My Cool Shit

One night, after a particularly heated argument, John stumbled into Mark’s room, clearly distraught. “I’m sorry, son,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion. “I don’t know what to do without your mother. I miss her so much.”

Mark felt a pang of sympathy for his father. He knew how much his mother had meant to him. “It’s okay, Dad,” he said, wrapping his arms around his father’s shoulders. “I miss her too.”

John looked at his son, his eyes filled with gratitude. “You’re a good boy, Mark,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “You take after your mother. You’re so kind and caring.”

Mark felt a warmth spread through his chest at his father’s words. He had always looked up to his mother, and he was glad that his father saw similar qualities in him.

As the night wore on, John became more and more agitated. He paced around the room, his fists clenched in anger. “I can’t take it anymore,” he muttered. “I need to let it out.”

Mark watched his father, unsure of what to do. He had never seen him like this before. Suddenly, John turned to him, his eyes wild. “Mark, I need to fuck,” he said, his voice low and guttural.

Mark recoiled at his father’s words. He had never heard him talk like that before. “Dad, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, his voice shaking.

But John was beyond reason. He grabbed Mark, pulling him close. “I need it, Mark,” he said, his breath hot against Mark’s ear. “I need to fuck you. I need to pound out my aggression.”

Mark felt a mixture of fear and excitement at his father’s words. He had always been attracted to men, but he had never acted on it before. And he had certainly never imagined being with his father.

But as John’s hands roamed over his body, Mark found himself responding. He moaned as his father’s fingers brushed against his nipples, his cock hardening in his pants.

John noticed his son’s reaction and smiled. “That’s it, Mark,” he said, his voice husky with desire. “You like that, don’t you? You like it when I touch you.”

Mark nodded, unable to speak. He was overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through his body.

John wasted no time in stripping Mark bare. He admired his son’s toned body, his eyes lingering on his firm ass. “You’re beautiful, Mark,” he said, his voice filled with awe.

Mark blushed at his father’s words. He had never thought of himself as beautiful before, but coming from his father, it felt right.

John wasted no time in burying his face between Mark’s cheeks. He licked and probed at his son’s hole, preparing him for what was to come.

Mark moaned as his father’s tongue explored his most intimate places. He had never felt anything like it before.

John soon replaced his tongue with his fingers, slicking them up with saliva. He teased Mark’s hole, pushing in and out gently.

Mark gasped as his father’s fingers breached his hole. It felt strange but good, and he found himself pushing back against them.

John took this as a sign and positioned himself behind his son. He guided his cock to Mark’s entrance, pausing for a moment to look into his son’s eyes.

Mark nodded, giving his father permission to continue.

John pushed in slowly, giving Mark time to adjust to his size. Mark moaned as his father’s cock filled him up, his muscles clenching around it.

John began to thrust, his hips moving in a steady rhythm. Mark moaned, his cock hardening even further.

John reached around, wrapping his hand around Mark’s cock. He stroked him in time with his thrusts, his fingers slick with pre-cum.

Mark couldn’t take it anymore. He cried out, his orgasm ripping through him.

John followed soon after, his cock twitching as he filled his son’s ass with his seed.

As they lay together, panting and spent, John looked at Mark. “You’re my little wife now,” he said, smiling.

Mark blushed at his father’s words but couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth and love. He knew that they had crossed a line, but he also knew that they had found something special between them.

From that day on, John and Mark became lovers, their bond stronger than ever. They explored each other’s bodies, learning what made each other moan and gasp.

I had gotten to the pool club early that day. My daughter Eliza had asked me to hang out with her and some of her friends at the pool, but I first wanted to enjoy the sauna in the men’s locker room. Well, to be honest, I was actually hoping to fuck some ass in the sauna. 

I had become a zaddy, according to my daughter. After the divorce from her mother, the frigid bitch, I started hitting the gym hard, completely overhauling my body. And the response I got was quite surprising—gay dudes loved me. Having a big cock between my legs only enhanced their attraction.

I was never one for labeling myself—gay, bi, straight. Who the fuck cares? All I really cared about was getting laid. And it became so easy to fuck these young, attractive, dudes who wanted my big, zaddy dick. 

The young hottie at the pool club that day was particularly eager for my dick. I spotted him staring at me in the locker room. He was handsome with a tight muscular body that was fanned in fur—an otter was the term I had only recently learned. Whatever he was, he was just the type I loved to fuck. 

With his eyes on me, I took my time changing out of my clothes, lingering at my locker completely naked, my hard-earned muscles on display, my big, floppy cock hanging between my hairy thighs. 

The young hottie was practically salivating, his eyes fixated on my big dick. I finally wrapped a white club towel around my waist, the outline of my thick cock pushing through the thin terry cloth. Giving a wink, I closed my locker and headed to the empty sauna. Game on. 

I had barely taken a seat on the sauna bench, the warm air enveloping my body, when the young hottie joined me, a towel around his waist. He took the bench opposite me. I laughed inwardly as his eyes consumed me, taking in every inch of my body. Subtlety was not his strength. 

I waited for him to make the first move, to initiate the dance. The truth was I didn’t like coming off as an older predator, and instead enjoyed being pursued by a younger man. It didn’t take long for him to advance his pawn. 

“Hot in here,” he observed, attempting to engage me, his eyes traversing my muscular body. 

“Yeah,” I replied, shifting my weight, allowing my towel to gape open, a tantalizing glimpse of my big cock coming into view. 

“You—uh—you from around here?” he asked next, his eyes glued to my big dick. 

Sure, I could continue the pretext, making small talk that would eventually lead to him offering up his ass to me. But I was feeling impatient, knowing I soon had to meet my daughter at the pool. Ignoring his attempt at banter, I decided to get the party started. 

“You want this cock?” I offered boldly, opening up my towel fully, my hard eight-incher springing to attention. 

“Fuck yes,” he exclaimed, undoing his towel and tossing it onto the bench with mine. 

He dropped to his knees, taking my big one into his mouth, licking and sucking on it, readying it for his hole. When he had gotten me good and wet, he climbed on top of me. With his hands resting on my shoulders, he planted his two feet on either side of me on the bench. Lowering himself down on me, he sat on my cock, taking me into him. 

“Fuuuck,” I exhaled, the warmness of his fuck canal embracing my big cock. Sliding all the way down on me, my balls mashed against his sphincter, he ground his ass on my big dick. 

“Christ, you’re big,” he marveled, gripping my thick shaft with his tight sphincter. “I love riding a big-dicked daddy like you.”

This big-dicked daddy was loving the ride. Deftly, he pushed himself up and down on his meaty thighs, pounding hard on my cock over and over, my balls smacking his ass with each downbeat. 

I’m not going to lie, I had fucked countless guys in that perpetually empty sauna—the place felt like my personal fuck pad. But never had my cock been inside such a talented bottom. His skill at taking dick was incredible. 

Expertly, he twerked his ass on my big dick, all while gripping me tight from within. With his hands grappling my shoulders, he bobbed up and down, gyrating on my big cock. I moved my hands to his meaty ass, guiding him to the rhythm that would get me off. 

With the sauna kicking into full gear, we were sweating profusely, a wet smacking sound echoing against the wood-paneled walls as he rode me harder and harder, my big cock pushing deeper into him. I didn’t want the ride to end, but my full balls had other plans. 

“You want my cum?” I demanded. “You want me to seed this fucking hole?”

“Yes, sir. Breed me,” he begged, wrapping his arms around me while tightening his sphincter. “Shoot that load in me.” And so I did. 

“FUCK,” I growled, my head jerking back and hitting the wood paneling behind me as my cock discharged into his depths. 

“Mmm yeah,” he moaned, grinding down hard on me as my cock throbbed, spewing my seed into his void. 

“Damn, you know how to ride a cock,” I praised him as he dismounted, my pearly load gushing from his gaping hole and raining down upon my spent cock. 

“Thanks,” he smiled bending down to lick my cummy cock clean. “I wasn’t going to leave this locker room without getting that big dick in me.”

We then parted ways, exiting the sauna and each taking a separate shower stall. Knowing I had to soon meet my daughter, I took great care in washing away the heady funk of man-on-man sex from my body.

The young hottie wasn’t in the locker room when I emerged from the showers, my spent cock squeaky clean and swinging between my legs. Noting the clock on the wall, I realized that I was a few minutes late to meet my daughter and her friends. I quickly pulled on my swim trunks and headed to the pool. 

“There you are, Daddy,” Eliza smiled broadly, coming in for a hug when I found her waiting for me by the entrance to the men’s locker room. 

“Where are your friends?” I asked as we finished our embrace, noting that Eliza was alone. 

“Just one friend today,” Eliza informed me, gesturing to a young man standing by the pool. “I’m seeing a new guy. His name is Jake, and I’m excited for you to meet him. He’s amazing, and I know you’re going to love him.”

Jake’s handsome face froze as Eliza and I approached him. His hairy, muscular body looked like it had been poured into a pair of snug board shorts. The look on his face was abject terror, the frightening realization that his girlfriend’s dad had just seeded his ass. 

“You must be Jake,” I smiled, reaching out to shake his hand, attempting to diffuse a tense situation. “Eliza tells me you’re an amazing guy.”

“Y—Y—Yes, sir,” he stuttered, pumping my hand like I had just pumped his ass. “It’s—uh—it’s really great to finally meet you, sir.”

We made small talk for a few awkward minutes, Jake fidgeting, stammering, and unable to look me in the eye. Eliza finally sent him to the pool bar for a pitcher of margaritas. 

“I don’t know why Jake is so nervous,” Eliza shrugged, concern on her face. “He’s not normally like this.”

“It can be intimidating when you first meet your girlfriend’s dad,” I noted. 

“I guess that’s it,” Eliza nodded. “I was going to suggest we all get dinner together after the pool, but now I’m not so sure it’s a good idea.”

“I’ve got a better plan,” I offered. “Why don’t I take Jake to dinner—just him and me? I think some one-on-one time with me is what he needs.”

“Oh, Daddy, that would be wonderful,” Eliza threw her arms around me. “And I don’t want to scare you—but I’m already thinking that Jake is the man I want to marry.”

“Jake would make a great addition to our family, my darling,” I kissed Eliza upon her head, my cock already eager to get back inside Jake’s tight hole that night. Maybe I could get him to start calling me Daddy while he rides me?

Ben could have dominated his bully, Adam.

His phone sat heavy against his thigh in his pocket. Just one tap, one flash of the deep-web frequency that had glazed Adam's eyes over a month ago, and he could have made the wrestling captain be the one to drop to his knees instead.

Ben let his palms rest flat against the cold, damp grit of the bathroom tile as a heavy hand cracked across his jaw.

The sting flared hot, snapping his head to the side and making his vision swim. He didn't reach for his pocket. He just shifted his knees wider.

"Fucking look at me when I'm talking to you," Adam snarled.

"Sorry," Ben whispered. He tilted his chin up, his eyes watering from the slap, completely vulnerable. "I'm looking."

Thick fingers fisted into Ben's hair, yanking his scalp backward until his neck locked. Adam’s broad chest was heaving, the cramped stall suffocatingly thick with the sharp smell of cheap locker-room deodorant and heavy, musky sweat.

"You think you're so smart?" Adam growled, his voice dripping with the exact same arrogant disgust he used in the hallways. "You think you're better than me? You're nothing. Just a fucking toilet for me to use."

Adam snapped his hips forward.

The invasion was blunt, snapping Ben's jaw wider than it wanted to go. Ben gagged, a sharp whine tearing from his nose as the thick, dark-veined cock punched the soft back of his throat. But his jaw didn't fight the stretch. Four weeks of this exact daily punishment had trained his muscles to yield to the impossible girth. His throat relaxed, opening up as he eagerly swallowed down the bitter, salty taste of pre-cum and raw alpha male.

Adam dragged himself back until just the head rested past Ben's lips, denying him the depth. "Tell me what you are to me, freak."

Ben’s breath hitched. He reached up, his trembling hands gripping Adam's thick, muscular thighs—not to push him away, but to anchor himself. He stared up at the bully, his voice a wet, desperate rasp. "A loser. I'm just your... your fucking mouthpiece, Adam."

"Damn right," Adam sneered, slamming his free hand against the stall door for leverage. "You don't get to speak unless it's to choke on my dick."

He drove his hips forward, burying himself raw. The heavy, wet slap of skin on skin echoed off the damp walls, delivering a beating. Every harsh curse, every rough jerk of his hair, sent a fresh surge of heavy heat straight to Ben's gut. His own cock was completely ignored, throbbing painfully against the denim of his jeans.

Ben’s fingers dug into the athlete's legs. He desperately pulled the bully deeper, taking every bruising inch. "Please," Ben whimpered around the thick shaft, saliva running down his chin. "Use it... wreck my mouth..."

"Fucking pathetic," Adam groaned, though the insult was beginning to fray at the edges.

The intense friction was melting the bully's tough-guy facade. His stance widened, his knees visibly shaking as his thrusts turned frantic and completely ravenous. He was bottoming out now, burying himself to the root, the thick base smearing spit and sweat across Ben's chin.

"Taking it all like a good little bitch," Adam choked out, his spine bowing sharply. A jagged, guttural grunt tore out of his throat as his hips locked forward. "Swallow my fucking mess, loser—fuck!"

He pinned Ben’s head entirely immobile against his groin, thick, scalding ropes of cum shooting straight down Ben’s windpipe. Ben convulsed, his eyes rolling back as his throat worked instinctively, forced to gulp down wave after heavy wave of the athlete's release. He couldn't breathe, entirely overwhelmed by the sheer, metallic volume and the crushing, terrifying weight of the man holding him down.

When the last tremor finally faded, Adam dragged himself out with a wet, sloppy pop. He stood there for a moment, chest heaving violently, clumsily shoving his softening dick back into his jeans with shaking fingers. His eyes were dark, his posture wrecked by his own exertion, but he still managed a sneer.

"Clean yourself up," Adam muttered coldly, turning and shoving the stall door open with a loud thud. "And keep your fucking eyes on the floor tomorrow."

Ben stayed exactly where he was left, collapsed on his hands and knees on the gritty floor. He coughed, a thick string of white dripping from his bruised, swollen lips onto the tile.

I’d lived alone in my flat in Madrid for almost eight years. It was a beautiful bachelor pad — high ceilings, big windows overlooking the city, a sleek modern kitchen I barely used, and a rooftop terrace perfect for evening drinks. At 45, I had a good life. Successful job, nice things, plenty of freedom. But lately the place had started to feel too quiet. Too empty.

So I signed up to host an exchange student. Why not? I figured it would be nice to have some energy in the house again. Give a young college kid a proper Madrid experience.

The agency matched me with Mark Rossi.

Nineteen years old. Columbia University. Italian-American from New York (real Italian though, like his parents were from Turin). When his profile photo popped up, I actually paused. He was ridiculously good-looking in that effortless, boy-next-door way — warm brown eyes, thick dark hair that fell a little messy, a bright smile, and smooth, tanned skin that suggested he spent time outside. He looked innocent, almost sweet. But when we video-called, his personality came through immediately: confident, frat-bro energy mixed with that natural Italian charm. Funny, outgoing, quick with the jokes, but polite and respectful.

He arrived on a warm September afternoon.

I opened the door and there he was, rolling a big suitcase behind him, backpack slung over one shoulder. He was even better looking in person — about 5'11", athletic build, wearing a tight Columbia t-shirt that showed off nice arms and a broad chest, and a pair of shorts that revealed strong legs.

“Juan! Man, it’s so good to finally meet you,” he said with a big grin, stepping forward to give me a firm handshake that turned into a quick bro hug. “This place is insane. Thank you again for letting me stay here.”

We clicked right away. Within the first few days, it felt like we’d known each other longer than we had. Mark was easy to live with. He helped cook, kept his stuff organized, and had this infectious energy that filled up the flat. We’d sit on the terrace drinking wine in the evenings, talking about everything — his classes at the university in Madrid, life in New York, my travels, girls he’d dated, the crazy parties he went to. He had that perfect mix: American warmth and humor with a European confidence and flirtiness that made him magnetic.

I was getting used to having someone else around. Enjoying it, even.

Then, about ten days after he moved in, something weird started to happen.

---

At first I was really confused.

I woke up in the middle of the night, heart racing for no reason. I could have sworn I was in one of the guest beds. The mattress felt different under me, the layout of the room slightly off in the dark. But that didn’t make any sense. I always slept in my own room. I rolled over, mutter to myself, and fall back asleep. When I woke up, I was in my room still.

A few nights later it happened again. This time I woke up convinced I wasn’t in my own bed. The sheets felt wrong. The pillows were different. I blinked into the darkness, confused, before sleep pulled me under again.

Then, a few nights after that, I woke up drenched in sweat. My heart was pounding hard. I reached up instinctively and ran my hand over my bare chest.

It was smooth.

Completely smooth.

Where the hell was all my chest hair? Where was the thin gold necklace I’d worn every night for fifteen years? My fingers kept moving across the unfamiliar flat, toned skin, searching for something that wasn’t there. Panic flickered in my chest, but before I could fully process it, exhaustion won and I drifted off again.

The next time it happened, I woke up properly.

I sat up in bed, disoriented, I was definitely in one of the guest rooms. I stumbled over to the mirror on the wall. The streetlights outside cast just enough glow for me to see my reflection.

Mark stared back at me.

His handsome, boyish face. His messy dark hair. His smooth, athletic torso. I was in Mark’s body.

I froze, eyes wide. My — his — hands flew up to touch my face, my jaw, my chest. This wasn’t a dream. I could feel everything. The lighter weight of his frame, the absence of my usual bulk, the way his cock sat differently in the loose boxer briefs I was wearing.

“What the fuck…” I whispered in Mark’s voice.

A strange mix of panic and arousal hit me all at once. I was freaked out, heart hammering, but I also couldn’t ignore the low throb of excitement looking at Mark’s reflection — my reflection right now. I looked good. Really fucking good.

I stumbled back to the bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling, breathing hard. Eventually I must have passed out again.

When I woke up the next morning, I was back in my own body. In my own room. The familiar weight, the chest hair, the necklace against my skin. Everything was normal.

Mark was already in the kitchen making coffee like nothing had happened. He looked up when I walked in and gave me his usual bright smile.

“Morning, Juan. You sleep okay? You look a little tired, man.”

I stared at him for a second, searching his face for any sign that he knew.

“Yeah,” I said finally, forcing a casual tone. “Slept fine.”

He nodded, none the wiser, and slid a mug of coffee toward me across the counter.

I took it, my hand slightly unsteady.

Whatever the hell was going on… Mark didn’t seem to have any idea it had even happened.

---

The next night I went to bed with a strange idea in my head.

As I laid there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, I thought about Mark. About his body. His face. His energy. I focused hard, willing it to happen again. I didn’t know if it would work, but I tried anyway.

A few hours later, I woke up.

The room felt different. The bed felt different. I sat up slowly and looked down at my hands — younger, smoother, with a light dusting of dark hair on the forearms. I touched my face. Sharp jaw, no stubble yet, thick messy hair falling over my forehead.

I was in Mark’s body again.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood in front of the mirror. Mark’s reflection stared back at me, wide-eyed. I opened my mouth and spoke.

“Holy shit… this is real.”

The words came out in a clear American accent. Then, I tried again in Spanish.

“¿Qué coño está pasando?”

It sounded rusty, clumsy. The words felt heavy on my tongue and came out with a strong Italian accent. I switched to Italian without thinking and the sentence flowed perfectly, natural and fluent.

“Porca puttana… funziona davvero.”

I laughed in disbelief, hearing Mark’s lighter, younger voice. The contrast was surreal.

Over the next several nights, I started doing it on purpose. I’d lie in bed, think about Mark, focus on his body, and more often than not, I would wake up a few hours later inside him.

Some nights I would just lie there in his bed, exploring. I’d run my hands over his smooth chest and abs, feeling the lean muscle. Other nights I’d get too turned on and end up jerking off slowly in his room, watching Mark’s handsome face in the mirror as I stroked his cock. The orgasms felt incredible — sharper, quicker, almost addictive.

A couple of times I even went for late-night walks in his body. It felt incredible — young, light on my feet, full of energy.

But no matter what I did, by the time morning came I would always get overwhelmingly tired. I’d crawl back into his bed, close my eyes, and wake up back in my own heavier, older body.

Mark never said a word about it. He’d greet me cheerfully every morning, completely unaware that I had spent half the night living in his skin.

---

A few weeks went by like that. I kept waking up in Mark’s body most nights, sometimes on purpose, sometimes not. I explored, I jerked off in front of his mirror, I took late-night walks through Chueca feeling young and alive. Every morning I’d wake up back in my own heavier body, and Mark would act completely normal, like nothing strange had ever happened.

Then Pedro came to visit from Bilbao.

Pedro had been my best friend for almost fifteen years. Thirty-nine, sharp-featured, always well-dressed, with that effortless charisma that turned heads wherever he went. I’d had a crush on him for most of that time. A quiet, hopeless kind of crush. I knew I was a good-looking guy — people told me constantly — but Pedro had never seen me that way. Not once.

He was a bit of a fuckboy. Always chasing younger guys. Twenties, early thirties at most. It verged on problematic sometimes, but he never crossed any real lines. He just loved being worshipped by hot, eager younger men. Over the years I had pushed those feelings for him down as deep as they would go. I told myself I was over it.

The day he arrived at the flat, he dropped his bag in the hallway and gave me a big hug.

“Juanito! Fuck, it’s good to see you, man.”

Then Mark walked out of the kitchen carrying two glasses of water, wearing a tight Columbia t-shirt and shorts.

Pedro’s eyes locked onto him immediately. I saw the shift in his posture, the way his gaze lingered. He tried to play it cool, aloof, but I knew him too well. He was captivated.

“Pedro, this is Mark. My exchange student from New York,” I said.

Mark flashed that bright, boyish smile and shook Pedro’s hand. “Nice to meet you, man. Juan’s told me a lot about you.”

They started talking, and I could see it happening right in front of me. Pedro was interested. Mark, for his part, wasn’t exactly discouraging it. He laughed at Pedro’s jokes, held eye contact a little longer than necessary, and gave him that charming, slightly flirty energy. Not over the top, but enough to make Pedro work for it. It didn’t feel like a straight guy just being polite. Mark was definitely into the attention.

I felt a sharp twist of jealousy in my chest.

Here I was, a good-looking, successful 45-year-old man who had wanted Pedro for years… and this 19-year-old kid was getting his attention in five minutes flat. It was frustrating as hell.

That night, after we all had a few drinks on the terrace, I went to bed earlier than usual. As I drifted off, I found myself thinking about Mark again. Thinking about his body. About how Pedro had looked at him.

A few hours later, I woke up.

I was in Mark’s bed again. In Mark’s body.

I lay there in the dark for a moment, heart beating fast, already knowing what I was going to do.

---

The next night we all went down the street to watch the Madrid derby at a local bar. The place was loud, packed with fans, and the energy was electric. We drank a few beers, yelled at the TV, and laughed the whole time. Mark was in his element — loud, charming, cracking jokes. Pedro couldn’t keep his eyes off him.

When we got back to the flat it was already past midnight. We kept hanging out in the living room, talking and drinking wine. Eventually I started feeling tired and headed to bed.

“Night guys,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Night, Juan,” Mark replied.

Pedro just gave me a small nod, his attention clearly elsewhere.

I lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling. I could hear them still talking and laughing in the living room. Then the voices got quieter. Lower. More intimate. The sound of movement. A soft laugh from Mark. The unmistakable creak of the guest room door closing.

I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t. Even with the door shut I could hear them. The low murmurs. The rustling of clothes. The quiet, wet sounds of kissing. Then the rhythmic creaking of the bed and Mark’s muffled moans.

Pedro was fucking him.

I lay there listening, a painful mix of jealousy, arousal, and frustration twisting in my gut. Eventually I closed my eyes and focused hard on Mark again — on his body, his face, the way he felt — as I drifted off to sleep.

I woke up a few hours later.

It was 3:17 AM. I was no longer in my own bed.

I was lying on my side in the guest room, completely naked, with Pedro’s warm, muscular body pressed against my back. His arm was draped heavily over my waist, his hand resting possessively on my stomach. I could feel his soft cock nestled against my ass, still slightly sticky.

Fuck.

My heart started racing. Pedro was spooning me tightly, breathing slow and deep in sleep. I stayed perfectly still for a moment, just feeling the heat of his body, the weight of his arm, the scratch of his beard against the back of my neck.

I needed to see all of him.

Carefully, I turned over in his arms. Pedro made a sleepy sound but didn’t wake up. Now facing him, I could finally take him in. His handsome face relaxed in sleep, the strong line of his jaw, his broad chest rising and falling, his intricate tattoos, the dark hair trailing down his stomach. His cock rested thick and heavy against his thigh.

I stared at him, drinking in every detail. This was the man I’d wanted for years. And right now, in Mark’s younger, tighter body, I was the one lying naked in his arms.

My cock — Mark’s cock — started to harden against Pedro’s hip.

Pedro stirred, his eyes still closed but his hand sliding down my stomach until he felt how hard I — Mark — was.

“Oh… seems like someone’s ready for round two,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and lust.

In one smooth, powerful motion he rolled onto his back and pulled me on top of him. I straddled his hips as he gripped my waist and guided me down onto his thick cock. I gasped as he slid back inside me, still slick from his load earlier. The stretch was intense.

I started riding him slowly at first, then faster, grinding down hard. Pedro pulled me forward into a deep, hungry kiss, tongue sliding into my mouth as he thrust up to meet me.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned against my lips.

He flipped me onto all fours and fucked me deep in doggy style, his hips slapping loudly against my ass. Then he pulled me up so my back was against his chest, one arm wrapped around my torso while he kissed and bit at my neck and shoulder from behind. His other hand roamed greedily over my toned abs and obliques.

“Speak Italian for me,” he growled, still thrusting steadily.

I moaned in Mark’s voice, the words coming out naturally, “Ti sto scopando così bene… mi fai impazzire…”

“Such a good boy,” Pedro praised, his hand stroking my cock in time with his thrusts. “So fucking tight for me.”

He flipped me onto my back and pushed my legs up, fucking me in missionary. His eyes locked onto mine, slack-jawed, pupils blown wide with pleasure. He looked completely lost in it, like he was drunk on how good Mark’s body felt.

The orgasm hit me like a freight train.

My whole body seized up. Waves of intense, shuddering pleasure crashed through me, stronger than anything I’d ever felt in my own body. My cock pulsed hard between us, shooting thick ropes of cum across my smooth chest and stomach in powerful spurts. I cried out, hole clenching rhythmically around Pedro’s cock as the orgasm seemed to go on forever.

Pedro’s eyes widened with raw lust. He greedily scooped up a big glob of my cum with his fingers and licked it off his hand without breaking eye contact.

“Mmm… not bad,” he said, voice rough. “Sweet. A little salty. Tastes like a young guy should.”

He scooped up more and brought his fingers to my lips. I hesitated for half a second, but he pushed them into my mouth anyway.

“Open. Taste yourself,” he ordered.

I sucked his fingers clean, tasting my own cum while he kept fucking me slow and deep.

“Not too bad for a kid who’s only tried girls before,” Pedro said with a wicked grin. “Glad I could be the first cock to fuck that tight little ass. Next time I’m gonna pull out and shoot my whole load all over that pretty face.”

He fucked me harder for another minute, then buried himself deep and came with a low groan, filling me again.

We collapsed together, sweaty and exhausted, and fell asleep tangled in each other’s arms.

When I woke up, sunlight was streaming through the window.

I was still curled up against Pedro’s warm body. Still in Mark’s body.

Holy shit.

I carefully slipped out of bed, heart racing, and snuck into the kitchen wearing only a pair of Mark’s boxer briefs.

As I turned the corner and looked up, I was shocked to see my old body was already sitting at the kitchen table, wearing my favorite robe, sipping coffee. He looked up at me with a calm, slightly amused expression.

“Morning,” he said casually, in my voice.

Tony, being the dominant and authoritarian figure that he was, often used Mike for his pleasure. Mike would beg for it, craving the rough and raw treatment that Tony would give him. Mike, a submissive and masochistic soul, found solace in the pain and humiliation that Tony inflicted upon him.

Their encounters often began in the wrestling room, where the sweaty pits of Tony's muscular body would taunt Mike with their musky scent. Mike would lick and worship Tony's body, starting from his sweaty pits and working his way down to his powerful, hairy legs. Mike would nuzzle and kiss every inch of Tony's body, savoring the taste of his brother's sweat and the feel of his hard, toned muscles beneath his lips.

One fateful day, Tony summoned Mike to the wrestling room, where the scent of sweat and masculinity hung heavy in the air. They were alone. Mike, dressed in nothing but a pair of tight, black briefs that hugged his slender frame, approached his brother with bated breath.

"On your knees, faggot," Tony growled, his eyes flashing with dominance. Mike immediately obeyed, dropping to his knees and looking up at Tony with adoration and submission.

Tony began to slide down the plastic waistband of his shorts. He then reached down and roughly grabbed Mike's chin, forcing him to look up at him.

"You want my big, fat cock, don't you?" Tony sneered, his voice dripping with vulgarity. Mike nodded eagerly, his eyes wide with desire.

Tony dropped his shorts to the ground, feeling the rush of power and dominance that overcame him as his massive, veiny cock sprang free from its confines. Mike gasped at the sight of Tony's enormous member, his eyes widening with a mixture of fear and excitement.

"Suck it, you little bitch," Tony commanded, his voice rough and authoritative. Mike eagerly complied, wrapping his lips around Tony's thick, pulsating shaft. He began to suck and lick Tony's cock with enthusiasm, relishing the taste of his brother's precum as it coated his tongue.

Tony grabbed a handful of Mike's hair, using it as leverage to fuck his brother's face with rough, punishing strokes. Mike gagged and choked on Tony's meaty sword, his eyes watering as he struggled to accommodate the girth and length of his brother's monstrous cock.

"Fuck, you like that, faggot?" Tony taunted, his voice dripping with vulgarity. "You like having your throat fucked by your little brother's huge cock?"

Mike could only moan and gasp in response, his muffled cries of pleasure and pain only fueling Tony's desire to dominate and humiliate him further.

Eventually, Tony decided that he had had enough of Mike's eager servitude. He pulled his cock from Mike's mouth with a wet, obscene sound and motioned for his brother to turn around and bend over. Mike complied without hesitation, presenting his tight, hairy ass to Tony's hungry gaze.

Tony knelt down behind Mike, parting his brother's firm, muscular cheeks to reveal his puckered, pink hole. He leaned in and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Mike's sweaty, musky ass. Then, without warning, he spat directly onto Mike's hole, using his saliva as a makeshift lubricant.

Tony then positioned the head of Mike's cock against the entrance to his brother's ass. He gripped Mike's hips tightly, using his powerful wrestler's grip to steady him for what was to come.

"Here comes my big, fat donkey cock, you little faggot," Tony growled, his voice a deep, feral rumble. "You're gonna take every fucking inch of it, and you're gonna love it."

With that, Tony thrust his hips forward, burying his massive cock deep inside Mike's quivering ass. Mike let out a loud, animalistic cry of pain and pleasure, his body shaking and trembling as Tony began to pound him mercilessly.

Tony fucked Mike with a rough, animalistic intensity, his powerful hips slamming against Mike's firm, muscular ass with each punishing thrust. He grabbed hold of Mike's hair once again, using it to pull his brother's head back and expose his throat.

"You like that, you little bitch?" Tony taunted, his voice a deep, guttural growl. "You like having your tight little ass fucked by your little brother's huge cock?"

Mike could only moan and gasp in response, his body wracked with a mixture of pain and pleasure as Tony continued to dominate and humiliate him. Tony fucked him harder and faster, his powerful thrusts driving him further and further into a state of blissful ecstasy.

Finally, Tony could feel his orgasm building deep within his balls. He gripped Mike's hips even tighter, his powerful muscles flexing and straining as he prepared to unleash his seed deep inside his brother's quivering ass.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum, you little faggot," Tony panted, his voice hoarse and ragged. "I'm gonna fill your tight little ass with my hot, sticky cum, and you're gonna fucking love it."

With that, Tony thrust his hips forward one final time, driving his massive cock as deep inside Mike's ass as it could possibly go. He then let out a deep, guttural roar of triumph and release as he began to pump his hot, sticky cum deep inside Mike's ass.

Mike could only moan and gasp in response, his body trembling and shaking as Tony continued to fill him with his seed. He could feel Tony's cum spurting deep inside him, coating his insides with its thick, viscous warmth.

Finally, Tony pulled his cock from Mike's ass with a wet, obscene sound. He then looked down at his brother, his eyes flashing with dominance and satisfaction.

"Good boy," Tony said, his voice dripping with vulgarity. "You took my big, fat cock like a champ. Now go clean yourself up."

Mike nodded eagerly, his eyes wide with adoration and submission. He then stood up and began to make his way to the bathroom, feeling the sticky warmth of Tony's cum dripping down his legs as he walked.

He finished his set easily, definitely not needing me to spot him, but I was very happy to be near him, smelling his intoxicating pits. My happiness was very evident from the bulge in my workout shorts, and with very little encouragement from him, I got rid of my own clothes to join him naked on the gym floor. He grabbed my balls with his gloved hand, those fingertips still sensitive on my skin, and stroked my cock. Then he ran his hand up my abs and pinched my nipple and I let out an involuntary moan. I don’t know how he knew that was one of my sensitive points, but my hard cock leaked like crazy. He took off his glove and ran his hand down my back, and into my hairy ass. I welcomed him with my back arched and my butt pushed out.

“You cleaned out?” He asked. Fortunately, I was able to answer, “Yes!” as I nodded enthusiastically. This wasn’t even the first time this week I was getting hit on at the gym. He stroked my hole with his finger, and called me a good boy. Fuck, he was about a decade younger than me and having him call me a good boy made my hole twitch and my cock leak even more. He noticed.

“Turn around,” he commanded, “and bend over.” I readily obeyed, and pointed my fat ass at him. “Nice and breedable” he slapped his cockhead at my hole, his precum spraying all over me.

“Fill me up with your brotein before my workout” I twerked my ass at him. He spat on my hole, spat on his cock, and slowly slid his beautiful cock into my tight hole. His hands held me by my waist and my shoulder as his cockhead rubbed past my prostate and settled into my second hole. He bottomed out balls deep in me. Fuck he felt amazing. He ran his hands all over my body. He pinched my nipples and squeezed my muscular pecs. He ran his hands over my strong shoulders and squeezed my big arms. “Your musclepussy feels good on my cock. You ready to get fucked, boy?” Fuck. There’s that word again. He doesn’t even need to call me good, just being called “boy” by a much younger man had my musclepussy clamping down on his raw cock in agreement. “Yes, Sir!”

“Good boy” he said and I almost melted. He grabbed me by my waist, and started fucking me. In and out. Hard. And deep. Fuck! He fucked as good as he looked. Almost instantly I was on the edge of orgasm, my cock hard and leaking and untouched. His cock rubbed my prostate every stroke in and every stroke out.

He fucked me in every position, but my favourite was the one where he had one of my legs on his shoulder, and bent nearly double, as his sweat rolled off him and onto me. He made me open my mouth and spat directly in it.