Saving Captions From Exitiction

He was supposed to be the next big young male heartthrob. That was the consensus. He'd burst onto the scene at eighteen with an indie darling called Tidewater that had swept through Sundance like a brushfire and had made a pretty impressive run that award season. I'd watched a few interviews on my laptop in my kitchen, eating cold leftover pad thai, and I remembered thinking: this kid has something. The camera had caught him mid-laugh, halfway through some heartfelt story about his mother’s support, and there was this rawness to him—this unpolished, genuine thing that the industry vultures would normally carve up and sell in pieces. But he'd held onto himself.

His manager was sharp. I'd later learn Carla was a brassy woman from the Bronx who'd clawed her way up from mailroom jobs and had a nose for career architecture like nobody else in the business. She'd helped River curry that indie goodwill into a supporting role in a blockbuster with big names attached. Suddenly his name was next to an A-list director, two bankable leads, a budget that could fund a small country. River had played the younger brother, the one who dies in the third act, and he'd stolen every scene he was in. I remember attending an industry screening and sitting in the theater just watching him share the screen with actors who'd been working longer than he'd been alive, and he didn't just hold his own. He made them look like they were working to keep up with him.

The big movies kept coming. A sci-fi franchise. A war epic. An impressive filmography for a kid who hadn’t even turned twenty two yet. But he kept a few smaller projects in the mix. Just enough to keep the award buzz circulating and his name fresh in the mouths of the people running the industry. From there, his name recognition only grew. I'd seen a thousand guys like him come and go over the years. Pretty faces who caught a wave and rode it straight into the rocks. A meteoric rise was usually accompanied by a meteoric fall when people started looking under the surface and found out the talent was an inch deep. But River was the real deal. I'd watched his work closely enough to know the difference. He had range. He had instinct. He had that thing you can't manufacture. The camera just wanted him.

And then he'd just disappeared.

I'd taken a different path to stardom. A longer one, a harder one, the kind where you earn every square inch of ground. I'd worked my ass off for years in network tv, grinding through guest spots and two-episode arcs on shows that got canceled mid-season. Then I'd landed a recurring role on The Long Dark, a moody drama that danced the line of comedy that nobody expected to survive its first season. A mix of luck and hard work—and I mean real hard work, the kind where I was the first one on set and the last one to leave, where I treated every single line like it mattered even when the writers handed me clunky dialogue—led to me being promoted to series regular by the end of its run. Five seasons. The show had become a cult classic, the kind that people kept discovering years later and obsessed over online, dissecting every frame.

Practically the entire cast got Emmy nominations for our final season, and I'd pulled out a win. I still remembered standing backstage afterward, the statuette cold and heavy in my hands, sweating through my rented tux. I'd called my mother from the bathroom stall and she'd cried so hard I couldn't understand a word she was saying. Afterward, I'd been expecting to be rolling in offers. That was supposed to be the part where the doors flew open. But they didn't materialize. Not the way I'd pictured it, anyway.

I made the move to film and took a role in a romance called Last August. A period piece, lush and overwrought, and I played the brooding love interest opposite a talented actress who's since become a good friend. That movie had seemed like my big break—it performed well, it got attention, it put me on magazine covers. But I found myself getting typecast as the male romantic lead. Every script that landed in my inbox was a variation on the same character: the handsome brooder, the guy who stands in the rain waiting for someone to come back, the one whose only job is to look tortured and pining. I found myself missing the range of work I'd had in TV, where I'd played a character who was messy and contradictory and sometimes genuinely unlikable. I missed the complexity. I missed the mess.

So I turned down every role that was offered to me. My agent, a patient woman and a godsend named Deborah who'd been in the business longer than I'd been alive, would call me weekly with scripts and I'd read them and pass. Eight months I spent off set. I still had brand work—a fragrance deal and a clothing partnership that required minimal effort and paid well enough to keep me afloat—but Deborah was getting antsy. She'd started leaving voicemails that opened with long sighs. "There's a romcom this time, it's got financing, it's a good role—" and I'd read it and it was the same thing in different clothes. I was holding out for something worth doing.

Finally, the right script came across my desk. A drama with a prestige director/producer, Marcus Webb, attached. Marcus had a reputation for being demanding and brilliant, the kind of director who squeezed performances out of actors that they didn't know they had in them. The script was dense, layered, a story about two men connected by a shared loss that slowly revealed itself to be something else entirely. When I first read the script, the role scared me. That was how I knew it was the right one. I prepared like hell for the audition.

That's when I first met River.

He walked into the chemistry read already attached to the role, and I understood immediately why the entire industry had been obsessed with him. He was shorter than I'd expected, but that was something the camera always lied about, yet he made up for it with this presence, this gravitational pull that made the air in the room shift. Dark curly hair that he kept pushing back from his forehead with an impatient hand. A strong, square jawline and eyes that were almost unsettling in their directness, like he was reading you while you were reading him. I needed to show the producers that I could not only go toe to toe with this young actor, but really create something special with him. 

He'd smiled at me across the table, a quick flash of white teeth, and said, "Big fan of The Long Dark. That scene in the hospital hallway in season five was incredible." I'd nodded, something warm settling in my chest, and we'd gotten to work.

River and I were a great pair right from the start. We co-starred in the movie together but in reality I didn’t see him much in the next few months. It was the back half of the film where our characters' relationship really ignited and we had more screentime together. We had heavy emotional scenes—arguments, confessions, a climactic confrontation that required us to go to places that weren't comfortable. River had suggested we meet at my place after a day of shooting to run lines. "I work better in someone else's space," he'd said, shrugging one shoulder, like it was nothing. "Studios feel like dentist offices." So he'd started coming to my house in the hills, this low-slung mid-century place I'd bought a few years ago, tucked into a quiet street above the city.

We'd sit on my couch with the script between us, and we'd read. At first it was professional. Focused. He'd circle passages he wanted to discuss, I'd make notes in the margins, and we'd work through the beats with the precision of two people who took the craft seriously. But the scenes we were doing required vulnerability, and you can't manufacture that in a vacuum. To play two people who are falling apart together, you have to let something real bleed through the cracks. I started noticing things. The way he'd press his thumb against his bottom lip when he was thinking. The way he'd laugh—really laugh, not the polished interview laugh—and his whole face would change, and I'd catch myself watching his mouth. The way he'd lean into me when a scene got intense, his shoulder brushing mine, and neither of us would pull back. I was studying him just as much as the script.

One night, after we'd been running the same scene for three hours, he'd set the script down on the coffee table and looked at me. Just looked at me. The room was quiet except for the bugs outside and the low hum of my refrigerator. His pupils were blown wide in the lamplight, and his chest was rising and falling a little too fast for someone who'd been sitting still. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. He reached over and put his hand on my knee, and his fingers were warm through the denim, and that was it. That was the crack in the dam.

I pulled him into me and kissed him, and he kissed me back with this hunger that I hadn't expected. It was deep and urgent, his tongue sliding against mine, his hand gripping the back of my neck hard enough to sting. I'd wanted him. I'd been wanting him for weeks, maybe, in that slow-burn way where you don't let yourself name it until it's already consuming you. He was the hottest guy in the business and he was in my living room with his tongue in my mouth, and I wasn't about to turn down a night with him.

We didn't make it to the bedroom the first time. I had him against the hallway wall, my hands everywhere, shoving his shirt up over his chest, my mouth on his throat. He was gasping, these broken sounds that went straight to my cock, and when I got his jeans open and wrapped my hand around him, he'd thrown his head back and hit the wall and said my name like it was the only word he knew. I'd dropped to my knees right there on the hardwood floor and taken him into my mouth, and he'd fucked my throat with his hands shaking in my hair, and I'd loved every second of it. Every thrust, every choked-off moan, the way his cock hit the back of my throat, I savored it all and I swallowed around him until he came so hard his knees buckled.

But one night turned into two months. Two months of him showing up at my door with takeout and a script, and the script would get abandoned somewhere after half an hour running lines while we tore each other's clothes off. I bent him over my kitchen counter and ate him out until he was sobbing. I fucked him slow on the living room floor with the curtains open and the city lights spilling across his skin. He rode me in my bed at three in the morning, his head thrown back, his throat exposed, my hands gripping his hips like I couldn’t risk letting him go while he ground down onto my cock and whispered filth that would have made his PR team collectively faint. I came inside him every single time. I couldn't stop. The thought of my seed filling him, marking him, claiming him from the inside was an obsession that lived in the back of my skull like a fever. I'd hold him afterward, my cock still twitching inside him, and he'd press his face into my neck and I could feel his pulse hammering against my skin, and I'd think: more. I need more.

Then the movie wrapped. I had conflicting emotions about it. I’d never been a part of something so special. What we’d created together was going to make a real impact on audiences. I was so immensely proud of it but I felt my heart sink at the thought that this was the end of something. River and I both had projects directly after we filmed our final scene so we wouldn’t get to spend as much time together. 

It had been a panicked phone call a few weeks after wrapping. I'd been in my trailer between shots after a long night shoot the night before, still half-asleep, when his name lit up my phone screen. I picked up and he was quiet for too long. Then he said, "I need to come over," and his voice had this quality to it that was thin, stretched, like wire about to snap. I played sick and rushed off of set and raced home. He was sitting in his car outside my gate and pulled in after me. I jumped out of my car and rushed to his drivers side door, wrenching it open. I kneeled by his side when I caught the look on his face and then he reached into the center console and pulled out a white stick in his trembling hand, and when he looked up at me, his eyes were wet and his face was pale and he said, "I don't—I don't know how this is possible." I didn’t either but I'd been coming inside him every night for two months, flooding his guts with every load I had, and apparently the universe had decided that was enough.

I'd pulled him against my chest. He'd shaken against me, these full-body tremors that I could feel in my teeth, and I'd held him and said nothing because there was nothing to say. We sat there until his bathroom floor got cold and the morning light shifted through the window. Then I said, "We're doing this. We're having this kid." And he'd pulled back and looked at me with those dark, direct eyes, and he'd nodded.

I’d bought him a ring, not a wedding ring, but something to symbolize our commitment to each other. I gave it to him the day he moved in with me. It was cheesy but he’d smiled as he slipped it on and my heart almost burst from how happy I was that this man was mine.

River mostly sat out the press tour, citing exhaustion and a scheduling conflict, and there were a thousand rumors and conspiracy theories spinning through the entertainment ecosystem. Nobody guessed the real reason. Nobody came close. Because the real reason was that I'd gotten him pregnant.

We rearranged our lives with the kind of coordination that only Carla and Deborah could manage. River's public absence was explained as a creative sabbatical. I finished my next project and took a producing deal that kept me working from home. We told no one outside a tight inner circle. And River was sequestered away in the privacy of my home in the hills, where the paparazzi wouldn't guess to look and the only sound was the wind through the canyon and his breathing beside me in the dark.

His belly continued to grow. I’d find him taking in the afternoon sun out on the deck when I got home. He’d turned to just wearing sweat shorts as paternity wear and his fingers had swelled too much for the ring so he wore it around his neck. I didn’t mind. He’d stopped wearing underwear too so it was so easy to slide into him and make love to his swelling body. I dumped load after load in him knowing my seed had already taken root but not being able to buck the instinct to breed him.

He was tall, built like a swimmer with shoulders that stretched his worn cotton shirt. But what arrested me wasn't his face, though that was handsome enough—rough jaw, dark eyes that caught the string lights overhead. It was the unmistakable outline against his left thigh, thick and heavy even in repose, snaking down toward his knee.

I must have stared too long. His head turned, and those eyes found mine with amused knowing. I felt heat rush to my face, but I didn't look away. Something in his gaze asked a question I was desperate to answer yes to.

We didn't speak that night. But I found him on an app three days later, his profile picture had the same sharp jawline, bio blank. I messaged first. He responded within minutes.

The first time I knelt before him in my studio apartment, windows cracked open to autumn air, I understood the scope of my miscalculation. He was fully hard now, and the reality defied anything I'd imagined. The length curved upward toward his navel, thick enough that my thumb and fingers couldn't meet around the shaft. 

I tried. God, I tried. My jaw ached within minutes, lips stretched to their limit, spit flooding my chin as I worked what I could fit between them. My hand stroked the base, slick with my own saliva, but there were still inches untouched. When I pulled back to breathe, strings of spit connected my mouth to his cock, glistening in the afternoon light.

I looked up at him through watering eyes. His expression had shifted from arousal to something patient, distant. Disappointed.

"You're not going to get me there like this," he said. Not cruel, simply factual.

The words landed like a slap. I sat back on my heels, wiping my chin, desperate to salvage this. My eyes tracked back to his cock, still rigid, still impossibly large.

"Fuck me," I heard myself say. The words came out hoarse, almost desperate. "I want you inside me. I can take it."

He studied me for a long moment, that dark gaze weighing. Then he reached for the lube on his bedside table.

The preparation took forever. His fingers, thick and insistent, worked me open while I gripped his sheets and tried to breathe through the burning stretch. Two fingers felt like more than I was used to taking fully. Three had me gasping, face pressed into his mattress, toes curling against the bedframe.

When he finally positioned himself behind me, I felt the blunt pressure against my entrance and tensed without meaning to. The head alone was a challenge, broad and unyielding. He pushed forward, and I cried out at the immediate, overwhelming stretch.

"Relax," he murmured, but his voice had tightened. I could feel him holding back, controlled, but the effort vibrated through his frame.

I tried. I bore down, willed my body to accept him. He gained another inch, then stalled. The burning had become sharp, insistent, my body resisting what it couldn't accommodate. I was breathing in shallow pants, sweat slicking my spine, and still there was more of him that wouldn't fit.

He withdrew slowly. The loss of pressure brought immediate relief, then hollow disappointment. I collapsed onto my stomach, chest heaving, face hot with failure.

When I turned my head, he was already reaching for his shirt. His cock was still hard, glistening with lube, but his expression had closed off entirely. Professional, distant. 

"Cain—" I started, but he held up a hand.

"Don't." He pulled the shirt over his head, covering the chest I'd been gripping minutes before. "It's not your fault. We're just not compatible."

The words landed like a judgment. I lay naked on his bed, still open and slick and wanting, while he dressed with methodical precision. Every movement communicated finality.

At the door, he paused without turning back. "Take care of yourself."

Then he was gone, and I was alone with the smell of lube and failure.

I didn't move for a long time. The afternoon light shifted across his bare walls, and I stared at nothing, replaying every moment. The way he'd looked at me that first night. The patience in his voice when I'd struggled to take him in my mouth. The final closed expression as he dressed.

My phone buzzed from where I'd dropped it on his floor. I ignored it. Buzzed again.

When I finally reached for it, the screen showed his name. My heart stuttered. I swiped open the message with shaking thumbs.

Cain: I shouldn't have left like that. I just got frustrated and took it out on you.

I stared at the words, reading them three times. Then my thumbs moved without my conscious direction.

Me: I'm sorry I couldn't take you. I want to try again. Please.

The dots appeared immediately. He was typing, erasing, typing again.

Cain: You really want this?

Me: More than anything.

Another long pause. I held my breath until my lungs burned.

Cain: Prove it.

The word hung on my screen, maddeningly vague. I typed back fast, desperate.

Me: How? Tell me what you need. I'll do anything.

His response came slower this time, measured.

Cain: You couldn't handle me with your mouth. You couldn't take me inside. If you want me back, show me you've changed. Train yourself. Open yourself. When you can actually accommodate what I have, send me proof. Then we'll talk.

I read the message three times, heat flooding my face. He wanted me to stretch myself, prepare myself, become capable of taking him. The explicitness of it, the clinical way he'd laid out the terms, should have felt degrading. Instead, I felt only aching want.

Me: I will, you'll see.

His final message came moments later.

Cain: I hope so.

Then silence. I sat naked on the bed, phone clutched in my hand, his conditions echoing in my mind.

The silicone monster I ordered that night became my obsession. Months of stretching, whimpering, my throat and ass burning like hellfire every time I pushed further, but I wanted it. Needed it. The dildo—thicker than my wrist, veined like a fucking anaconda—sat attached to the chair, glistening with lube as I straddled it again, my hole already loose from the last round. I sank down slow, my breath hissing through my teeth as the flared head popped past my ring, then deeper, my gut clenching around the intrusion. My fingers dug into the mattress, knuckles white, sweat dripping down my spine. Fuck yes. I took it all the way to the base, my balls pressing against the cold silicone, my cock throbbing against my stomach. The stretch was obscene, my rim gaping around the girth, my insides stuffed full. I rocked my hips, grinding down until my ass cheeks kissed the fake balls. I rode it for a few more minutes until I could make the movement look natural and snapped a picture highlighting every filthy detail.

My thumb hovered over send. This’ll do it. No more half-measures. No more choking on his texts about how I wasn’t ready. I hit the button before I could second-guess myself, the photo of my used, stretched-out hole taking that massive dildo like a fucking pro shooting straight to his phone. My heart hammered against my ribs, my cock leaking pre-cum onto my abs as I waited. Three dots appeared almost instantly.

Cain: Holy fuck.

I exhaled, my body buzzing. My fingers twitched, already typing back—Told you I’d get there—but his next message cut me off.

Cain: I’m on my way. Door unlocked. On your knees when I walk in.

The phone slipped from my fingers, landing on the bed with a dull thud. My pulse roared in my ears. He’s coming. Right now. No warning, no small talk, just pure, ravenous demand. I scrambled off the dildo, my hole clenching around nothing, aching and empty. The toy hit the floor with a wet thwack, lube and my own slick dripping down the shaft. I didn’t bother cleaning up. Didn’t bother with clothes. I dropped to my knees right there in the middle of the bed, my hard-on trapped in the pouch of my jock, my ass still loose and throbbing from the training. The air conditioner kicked on, the cold draft raising goosebumps over my sweat-slicked skin. I licked my lips, my mouth dry, my mind racing as the minutes passed. What if he’s not impressed? What if I still can’t—

The doorknob rattled.

I froze, my breath catching. The door swung open, and there he was—Cain, filling the doorway like a fucking tornado of lust. His gaze locked onto me, dark and hungry, his jaw tight. He stepped inside, the door slamming shut behind him with a finality that made my cock jerk. His boots thudded against the hardwood, each step deliberate, predatory. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t have to. His eyes raked over me, lingering on my hard dick, then lower, to the mess of my ass—still gaping, still glistening. A low, approving growl rumbled in his chest.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough, like gravel under a boot heel. “All stretched out and ready for me. Finally”

I whimpered, my hands trembling where they curled in the sheets. He reached down, palming his cock through his jeans, the outline distinguishable down to the veins even through the denim. My mouth watered. My hole clenched, desperate to be filled for real this time.

And yet here Trey is, face-down in Collin's predictably high-thread-count sheets, getting skewered on his dick.

His fingers are gripping the white cotton as Collin's thick cock splits him open with methodical, unhurried precision. The older man's hands bracket Trey's hips. Each thrust lands with the same consistent depth, the same measured rhythm, like he's reconciling a fucking spreadsheet instead of pounding a twenty-one-year-old's ass.

Trey should be out there. Clubbing. Doing shots off some sorority girl's stomach. Getting wrecked at a frat party and waking up in a stranger's dorm. He turned twenty-one two months ago, and this—this vanilla powerfuck from a lump of a man in khaki shorts—is not the party boy package he signed up for.

"Good?" Collin asks, his voice low and even, like he's confirming a dinner reservation.

Trey just grunts. What the fuck is he supposed to say? Yeah, it's good. It's always good. Collin's got a big cock—thick and uncut and curved just right to hit his prostate every goddamned time—and he knows how to use it with the same boring competence he brings to everything else. No creativity. No spontaneity. Just steady, relentless fucking that makes Trey's eyes roll back despite himself.

The headboard doesn't even creak. Collin is reasonable enough to drop good money on sturdy shit if he knows how to fuck like this.

The clock on the nightstand reads 9:47 PM. On a Friday. Trey's friends are probably just starting their night right now, and he's about to fall asleep with a dick in his ass before ten o'clock like some kind of geriatric.

Collin's pace picks up slightly, the smallest variation like adjusting the tuner on his vintage record player, and Trey's prostate throbs in response. His own cock leaks against the sheets, untouched and aching. He wishes Collin would jerk him off. Would give him something rougher, dirtier. Would make this worth giving up his ass for.

Instead, he just takes it. Lets Collin fuck him with that same steady rhythm until the older man grunts—once, predictably—and buries himself deep, filling Trey's hole. No fanfare. No dramatic finish. Just efficient, thorough seeding.

Collin doesn't even pull out. He just wraps an arm around Trey's waist and settles behind him, big spoon curling around little spoon like they're some married couple.

Trey lies there, stuffed and sticky, staring at the ceiling. If he was going to give up his ass, it should be to some college jock with a six-pack. He should be riding some trust fund kid at a frat orgy, not this domesticated dick-down from a man whose most exciting weekend activity is choosing between Diet Coke and Coke Zero.

But his body sinks into Collin's warmth anyway. His eyelids droop. And somewhere beneath the frustration, something in his chest unclenches—craving the predictability of this calming presence, the way Collin's arm tightens around him, the way he already knows he'll wake up to the smell of eggs and bacon and that boring man making him breakfast.

As I sat there on my stool, thinking about the unexpected kiss from Master, my reverie was broken by the loud celebration of two rambunctious guys returning from the mysterious backroom. They had come to the bar for fresh drinks as they bragged about stuffing their cocks in that new guy. Man that was some awesome pussy! Master chose well!!

The other laughed at this as he bragged about cramming his dip stick all the way in to find the greedy fucker down a couple pints of cum. Then he bragged how he did his part by donating two balls worth to the hot mouth. The other guy high fives him as their beers were dropped off in front of them.

I looked over at the now occupied door to see a line of gruff men now extending from it, with the bouncer who greeted us now working the inner door. He told the guys that they knew the rules, only allowed twenty guys inside; it's a fire safety rule. Don't want the cops shutting us down now, do we? Especially since Officer Daniels is still in line for his turn, right? The group laughed as a muscular guy in black gear made a pose as he stood in line with his buddies.

Judging by the line I could see that if they were there to fuck my baby, then it was going to be a while. Master was right. And it looked like this was a monthly event sponsored by the Conductors as a means to raise money for the bar as guys were trickling in now. They'd get a bottle of something from the bar and go join in the line which was extending along the back wall of the dance floor now.

I decided that I was ready to go home and walked over to the entrance. As I got there, I saw Master seated with another handsome smiling guy working the main entrance. Master recognized me and asked if I left them the address of Boy tonight? When my face went pale he grinned and said not to worry and had the other fellow write down the address I gave him. As I left out the door I heard the other guy say that he didn't know that the cuck was here too. Now I have to go fuck him again because I'm fucking hard again! Damn!

Master just laughed and called him a reprobate as the guy stood and went back to the line.

I tried to sit up and wait for Jason to make it home but I lost the battle listening to programs on YouTube and was awakened by the sound of someone unlocking the front door. As I struggled to wake up, I saw a tall muscular cop escort Jason in through the front door. When he saw me he said that he was asked to deliver this well fucked slut here. Either he's your partner or Master owes you a favor, but here he is. You might want to wash him first before fucking him. The cum poured out his hole when I fucked him at that bar my buddy Daniels was crowing about. Then I saw him leaving after placing my naked boyfriend down across the couch.

Jason looked like the proverbial horse that was ridden hard and put up wet. His ass was enflamed and puffy and leaking cum like an erupting gay man-volcano. There was so much cum drying on his beard and chest hair that I almost didn't recognize him. I just made him comfortable in the rising Saturday sunlight as I covered him with the throw from the back of the couch and went to bed. I wasn't in any shape to try and wrangle him up the stairs to our bedroom.

In the late morning I rose to find Jason snoring on the couch. He smelled like he'd been rolling in a locker room somewhere and I immediately went to open some windows. As I surveyed the damage I saw that the cop must've carried a bag in as well as the tattered remains of his jeans were in there. His belt, which I paid a fortune for was there but his jeans were in tatters. His wallet and keys were there, so they at least had a bit of ethical standards and his new boots were on his feet. His jock was who knows where and I remembered his wife beater being being stretched across Master's chest.

I made a cup of coffee at the Keurig and planned my day. The aroma of the coffee finally overpowered the smell of cum and Jason woke up. He was surprised to be home but he smiled when he saw me. I asked him how much he remembered from last night and he grinned and said that he was a both a good and bad boy. Bad that he let another man fuck him. Then he looked at me and said he was sorry if he hurt me.

Before I could reply he added that he was also good as he set a new record for the club. 71 guys in one night. Master says that it will be added to my armband. Then he looked at his shoulder and panicked before looking at me and telling me that Master had removed it to send to the Leather Shop. Master says I'm now a member of the club since I've been fucked by every member of the club. He says that they all autographed his jock and made it official.

I just smiled at him and told him it was going to be a memory that will be with you for years, but that funky odor is not going to last that long. Let's get you in the shower, slut!

As he bathed I began the full job of getting the house cleaned out. In the end I couldn't save the jeans and barely was able to get the throw clean smelling again. Had to wash it three times to get the smell of cigarettes and cum out of it.

I got a call from the Leather Shop informing me that my armband was ready for pick up. They made it look good with the addition of a patch of a sling and the number 71 sewn across where Jason's arm would ulk it out just so. They also had a framed jock strap that had signatures of thirty-four guys on it. The fellow there was completely nonchalant about the whole thing. He asked if I was interested in any of his other features items and I remembered about the poppers. If what Master had said was true, then Jason would need them.

The scruffy older man looked at me and asked if it was time for the Biker Boys again? Then he hauled four little bottles and rang me up for the poppers only and told me that he hoped things went well. Those guys are fucking animals!!

Things got back to normal with Jason and me although he got completely excited when he saw the framed jock. He didn't know about that. He wore his armband everywhere under his shirts, as a badge of honor, I think.

As the month drew to a close, he started getting his daily internet sessions with Master again. After the third meeting, he approached me and asked if I would be okay with hosting a member of the biker club when they came to town in two weeks. I thought about all the warnings I had been given about the rowdy nature of these guys but the look on Jason's face told me that it really meant a lot to him to be able to host one of them. I told him that I could handle one of them, but if they started tearing our stuff up they were out of here!

He smiled as he said that he was assured that they wouldn't be any nuisance like that. They were coming to town to be part of our collateral symbiosis of brotherhood. It all sounded like bullshit to me, but it meant something to Jason so I put up a brave face.

The night that Bull arrived, I knew we had bitten off more than we could chew. He was the leader of the group and he earned that title by his foreboding appearance. He was easily six foot six and his tall shaved head glared at everyone. His black eyes penetrated your soul as he surmised where you stood on his scale of importance.

He arrived atop a big chopper wearing a black leather jacket that would've looked tight on the cow it came from. The moment I knew I was in trouble was when he dismounted the bike in our drive and Jason went to meet him. He grabbed my baby with both string arms, brought him in for a hug and planted a soul crushing kiss on his face. The handlebar mustache framed the stern mouth on the traveling giant but it framed a smiling mouth moments before the intense kiss occurred.

Bull followed Jason inside and discarded his massive leather jacket, revealing that he was going topless underneath. At least I guess you could call it that as the big guy was coated with a pelt of fur across every surface I could see. Couldn't get more masculine if he tried. Everything about him screamed don't poke the bear and I could see the desire welling up in Jason's eyes to not only poke, but to be poked in return.

I tried to get things onto something I could control as I inquired about dinner. I asked what bull would like and he looked at me like I was definitely a character with no name in his program and said he wanted some fried chicken. Make sure they cook it fresh too! Old dried out legs gives me gas!

As I made a quick trip to KFC I saw Bull grab Jason in my rearview mirror and give him another kiss, this time his furry chest rubbing against Jason's.

I knew better than to leave him alone with my husband for long as I didn't think I wanted to walk in with him buried up my baby's asshole. KFC was thankfully slow and I was able to get some chicken that came up minutes after I had arrived, but I was still worried about leaving Jason alone with Bull for long.

When I got back home with our dinner, I found Bull watching FOX News and Jason absent. When I asked where my baby was, Bull grinned up at me and said he was cleaning out in the shower. As I put the food on the table I corrected Bull by saying Cleaning UP? But he smiled and shook his head and said OUT.

Then it hit me what he meant. As I gasped, Jason came back into the dining room in just a pair of undershorts and Bull grinned a big broad wolfish smile as he stood up to join us. As he stood erect, the flimsy shorts he had on, dropped down his legs revealing the biggest knob I had ever seen. Jason too, it seemed as he went silent.

Bull just stood there laughing as his cock engorged before us making his massive mushroom head bob in the middle of the room, sending a fragrant woody aroma that overpowered the fresh chicken. Jason stepped up to our guest and wrapped his arms around Bull's midsection as the towering Dom brought my man in for another kiss.

As he stood there controlling my husband, Bull let his hairy arms reach out and explore my husband's freshly cleaned body. As Jason was rubbing the fur all over our guest, our guest was apprising my man like a cow being auctioned off.

I knew things had reached a point of no return when those dark eyes over the five o'clock shadow snapped open and focused on me as if to say that I was excused. While he was dismissing me, he was forcing Jason to his knees with his strong arms, toned from hours of steering a motorbike.

I was mesmerized seeing how Jason was being drawn in like a bird to a cobra, only it was the cobra being eaten by the bird. Jason opened his mouth and snaked out his tongue to make contact with the smooth firm cockhead as he ran his full tongue over the surface of the firm knob. Bull grunted as my baby slathered the head with his spit before encasing the tip with his full lips. As Bull continued grunting he placed a meaty hand over my baby's head as if he were inserting his gigantic cock into a fleshlight.

Bull stared down at Jason's eager face with a lust filled gaze as he held the back of my baby's head while shoving his muscular hips forward trying to sink his gargantuan cock into his mouth. He was stopped by pure physics as his cock head was just too wide to slide into my man's throat. Not that bull didn't try. Jason was sputtering and gagging but still the huge biker tried. Finally he withdrew and rested his big hairy nuts on my man's mouth. The spit and slobbering leaving a wet mess on his face as Bull told him to clean that shit up.

I watched with pure fascination as Jason licked those massive hairy orbs, giving them a tongue bath I had never before witnessed on so grand a scale. After a few minutes of tongue polishing, Bull told Jason that if he had any poppers, he might want to get them, as he grabbed a bottle of lube from his duffel bag and grabbed a seat on my chair.

When Jason reentered the living room he paused at the towering erection before him climbing out of my chair. He held the bottle forward and said he didn't know what to do. Bull pulled him in for a hug and told him Daddy Bull would take care of him.

First thing Bull did was to liberally apply the lube over Jason's hole and slid it inside. First some lube, then a finger along with it. More lube, more fingers. Eventually he had four thick fingers sliding away. Then he had Jason climb into his lap and straddle his immense slicked ass buster. As Jason perched his pucker atop the intruder, Bull reached up and tweaked his nipples as he managed to get Jason's mouth to join his.

For me, this would be enough to beat off to for weeks to come, but I knew there was so much more. Bull told me to hand him the poppers and as I did so I felt the sexual heat rising from their impending coupling.

Bull uncapped the poppers and while plugging Jason's right nostril with his finger, pushed the bottle up the left side. He told Jason to breathe deep. Once he had, Bull switched nostrils and repeated it. Once Jason had been doped up, Bull capped the bottle and instructed Jason to push out with his ass and his world will be changed forever.

Jason kissed Bull again as he pushed out with his asshole and the massive corona invaded his body. I heard a howl followed by Bull telling him he was doing great. I saw the thick cock jutting up from Bull's lap disappearing as it entered into my man's pucker. Jason was still whimpering but gravity had taken over when he was no longer able to stop the invasion of the oversized pecker.

Bull continued the kissing of Jason as his cock embedded itself further inside my husband's hole until he was no longer sliding. Bull kissed him fully again before bringing up the bottle of poppers again and repeated the nose process. This time Jason seemed a bit perkier as he sat up straighter and slid the rest of the way down, taking Bull's cock entirely up his backside.

Bull stood up while holding my husband and deftly moved to the couch where he could lay Jason out below him and begin slowly moving around, creating muscle memory in Jason's ass as he stretched it wider than it had ever been. Jason groaned with each thrust, but the sounds were mutating from a howl to a lust filled growl as his ass became more receptive to the large invader.

After a few more minutes Jason must've become acclimatized to the sheer bulk of the huge penis as he wrapped his arms around Bull's hairy back and hugged him like a parasite not wanting to be released. The tall bald man senses the change in the situation and began fucking the slut hole below him with a bit of sexual energy that had not been exerted yet.

I watched the hair covered ass cheeks begin a faster plunge as Bull began fucking my man in earnest accompanied by his deep gravelly grunts. I could hear Jason groaning out loud for Bull Daddy to fuck him as the couch begin shifting from side to side.

Bull starting grunting obscenities as his animal urges kicked in and he began fucking Jason like he was the latest fuck slut, which if course he was. He drove my husband head first into the pillows at the end of the couch while his powerful hips plunged fully into Jason's hole, emitting a slushy noise each time he plunged into the wrecked orifice.

Jason was beginning to sound like a bad porn video with his grunting and the occasional 'fuck me daddy' thrown in. It was Bull's declaration of take my fucking cock bitch, that brought it back to a more realistic state. When he hollered that he was about to fucking cum, fucking breed your slutty ass that I lost control and spunked my underwear. Fortunately for me no one noticed as Bull was moments away from doing the same thing only on a more massive masculine scale.

I saw Jason's hand hugging Bull's sweat soaked hairy back as the Dom reared his head back and let a howl through his five o'clock shadowed mouth while he plunged deep into Jason's ass and froze in place as he soaked my honey's innards. I couldn't see it, but judging by the grunts, it must've been at least a six spurter. The two collapsed into a pile on the sofa in a tangle of hairy limbs.

Now I also checked into them just to be sure Jason wasn't inadvertently joining a neo-Nazi cult by mistake, as he can be a little blindsided when he's finding things he likes. It seemed that this group was just what it said it was; a group of guys who like exploring the limits of servitude to others as well as being conscientious masters of those inclined to serve. And it seems Jason is destined to be a servant.

I supported my baby in his search for fulfillment even though I didn't match his zest for this quest. I allowed him his nightly two hour conversations with Master as they discussed what Jason would be expected to do and behave while in his service. I didn't eavesdrop or read transcripts, but I know it turned Jason on judging by the ever present hardon he had when he kissed me each night after the talks.

As the night drew closer for Jason's inaugural meeting with the Conductors, the formal club, which as to be held at one of the local seedy bars, Jason shared that he had a little shopping list of things he'd need to wear for the meeting. He'd need a black wife beater, a dark pair of blue jeans, a firm leather belt, a jock, and a pair of Doc Martens boots. He smiled at me as I read his short list of clothes while telling me that Master said it was always up to the servant to be prepared with condoms and lube as well but since I'm only with you I'm pretty sure I don't need anything else.

Since his birthday was coming up in a month I decided to surprise him early and pick the items up on my day off. I wanted him to feel like belonged with the group on his first night so I added a leather band that would fit around his upper right arm and a couple bottles of be poppers so that he'd be authentic. I trusted him to exercise good judgment on his behaviors. Besides, I was going to be there at the bar as well, just not as a member of the club.

The look on Jason's face when he opened the big box of goodies was worth the effort. He was so happy and I got to see him in his uniform before anyone else. He looked amazing. He has recently gotten a haircut that made his dark mop of hair settle into place like he was about to march out with his barrack mates to war games. I got hard just looking at him.

For the next three nights his chats with Master became a lot more intense as Master insisted that he wear his jock whenever he talked with him online. He insisted on visual proof and Jason had me take the evidential picture which was then forwarded to Master. I wasn't keen on doing that but Jason was desperate to accomplish that task as Master hinted that he might not take his desire to be bona fide otherwise. I snapped one from the front with Jason staring at the floor with his package being hefted high and another with him bent over showing the strap disappearing between his hairy muscular cheeks. Again these were against my choices but Master demanded them to verify Jason's desire. I recalled some pretty crazy shit my roommate had done in college just to get into a frat so I considered this a light version of that.

On Friday the meeting was scheduled and I haven't seen Jason so nervous since he first started dating me out of college. When he got home he showered and shaved and primped in front of the mirror like a high schooler. Teasing, I asked which cologne he thought Master would like and his face went white as he thought about it. I chuckled as he started panicking and I said that something light and earthy ought to work for the occasion as the scent of beer was likely going to overpower everything else. His face relaxed as he realized I was right and gave me a kiss.

We headed out at 7 so we'd be there in enough time to get the lay of the place and the clientele and I could find a comfortable place to watch from. The bouncer at the door said that he recognized new recruit uniform and had Jason spin around so he could see the newbie. As he spun, I heard him give a low whistle as he said that someone was earning his conductor wings tonight with you. Then he charged us only my admittance and gave us both stamps on the back of our right hands.

The bar was a dirty country place with lots of old signage and worn out farm gear on the walls and over the central bar. You might've mistaken it for another normal country and Western place if you didn't see the different flags on the walls signifying the various gay communities. That and the all male couples dancing together on polished floor. I looked around and considered this place as a future hang spot for Jason and me.

I looked around the room and spotted other guys wearing a lot of leather gear and figured them to be members as well. As Jason returned from the bar with two cold bottles of Budweiser, the only beer I could drink without gagging on the taste, a tall skinny fellow wearing a leather and chain ensemble approached Jason from across the dark room. As he neared his mustache lips split to reveal a handsome smile as he introduced himself as Wolf. As Jason reached out to shake his hand, Wolf withdrew it and said that I must not be familiar with the club rules. If a member has a mustache the only proper way to greet him is with a kiss. It's to promote the look as well as create a feeling of family within the club.

Jason paused then leaned in and kissed Wolf on the mouth. After a short lip junction which I noticed led to some tongue invasion as well by Wolf, they separated and Jason introduced himself. Wolf welcomed him to his first meeting and asked who had invited him?

Jason paused and said that he's only ever known him as Master. Wolf's eyes widened briefly and said that Master has indeed selected a welcome new member into our group. He should be arriving soon. Then he waltzed over to a group of leather aficionados at the bar and they began gossiping like school girls. Wasn't difficult to determine who was the object of their conversation as they would occasionally look our way, trying to eyeball Jason just a little better.

The place started filling up as 8 approached and I saw a big important man enter the place through the front door. He just exuded the aura of dominance as everyone seemed to bow to his desires. Must've been a good 6'4" wearing only black leather pants with a pair of leather suspenders and a handsome cowboy hat. His bearded face was eagerly scanning the room and his face broke into a smile when he spotted Jason in his uniform at our table.

As he headed over to our table I could see Jason shaking in anticipation. I told him to have a good time and for heaven's sake stop worrying, you're going to fit right in. As Master stopped in front of our table, he held out his hand to greet Jason and my baby, quick to remember the rule taught him by Wolf, bypassed the handshake and went in for the kiss.

Judging by the shocked look on Master's face I figured out that Wolf had told Jason a lie. Master soon recovered and grabbed Jason by the back of his head as he kissed my baby back. This kiss lasted considerably longer than the kiss between Wolf and Jason and ended with Jason stepping back as Master's hand slid into Jason's back pocket.

As Jason introduced me as his boyfriend, I saw the raised eyebrows as he gave me an appraisal and determined that he had nothing to be concerned about. A group surrounded the two of them as the meeting began to form. The troop headed to a large round table beside the bar with Jason right beside Master like a saved puppy.

I chuckled as I watched the pageantry and picked up my beer for another drink. That's when I heard a voice saying that Master has found himself a new boy to fuck, I see. I turned to see a thirty year old with a drink that had more fruit in it than legally allowed.

I said that he must be mistaken because that's my boyfriend. He's been wanting to investigate the leather scene and Master has been sort of mentoring him. It's his first night tonight.

I bet it is! First night with the club. First night with Master. First night to suck a stranger in a bar. First night he's pulled a train on a group of hyper masculine guys. Perhaps the first night of being locked out of his home as well? He gave me a questioning glance.

First off, Jason would never do anything like that. We're happy together. He'd never cheat on me.

He replied that he saw just how committed he was by that tongue duel he had with Master in front of everyone.

I said that it was club rules that greeting was a kiss for all mustached members.

He laughed and said after the meeting he'll be doing more than kissing the guys! Trust me!! Then he downed his drink and wandered off to the bar for another.

I nursed my beer for the next thirty minutes when I noticed the commotion of cheers coming from the table in the corner as Jason stood and waved at everybody. I could see that when he sat back down he didn't sit on a chair, but rather someone's lap. To be fair the table was kind of crowded but I didn't feel too good about that, especially when the fellow on this side of the table leaned over and whispered in his neighbor's ear and I could see it was Master's lap he was seated on. The muscular hairy leader was enjoying his position and his hand kept sliding down Jason's backside.

At one point I saw that Jason slipped forward a bit and he put his hand out to steady himself and instead of grabbing the table, he landed on Master's other leg. I couldn't help but notice that his hand remained there once he righted himself. I saw him grin a sly grin as Master joined him in the sneaky fun. Master looked up at me across the room and smiled at me almost daring me to make a scene. My heart raced but I held my silence. My cock was hard as a rock under the table.

Once the meeting finished, Jason again kissed Master before heading back over to me. As he prated on about how exciting it all was I could only think about how Master seemed to be finagling him into being his bitch. The words of the stranger kept coming back but I seemed to feel better just talking with Jason. Then as I was gathering my stuff to go, Master approached our table and said it was traditional that after our meetings we all go dancing on the floor to welcome our new recruits. Kind of hard to do that if the new recruit leaves!

Jason looked at me with those puppy dog eyes of his and I agreed to stay and go dancing for a bit. After all we were also celebrating his birthday, a few weeks early.

This peeked up the ears of his new compadres as the all wanted to dance with the birthday boy. As the music started into a fast Brooks and Dunn number, Jason was swept onto the dance floor with about twenty scruffy guys all trying to be his partner. At first I just laughed at his merriment but it took less than a few minutes for me to realize I was being kept away from him. There were easily three guys between us at any given moment and I could see grinning faces as hands went exploring over my man's body. Just as annoying was the kissing rule as Jason was met with mustached man after mustached man.

At one point I swear there three guys all kissing him together as their hands were roaming over his firm ass cheeks. Then they all stepped aside as a shadow stepped up and Master claimed his position. The DJ switched from the boot scooting music to a slow swaying number as Master scooped Jason into his arms and began swaying with him across the darkened floor. At times all I could see was the cowboy hat high above everybody's head as he led my baby away from me and into a darkened corner.

Jason was overcome from the moment as I saw him hugging Master like he was his last life line as another sad song came on and Master and he disappeared across the room. I literally couldn't see the hat any more and as I started to panic I heard that simpering voice tell me that he had told me so. They're in the back room and right now your young man is busy with the biggest cock he's ever seen.

He'll try to swallow it, they always do, but Master's too fucking thick to fit down any human throat. Not that he doesn't enjoy trying to fuck them anyway! After a few minutes, he'll stop trying to fuck his throat and decide to go for the guaranteed fit. And trust me the guys know they're getting some prime grade A ass tonight. They all got a feel of it on the floor. If you stand by the end of the bar, you might be able to hear your man howl when Master claims his ass. After that, one of the many sycophants will be allowed to step up and stuff their cocks in his mouth. I'm betting that Wolf gets first crack tonight after that bullshit about kissing mustached members...hehe. that was pure genius!!

You'll know when Master breeds his hole as the lights will be flashed out here and the rest of the club will go back for sloppy thirds and fourths. Judging by the number that stayed around after the meeting, you've got a long wait ahead of you. Hope you all brought lube as he's going to be wanting it. Especially about right now. I heard a howl muffed through the woodwork as Waylon Jennings was singing about his lonely life on the road. I heard a couple guys chuckling as the tension in the room began escalating,

I decided to go for something a bit stronger than a beer and had the bartender make me a mai tai without all the frufru shit on top. I remembered how that guy looked ridiculous with all the fruit in his glass. As he sat it down in front of me he said it was in the house as my boyfriend was going to be bringing more than a few thirsty fuckers back for more drinks.

I sat down on my quiet stool drinking my beverage as the house lights flipped on and off. I immediately thought a raid but then remembered what I had been told. I was officially a cuckold now. The dance floor let loose with a hoot and a holler as guys started making their way toward a nondescript door along the back wall. A few guys steeped inside before Master rejoined the crowd, wearing a black wife beater over his hairy muscles. He grinned to his admirers as he told them he opened the handsome fucker up good. Greased that shitter so he could take any of you shrimp dicks!! Hahaha.

When someone asked if he swallowed it all, he just grinned and said he was easily in the top five who've tried. Still had an inch and a half to go. I think I'll let him have a few more tries before I write him off. Then he saw me sitting at the bar.

He strutted over and told me that I needn't be so high and mighty. He's still yours, but for tonight he's going to be fucked by a good portion of the city. Once word gets out about his tight ass and suctioning mouth, he's going to bring in a plethora to the bar. They're just waiting to hear about the results and it's all thumbs up!

You mht as well go on home. He's gonna be lucky to get out of here before sunup. I'll see that he gets home. He's one horny fucker. Don't you ever fuck him? He was practically begging me to use his ass. Who could refuse a slutty face like his? Hehehe. He swallowed three loads from the guys in the time it took me to breed his hole but it is officially Master's Cum Repository now. By next meeting you might want to make sure he has a good supply of poppers so he can handle getting fucked by the big boys. Next month we host the Biker Boys at our meeting and they'll be fucking going nuts waiting for he meeting to finish so they can double fuck my latest find.

See Mick at the Leather Closet when you go in to have the badge of honor added to his armband for pulling his first all night train. He has some incredible poppers that will help him loosen his hole for those thick fuckers.

I'd been standing near the back wall of the bar with a group of six or seven people, half of them I barely knew, just faces that rotated through our Friday nights depending on who was dating who that week. The girls we'd been talking to were friends of Andy's coworker, both of them in those tight tops that left their midriffs bare, both of them laughing at whatever Don was saying while he gestured wildly about some girl who'd supposedly ghosted him after three dates. I was half-listening, half-watching the door because Duke had texted he was running late, and something in my chest always settled wrong when he wasn't around.

Then I felt him before I saw him. Hands on my waist, warm through the thin cotton of my shirt, and his chin dropping onto my shoulder like that level of physical intimacy was second nature. Because it was. Duke touched me constantly, slinging an arm around my neck when we walked, pressing his shoulder against mine on the couch, grabbing my wrist to pull me toward him when he had something to say. It was just how he was. How we were.

My whole body went rigid.

The girls were right there, still laughing, and Don was still talking, and Andy was nodding along, and all I could think about was how Duke's hands felt spanning my waist, how his breath ghosted against the side of my neck, how if any of them looked over they'd see the way my pulse was hammering in my throat. They'd see how much I wanted to turn around and pull him closer instead of shrugging him off. They'd see everything.

So I wriggled out of his grip.

It wasn't graceful. I twisted my torso and stepped forward and his hands slid off me like I'd shed water. I laughed, some sharp thing that didn't sound like any of my real laughs, and said something like "Dude, you're clingy tonight" and turned back to the conversation like nothing had happened. Like his arms around me hadn't been the best thing that had happened all week.

I couldn't not look, though. One glance, quick, just to check his reaction. Duke was standing a step behind me with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and his jaw was set in that tight way it got when he was trying not to show something, and his eyes—his eyes were doing that thing where they went flat and distant, like someone had pulled a shade down behind them.

He'd looked at me like that once before, junior year, when I'd canceled on his birthday because some girl I'd been trying to date wanted to go out the same night. I'd told him it wasn't a big deal, that we'd celebrate later, and he'd just nodded with that same shuttered expression and said sure, no problem. It had taken me two weeks to realize he'd stopped texting me first. Two weeks of me messaging him and getting one-word replies before I showed up at his apartment unannounced with a cake from the bakery he liked and he'd finally let me back in.

This was worse. This was that same hurt but fresher, rawer, right there on his face for half a second before he locked it down. I'd done that. I'd put that look in his eyes because I was too scared of what people might see if I let him hold me in public.

The conversation kept going around me. Don had moved on to complaining about his boss. One of the girls was asking Andy about his tattoo. The bass dropped and someone cheered and the night continued like normal, like I hadn't just done something that was already carving a hollow space in my ribs. I stood there with my back to Duke and my hands wrapped around my beer bottle and my throat so tight I could barely swallow.

When I finally turned around again, he was gone. Not gone from the bar—I could see him across the room, leaning against the counter with his own drink, talking casually to some guy I didn't recognize. Gone from me. He'd walked away without saying anything, without making a scene.

We weren't dating. That was the thing I kept reminding myself, the refrain I'd been chanting in my head for months now every time he got too close, every time I felt myself leaning into him like a plant toward sunlight. We weren't dating. He was my best friend. He was straight. The fact that we'd kissed—three times now, each one seared into my memory—didn't change that. The fact that the last time he'd pinned me against the wall of his apartment with his hands flat on my chest and his hips grinding into mine and his mouth claiming my lips like he owned them didn't change that.

I'd come in my pants. Like a fucking teenager, like someone who'd never touched another person before, I'd felt his cock hard against mine through our jeans and I'd lost it completely. My whole body had shuddered and I'd gasped into his mouth and he'd kept kissing me through it, kept rocking against me, and when I'd finally pulled back with my face burning and my breath ragged he'd just looked at me with those dark eyes and said "Yeah?" like he'd known exactly what had happened and was proud of taking me apart in that way.

But that was just hormones. That was what I told myself in the shower afterward, scrubbing at the dried come in my pubes, replaying the moment and then forcing it into a box labeled Physical Reaction Only. He was my best friend. He was straight. I was the one with the problem, the one who'd been in love with him since sophomore year and couldn't seem to stop no matter how many other people I tried to date. If I let myself act on it, if I let him hold me in public, if I let myself reach for him the way I wanted to, I'd ruin everything. I'd make it weird. I'd lose him entirely.

I watched him from across the crowded bar for the next hour. Every time he laughed at something the new guy said, my stomach clenched. This was what I'd been afraid of—him pulling away—but I'd done it to myself. Now he was across the room not looking at me, and the hollow in my chest was expanding by the minute.

I started drinking harder after that. Traded beer for shots. Liquor that burned down my throat and sat hot in my stomach and made the edges of the room soften. I did three in quick succession, then another one when Don bought a round, then two more when I wandered to the bar by myself. The hurt and regret didn't go away but it got blurrier, easier to sit next to without flinching. I laughed louder at things that weren't funny. I talked to one of the girls about her job in real estate and barely registered what she was saying. I kept checking where Duke was and kept finding him on the other side of the room and kept adding another shot to the tally.

By midnight I was sloppy. Somehow, I found Andyand told him I needed to go and he nodded and said he'd call me tomorrow, and then I was standing outside the bar trying to remember how to get home and failing.

That was when Duke appeared again.

He didn't say anything, just materialized next to me on the sidewalk with his jacket thrown over his shoulder and his keys in his hand. He took my arm and steered me toward his car and I went, stumbling a little, letting him guide me. Even though he was mad at me, even though I'd hurt him, he was still here. He was still taking care of me.

The drive was quiet. I leaned my head against the window and watched the streetlights streak past and tried to say something—sorry, maybe, or I didn't mean it, or please don't be mad at me—but the words kept tangling up in my mouth and coming out wrong or not coming out at all. Duke's hands were steady on the wheel. He didn't look at me. He didn't touch me. The silence in the car was so heavy I could feel it pressing against my skin.

We pulled up to a familiar building. Not my apartment—his. I didn't question it, didn't have the cognitive capacity to question it. I just let him lead me up the stairs and through the door and into his bedroom.

He lowered me onto his bed and I went down easy, sinking into the mattress that smelled like him—like his detergent and his cologne and his sweat. I lay there with my eyes half-closed and my limbs heavy and watched him standing over me.

He'd taken his shirt off at some point after we’d gotten to the bedroom. Duke shirtless was a specific kind of torture. The broad span of his shoulders, the definition in his chest, the lines of muscle that ran down his stomach and disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. I'd seen it all a thousand times and it still hit me like a fist every time, still made my mouth go dry and my pulse kick up and my hands want to reach out and trace every divot.

He was looming over me, one hand on his hip, looking down at my face with an expression I couldn't read in my blurred state. His jaw was still tight. His eyes were still careful, still guarded, still holding whatever he was feeling behind that shutter he'd pulled down at the bar.

"I'm sorry," I finally said. The words came out thick and clumsy, soaked in alcohol, but I meant them. I meant them so much it was the only thing I was certain of in that whole spinning night. "Duke, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—I didn't want to push you off. I just—"

He didn't acknowledge it. Didn't nod, didn't speak, didn't soften. Just stood there looking down at me with that same unreadable expression, and the silence stretched out between us like something physical, like something I could reach out and touch if I wasn't so drunk my hands wouldn't cooperate.

The desperation crept up my throat. I couldn't stand this—the distance, the cold shoulder, the way he was looking at me like he saw right through me. I'd rather he yell at me, punch me, tell me I was an asshole and a bad friend and he never wanted to see me again. Anything but this quiet, careful removal of himself from my reach.

So, I reached for him.

My hand caught his wrist and I pulled. It wasn’t hard or coordinated, just a graceless yank that caught him off balance. He fell toward me, catching himself with one hand on the mattress beside my head, his other arm bracing against the bed on the other side of me. He was above me now, hovering, his face inches from mine, his chest bare and close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

He looked at me.

His eyes weren't flat and distant anymore. They were burning. There was anger in them, yes, but there was something else underneath it, something hotter and more dangerous, something that made my stomach drop and my cock stir even through the fog of alcohol.

Then he kissed me.

Not like the other times. Not like the careful, questioning kisses we'd shared before, the ones where his lips had met mine and then paused, giving me time to decide if I wanted more. This was different. This was him claiming my mouth like he was going to war over it.

His lips crashed against mine and his tongue pushed into my mouth and I opened for him because what else could I do, because I'd been wanting this, wanting him, for so long that even drunk and sloppy and desperate I couldn't have refused him if I'd tried. He kissed me hard, aggressive, his teeth catching my lower lip and his tongue sweeping through my mouth. His hand came up and gripped my jaw, holding me in place, angling my head exactly where he wanted it, and I let him. I let him take control of the kiss because it was what I'd been craving without knowing how to ask for it.

The taste of him flooded through me. The beer he’d nursed all night mixed with the flavor I'd been chasing in every kiss we'd shared and every fantasy I'd had about him. My hands fisted in the sheets because I didn't know where else to put them, because I was afraid if I touched his bare skin I'd never let go.

He kissed me until I couldn't breathe, until my lungs were burning and my head was spinning worse than it had at the bar, until I was dizzy and gasping and so fucking hard it hurt. The kiss felt like a punishment for pushing him off at the bar, like he was showing me exactly what I'd been turning away from, like he was making sure I understood what I'd almost lost.

Then he pulled back.

It was abrupt—one moment his mouth was on mine and the next he was gone, lifting himself off me and standing up from the bed in a single fluid motion. I lay there with my lips still parted and my breath still ragged and my chest heaving, staring up at him like he'd just ripped the ground out from under me.

He looked at me for one more second. His eyes were still burning, his jaw still tight, his chest still rising and falling with breaths that weren't quite steady. Then he turned away.

"I'm sleeping on the couch tonight," he said.

His voice was flat. Controlled. Like he hadn't just devoured my mouth with an intensity that made my whole body ache, like he wasn't walking away from me again.

He left the bedroom. The door stayed open. I heard him moving in the living room—the creak of the couch as he lay down, the rustle of him arranging himself, then silence.

I turned onto my side and pressed my face into his pillow. It smelled like him. The whole bed smelled like him. I breathed it in and closed my eyes and felt the tears building behind my lids, and I didn't stop them because there was no one there to see, because he'd chosen the couch over staying in this room with me, because I'd pushed him off in front of everyone and now he was pushing me off in return and I deserved every cold inch of the distance he was keeping between us.

I succumbed to my drunkenness eventually, falling into a dark, dreamless sleep that felt more like passing out than resting. But even swallowed by the blackout, I couldn't escape the feeling of his mouth on mine—the aggression of it, the desperation of it.

Morning crashed into my skull like a hammer on a rusty pipe. I peeled my face from the pillow, the fabric damp and cold where my breath and tears had soaked through the night. Duke's scent had faded from it, replaced by something stale—my own misery, sweat, and the sour tang of too many drinks.

The bedroom door was still open. Light sliced through the gap, too bright, too ordinary.

I swung my legs off the bed and stood, the room tilting. My clothes from last night clung to me like a second skin I wanted to claw off. I shuffled toward the sound of movement, each step sending a fresh pulse of pain through my temples.

Duke stood at the counter with his back to me, pouring coffee into two mugs. He'd pulled on a gray t-shirt at some point. The tension in his shoulders was visible even from here.

"Sit," he said without turning. "You look like death."

I dropped into a kitchen chair. The cold metal seat bit through my rumpled jeans. "Duke—"

"Coffee first." He set a mug in front of me, black and steaming. His fingers lingered on the ceramic a moment before withdrawing.

I wrapped both hands around it, letting the heat seep into my palms. He sat across from me, cradling his own mug, his eyes fixed somewhere past my shoulder.

"About last night," I started.

"What about it?" His voice was flat, controlled. The same tone he'd used on the couch before he'd walked away.

"I shouldn't have—" I stopped, swallowed. "At the bar. When you touched me, I—"

"You’re my best friend," He finally looked at me, and the raw hurt in his expression made my chest cave. "And you treated me like I was something shameful."

"I’m ashamed of you." 

"Then what?"

I opened my mouth, but the words tangled. What could I say? That I'd spent years burying how I felt? That his touch made me want things I couldn't let myself want? That I'd rather die than lose him, and that terror made me shove him away?

"I don't know how to do this," I whispered.

Duke exhaled, long and slow. He set down his mug and leaned forward, forearms on the table. "What if I told you I've been waiting for you to figure it out? That every time I got close, you found a reason to run?"

My pulse thudded in my ears. "Duke..."

"I'm not straight." The words landed between us, simple and devastating. "I thought you knew. I thought that's why you kept your distance."

I stared at him, my coffee forgotten. The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening until I couldn't breathe.

He watched me, something fragile flickering behind his eyes. Then his jaw tightened, and he pushed back from the table. "Forget it."

The chair scraped against the floor as he stood. I watched him walk toward the bathroom, his stride rigid, and heard the door shut harder than necessary.

Alone, I pressed my forehead to the cool table. Stupid. Fucking stupid. He'd handed me everything I wanted, and I'd sat there like a mannequin, too paralyzed to reach for it.

The shower turned on. Through the thin walls, I heard water drumming against tile.

I lifted my head. My reflection stared back from the darkened window—hollow-eyed, clothes wrinkled, a person who'd been running for so long he'd forgotten how to stand still.

My chair scraped back. My feet moved before my brain caught up.

The bathroom door wasn't locked. Steam curled into the hallway as I stepped inside, the humid air thick with the cedar soap Duke always used. Through the frosted glass, I could see the silhouette of his body, water cascading down his back.

I pulled my shirt over my head. My hands shook as I unbuttoned my jeans, shoving them down with my underwear. Every layer I removed felt like shedding armor I'd worn so long it had fused to my skin.

The shower door slid open. Duke turned, his eyes widening as I stepped in, completely bare, the hot water hitting my shoulders and running down my chest.

"What are you—"

"I love you." The words tore out of me, ragged and desperate. "I've loved you since that night in college when we snuck onto the roof for the first time and just talked all night. I love you and I've been so fucking terrified of ruining everything that I kept pushing you away, and I can't—I can't do that anymore."

Water streamed down his face, cutting a line down his chiseled jaw. His chest rose and fell, the muscles in his arms taut as he clenched his fists.

Then his hands were on me, pulling me close, and his mouth found mine.

The kiss was nothing like last night's angry collision. This was slow, deep, a question and an answer all at once. His tongue slid against mine, tasting me, and I opened for him like I'd been waiting my whole life for this moment. My back hit the wet tile, the cold shock swallowed by the heat of his body pressing into me.

"I've wanted you so long," he breathed against my lips. His hands roamed down my sides, fingers digging into my hips. "Thought I was losing my mind."

I arched into him, feeling his cock hard against my thigh, thick and hot even through the spray. I met his eyes just inches from mine. "I'm not pulling away this time."

He kissed me again, harder this time, his teeth catching my bottom lip. One hand wrapped around my aching dick, and I groaned into his mouth, my knees going weak. He stroked me slowly, thumb circling the head, spreading the slick precum mixing with water.

"Duke—" I gasped, my head falling back against the tile.

"God, you’re beautiful like this." His voice was rough, his own breath coming fast. "Say it again, please. Tell me this is real."

"I love you—" I choked out as his hand tightened on my aching dick. It felt so good. “Duke, I love you so fucking much.”

I spread my legs wider, bracing myself against the wet wall as he kept working my cock, his mouth trailing kisses down my neck while I shook apart under his hands.

I felt the thick head of his cock pushing against my thigh as he moved against me. I exhaled, relaxing into the overwhelming sensation of his body against mine. He gripped my hip harder as he relentlessly worked my dick up and down in his wet fist. The wet sound of skin against skin echoed off the tile, mixing with my moans and his ragged breaths.

"Fuck, I can’t get enough of you," he groaned as he sucked marks into my neck. "I want you so fucking bad."

His pace quickened, the friction building something hot and desperate in my core.

“Duke—" I groaned.

"I love you." His hand worked the head of my cock as he pulled back and his gaze locked onto my face. "I love you, too."

I shattered. Come spurting between our bodies was washed away by the spray. I couldn’t breath, just fell into his arms and shook. We stayed like that for a moment, both trembling, the water running between our bodies. His arms wrapped around my waist, holding me upright when my legs couldn't. I pressed my face into his wet shoulder, breathing him in—cedar and water and my best friend.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "For wasting so much time."

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his thumb brushing my cheek. "Nothing was wasted. We’ve got all the time in the world, now."

Wallace stood five-eleven, compact and dense with lean muscle forged from endless pull-ups and a metabolism that burned hot. Dark stubble shadowing the hard line of his jaw. He’d learned from bootcamp that his particular appetites required strategy. It wasn’t something the Corps put in the recruitment brochures, but there were plenty of bottoms in the Marines. However, there weren’t many who had turned the hunt into an art form like Wallace. 

He knew how to get what he wanted. Find the biggest cock in any given unit, stake his claim, and ride it until his eyes rolled back. 

The barracks he was assigned smelled like industrial cleaner and foot powder. A couple of Marines looked up from their racks as he poked his head in rooms looking for the right spot, gave him the standard once-over, then returned to their phones. Wallace did his own assessment, cataloging faces, ranking bodies. Nothing special. 

He found his room and dropped off his shit. His roommates weren’t around so he figured he’d track down the rest of his squad and see if there were any particularly promising candidates.

Then he spotted the rack in the room next to his, the one with the boots underneath that were sized for a genetic anomaly.

“Ziegler’s at the range,” the guy in the next rack said without being asked. “He should be back soon.”

Wallace nodded, turned back to his room, and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. The range must have wrapped early, because the man who walked through the door thirty minutes later made the frame look like it had been built for someone a foot shorter. Lance Corporal Cody Ziegler was six-foot-five of solid beef, shoulders that blocked the light, forearms roped with veins, and a face that belonged on a recruitment poster, all square jaw and earnest blue eyes. His high-and-tight was fresh, the sides shaved to the skin, the top a bristle of blond.

Wallace watched him from his doorway, pretending to scroll through his phone. He noted the way Ziegler moved, heavy-footed but surprisingly quiet for his size. The way he nodded at the other Marines without quite meeting their eyes. Shy, Wallace realized. A fucking giant who probably didn’t know what to do with all that body.

The perfect prey.

The opportunity came that evening during the post-PT shower run. Wallace timed his entrance to the head perfectly, stripping off his sweaty PT gear and walking into the communal shower area just as Ziegler stood under the far nozzle, soap running down the ridges of his back.

And there it was.

Wallace’s eyes locked onto the cock swinging between Ziegler’s thighs, and his mouth went dry despite the humid air. Long, thick as his wrist, the head a fat plum even soft. It hung heavy, swaying with Ziegler’s movements, a fucking weapon that most men would run from. Wallace’s hole clenched with immediate, vicious want.

He stepped under the nozzle next to Ziegler and let the water run over his head. “New transfer,” he said, voice casual. “Wallace.”

Ziegler glanced over, then did a double-take that Wallace caught in his peripheral vision. “Ziegler.” His voice was deeper than expected, a bass rumble that vibrated in Wallace’s chest.

“First squad?” Wallace asked, lathering soap across his chest, making sure his biceps flexed with the motion.

“Yeah.” Ziegler’s eyes darted to Wallace’s body, then away. Then back again.

Wallace smiled to himself under the spray. Game recognized game, even when the player didn’t know he was playing.

Over the next three days, Wallace executed his campaign with the military precision the Marines had drilled into him. He positioned himself next to Ziegler at chow, in formation, during field exercises. He laughed at Ziegler’s terrible jokes, asked about his hometown in Wisconsin, complimented his shooting scores. Each touch was calculated, a hand on the shoulder that lingered, a hip check in the hallway that pressed closer than necessary.

Ziegler responded like a flower starved for sun. His massive frame would angle toward Wallace whenever he entered a room. Those blue eyes tracked him across any room. And the bulge in his PT shorts, which Wallace caught him adjusting more than once, told him everything he needed to know about the effectiveness of his strategy.

Friday night, most of the squad hit the enlisted club. Wallace stayed behind. So did Ziegler.

“You don’t drink?” Ziegler asked from his rack, where he sat cleaning his rifle with unnecessary focus.

Wallace crossed from the doorway where he’d been watching the man and closed the space between them and stood close enough that Ziegler had to look up. “I prefer to quench my thirst in other ways, you know?”

Ziegler’s throat bobbed. The cleaning rod stilled in his hands.

Wallace reached down and took the rifle, setting it carefully on the rack alongside his. Then he cupped Ziegler’s jaw with one hand, tilting that square face up with a sense of command. “You’re the perfect specimen of a soldier,” he said, voice dropping to a register that vibrated between them. “Tall, strong. Obedient. With that huge schlong swinging between your legs. I bet you don’t get to fuck as much as you’d like to with a weapon like that.”

Ziegler’s breath hitched, his pupils blowing wide. “I, uh—”

“I’m a pretty damn good soldier, too. I bet I could take it as hard as you can give it.” Wallace’s thumb traced Ziegler’s lower lip. “Tell me to stop and I will.” 

His hand went lower to Zieglers throat when he didn’t get an immediate response. “Tell me you want it and I’ll ride you until you can’t remember your own name.”

“I want it.” The words came out ragged, desperate.

Wallace pulled him up by his shirt and dragged him to his own rack next door, further away from the other rooms in the barracks. He stripped Ziegler’s shirt over his head and ran his hands down that massive chest, feeling the slabs of muscle jump under his palms. Then he shoved Ziegler onto the bed and straddled those tree-trunk thighs.

The cock was already hard, straining against Ziegler’s shorts, the outline obscene. Wallace yanked the fabric down and wrapped his hand around the shaft, barely able to close his grip. Thick, veiny, pulsing in his fist. It had to be ten inches at least. He spat in his palm and stroked it, watching Ziegler’s head fall back against the pillow.

“Look at this fucking thing,” Wallace growled. He reached behind himself, shoved his own shorts down, and pressed two fingers into his hole, already slicked and stretched from his preparation in the head earlier. His body opened easily, hungry for it. He added a third finger, watching Ziegler watch him, those blue eyes glazed with need.

When he couldn’t wait anymore, Wallace positioned himself over that massive shaft and sank down.

The head breached him first, fat and blunt, and Wallace’s breath punched out of his chest. He took it inch by inch, his hole stretching obscenely around the girth, his thighs trembling with the effort of controlling his descent. The burn was exquisite, a fullness that reached deep enough to make his vision blur. This was so much better than the slim pickings at Zuma. 

“Fuck,” Ziegler groaned, his huge hands gripping Wallace’s hips hard enough to bruise. “You’re so tight, oh fuck—”

Wallace bottomed out and sat there for a moment, impaled, his own cock leaking against Ziegler’s stomach. Then he started to move. He rode that cock like he owned it, lifting up until just the head remained inside, flexing his ring so tease at the glands, then slamming back down to take it all. The sound of their skin slapping together echoed off the concrete walls, wet and obscene.

“That’s it,” Wallace panted, “give me that big dick, give me every fucking inch, stud.”

Ziegler’s hips snapped up to meet him, driving even deeper, and Wallace saw stars. He planted his hands on Ziegler’s massive chest and rode harder, chasing the pressure against his prostate with each thrust. His own cock slapped between them, neglected and dripping.

Then Wallace’s hands moved up from Ziegler’s chest to his throat. He wrapped his fingers around that thick neck and squeezed.

Ziegler’s eyes flew open, shocked, but his cock jumped inside Wallace’s ass. His hips fucked up harder, faster, his body betraying what his surprise tried to hide.

“Yeah, you like that,” Wallace hissed, tightening his grip. “Big fucking Marine likes taking orders, getting choked out while his dick is buried in my tight ass.”

Ziegler’s face flushed red, his mouth open, desperate sounds spilling out. His hands on Wallace’s hips became frantic, pulling him down with bruising force as he pounded up into that tight hole.

Wallace squeezed harder, feeling the pulse under his palm, watching Ziegler’s eyes start to glaze. The power rush was intoxicating, this mountain of a man completely at his mercy while that massive cock split him open. He rode the edge of Ziegler’s consciousness, loosening his grip just enough to let air through before tightening again.

“Come inside me,” Wallace commanded. “Fill my ass with your load, you big-dicked fuck.”

Ziegler shattered. His whole body seized as he slammed up into Wallace one final time, his cock pulsing jet after jet of hot seed deep in Wallace’s guts. The sensation pushed Wallace over the edge too, his own cock erupting untouched, shooting thick ropes across Ziegler’s heaving chest.

Wallace slowly released his throat, both of them gasping. He could feel Ziegler’s heartbeat hammering against his palm as he supported himself on the man’s impressive chest. He could feel the massive cock still twitching inside him, the warmth of come leaking around the seal of his blissfully stretched hole.

“Fuck,” Ziegler wheezed, his voice wrecked.

Wallace leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to his jaw. “Yeah. Fuck.”

The next day, Wallace could barely sit still through morning formation. His ass ached in the best way, a constant reminder of the night before. Every time he looked at Ziegler standing at attention in the ranks, those blue eyes would flick to him and away, a flush creeping up the big man’s neck.

By lunch, Wallace had had enough of waiting.

He found Ziegler behind the mess hall, smoking a cigarette in the shade of the dumpster enclosure, away from the foot traffic. The big man looked up as Wallace approached, and something between fear and desperate hope crossed his face.

“Put that out,” Wallace said.

Ziegler dropped the cigarette and crushed it under his boot without hesitation.

Wallace grabbed him by the front of his blouse and hauled him deeper into the alcove. He spun around and braced his hands against the wall, pushing his ass back against Ziegler’s already-hardening cock.

“What are you waiting for, Marine,” Wallace said. “Fuck me.”

Ziegler didn’t need to be told twice. His huge hands yanked down Wallace’s trousers, and Wallace heard the rustle of fabric as Ziegler freed himself followed by the sound of spit. Then that fat head was pressing against his hole.

Ziegler fucked like a man possessed. He pinned Wallace against the wall with his massive body, one hand covering Wallace’s mouth to muffle the sounds, and pounded into him with brutal, relentless thrusts. Each stroke drove the air from Wallace’s lungs, that ten-inch cock reaching depths that made his eyes water.

“Take it,” Ziegler growled in his ear, the shy man from before replaced by something primal. “Take my fucking cock, you—”

Wallace bit down on Ziegler’s palm and pushed back to meet every thrust. His own cock hung hard and neglected between his legs, but he didn’t care. This was what he wanted, what he’d targeted from the first moment he’d seen that monster dick swinging in the shower. A personal dildo with a pulse, wrapped in two-hundred-and-thirty pounds of muscle.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Ziegler practically whimpered. “Oh fuck, oh FUCK—”

Ziegler came with a strangled groan, burying himself to the hilt and flooding Wallace’s guts with another massive load. Wallace followed seconds later, painting the cinderblock wall in front of him without ever touching himself.

They stayed like that for a moment, Ziegler’s bulk pressing Wallace into the wall, both of them breathing hard. Then Wallace pulled forward, letting that softening cock slip out of his ruined hole, the man’s release running down his inner thigh.

He turned and looked up at Ziegler, at that flushed face and those dazed blue eyes, and smiled.

“See you around, Lance Corporal,” Wallace said, pulling up his trousers. They’d be seeing each other real soon.

Ziegler swallowed hard and nodded.

Wallace walked back toward the mess hall, his ass throbbing with every step, come still leaking into his underwear. The California sun beat down on his face, and he took a deep breath of salt air.

He answered with a gravitas, which was his usual demeanor. The man could be having an earth shattering orgasm and he’d probably have the same response.

Relieved, I asked him what’s up and he replied that he was clearing some of his back pasture and was hoping that I could help him. Be an all day Saturday thing at this point.

Well Dad rarely asked for help so I took his request seriously. I replied that I was free. In fact we both were free. Jake turned his head as he heard me offering his services.

Dad replied that he wasn’t so sure Jake could handle tough work like that, but I’m sure I’ve got something he could do. Just remember to wear long sleeve clothes as there’s a shit load of briars and brambles. We’ll create a big burn pile and get rid of it as we go.

I was kind of surprised to hear dad say that about Jake as he’s fairly sturdy and I kind of thought he was developing a stronger opinion of him since he hired him on his construction team as supply manager. Guess that’s where he puts the guys who don’t appear to be overly macho.

On Saturday Jake and I drove over to Dad’s place in the middle of fucking nowhere. It was surrounded by dense overgrowth and wild animals. No neighbors, which is just how dad wanted it. Ever since Mom left him and moved a state away he’s been more and more withdrawn into himself. If he didn’t have his business to run I think he’d be there at his nature reserve all the time.

We drove the half mile driveway to his home and parked beside his oversized pickup truck with the dualie wheels and the tool box in the bed that was big enough to sleep in. He was out the door before I turned the engine off with a cup of coffee in his flannel suit. Good thing it was supposed to be a bit cool today.

We walked around the house to a big yard that had potential to be a nice rest spot, once all the brush was cleaned out. There was a fire pit towards the creek which cut along the back edge of his property that would do nicely for the removal of the detritus and we began there.

Within a half hour we had access to the ring of stones and had built a small pile of dried out branches and lit it. Jake seemed to understand that this was his area now and set up shop there. Dad directed me to the timber line which was the edge of his field of clearance. Each armed with a sharp machete we cleared the medium sized growth down to the ground so that grass would have a chance to begin growing when we finished. We carried armload after armload to Jake who slowly fed it to the smoky pit. I remembered how green wood smoked and suddenly didn’t feel that Jake got the easy job.

Once we had a good sized area cleared by the trees, I stepped over to creek to release my bladder which was ready to dispel the large coffee I had drunk earlier. As u was pissing away I was suddenly joined by Dad who decided that I had a good idea. That and I think he wanted to make sure his land was still being claimed by him.

I looked over at him and grinned when I saw his thick cock pissing away. “Goddam that things big enough to plug any leak. If you’d been on the Titanic that fucker would’ve made it!!’

He gave a chuckle as he shook of the last few drops and said that it was too bad you didn’t get my monster. Looks like your Uncle Richie instead. Your momma’s side unfortunately isn’t too blessed.

I countered with the fact it didn’t matter as he wasn’t fucking using it any more. Should we perhaps find him a good knot hole over on those pine trees? Hehehe.

He just sighed and said that I was right. The last few I hooked up with were just too fucking frightened of its size. I mean it is kinda scary based on how big it is. He grabbed it and showed it off by wrapping his calloused fingers around the thickness of the dick. All I’ve managed really was to get a little head and that’s because all they could get in their mouths was just the head. Don’t get me wrong, it felt good but I remembered how good it felt sinking it all the way inside a tight pussy.

The one slut I found who wasn’t afraid to take it said I had to wrap a rubber on it because the husband would be furious otherwise. Can you imagine how fucking impossible it is to get this thing in a rubber?

I mean first there isn’t one big enough. It’s like putting a gallon of milk into a cup. You can try but the only thing that’s gonna happen is the container being destroyed. I’ve split a few condoms in my times. And it’s too fucking tight if I do manage to get one on. You wouldn’t understand having that average dick of yours. I wanted to tell that husband to just fuck off. If he were satisfying the slut I wouldn’t be faced with that situation anyway! Needless to say I ended up with a fucking blowjob instead. Was a little better but this monster is NEVER going down a throat. My load did though! Hehehe.

I just stood there completely in awe at this side of my dad. I never it existed. He always seemed so stiff and formal and yet here he was commiserating with me over the difficulties of getting laid. I looked over at Jake who was adding more briars to the fire as the wet branches popped in response. I remembered how good his ass felt around my dick and suddenly was in need of a good wank.

To try and get my head on right, I told my dad that he should just fuck her in the ass. No chance of creating any children and I read that an asshole can stretch so that a small critter could climb inside. I’m sure she could handle it. And if the husband doesn’t like other men fucking her ass, he should please her well enough that she doesn’t go looking for other dicks. Not her fault the she found a fuckung huge one!!

Dad just looked at me and said that he was glad he decided to talk to me about this. I wasn’t sure how you’d react but I can see that you are just the same level headed guy that I am. It feels good to know that we are so alike in our thinking.

Then he called over to Jake to come join us. I was a bit nervous to have my man see dad’s equipment since he hadn’t put it back inside his pants yet. When Jake got closer he saw our dicks still exposed and his eyes got big. He looked at Dad and said,"Yeah, Boss?”

Dad just grinned and said that away from work he could just call him Dad. Or Daddy, if he preferred. My eyes fit huge for a brief moment over that comment.

Dad continued to ask Jake if he recalled the conversation they had had in his office Thursday? Jake’s face went pale as he nodded. Dad then added that Chris here agrees with me. In fact he said I should fucking do as I want over the protestations of the husband. Then he gripped his still exposed erection and added that he couldn’t help being three times the size of the husband and if he didn’t want his bitch to go looking for other dick he should see to her or his needs.

My radar had been pinging me that there was a problem in this situation and with that added pronoun it became obvious. I knew who that husband was.

Dad concluded that I had told him that he should feel free to fuck the slut up the ass as it was flexible enough to admit me and I wouldn’t have to wear a rubber as I wouldn’t be in danger of impregnating you. So I believe the bet was if I could get his blessing you’d take me in front of him. Go ahead boy, get it wet and sloppy cause you’re going to need it.

Jake looked at me and raised his eyebrows, before removing his gloves and dripping to his knees. Without so much as a word, he leaned over and wrapped his lips around my father’s thick knob. Dad grunted and said that the head is actually better when the cuckold husband is watching. I guess sex really is a mental game. Oh fuck Jake, take it deeper!

I watched my man trying to swallow the fucking anaconda stretching out of my dad’s pants. There was a lot of snuffling as Jake’s mouth leaked spittle around the pop can thick cock stuffed into it. He tried to deep throat it, but there was no way it was going into his throat. After a couple minutes of the effort dad pulled out with his hefty member glistening in the late morning haze.

“Strip boy,” was all that Dad said as Jake stood up and removed his clothes. The lithe figure stood between us as dad unbuttoned his shirt and let his pants drop to the newly cleared area. He pointed to a sturdy tree for Jake to cling to as he lined his spit covered dick up with Jake’s pulsating hole, eagerly puckering against the tip behind him. Dad reached out and hugged Jake from behind as he pressed his broad dick head into the tightly scrunched pucker. Dad told him to open up, as it will hurt like a mother otherwise. I panicked and just kissed my baby, diverting his attention long enough for dad to insert into him.

Jake’s scream echoed through my mouth as he felt the conquering cock enter his hole. I released the kiss and stared into my man’s wet eyes. He looked so small at that moment as he acclimatized to the thick fuck stick in his ass. Dad gently kissed his neck giving me a sign that he didn’t need my help as he continued kissing Jake’s face until he turned the face towards him and kissed him like a long lost lover.

I was so turned on just by the deep passionate kiss the two were sharing. I could see the muscles standing out in Jake’s neck as he was slurping dad’s tongue into his mouth and then visiting dad’s mouth back with his own. The passion was very real as I saw Dad grinding his hips while advancing his penile penetration of Jake’s ass chute.

The groaning of pain subsided into moaning of joy from Jake as his body became right sized to handle dad’s massive pecker. I saw Dad begin to cycle his thrusts as he began a slow in and out thrusting of his erection, swiveling his hips so that his cock was rubbing against every surface inside my honey’s back end.

I heard the kiss end with the release of the suction between their mouths as dad gripped Jake and held him steady as he began a more insistent fucking. The tree began rustling it’s leaves as the humping against its trunk sent vibrations all along the sturdy oak. As things became more heated, dad walked Jake backward to a large rock which he had Jake kneel over. Once Jake was repositioned, he reinserted and began to fuck him like he was a prize he earned at the county fair.

The sound the two made made me think of a barnyard as Jake was moaning and grunting while dad was huffing and puffing while he gave my man a rough pounding. Someone was going to be bruised tomorrow.

I lost all sense of propriety as I openly jerked off a load which landed on a pile of debris that was destined to be burned. I called out as the first blast left my cock and dad looked up in time to witness blasts two through six. It must’ve done him proud to see his boy shoot so masculinely since dad howled as his hips froze in a position of fully immersed fuck and shook as he came deep inside Jake.

For his part, Jake just continued groaning like a cat in heat while dad bred his hole deeper than he’d ever been fucked before. When dad finally composed himself, he slowly withdrew his cum covered cannon from Jake’s ass and walked back over to the creek to take another piss.

I went over to comfort Jake only to have dad interrupt us with a reminder that the day is going to start getting hit soon. The he grabbed a pair of shorts from the ground and ripped a large piece of cloth and shoved it up Jake’s leaking hole. He said that the leaking jizz would just draw bugs and we’ve got at least another two or three hours to go. Now I suggest you put your clothes back on as those briars would love to scratch your soft skin raw, boys.

As we continued the clearance of the field, I kept staring the cum covered boulder that Jake had been lying on and wishing it had been me that made him cum so much. I carried the load of cum soaked branches over to the fire Jake was once again tending and I imagined a new cologne called Smoky Semen and chuckled as I dropped the branches near the burnt down pile. I would be reminded of it later on the ride home as Jake sat beside in the truck smelling like a cross between dad’s load still leaking around the plug up his ass and the smoke which was firmly embedded into his clothes.

When dad pulled into Deacon Industries I could see Chuck standing in the rear stairwell nursing a pants filling erection while he was thumbing through his phone. I didn't see our car anywhere so I guess Derek was still at the gym. Dad pulled the big box of pastries out of the back seat and headed inside while I headed to the rear stairwell to confront my buddy.

I popped open the door and saw him look up in surprise as he was figuring out who was using the rear entrance. When he saw me he just grinned and went back to palming his abundantly stuffed crotch of his suit.

He asked if I enjoyed my scavenger hunt with my attractive cum magnetic if a boyfriend? I just grousled that he went too far taking advantage of my boyfriend like that. It was bad enough he used his power position here to get him to suck your monstrous cock, but did you have to make him do it elsewhere as well?

He smiled and said that he didn't make him do anything he didn't want to do. He was free to say no at any time. The fact he didn't says a lot about how much of a freak he really is. The fact that you didn't shut things down also speaks volumes. You could've said that he didn't have to do this but instead you let him and even went inside to watch him do it. I think my cocksucking buddy might be a cuck in training. Perhaps we'll have to investigate that later. Don't get excited, Teddy Bear, you'd be surprised at how many of our classmates love watching me fuck their partners. You're just the first one that had a guy instead of a chick.

I started to protest but he stepped down from the landing he was on and said I should see these. On his phone were a bunch of pics, showing Derek in action. There he was leaning over a desk that had been wiped clear of papers while Mr. Harris was railing Derek's ass with his thick club. Another showed the big money shot leaking out his ass around the deflating cock. Then there was a eagle eyed POV shot taken from the police chief's chest looking down at my baby with his mouth stretched around a long pecker. The next had Derek's eyes pleading up to the screen as more of the long cock was inside his mouth. Then two fresh faced recruits had Derek over by the holding cells and were jerking off together on his face while the guys inside the cage were all watching. The next showed a nearly white face being scraped by fingers as my baby had fingers inserted into his mouth.

The next was the hardest and yet the hottest for me. There was Dad standing there with his big hairy arm around Derek's shoulder as cum was splashed across my baby's face. Next showed dad without his apron,pants or underwear as his hairy ass was fucking my baby's. The look of total surrender was on Derek's face. The next showed a massive leak spilling out Derek's asshole as my dad's rather surprisingly large cock was in the background.

I was completely taken back at these photos and couldn't help but wonder how I could ever satisfy Derek again. Then I saw him on his knees inside an office with a big black cock stuffed halfway into his mouth. From the muscular thighs I knew he had made it to the gym on Maple Street. The next showed that big black gut rearranger shoved all the way up my man's backside and the look of sublime pleasure on his face told me he was not upset at his predicament. The next was a video that looked like it had come from the security camera. It was inside a steam room and Derek was sitting on Mr. Newsome's lap while three other muscular guys thrust their peckers before Derek's face for perusal. One after another I watched him suck each of the guys, two white and one black, before the two white guys stood on each side of Derek as he bounced on the boss's cock and slurped on the other black guy's cock. I heard the second black guy call the boss his uncle, before the cum flew everywhere.

Chuck just grinned as he watched me deal with my own hardon caused by viewing his secret stash. Then he said that we had seats to the big show in his dad's office. Seems he wants to meet my new assistant and give him his own assessment.

He led me to a polished oak door on the third floor and he knocked twice before turning the knob. Dad was in there talking to an older version of my friend. Then it hit me that in all the years I knew Chuck, I had never met his dad. He was a bit taller than Chuck and wore his rugged face clean shaven but I could see the swirls of dark chest hair in his unbuttoned shirt.

He looked up and smiled at Chuck as we entered and greeted him. He then added that he was just showing George here the photo evidence of the success of Derek. He of course was particular to the photos at the bakery, but what can I say? Hahaha.

It looks like he should be back here... Just then the door slung open and in walked my baby looking very much like he had literally been ridden hard and put up wet. There was cum dried all over his face and through his hair and I bet that there was also a good portion of his body as well.

Charles Senior asked him how he enjoyed the sauna at the gym. I always find it so relaxing. When I leave it I feel like a new man. How about you, did you feel like a new man or just feel a new man?

Derek just stood there in shock as he took in that he was in front of the owner of the company. He stammered that he was sorry for not being more presentable, Mr. Deacon. Chucks dad just looked at him before grinning. Then he told Derek that he was forgiven as he had reviewed the photo evidence of the task my son had put you on.

Derek's face went white as he was suddenly seeing his chances of employment flying out the window. He shrank into a chair by the door to try and hide.

Charles Sr. added that he felt a little out of place as of all the men in this room, I'm the only one who hasn't had your charmingly attractive face and tight attractive ass wrapped around his cock. Although judging by Newsome's steam room video, I'd be surprised if it were still tight. The guys all chuckled at his joke.

Then Sr. Instructed Derek to lose the modesty and bring his talented mouth over here and show your new boss's boss just what you can do. Derek cautiously stood and removed his clothes before stepping between Sr.'s legs and lowering himself to the floor in front of the captain of industry. We all were holding our breath in anticipation as Derek leaned in and began licking the rapidly engorging member that Sr. Extracted from his expensive suit.

As Derek began to do his stuff, Sr. sighed as he told Chuck that he was better at this than your mom, and your first, second and fourth girlfriends. Chuck looked up at his dad who just grinned and said the third one had this thing she did with her finger up my ass which was incredible. At that point Derek slid the pants down and stuck his tongue beneath the two hairy balls and began sucking each one into his mouth. As Sr. Groaned his approval he said that was good but still not as, then he released a grunt. I looked at his crotch and I saw Derek's face had slid lower and his tongue was punching the old man's hole. Sr. had slid forward in his big leather chair giving Derek full access to his ass. As my baby ate his hole out, Sr. moaned that he was wrong,Derek has just claimed the top spot. Oh fuck, just eat my hole you hungry fucker!

By now the executive penis was at full mast and dangerously close to exploding. Derek, not wanting to miss a chance to get fucked by the biggest cock he'd seen all day, stood and added some spit to his fingers as he spread the cum still leaking out his hole, and sat down on the lust filled executive's pecker, inhaling it into his hole like a pen cap being returned to a ball point pen.

We watched him slide down Sr.'s prod as it disappeared up his ass. I wasn't sure who was grunting loudest, Derek, Sr, or us. I looked over at dad and he was jerking off in his chair while watching the show. I turned my head and saw Chuck pounding away as well, so I unzipped and joined the group. Then one by one we stood up around the throne and masturbated as Sr. fucked my man like he owned him. And he was putting him through his paces. Derek was moaning like a bitch in heat as Chuck began firing his load. When I saw Dad firing as well I made it a three for three execution and actually hit my baby across his nose. He squealed from the multi loads he just caused and his cock went off flying so violently he actually hit some papers on Sr.'s desk. When he came his ass must've tightened around Sr.'s shaft as he grunted a low growl and gripped Derek around the waist and thrust up from his seat. From the look on Derek's face he could feel the bountiful load breeding his guts. It was at this point my baby joined the ranks of the powerful by bringing them pleasure.

Which is why I was surprised after two steady weeks of effort there was no success. I told him that I’d contact a friend I have in the banking business to do an interview with him. It wouldn’t necessarily result in a job, but it would shine a light on his short comings so he could adapt and become a more viable candidate. Derek was relieved that there might be an answer in all of this. I hugged my baby and gave him a big kiss before retrieving my phone to make a call.

Chuck and I go back to junior high where we were good friends who had many of our classes together. His dad had money so he was always set for success but it was my humble status that taught him how to relate to the rest of the world. It didn’t stop him from being a spoiled shit at times, but I nevertheless was hopelessly stuck on him. By the time we were well into high school, he figured out that I was gay and he used that to his advantage. Instead of having to suffer the ritualistic mating dance controlled by the girls, he’d just get me to handle his occasional needs. And like a stupid horny slut, I took care of him. I blew him in his car at so many places in town I’m surprised we never got caught.

When I went away to college I met Derek and discovered that there was something else to a gay relationship. We both wanted to be with each other and definitely submitted to the other’s desires because that’s how we were silently trained. So without a second thought I called Charles Deacon, who is now the senior vice president of Deacon International, a large manufacturing company which is owned by his dad.

When he answered, I spoke a hesitant “Hello Chuck?” which was answered by a pause and then a boisterous “Teddy Bear”! I hadn’t heard that name in five years. He gave that to me in high school in order to sweet talk me into sucking him off. He didn’t have to, I would’ve blown him anyways. When he asked me how I was I explained how I had settled down with a handsome guy and we were trying to make go of it. Then I got to the meat and potatoes of the conversation and asked him for a favor. He told me that it was probably the least he could do after all those amazing blowjobs in high school.

The accolades made me a little uncomfortable but I got the result I was looking for, Derek was going to be interviewed by Chuck, or Charles as he corrected me. Derek was excited about this but all I could do was think back to learning how to deep throat on his big pecker while we were parked behind Dawson’s grocery store. Hmmm.

That Thursday I made sure my baby was dressed to impress. It made me kind of nervous with him meeting my man for the first time. I rode with him to both see Chuck, er, Charles again and give Derek the moral support he’d need.

When Charles came out of his office to meet my man, his eyes gave Derek a twice over. Guess the first one wasn’t enough. He shook hands with Derek and then gave me a hug. As he was hugging me he whispered that he was going to enjoy getting to know all about my man. I felt his club stiffening against my leg as he pulled away and placed his hand on Derek’s back,leading him into his office. Just before he closed his office door, he signaled to his secretary that he wasn’t to be interrupted, then he closed and sounded like locked his office door.

It’s been a while since I interviewed, but an hour seemed a bit excessive to me. After a long period of grinning and making small talk with Chuck’s secretary, the door finally opened with a click. Yep, I heard right, it was locked. Chuck stood there grinning and I could see a predatorial smile on his face as he handed Derek a card.

Chuck told me to step inside his office as Derek stepped outside to our car. As he closed the door I couldn’t help but notice that the air in here was heavy with the smell of sex. Chuck leaned against his desk and crossed his arms as he told me that Derek has a lot of potential. He’s got the all important basics down and did great so far on a category I call directions. I handed him a short stack of papers and told him to organize by a variety of methods. Midway, I unzipped to distract him and he was only affected for a short time. Then I added new instructions which involved him locating exact papers mixed in with him sucking my dick. He took to it immediately. In fact he did so well we dropped the papers and focused on him sucking. You know he picked up the full deep throat much faster than you.

I ended up shooting most inside his pretty mouth, but I shot the final bits onto his face. I then gave him a list of friends that I want him to go see with my load still on his cheek. I owe them a hot freaky thing and I think this will be perfect. If he makes it through all four of them with my cum still on his cheek, I believe I will have to hire him as my personal assistant.

You better get going as I bet he’s eager to meet these guys. Can’t wait to see the pics they send back. I scheduled Jack Newsome at the gym as last as he will no doubt end up parading Derek into the sauna and I doubt my cum will survive the steam in there.

I smiled as I shook Chuck’s hand and made my way to the car. When I climbed into my seat I looked over at my baby and he was looking like he was in trouble. There was a big splotch of cum on his chin all over his sexy close cropped beard with a small runner sliding across his face. He looked so sad that I just wanted to comfort him, knowing that Chuck is a smoothie who could charm his way into a nun’s habit. As I leaned to give him a kiss he shrieked saying that I would mess up his cum spot.

I just stopped and realized how right he was and asked where we headed first. He pulled the card out of his pocket and said that he had to see Mr. Harris at the First National Bank. He went inside for his appointment. Fifteen minutes later I couldn’t help myself and went inside as well. I asked the lady at the central kiosk where Mr. Harris’s office was. She looked skeptically at me until I said my husband was with him…then I added the guy with the cum in his face. Then she smiled and said that she was informed that Mr. Harris was not to be disrupted, which she added was euphemism that Fred was getting some action. You must be one of those cucks I’ve heard about. Good for you!!

Just then a door down the hallway behind her opened and Derek stepped out still fastening his belt. A booming bass voice said that Chuck definitely made good on his promise as a middle aged man wearing a suit without a tie emerged behind him.

Derek just looked at me and gave me a weak smile as he passed me outside to the car. When I asked him what happened he just said that Mr. Harris wanted me to give him head as well but I was afraid that would mess up the cum on my chin so I offered my ass instead. Good thing too as he wasn’t very long but extremely thick, perfect for taking up my ass. Does the cum still look good? I have three more to go?

I told him he was still as trashy as when he left Chuck’s office and he grinned. The next stop was the police station where he was to meet with Captain Michaels. He was in there with him for ten minutes and came out all flushed. His face looked different and I asked him if things went all right?

He said Cap was busy manning the phone lines so he forced me to my knees at his desk. He smeared the cum in the first few minutes of face fucking me. When he saw my dejected face he slapped my cheek and told me to keep a stiff upper lip. He’d replace it when he was done. I hadn’t thought of that! He shot off during a loud exchange with some irate woman and all of it went right down my throat. While it was fucking hit, I didn’t have a cum badge any more. That’s when he brought over two rookies who shot their loads on my face and then told them to clean it up to match this, and handed them his phone. They wiped the extra cum off my cheeks and nose as they fed the load into my mouth. I kinda liked it in there!

Well if he was happy, so was I, I guess. The next stop brought us outside a bakery down a back street. Knew it well as my dad owned it. I thought I’d go inside and see dad real quick while Derek took care of number three but I was told he was extremely busy working on a special order. I told them it was okay I was his son, but they insisted I stay out front. Twenty minutes later Derek stepped out front with my dad behind him. I asked where his apron was and dad just grinned and said it got in the way of me finally getting to fuck this sexy bastard. I gotta give it to you, Ted, you chose a fucking sweet boyfriend.

You want a cannoli? I just got stuffing them myself. Just like Derek here! Haha! I knew it was a smart move to keep your buddy Charles in my contacts. His old man and I used to get into all kinds of trouble together back when we were your age. Then he turned to his counter help and told her send a box of fresh glazed over to Deacon Industries. I think it will be a fitting thank you gift.

As we got to the car, I looked at Derek with his glazed over face and a wet spot forming in the seat of his trousers and I decided that I needed to go for a walk. So I gave him a hug, careful of his decorated face, and told him I would meet him back at Deacon Industries when he finished up at the gym. His eyes were vibrating as he told me he loved me and pulled off.

“Nah,” Alex insisted. “He won’t be long. He just wanted a quick shower before going home to his wife.”

“A married guy?” I teased. “You dirty slut.”

“Hung like fuck, too,” Alex winked back at me devilishly. “He fuckin’ dumped a massive load in me.”

“Damn,” I exclaimed, spreading his ass cheeks, noting the pearly seed dripping from his used, puffy cunt. “You know I can’t resist your sloppy hole.”

“Go ahead,” Alex encouraged as I unzipped my pants. “Get that big dick in this used pussy.”

Climbing on the bed, planking above him, I mounted Alex, my cock breaching the slippery, cummy folds of his cunt. The married dude’s load was still warm and wet inside of Alex—a sublime feeling.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” I observed, glancing down at my cum-slicked cock as I thrusted in and out of Alex, plunging into his seeded void.

“Mmm, yeah,” Alex moaned. “Fuck my cummy hole. Breed me like a cum dump.”

“You’re about to get your wish,” I warned, the cum already rising in my shaft. The unbelievably hot image of my boyfriend getting fucked by some random married dude flashed like porn in my head, my balls responding in turn. “I’m getting close.”

“Breed my fuckin’ hole,” Alex begged, his talented ass gripping my cock, milking me. “Dump that load in this used pussy.”

Instantly, I did just that—my cock erupting in his depths, mixing with the warm seed from the married dude. When my dick stopped throbbing, my balls emptied, I pulled out and admired the melange of semen escaping from Alex’s hole.

And then it happened. The bathroom door opened. An older, handsome, muscled guy emerged in a cloud of steam. Freshly showered, his big dick swung like a pendulum between his meaty thighs.

“Dad?!” I gasped in shock.

“Well—this is awkward,” Dad chuckled sheepishly, avoiding eye contact with me, yet making no attempt to cover his massive cock. “Sorry, son. Alex said you wouldn’t be home for another hour.”

“You fucked my boyfriend?” I demanded incredulously.

“Yeah,” Dad nodded, a twisted smile. “But to be fair—a lot of guys have fucked your boyfriend. I’m just another tally mark on his ass.”

“But—but what about Mom?” I pleaded.

“Your mother?” Dad laughed. “Shit. That bitch hasn’t shown me her hairy cunt in ten years. What do you expect me to do? Rub my dick raw looking at porn?”

“No,” I demurred. “I guess I’m just—”

“Did you just fuck him?” Dad interrupted, eyeing my wet cock and the cum soup leaking from Alex’s ass. “Fuck him with my load in him?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “But I didn’t—”

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Dad exclaimed, his big dick instantly hard. “The slutty bitch getting pumped full of cum by a dad and then his son. You want another load, Alex? Another blast of my cum in your guts?”

“Mmm, yeah,” Alex cooed, reaching back and fingering his used, puffy cunt. “Get that big dick back inside me. Breed me like a bitch.”

“Fuuuck, I love a sloppy hole,” Dad exhaled, his head tipping back in ecstasy as he pushed into Alex. “Christ, this is good.”

I watched in awe as my dad fucked my boyfriend, pounding Alex like a truck stop whore. Dad’s strength and stamina were inspirational—a total fuck machine.

“Son?” he turned his head to me, his big cock pummeling Alex’s puffy hole. “Be a good boy and text your mother for me. Tell her you and I are grabbing beers after work—and to hold my dinner. You and I are gonna tag this slut until he can’t feel his legs anymore.”

Stories are fiction and intended for readers 18 and up. All characters are assumed to be legal, consenting adults.

He and his muscular boyfriend were the only gay couple on the cruise ship. I had spotted them at the breakfast buffet that morning, my two-year old daughter clinging to me as my wife tried to flag down a server for a bowl of Cheerios. His boyfriend was attractive, but not nearly as hot. They both seemed to be checking me out. It had been years, before my wedding to be exact, since I had my big dick in a guy. But seeing this hottie made me long for some ass again. 

I was delighted to spot him and his boyfriend in a pair of deck chairs by the pool later that afternoon. “Why don’t you take Hannah to that kiddie pool over there?” I suggested to my wife, angling to break free of my family. “I’m gonna grab a beer at the pool bar.” My wife agreed reluctantly, and soon I was crossing the pool deck, approaching the hottie and his boyfriend on my way to the bar. 

Christ, he looked hot as I drew closer. To my delight, the hottie looked up at me—giving me the look. I had seen that look many times in my life. From frat parties, to gym saunas, to seedy bars—that look always ended with me fucking the guy. And it was clear to me that this hottie on the pool deck wanted me to fuck him. 

“I’ll have what he’s having,” the hottie said to the bartender, gesturing to my Corona with lime as he unexpectedly sidled up next to me at the pool bar. “I’m Bryce,” he introduced, his hand extended as his eyes traveled downward and lingered on my crotch. 

“Jeff,” I replied, shaking his hand, my cock hardening in my swim trunks at the sight of him.

“Cute family you got there,” Bryce smiled, nodding his head toward my wife and Hannah in the kiddie pool. 

“Thanks. You can have them,” I joked tipping back my beer. 

“Nah. I’d rather have your cock,” he replied, his eyes fixated on my bulging crotch again. 

“Shit,” I gasped, nearly spraying him with my beer. His direct approach had caught me off guard. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. My boyfriend over there,” Bryce gestured to the muscular guy in the deck chair, “likes to be cucked. And we’re wondering if you might be game to fuck me in our cabin while he watches.”

“Shit, man. That sounds hot,” I answered, instantly recalling my frat brothers watching me fuck a slutty dude who would often bend over for us. “When?”

“How about twenty minutes? I just need to prep,” he replied. “Cabin 306.”

Bryce departed as I made my way to the kiddie pool. I hung out with my wife and kid, keeping my eye on a clock over the pool bar. “I think I’m gonna hit the ship’s gym,” I told my wife after waiting about fifteen minutes. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Fine,” my wife consented unwillingly. “But don’t forget you promised to take Hannah down the twisty pool slide later,” she reminded. I nodded in agreement as I made my getaway. 

“The door’s unlocked,” came a voice from within cabin 306 when I knocked. Letting myself in, I discovered Bryce naked on the bed, his legs spread wide as he fingered his prepped hole. Jesus, he looked hot. I couldn’t believe my luck. In a chair next to the bed was Bryce’s muscular boyfriend, wearing a white spa robe that strained against his muscular body. 

“I’m Kyle,” introduced the muscled boyfriend. “Bryce is ready for you. So drop those swim trunks and fuck him.” Needing no further orders, I stepped out of my trunks, my hard eight-incher springing to attention as I climbed on the bed and got between Bryce’s open legs. 

“Yeah, get that big cock in me,” Bryce encouraged as I pressed up against his wet hole. “FUCK,” he gasped as I plunged into him, mashing my balls against his ass. 

“You like his cunt?” asked Kyle from his chair. “You like your big cock in his wet, tight cunt?”

“Fuck yes,” I nodded, giving Bryce some slow steady strokes, concentrating on not busting my load too fast. His ass felt incredible. 

“Good. Now call him a faggot while you fuck him,” ordered Kyle.

“What?” I replied. “I don’t—”

“Call him a FAGGOT,” Kyle demanded. “Bryce gets off on it.”

“Yeah, faggot. Take this big cock,” I complied, giving Bryce a deep thrust.

“Mmm, yeah. I’m your dirty faggot,” Bryce responded, wrapping his hairy legs tighter around me. “Fuck me like a faggot.”

With my hands planted firmly on the bed, I raised myself into a plank and began to jackhammer Bryce’s tight hole. It was warm inside the cabin, and soon my sweat was dripping down upon Bryce, matting his furry chest. He tilted his pelvis slightly to take me deeper, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the cabin as I pummeled him harder. 

“That’s it. Destroy his cunt,” Kyle praised from his chair. “You gonna give that faggot some cum? You gonna fuckin’ seed his ass?”

“Uh huh,” I answered, briefly wiping my sweaty brow with one hand as I continued to pound the living shit out of Bryce’s sweet cunt. 

“I want you to breed me,” begged Bryce, looking up into my eyes. “I want to feel your cum inside me.” He wouldn’t have to wait. 

“Oh FUCK. I’m gonna shoot,” I announced with urgency. 

“Yeah, shoot your load in him,” Kyle ordered. “Seed that dirty faggot’s cunt.”

“FUCK—SHIT,” I roared as my cock erupted inside of Bryce. “That’s it—take my cum, you motherfuckin’ faggot.”

“Mmm, your cum is so warm inside me,” Bryce moaned, grabbing my ass and pulling me deeper inside him as my balls finished flooding his guts. 

“Damn, that was hot,” I exclaimed while pulling out of Bryce, my pearly load trickling out of his wrecked hole. Instantly, Kyle dropped out of his chair and squatted on his muscular legs, taking my spent cock in his mouth as he licked it clean. 

“There’s more cum for you here, babe,” Bryce called to Kyle, fingering his cummy hole. Kyle released my cock and climbed between Bryce’s legs, burying his face in Bryce’s used cunt as he fed upon my warm load. My cock was rock hard again as I watched them, envisioning dumping another load in Bryce once Kyle had cleaned out his messy hole. But then my phone buzzed. 

“Where the hell are you?” my needy wife texted. “Hannah wants to go on the twisty slide. This is supposed to be a FAMILY vacation.”

I pulled on my swim trunks and took my leave from cabin 306 just as Kyle stood up, my load smeared across his face, and opened his robe. Sliding his hard cock into Bryce’s used hole, I heard Kyle growling just as I closed the door, “Now you get my cock, you dirty faggot.”

Stories are fiction and intended for readers 18 and up. All characters are assumed to be legal, consenting adults.

I spotted the hot couple by the pool on our second day at sea. I was pissed that my parents had dragged me on a family cruise, but perhaps I had found a silver lining with the two hotties. I couldn’t keep my eyes off them, staring openly at them. And the best part—they were staring right back at me, clearly down to fuck.

“Stay away from those two guys,” my father warned from his deck chair, his eyes peering over his book, aptly noticing the way the two hotties were eye fucking me from across the pool.

“What? What guys?” I played dumb.

“The two fa—” he stopped himself from uttering the slur. “The two salad tossers,” he corrected with a subtle nod in their direction.

“Salad tossers?”

“Yeah—you know—salad tossers—fruits,” he snapped. “They’re fucking gay.”

“You don’t know that they’re gay, Dad,” I countered, secretly enjoying messing with his bigotry.

“Christ, Kyle,” Dad admonished. “It’s pretty damn obvious that they’re gay. You’re leaving for college soon, so you better learn how to identify homosexuals like them.”

“Why?” I demanded, aghast.

“Because they’ll corrupt you—indoctrinate you and try to turn you gay like them,” my dad espoused ignorantly. “Young guys like you will see them as an easy alternative to pussy, but it’s a dangerous path fraught with sinful immorality. No good can come of it.”

I could think of lots of good, in fact, and so I kept my mouth shut. There was no sense in trying to argue with my dad’s old brand of homophobia.

“I’ve got a massage in ten minutes,” my dad announced abruptly, looking at his phone. “Be sure to meet your mother and me back at the cabin before dinner.”

And then, to my relief, Dad was gone. My attention returned to the hotties across the pool. Dad was barely gone two minutes when the taller of the two approached me.

“Hey—I’m Jeff,” he introduced himself, even hotter up close, if that was possible. “Mind if I sit here?” he gestured to the empty deck chair next to me.

“Yeah—uh—sure,” I replied, tongue tied and trying not to stare at his gloriously hairy chest. “I’m Kyle.”

“Nice to meet you, Kyle,” Jeff extended his meaty hand. “Was that your dad who just left—or your daddy? It can be so hard to tell sometimes.”

“I’m—I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

“That man—is he your father or is he your boyfriend?”

“Oh my god,” I laughed. “He’s my father.”

“Well, I can see where you get your good looks,” Jeff smiled. “And your rather large endowment,” he looked down at my cock, expanding involuntarily in my swim trunks.

Was this really happening?

“That guy you’re with,” I gestured to his other half staring at us intently from across the pool. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Jeff answered proudly. “That’s Drew. In fact, he sent me over here to ask you something.”

“Uh—okay. Ask me what?”

“Drew wants to know if you might like to fuck him up the ass?”

“Jesus,” I gasped. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely,” Jeff smiled. “I very much like to be a cuckold—to get cucked.”

“Cucked? I don’t know what that—”

“It means I like to watch my boyfriend getting fucked by another guy,” he explained. “Especially a hot, hung guy like you.”

“Yeah—I’ll fuck him,” I agreed readily. “I’ll fuck Drew.”

Jeff gave a nod and a surreptitious wink to Drew from across the pool. The deal was done. Jeff then gave me their cabin number and instructed me to drop by in thirty minutes to allow Drew to get prepped and ready.

“You might want to wrap a towel around your waist before you leave,” Jeff joked as he departed, staring down at my tented swim trunks. “That big thing might frighten all the little kids running around here.”

The next thirty minutes traveled at a snail’s pace, my big dick aching to be buried in Dale’s eager cunt. I had played around with a few buds on camping trips, fucking one of them up the ass a few times. But nothing compared to what awaited me in Jeff and Drew’s cabin. Unlike my camping escapades, this felt grown up, like I was finally going to fuck like a man.

“Come in, Kyle,” Jeff greeted me at their cabin door with a devilish grin. “Drew is waiting for you.”

Wearing nothing but a black jockstrap, Drew was on all fours upon the bed. His pink, puckered cunt was slathered in lube, pulsing and beckoning me to mount it. I froze in anticipation.

“What are you waiting for?” Drew scolded me playfully. “Get that big dick in me.”

“Allow me to help,” Jeff offered, undoing the drawstring of my swim trunks, unleashing my hard nine-incher. Grasping it by the base, Jeff dropped to his knees and deftly swallowed my cock, my balls pressed against his chin. With his hands on my ass, Jeff sucked me hungrily for a moment or two.

“Sorry,” he apologized with a wink, releasing me before it was too late. “I just needed a taste of that big thing.”

Jeff then stripped down naked, his thick cock hard and leaking precum. Taking his place on the bed next to Drew, a front row seat to the show, Jeff ordered me to mount his boyfriend.

“Fuuuck,” I exhaled, pushing into Drew, the warm folds of his cunt embracing my big cock.

“Jesus,” Drew winced. “You’re hung like fuck. Start slow, okay?”

I held still for a moment, allowing Drew to adjust to my girth before commencing with some slow, steady strokes. Jesus, his ass felt incredible.

“You like his big dick in you, baby?” Jeff asked Drew, his lips at his ear. “You like his big cock in your tight pussy?”

“Yes,” Drew replied, grinding against me, pushing me deeper into his void. “His big cock feels so fucking good.”

“I’m glad, baby,” he kissed Drew softly upon the head. And then turning to me, Jeff ordered, “Now fuck the shit out of him. Destroy his pussy.”

Obediently, I began to pummel Drew’s hole, pulling on his jockstrap like I was holding the reins to a bucking bronco. Drew responded in turn, his hips matching my rhythm, riding my cock at a breakneck pace.

Instinctively, Drew lowered his head on the bed, pushing his ass higher, moaning like a bitch in heat. The angle allowed me to go deeper, pounding further and further into his depths.

“Yeah—fuck him,” Jeff cheered me on from the sidelines. “Fuck him with that big dick.”

Not content to be a passive observer, Jeff’s hand was on my ballsack, tugging on my balls as they swung beneath me. Jeff’s finger then slid along my shaft, pushing up into Drew’s hole as I continued to fuck him, stretching his sphincter even wider. As his finger rubbed against my cock, I imagined the arousing sensation to be something akin to double penetration.

Withdrawing his wet finger from Drew’s hole, giving my balls another playful tug, Jeff’s thick finger found my hole. Teasing me, he began to push inside, fingering my ass while I continued to fuck Drew’s ass. The feeling was overwhelmingly intense. And then Jeff found my prostate.

“Holy Christ,” I gasped, Jeff rubbing the nubby cum button inside me as Drew continued to milk my cock with his tight sphincter.

“You ever shoot your load with a finger up your ass?” Jeff asked, his thick finger mimicking the same rhythm my cock was delivering to Drew’s hole.

“No,” I bit my lip, trying to hold back, my balls beginning to throb.

“You won’t believe the orgasm you’ll have,” Jeff warned. “But only one thing could make it better.”

And then it happened. Jeff withdrew his finger and promptly shoved his eight-incher up my ass—with my cock still inside Drew. The feeling was mind blowing.

“OH FUCK,” I cried, sandwiched between the two hairy studs, my cock buried in Drew with Jeff’s cock buried in me. It was the hottest thing I had ever experienced—and my balls agreed.

“I’m close,” I warned, holding back no longer an option.

“Breed me,” Drew begged. “Fuckin’ seed my cunt.”

“SHIT—I’m cumming—FUCK,” I announced as my dick exploded inside Drew, the biggest orgasm I had ever experienced, my eyes rolling back into my head, Jeff’s big cock still up my ass.

“Damn—I can feel you cumming,” Jeff exclaimed, my sphincter pulsing on his cock with a rhythmic beat as my load spewed into Drew. “I’m gonna bust, too. You want my load? Can I cum inside you?”

“Fuck yeah,” I agreed eagerly. And just as my cock stopped throbbing inside of Drew, Jeff’s cock began to throb inside my depths.

“FUCK—SHIT,” Jeff grunted out his load inside of me, his breath hot at my ear. The sensation of dual orgasms was completely overwhelming, my cum leaving my body just as I accepted Jeff’s cum—simultaneously giving and receiving man’s most precious elixir.

“That was fucking insane,” Drew marveled as I collapsed upon him, Jeff collapsing upon me. Jeff then pulled out of me, his cum dripping down the back of my ballsack and co-mingling with my own cum on the bedsheet as I pulled out of Drew.

“Shit,” I exclaimed, noting the alarm clock on the bed table. “I’ve gotta get showered for dinner. My parents will kill me if we’re late.”

“Drew is trying to line up a few guys to tag his hole tonight,” Jeff shared as I retrieved my swim trunks from the floor. “You want to come by again—maybe around 11 pm—and dump another load in him?”

I readily agree to come back that night before dashing out the door, Jeff’s load still dripping from my hole. I secretly hoped he might want to dump another load in me, too.

Once again, time traveled at a snail’s pace as I endured an achingly dull dinner in the ship’s dining room with my parents. My asshole father felt the need to play inquisitor.

“Where were you all afternoon, Kyle?” my father quizzed me over our stuffed lobster. “I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“Just hanging out with a couple of guys,” I answered truthfully.

“I hope not the wrong kind of guys,” Dad sneered, his eyes appraising me. “Those immoral, sinful guys at the pool, perhaps?”

“Leave Kyle alone,” my mom interceded. “I’m glad he’s made some friends on the ship.”

After dinner, my parents insisted that I join them for a painfully annoying comedian in the comedy lounge. At around 10 pm, my dad went to the bar as my mom retired to our cabin. I walked the ship for another hour, my cock throbbing with each step, eager for some more fun with Jeff and Drew. At 11 pm, I knocked on their cabin door.

“Glad you made it back,” Jeff pulled me into the darkened cabin. He was naked and I could hear Drew moaning from the bed, the silhouette of a beefy guy grunting and thrusting atop him.

“I see the party’s already started,” I whispered in Jeff’s ear as I pulled off my clothes, eager to tag Drew next.

“Yeah,” Jeff laughed. “Drew just returned from the bar with this older, married guy with a big dick.”

And then I heard it—my father’s inimitable voice barking, “That’s it, bitch. Take my big, fucking cock.”

Stories are fiction and intended for readers 18 and up. All characters are assumed to be legal, consenting adults.

Dylan and I had pulled into the 24-hour rest stop on I-95 just moments prior, a little after midnight. We were headed to Miami for spring break, and decided to drive all night, wanting to maximize our time in the Florida sun. 

“This place looks sketchy,” I observed hesitantly as Dylan took the off ramp into the rest stop. A small, dimly-lit, concrete building with restrooms and vending machines flanked a large parking lot. A long line of semi-trucks were parked in rows at the far end, truckers seeking a place to hunker down for the night in their sleeper cabs. 

“I just need to take a quick piss, babe,” Dylan assured me. “You wanna come in with me?”

“No, I’m gonna stay in the car,” I declined. “You know how much I hate these nasty men’s rooms. They always reek of piss and cigarettes.”

“Suit yourself,” my boyfriend replied, exiting the car and making a beeline to the men’s room. 

Almost immediately, a burly trucker climbed down from his cab and ambled to the men’s room. Sporting a pair of dark jeans and a trucker cap, he was shirtless, his hairy pecs and torso on full display. His gait looked slightly drunken, likely from pounding back a few cans of Bud in his cab. 

My mind began to race. Was Dylan safe inside the men’s room—all alone with that burly trucker in the middle of the night? The guy didn’t seem like an ax murderer. But that’s the thing about ax murderers—they look like everyone else. 

My palms were sweaty as I pulled out my phone to check the time. Dylan had only been gone for a couple minutes, and so I tried to convince myself that I had no reason to worry. 

But then five more minutes passed, my nerves fraying with each more passing minute. When ten minutes had elapsed with no sign of either Dylan or the burly trucker emerging from the men’s room, I knew I had to check on my boyfriend. 

Dylan was bent over the sink when I opened the men’s room door, the burly trucker’s dick up his ass. “Mmm yeah, fuck me with that big cock,” he was moaning like a bitch, the trucker’s meaty ass gyrating with each thrust. 

“Dylan?” I gasped in shock. “What the fuck is—?”

“Shut up and fucking wait your turn,” the trucker barked, turning his face towards me as he continued to pummel my boyfriend’s hole. “Can’t you see I’m using this bitch’s cunt?”

“It’s okay,” Dylan assured the trucker, his hands gripping the sink. “That’s just my boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend?” the trucker laughed, smacking Dylan’s ass with an open palm. “I don’t think he’s gonna be your boyfriend much longer after this.”

“I’m sorry, babe,” Dylan winced, turning his face towards me, his head bumping rhythmically into the mirror over the sink. “He showed me his big cock at the urinal, and I just had to have it up my ass.”

“It’s a pussy splitter,” the trucker winked at me, pulling out slightly from Dylan’s hole, affording me a glimpse of his big one. His shaft was thicker than my forearm. It was like watching my boyfriend getting fisted. 

The trucker returned his attention to Dylan, his meaty hands gripping my boyfriend’s hips as I watched in awe. The dude was a fuck machine, ravaging Dylan with his big tool. The trucker proceeded to pound my boyfriend’s hole with voracious speed, grunting with each deep thrust. His stamina was incredible, yet untenable at such intensity. 

“You want my cum, bitch?” the trucker barked at Dylan. “You want me to shoot my load in your dirty hole?”

“Yes,” Dylan begged. “Fucking seed my ass. Make it yours.”

“You’re about to get it,” the trucker growled, moving his meaty hands to Dylan’s shoulders, pushing deeper into him. “Here it comes—get ready for it—OH FUCK—OH FUCK—SHIT.”

“Mmm yeah, breed me,” Dylan moaned as the trucker writhed in ecstasy, his load spewing inside my boyfriend’s bowels. “Your load feels so warm inside me.”

“Fuck, I needed that,” the trucker exhaled, pulling out of Dylan, his massive cock glistening, his pearly load streaming out of my boyfriend’s wrecked hole. 

But before the trucker had stuffed his big one back into his jeans, the door to the men’s room opened. Another trucker entered, sporting a Peterbilt cap, his muscular arms covered in tattoos. 

“Fuck yeah,” the new trucker bellowed, unzipping his pants, pulling out a beer can cock. “I was hoping we might get a cum dump in here tonight.”

“Yeah—get that big cock in me,” Dylan begged as the second trucker mounted him, the first one taking his leave. “Fuck this sloppy hole.”

The first trucker must have spread word, as Dylan quickly had a line of truckers queued up outside the men’s room door for a turn with his easy ass. After I watched six more guys dumping their loads into my slutty boyfriend, I decided to wait in the car, unable to endure the endless procession of cock. 

A steady knock at the passenger window awoke me in the early morning hours, the rising sun pink in the sky. A uniformed state highway patrolman was staring in at me. 

“Is that your boyfriend in there?” the officer gestured to the men’s room, a line still out the door. “The one taking dick?”

“Yes,” I exclaimed. “Is everything okay? Is he under arrest?”

“No—no,” the officer laughed. “Everything’s fine. I just dumped a load in him. Jesus, that boy can take a dick. You’re a lucky man to have a boyfriend with a cunt like that.”

“Thanks,” I responded tepidly. 

“Anyway,” the officer continued, “your boyfriend asked me to give you a message.”

“Oh?” I perked up. 

“Yeah,” the officer nodded. “He said you should go ahead to Florida without him. He’s gonna spend a few more days here, maybe catch a ride to a few more rest stops with one of the truckers.”

Stories are fiction and intended for readers 18 and up. All characters are assumed to be legal, consenting adults.

The nightly fucks in the window started as soon as Todd and Bruce had moved into the house next to my parents and me. Their bedroom window aligned perfectly with my own, giving me a front row ticket to the hottest porn show in town. I didn’t dare tell my parents, as my dad didn’t hesitate to complain when a couple of faggots moved next door—his words, not mine.

I was transfixed the first time I watched the neighbors fucking, the two guys oblivious to my presence next door. Sure, I had fucked an impressive share of girls by that point in my life. But my sexual experiences paled in comparison to the raw, animalistic passion that I witnessed through Todd and Bruce’s window each night. I couldn’t look away, often jacking myself along with them. It wasn’t long before I got caught. 

“Did you enjoy the show last night, Carter?” Todd approached me one afternoon as I mowed the front lawn, my hairy chest flecked with grass clippings. “You know that I can see you through the window just as easily as you can see me.”

“I—I’m sorry,” I stammered, mortified that Todd had caught me spying on them. “I honestly didn’t mean to—”

“Bullshit,” Todd interrupted. “You could have looked away, Carter. Instead, you watched our every move, rubbing out your load to our fuckfest.”

“It—it won’t happen again,” I assured Todd. “I promise that I won’t watch you two fucking anymore.”

“Damn straight you won’t be watching us anymore,” Todd crossed his arms over his meaty chest. “Because tonight we’d like you to come join us.”

“Wait—? What—?”

“You heard me,” Todd laughed. “Sure, Bruce and I love being watched, but it would be a lot more fun for all involved if you came over and pounded your load into Bruce’s ass instead of a wad of Kleenex. Plus, I love to be cucked.”

“But, I’ve never—”

“Fucked a guy?” Todd finished my thought. “You’re eighteen now, Carter. You’re a full grown man,” he looked down at my bulging crotch. “It’s about time you learned to fuck like a grown man. I’ll leave our front door unlocked for you tonight. Feel free to drop by and drop a load once the party has started. You won’t regret it once you’re balls deep in Bruce’s tight ass.”

I spent the rest of the day in a state of internal flux, a battle raging in my brain. I wasn’t gay. I liked girls. I loved pussy. But the intoxicating temptation of gay sex was undeniable. Todd and Bruce had lured me into their trap, promising unbridled pleasures within their bed, and I was powerless to resist.  

The show that night began like clockwork, Bruce on all fours upon the bed, Todd railing his ass from behind. I watched from the window, waiting for my cue. And then Todd looked up at me through the window, his eyes beckoning me to join them. Game on. 

Before I could resist, before I could talk myself out of entering the enticing world of man-on-man sex, I sprinted next door. Their front door was unlocked, as Todd promised. I was soon climbing the stairs to their bedroom, the moans and grunts of animal passion growing louder with each step. I could smell sex in the air. 

“Breed my ass,” Bruce was moaning as I entered the room, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing off the bedroom walls as Todd pummeled his hole. “Yeah—seed my ass with that big dick,” he pleaded. 

“You’re about to get it,” Todd replied, his hands digging into Bruce’s hips, his cock a piston inside his boyfriend’s bowels. “OH FUCK,” he barked, on the precipice of orgasm. “Here it comes—FUCK—SHIT.”

Todd threw back his head, his body convulsing as his cock discharged inside of Bruce. He held still, his breathing returning to normal as his balls reached empty. Suddenly aware of  my presence, Todd turned his face back to me, giving a wink as a lecherous smile spread across his face. 

“We’ve got a visitor,” Todd announced to Bruce, pulling out of his boyfriend, his pearly load dripping from that freshly-seeded hole. “Carter is here to fuck your ass.”

“Todd said you would come,” Bruce turned his face back towards me. “Drop them shorts, Carter,” he ordered. “I love getting railed by a young stud like you.”

Following orders, I pulled off my shorts, my thick, eight-incher rock hard and leaking precum. Todd climbed off the bed, giving me a clear path to Bruce’s eagerly awaiting cunt. 

“Just shove it in him,” Todd instructed as I climbed upon the bed, positioning myself behind Bruce. “I’ve got his cunt good and ready for you.”

“Fuuuuuck,” I exhaled, my big dick sliding effortlessly into the warmest, wettest hole that I had ever experienced. Pure bliss. 

“Damn, you’re thick for such a young guy,” Bruce marveled as he began to rock back and forth on my big one, fucking himself with my rod like a wall-mounted dildo. “Mmm, this big dick feels so good in my wet pussy,” he moaned as he twerked upon it. 

“Don’t let him do all the work, Carter,” Todd was suddenly in my ear, his hands on my shoulders like a coach giving me a pep talk before a match. “I want you to wreck his cunt—show him what you’ve got.”

Wanting to impress my hosts, I moved my hands to Bruce’s muscular shoulders. Digging into his flesh, I unleashed a brutal assault on his cunt. With rapid intensity, I pummeled his quivering cunt, showing no mercy. Never before had I fucked with such savage fervor. And to my delight, Bruce wasn’t just taking it like a man, he was fucking loving it. 

“Yeah—fuck me with that big dick,” he begged, dropping his upper body into the mattress, thereby raising his ass. I slid deeper into Bruce, my big cock battering his inner-sphincter. “You’re getting me so good,” he moaned. 

“Make him cum, Carter,” Todd was behind me once more, his breath hot at my ear. “Get that bitch to cum with you.”

Following orders, I tapped into my inner-strength and proceeded to jackhammer the living shit out of Bruce. I was pulverizing his cunt, my big cock a battering ram in his bowels. And then I felt it—his sphincter clamping around the base of my shaft, his fuck canal pulsing around my cock. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Bruce warned, suddenly pushing himself upwards on his muscular arms, his untouched cock spraying the bed with his thick load. 

“Yeah, baby,” Todd cheered from the sidelines. “Shoot your load with that hung boy’s dick up your ass. Fucking let it all out.”

I could feel every wave of Bruce’s orgasm from within, his body rhythmically gripping my cock, effectively jerking me off inside his fuck canal. There was no holding back. I needed to bust.

“FUCK,” I barked urgently, cum rising in my swelling shaft. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna—HOLY FUCK—SHIT—Yeah, take my fuckin’ nut—FUCK.”

“That’s it—breed his ass,” Todd was in my ear again, massaging my shoulders as I dumped my load into his slutty boyfriend, my cum spewing into Bruce’s sloppy void. “Fucking cream his cunt, Carter.”

Drained of energy, my balls depleted, I collapsed upon Bruce, our sweaty bodies crashing into the mattress. I could have fallen asleep like that, my cock still buried in that warm hole, but Todd had other plans. 

“Move over, Carter,” Todd pushed me off Bruce, my spent cock popping out of that cummy hole with a wet thwack. I rolled over onto the bed and watched as Todd mounted Bruce once more. 

For the next two hours, Todd and I took turns at Bruce’s cunt, dumping load after load into that greedy hole. The event was not just my first time having gay sex—it was the best sex that I had ever had, thanks to my neighbors Todd and Bruce. 

I eventually returned home in the wee hours of the morning. Climbing the stairs to my bedroom on weak legs, I eagerly awaited the bliss of a deep, post-coital slumber. Instead, I found my dad sitting upon my bed with a tumbler of scotch in his hand. Fuck. 

“You gonna tell me where you’ve been all night, Carter?” Dad demanded with boozy breath. “Your mother thought she heard a noise and, when I came to investigate, you weren’t in your bed.”

“I—I couldn’t sleep,” I lied. “So, I went for a walk.”

“A walk to the house next door?” Dad gestured to Todd and Bruce’s window, the ice clinking in his glass. “Yeah, I saw you through the window with those two guys—those faggots.”

“Dad—don’t be mad,” I began, my voice panicked. “It’s really not what you think. I’m not actually—”

“Was it any good?” Dad cut me off. “That gay guy’s ass—was it any good? Was it better than pussy?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “It was way better than pussy.”

“Fair enough,” Dad stood up and downed the remainder of his scotch. “You think you’ll go back there tomorrow night, Carter? Fuck that guy’s ass again?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Todd and Bruce said I’m welcome to come back as often as I want.”

“Good,” Dad placed his strong hand upon my shoulder. “Just be sure to bring me along next time. I’d like to fuck the shit outta that cock slut with you. It’s not like my big cock is getting any action from your frigid mother.”

Carlos, on the other hand, was another story. There wasn’t a wild story that didn’t catch his attention and I found myself helping him and Greg out of situations that I felt Greg should’ve known better than to get involved in. Prime example was the fiasco involving raising Shar-peis. He was absolutely certain that these were the next dog breed to be internet cuties and decided to spend two grand apiece for a pair. Only the silly queen ended up buying two males who might’ve mated a lot, but we’re never going to produce a litter. From my business contacts I found willing purchasers who took them off his hands at four hundred each.

They both felt kind of foolish but I couldn’t stay angry at them over anything. That’s why when Carlos said he found a way to help pay me back for all the help I’d given him, I was at first dubious of the success, but when he and Greg came home from their first night’s venture, each with fifty bucks, I had to step back and give them credit.

Turns out that Carlos found a research lab for a skin care company that needed test subjects for their new products. They were bound by a NDA so they couldn’t tell me all the details of their position, but basically they harvested steroidal compounds from animals and applied it to the skin to see the results. They varied the effects of certain diets to determine the best results with the desired outcome.

Greg and Carlos were responsible for harvesting these steroids through corporate methods and then having it applied to their bodies. As the current batch was for a thick cream called Facial, and was being tested on their cheeks. I could see the dried remains on Greg’s cheek and he had a bit of a rosy glow that I didn’t remember when he left to go to work.

The bottom line was that he and Carlos had passed the initial night of experimentation on multiple test subjects, designed to get a random sampling from multiple sources, supposedly to get a better generic effect on the populace. All I knew was that these two knuckleheads were milking some lab animals and then applying this mixture to their faces to see the effects. And they got paid fifty bucks to do it. And they wanted them to return for the foreseeable future on a three days a week schedule. $150 to make a face cream and apply it… sounds like a job they could handle.

I just enjoyed my three nights to myself as they went out making some spending cash. And judging by the big smile in Greg’s handsome face he liked earning his extra money. Personally I couldn’t see that much of a difference in their cheeks, but if these corporate guys were willing to pay them to play makeup party, who was I to question.

Three months in it was almost like it was always this way. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I would have a quiet evening until nine o'clock when they finished and came home.

It happened in June when a wrench gummed up things, a Monday night I was expecting to see Greg and kiss his handsome face, which seemed to have a constant smell about it that I couldn’t define. Something in that cream, whatever it was, was very familiar. I do admire Greg for being able to keep the info a secret. I never would have thought he was able to control it, but I still didn’t know what it was!

His beard stubble held the scent though and I often sensed a salty nutty taste when I kissed his cheek but nothing concrete. When he failed to get home by ten O'Clock I began to worry. He said that the boss told him that they were beginning a new line of creams aimed at niche markets called BBC. Because he and Carlos had done so well so far, they had managed to catch the attention of the big bosses and had been promoted to this new line. It also meant that they would be pulling in a hundred bucks every shift as well. I teased him saying that it sounded like they were selling big black cocks instead and he just got indignant like he had a claim in the product. I told him to have a good shift and that I looked forward to seeing his smiling face when he got home. Now an hour overdue and I was beginning to feel a bit uneasy. When eleven came and still no news, I called his phone to check on him. The phone went straight to voice mail.

I went online to his email to find out what I could. Turns out the company he works for, Big Daddy Creams, wasn’t listed online, but I found an email from his boss, Chris. It simply stated what I already knew, that he was chosen to be in the BBC line for a new hemorrhoid cream and would be receiving the adjusted pay rate.

Hemorrhoid cream, well that explains his attitude with me. I still didn’t like that I hadn’t heard from him though. I got the address from a note he had written down and decided to go there and check on him. When I got to the dark warehouse, I saw his two year old Lexus parked in a lot, but it was stripped of parts. I went to the door but it was shut up tighter than a drum. I beat on the door to no avail before calling the cops.

Turns out that they had seen this same modus operandi worked out before. Attractive young men disappear after working for temporary research facility. The last time was six months ago on the west side of town where three college guys were taken while supposedly undercover investigating a gay bar that was suspected of underage clientele.

They took my statement and collected the car remnants with the instructions that I was to report back if I heard anything,

By the time I got home I was feeling lost. I drank a bottle of beer and before turning in,,I checked online once more. To my astonishment there was an email addresses to Greg with the body message alerting me that I was the intended recipient.

I opened it to find a short note stating that Greg would not be returning home. He had successfully completed his run on the new product line and the clients were so impressed with his abilities as well as his handsome body and face that they made an offer to purchase him as well the two others for their stable of sluts.

I was unsure of his status the first shift when we had him sucking the cocks of the clients to extract the face cream, as he was unable to stop himself from swallowing the loads, instead of having the men paint his face white, but the clients were impressed with his desire to please them. It took three cocks before we were able to finally see his face bearing a load. It was magical. In fact, everyone took another trip through his rotation. After the first week he had the highest satisfaction ratings from our regular team of sperm donors.

There was a picture here showing my baby with a recently extracted load on his smiling face while he still held the recent cock that erupted into his face.

This led to him being selected by our latest round of investors when we invited them to see our team of sluts. They were impressed by the full lips and handsome faces but this group were interested in round asses to stuff. So we had our team switch to a hemorrhoid cream and well, the clients were more than excited after sampling the sluts. They bought the whole team and had them relocated to their new African home. I hadn’t worked this particular group before, but I had heard they were well known for procuring attractive white twinks for rent to the hardcore nationalists over there. They were heading to a tattoo shop to mark their new property before they fly out.

I also sold the vehicles in the lot to our local street thugs. I got fifty bucks per car and I didn’t even have to deal with stripping them down. Should’ve seen those busy fuckers go!

Don’t bother trying to trace this email or the business, as I’m sure by now you figured out that it wasn’t a real one after all. The burner account I’m sending this from will be deactivated as well. You can try interpol but by the time they ever find your slut, he’ll be sexually used up, wasted on the cheap local drugs, and probably carrying a variety of STDs. One last thing, Slut’s final paycheck will be mailed to your address. My advice? Get on with your life and don’t let your next slut go out alone.