling around him, hole clenching hard. The moment was intense. Raw. My thighs shook. His cock twitched inside me.

He didn’t pull his cock out after cumming inside me. He stayed inside, holding me close, kissing the side of my face. His body was hot, slick with sweat. I felt his heart beating against mine, fast and hard.

Neither of us spoke.

He pulled back slowly, gently, like he didn’t want to leave. His cock slid out with a wet sound and I shivered, instantly feeling the aftermath. My body felt used, stretched, leaking. My whole body buzzed with it.

Dylan wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand and looked at me, breathing hard. His eyes dropped to my hole, still twitching and open from how deep he’d been.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “You are still mine.”

I didn’t have the energy to argue.

I stayed on the couch a few minutes longer while he cleaned up in the bathroom. I felt the cum slowly trickling down the inside of my thigh, still warm. I didn’t know what I felt. It wasn’t regret. It wasn’t guilt. Not exactly. But it was something.

When I finally pulled my clothes on and slipped out of Dylan’s apartment, it was nearly 1 a.m.

The walk down the hallway felt long. Quiet. I let myself into my own flat, dropped my bag by the door, and went straight to the shower.

I stood under the water a long time. Didn’t even move. Just let it wash me clean.

But it didn’t, not really.

—–

The next morning, Becca, my sis was already making coffee when I walked into the kitchen. She was sitting on the counter in one of those oversized sweaters she always stole from me, scrolling her phone, bare legs swinging.

“Well, well,” she said, without even looking up. “Look who came home late.”

I grunted and grabbed a mug.

She raised an eyebrow. “Your lunch with Elliot must’ve gone really well.”

I blinked. “What?”

She looked at me now. “You were glowing when you left yesterday. I assumed you stayed over?”

I hesitated. “Uh… actually, I came back late because I was at Dylan’s.”

Becca’s face froze for half a second.

“You were… at Dylan’s?” she said, voice cautious now.

I nodded, sipping coffee. “Yeah.”

“And what about Elliot?”

“We… spent the afternoon together.”

“So you spent the afternoon with Elliot… and the night with Dylan?”

I sighed and leaned against the counter. “I didn’t plan it. It just… happened.”

Becca gave me a look. It wasn’t judgmental. Just… Becca. Honest. Cutting through the fluff.

“Troy,” she said slowly, “you can’t lead them both on.”

“I’m not trying to.”

“Okay. But you kind of are.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Becca hopped off the counter. Came closer. Her voice softened.

“Look,” she said, “I get it. Elliot’s sweet. He looks at you like you’re a damn masterpiece. And Dylan’s—well—Dylan’s Dylan. Hot, possessive, emotionally constipated, and apparently amazing in bed.”

I almost choked on my coffee.

“But at some point,” she continued, “you’re going to have to figure out what you want. Not who wants you more. Not who makes you feel safe or horny or nostalgic. What do you want?”

I didn’t have an answer.

She patted my shoulder. “Just don’t hurt them. Or yourself. You’re allowed to want both. But you’re not allowed to lie about it.”

I nodded. “I know.”

My phone buzzed.

It was from Dylan.

Last night was fun, spaghetti noodle. Come with me to my shoot today. Fitness campaign. You’ll get to see me shirtless and sweaty, posing with some overpriced protein powder. You’re welcome.

– Dylan

I didn’t answer right away.

Becca leaned over my shoulder to read. “Oh god,” she groaned. “He really texted you that?”

I smirked.

But I knew I was going to say yes.

---

If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Patreon.

---

I grew up visiting my grandparents lake house every summer. My mom was an only child and I am an only child as well. My grandfather passed away when I was in college. The last summer of my graduate school year I spent with my nana. Everyone called her Miss Pearl. Three days before Halloween I got a call from my mom telling me to make the three hour drive to the Blue Ridge mountains to the local hospital if I wanted to see nana one more time. By the time I arrived at the hospital I got there in time to say my prayers and my goodbye. The next morning my mom called the local funeral home and we made arrangements for her service. Her home-place had been in the family for over four generations. The neighbors came and dug the grave and we had her service at the family cemetery. What an honor to play my guitar and sing her favorite song, “Climb Every Mountain” from the Sound of Music.

Three months later my mom called me and told me she had a great idea. Mom and dad suggested I move to the home place and take over the house and make it my home. I was pleasantly surprised and happy to take them up on their offer. I graduated in May with my degree in pharmacy. I packed up my truck and moved from Charlottesville and moved to western North Carolina.

After a couple of weeks I reached out to a couple of my cousins and inquired about local folks who could address home repairs that had been neglected since my grandfather passed. One evening I was sitting on the screened in porch drinking my favorite IPA when a pick up truck came up the graveled drive. Out stepped a beast of a man. He was massive. At least 6’5” – thick and arms and legs as big as tree trunks. I’ve always known I was attracted to men. Older daddy types got my attention. The man approached the porch and spoke….are you Wesley, Miss Pearl’s grandson? I replied….the one and only. He introduced himself as Daddy Max. Hell yes he was …..woof. This man was sexy as fuck. Ginger beard and hair. I’d estimate he was 400 pounds or more. His bib overalls were straining to keep his big belly nice and tight.

Max said he and his son Jonny boy got word I needed some help with repairs. I shook his hand and asked him to join me on the porch. He stood in the doorway and his massive body filled the entrance. Damn…I was thinking about just how big this man’s pecker would fill my ass.

I offered him a seat on the porch swing but he said….hell….i don’t think thst would hold me. He chuckled and winked. Hell….my cock started to rush with blood. We went into the front room. He sat on the couch as I took my iPad and showed him my list of repairs my dad helped me identify. I leaned over the arm of the sofa and stood beside him. He smelled fresh of a cedar wood scent. Very earthy. He told me he had showered at home in his specialty designed walk in shower he had remodeled. He pulled up a couple of pictures on his phone. Fuck….I told him I’d love to see it in person and I definitely wanted a walk in shower in the main bedroom for me.

I was so tempted to kiss the man on the spot. We walked to the bedroom and he viewed the current situation and said….its a complete gut job. Hell….he could tear up my gut as he fucked me and rearranged my insides. I am a man who loves men of size.

As we walked into the smaller bedroom that we will take space from he noticed my cockring and glass crystal dildo toy I had used earlier that afternoon. He eyed it and said. I like how you think.

Next we moved to the kitchen. We discussed removing a wall and moving appliances to the opposite wall and creating a mud room. He told me he would work up an estimate and get back to me and bring his son by to do some measurements the next day. I shook his beefy hand and told him my grandmother left me the property and I had a good budget to remodel the bath and kitchen. As he was leaving…I told him to come around the back porch. I mentioned a phase two project would be construction of an outdoor shower. I was bold in sharing….i love to be a private nudist when I’m alone on this mountain side. He gave me a bear hug and said….he and his son would like to join me.

That evening I inserted a big butt plug and edged my cock while I stroked my cock out on the front porch. All I could think of was sitting on Max’s face and him tongue fucking my ass.
‘The next day around four o’clock I heard a truck coming up the graveled road. Sure enough Max and Jonny boy were right on time. Jonny was a very good looking guy. Looked like a linebacker who easily could have played college ball or even in the professional league. I introduced myself to Jonny and hell….he came in for a big hug….winked and said…dad says you are wanting an outdoor shower. He went on to say….you like being naked outdoors. He grinned and said….fuck …I sure do. Jonny reached out and pulled my tshirt over my head….he leaned in and kissed me and said….daddy…let’s get this boy naked. Good lord….within minutes we were naked…..hell….both men were studs. I was more than eager to swallow dad’s balls. His low hanging nuts were massive. As I popped his cockhead in my mouth …Jonny was rimming my ass as I was bent at the waste tasting his dad’s phenomenal dick. Damn…this man uses the most powerful soap….he was so intriguing….he’s definitely got my attention.

We moved in to the bedroom. Max took up the whole bed. I squatted on his face as he ate my ass. Fuck…his beard felt amazing. While daddy was eating my hole….his son was bobbing up and down on my leaking cock. I leaned over and took as much of Max’s thick dick in my mouth. Hell….my jaw hurt but it was definitely worth the challenge. Jonny fucked my ass. He’s about 7.5 ….thick and he stretched me pretty good. Within minutes he deposited his hot cum in my ass. After I was lubed up with cum he told me….now….sit down on my daddy’s pecker. I’d never had a cock that big ever. It took some time…but eventually I was sitting all the way down to the base. As I was riding Max his son stood in front of me feeding me his cock. He eagerly feed me load number 2.

The repairs took about three months. My walk in shower was plenty big enough for the three of us. I’m so happy I hired this father and son. I’m definitely looking forwards to phase 2 this summer for my outdoor shower. Between father and son these men together topped out over 450 pounds easily. I have leaned my developing task for men of size is definitely a thing I can’t get enough of.

Some days Jonny will come into the pharmacy and buy a bottle of lube and wink at me. He knows I wear a butt plug most days to work so my man pussy is stretched ready for daddy and son.

Damn….im sure glad my mom gifted me this property and my cousin recommended these men. Once my cousin heard about the walk in shower….he told me he would like to try it out. I’m thinking Jonny and Alex …my cousin have fooled around. Maybe I’ll find out soon.

Like clockwork….Max gets in the house….unhooks his overalls and gets my cock hard…..Max instructs me to put my ass in his face….he uses his teeth to remove my butt plug. Once his tongue dives in my hole….i whimper and beg him to fuck me. I can’t get enough of his fat daddy cock.