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Jake was hooking up with someone in his building. He offered to host at his unit, but his hookup had other (kinkier) plans. Instead, they were meeting at his hookup's car for a bit of public fun, fogging up the windows like the good old days. Jake got excited just thinking about getting caught. He was about to take the elevator down to the parking basement when he received a text from his hookup --

UNKNOWN: Don't take the elevator. Take the stairs. I want you to be nice and sweaty when you get here.

He wasn't expecting his hookup to be into this kind of stuff, but he just thought nothing of it and just went with the flow. He entered the stuffy stairwell and started walking down to the basement when he received another text --

UNKNOWN: If your shirt is already drenched in sweat, you should just take it off and hang them on the handrail to dry.

JAKE: You want me to leave my shirt behind?

UNKNOWN: You won't even need that shirt to where we're going ;) Don't worry too much about it. It's just a shirt. Besides, it will still be there when we finish.

Jake took almost every opportunity to walk around shirtless, so it didn't take much more convincing to make him take his top off. A few floors later, he got another text --

UNKNOWN: You must be getting tired walking down all those stairs. If you need to lighten up the load, you should just leave your pants behind.

JAKE: Take off my jeans? You've got to be kidding me.

UNKNOWN: I know how much you enjoy exposing yourself in public. I'm just giving you the opportunity to do what you've always dreamed of doing ;) Anyways, no one uses the stairs, so you should be safe.

As much as he hated to admit it, it was true. Just the thought of walking around in his underwear had him stiff as a brick. He hesitated at first, but after checking that nobody else was in the stairwell, he dropped his pants to the ground and left them right where he stood. With the number of floors he went down, his white briefs were pretty damp with sweat, leaving a clear imprint of his erection. When he finally made it to Basement 3, he got another text --

UNKNOWN: Before leaving the stairwell, I should inform you that the door automatically locks once it closes. If you still want to get your clothes back afterwards, you should probably leave a doorstop.

JAKE: A doorstop? What kind of doorstop?

UNKNOWN: Just leave your shoes by the door. That should be enough to stop it from closing.

He was almost naked at this point. Taking off his shoes wasn't much of a loss, so he just untied them and left them behind.

UNKNOWN: I can already see you from here. You look cute in your tighty whiteys, but I need you to take them off.

JAKE: Take off my undies? What for?!

UNKNOWN: Stay where you are. There's a CCTV pointed right at my car. I wouldn't want them recording what we're about to do ;) If you walk in from behind, you should be able to cover the lens with your briefs without being caught.

JAKE: Then I'll be walking around naked! Why can't you do it yourself?

UNKNOWN: If I do it, they'll see my face! Your briefs are the safest way. And don't tell me you don't want to do it. Judging by the bulge in your undies, I know you want to get naked in the open right now.

His hookup was right once again. The fact that anyone driving by could see him butt naked at any moment had turned him on. Getting excited for what's coming, he quickly stripped off his briefs and his socks, and threw them at any security camera near the area. With the place now secured, he walked around the parking lot with his dick out in the open.

UNKNOWN: That's a good boy. A good naked boy.

JAKE: Which one is your car again? I can't seem to find it.

JAKE: Hello?

***We’re sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel this is in error, please check the number dialed, and please try again***

Jake looked at his phone confused. He tried walking around the parking basement, lifting his phone around to get better reception, until he came across one empty parking slot with a piece of paper with his name on it in the center. Even more confused now, he picked the paper up and read it --

Hey Jake, I'm honestly surprised you didn't remember me from the few months that we dated back then. But I still vividly remember when you just ghosted me out of the blue, so I decided to give you a taste of your own medicine just so you know exactly what it felt like. We've talked about how you wanted to explore your exhibitionist tendencies, so think of this as my final parting gift. Hope you enjoy streaking as much as you imagined it! xoxo

P.S. Next time you get naked in public, make sure to bring all your valuables, especially your room keys. Quite a rookie mistake to leave them in your pants pocket.

Jake felt the panic settling in as he read the letter. He looked around and saw that the CCTV's he covered up were now pointing right at him, his undies nowhere to be seen. He rushed to the stairwell, now more cautious about staying hidden in the shadows, only to find that the door had closed and locked automatically. He couldn't get back up the stairs, but he knew for sure that the rest of his clothes were already missing as well.

Without any other choice, he took the elevator to the lobby, praying that nobody else was on it. But just his luck, the elevator doors opened up revealing it was almost packed, forcing him to squeeze into the crowd, his bare cheeks now pressed against another stranger. His face turned even redder when someone in the elevator complimented him, 'Nice ass you got there, bud!'

He could feel everyone looking at his naked body as he walked around the lobby. His hands were desperately pressed against his cock, still stiff from all the attention. The front desk laughed as he explained his situation in full detail. He was able to prove his residence at the condo with documents on his phone, but it would still take a long time for the admin to get a locksmith to open up his door. He had to wait in the lobby while still completely naked, using only his hands to preserve his dignity. And the one time he had to move his hands away to sign a few consent forms, someone in the lobby shouted out, 'Look! His dick is completely erect!'

After the most humiliating few hours of his life, the locksmith finally unlocked his unit and he made it back home. He thought the worst was past him until he opened up his closet and saw that it was completely empty, all gone except for his trenchcoat. Then, he saw another message waiting for him --

Here's one last gift from me to you. I noticed that your fridge is running out of supplies, so I think it's time for a grocery run! I've left you a trenchcoat to keep you warm when you go outside. But please be a gentleman and hang up your trenchcoat before going grocery shopping. Only a true gentleman will get his clothes back. I'm sure the other shoppers will enjoy seeing your banana on display! xoxo

Album Cover Photo (a short story)

We need something sexier, they said! “We're looking for a 90's Britpop look for the album cover but exciting, bold, fresh,” Sven said. “Something people won't have seen before.” "Well, they've not seen my penis! Why don't you show them that!" Gavin snarled at his manager Sven. Gavin could be a moody and bad-tempered sod. But he could also have a good idea every now and then. Persuading him that a nude picture for the album cover was actually a good idea didn't take much… Persuading him that it should be a nude picture of HIM took a bit more doing. Luckily, he was a bit thick. Gavin wasn't actually stupid but he was gullible. "Nudity will communicate you exposing yourself as an artist, the bare brick wall will express the raw edginess of your lyrics," Sven told Gavin. "And if we pick the right days, the damp English weather will be an allegory for the morose melancholy of your musical style." "Wasn't Morose a TV detective?" Gavin asked. That was Morse, you div! "Sure," Sven replied. "You'll cover my dick, right?" Gavin said. "In the final product, yes. But we should take the picture nude so we can play with obscuring ideas," Sven suggested. "Like pixelization… or the smallest emoji we can find." "What?" Gavin replied because he was too busy getting high. "Nothing," Sven answered.

They agreed to take the pictures on Abbey Road, tapping into the musical history of the street and the band (The Stale Mates) had been playing with the idea of calling the next album NW8 after the street anyway. "Tell you what, Gavin," Sven said casually. "We'll have started the tour when we need to take the picture. We can park the tour bus on the street overnight so you can hop out for the picture first thing in the morning before anyone is around." "Yea, fine," Gavin grunted. Right, you little shit, now you're in for it. Gavin was the most disorganised person Sven had ever managed (most of the time he didn't know what day of the week it was) so it was easy to change the clocks to make 9AM look like 5AM. Gavin rolled out of bed, his hair a mess, and his body unwashed & unkept. Perfect. "We really need to hurry, Gavin," Sven said. "We're behind schedule." "What have sheds got to do with anything?" Gavin asked seriously. Schedule, you dumbass! It means… "Never mind," Sven replied shortly. "Alright, keep your pants on," Gavin said. "Well, talking about pants. You need to take yours off. Leave them in the bus so we can take the picture," Sven told him.

Gavin was wearing a pair of nasty briefs that had seen better days. They were frayed and worn, a little bit stained and the knackered elastic meant they sagged on Gavin’s hips and didn't support him around the thighs so sometimes a testicle popped out. Sven was thinking of selling them online to one of Gavin's screaming fans. Probably a gay guy. Gavin shoved the briefs down and stepped out of them. It was amazing that there were no leaked nudes of this lad because he wasn't the most discrete of people. His fans might not have seen his dick before but almost everyone in his team had. "Right, out you get," said Sven. "You sure this'll be ok?" Gavin asked - the first time concern had leaked into his arrogant swagger. "Sould be ok," Sven replied and pointed at the clock - 05:03. Gavin opened the tour bus door and stepped outside. Barefoot and bare arsed. It was a damp and overcast summer's day but a bright morning with the clouds turning the suns' light LED white. Gavin heard the bus door close before the first person nearly walked into him. Then the parade of people continued along the busy Abbey Road. "What the fuck?!" Gavin said as he covered his privates. "Oh, I might have got the time wrong," Sven said dumbly. "Might!" Gavin exclaimed as pedestrians and cars, busses, commuters, college & school kids and businessmen all filed past him.

"We should do the picture nice and quick," Sven said. "I'm not doing a picture with all these people looking at me," Gavin insisted. "Gavin, we need to deliver the album cover today or the release date will be delayed," Sven explained patiently. "They have their fucking phones out!" Gavin said exasperatedly. "I don't give a flying fuck about a delay." "It'll cost you millions," Sven said. "Right, well, where do I stand?" Gavin said. You could always trust the arrogant, conceited dummy to think with money in his head. Gavin was directed to the wall where he was now much less sure about the album cover idea. The ground was damp beneath his bare feet and even though it was summer, it wasn't very warm so there was some shrinkage. Gavin was too busy feeling annoyed and humiliated by the gathering crowd to think about what his penis looked like. "Ok, Gavin…" said the photographer. "Put your left foot on the wall and both hands behind your back." Gavin complied and finally revealed all.

Gavin of The Stale Mates was totally naked on one of the busiest streets in London and 09:10 on a weekday. Sven couldn’t have planned it better. The photographer took his time as he snapped away pictures for the album cover and bought time for the crowd to take pictures too. Phones clicked and flashed, instantly uploading his nakedness to social media: Threads, Insta, Snapchat, TwitX… Finally, Gavin was told that a satisfactory picture had been taken and he was allowed back on the tour bus. His socials had gone wild and the news of his full-frontal public exposure even made the evening news. There seemed to be a competition to see who could be the most revealing without putting a penis on the 6PM news. The comments about the size of his penis seemed to take up a lot of people's time. Gavin had never felt more embarrassed in his life. How had this happened to him?!

Brax had been the hottest guy at our high school. He played football and always had a hot cheerleader on his arm. And though he was impossibly straight, I had a major crush on him. But what made Brax legendary were the wild parties he threw when his parents were out of town, which was nearly every weekend. Brax hosted one such party a week after graduation, a party that would make me infamous in our small town.

I was not out in high school, and kept my queerness a guarded secret. In a moment of weakness, I let down my guard during Brax’s post-graduation party. I was washing my hands in an upstairs bathroom after taking a piss when some drunk, hot jock whom I barely knew barged in and began to shoot his stream into the toilet. He had a thick cock with a huge helmet head, which started to get hard as I stared in awe.

“You wanna suck this cock?” the jock asked, brandishing his huge cock at me, dripping the last of his piss onto the tile floor. I instantly dropped to my knees and took his big dick down my throat.

“Yeah, faggot. Suck this cock,” the hung jock moaned, pulling out his phone to film me slobbering all over his big dick. I should’ve stopped him. I should have told him to put his phone away. But I wanted his cock, and didn’t want to jeopardize that.

Sure enough, after pumping his nut down my throat, the fucker posted the video on Insta. It was flagged and taken down in under ten minutes, but by then everyone at the party had seen it. I left the party with shouts of “faggot” and echoes of laughter in my ears.

I laid low for the rest of the summer, counting the days until I left for college. Once at school, the incident became a distant memory as I busied myself with studying, making new friends, working out … and getting fucked by the occasional drunk frat boy. Well, more than the occasional boy. I had offered up myself as a cum dump at several frat parties, taking dozens of cocks, in fact. Deep inside, I knew those frat guys were just using me. But, unlike the dude who filmed me at Brax’s party, I was allowing those frat guys to use me—I was in control.

Thus, Brax and his party were far from my mind when I returned home the next summer … and promptly ran into Brax at the gym.

“Carter?” Brax asked, almost not recognizing me. “Damn, you’ve put on some muscle, bro.” I instantly turned red, blushing under his gaze.

“Just a little,” I demurred. “I’ve been hitting the gym hard back at school.” Brax looked me up and down again, almost wantonly.

“Well, it shows,” Brax smiled. “Listen, Carter. I never really apologized for what happened at my party last summer. That dude had no right to post that video. I’m really sorry.”

“Thanks, but it wasn’t your fault,” I assured Brax, still somewhat embarrassed. “Plus, I’m completely out now, so it doesn’t matter much anymore.”

“Well, I felt responsible,” Brax replied. “I’m having a party tonight. My parents are out of town. Everyone is back home. Why don’t you come and let me make it up to you?”

Flashbacks of drunk classmates shouting “faggot” at me filled my brain. I wanted to decline, but Brax’s gorgeous eyes were pleading with me, willing me to accept his invitation. “Sure,” I finally acquiesced. “I’ll stop by tonight.”

The party was in full swing by the time I found the nerve to go inside Brax’s house that night. I expected someone to point and yell “faggot” at me as soon as I walked in the door, but it was like nobody even noticed me. I had bulked up since high school, and my haircut was different. It seemed that none of my old classmates even recognized me. Relieved, I grabbed a can of Bud from a cooler and made my way through the house, trying to find Brax. I finally found him out in the backyard.

Brax and several of his buddies were drinking around a fire pit when I approached him. Tipping back his beer, Brax locked eyes with me. “Carter! You made it!” Brax boomed, leaving his buddies at the fire pit as he greeted me.

“Yeah, I promised you,” I replied sheepishly, somewhat embarrassed to be the subject of his attention.

“Follow me,” Brax ordered. “I want to talk with you in private.” I nodded and followed Brax into the house and upstairs to his bedroom. Was this actually happening? And so fast?

“My party last summer—” Brax began once we were ensconced in his room.

“Brax, you’ve already apologized,” I stopped him with a raised hand. “It’s water under the bridge. No one here even remembers.”

“No. It’s not that,” Brax continued. “I wanted to tell you that—and I know this is gonna sound selfish after what you went through—but I was kinda jealous that you sucked off that jerk and not me.”

And then Brax leaned forward and kissed me. It was all a blur from that point forward. Frantic hands pulling off each other’s clothes. Brax lowering me onto the bed. His tongue at my hole. And then—WHAM—Brax was inside me.

“Christ, you’re hung,” I exclaimed as Brax stretched my hole with his big cock, plunging deeper inside me. His lips were back on mine, and I could taste the beer on his tongue.

“I’m so glad you came tonight,” Brax whispered in my ear, his big dick grinding inside me. There was a frantic urgency to the way he fucked me, like he couldn’t consume me fast enough. Or perhaps he was nervous about us getting caught fucking at his own party. Planking atop me, Brax persisted to jackhammer my hole at a pace that couldn’t last.

“Fuck. I’m gonna cum,” Brax announced. He gave me two more deep thrusts before his body was convulsing on top of me, his cock releasing his warm seed inside me.

“Yeah, breed me,” I urged, stroking his sweaty back as his balls finished emptying inside me.

“Jesus, that was hot,” he exclaimed, pulling out of me as his lips found mine once more. I could feel his cum escaping my hole and puddling on the sheet under me.

“Can you stay tonight?” Brax asked, our lips parting.

“Uh—sure,” I agreed rolling onto my stomach, putting my ass up in the air.

“You can send your buds up to fuck me now,” I informed Brax, assuming that the reason he wanted me at the party was to be a cum dump for his buddies, like I’d done at countless frat parties back at college.

“Jesus,” Brax exclaimed. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t want to share you with my buds.” Brax rolled me back over, his eyes meeting mine.

“I’ve been pretending to be straight for too long,” Brax began. “I like you—a lot. I’ve thought you were cute since high school. And I think you can help me to finally be true to myself. What do you think?”

I couldn’t believe my high school crush had not only just fucked me, but also seemed to want a relationship with me. Taking his face in my hands, I gave Brax my answer with another deep kiss. Fuck, the boy tasted good. His hands were soon upon me, probing my cummy hole with his fingers.

“I want back inside you,” he whispered, raising himself to mount me again.

“You sure?” I asked. “Aren’t you afraid one of your buds might catch us fucking up here?”

Brax gave a brief shrug as he pushed back inside me. “They’re gonna find out about me soon enough,” he joked. “Plus, they can’t say shit about me if they’re drinking my beer.”

“Holy fuck,” I exclaimed a week earlier when my dad gave me the news. Branson Packer, my favorite golfer and a rockstar in the world of professional golf, was offering a one-time, private session with him at our local golf club for a thousand bucks a pop. My dad had scored me a session to celebrate my recent college graduation. “Holy fuck,” I repeated again, hugging my dad.

“Watch your language,” my dad joked. “I know how much you like Branson.”

I didn’t just like Branson, I idolized him. For starters, he was fucking hot. ESPN had named him as one of the ten fastest-rising golfers in the sport. And PGA Magazine had done a recent pictorial feature on Branson with a photo of him teaching golf to his toddler son while his gorgeous wife watched adoringly. But the real reason I idolized Branson was because of his big cock. There were countless fan-based blogs devoted to photos of his massive bulge in his golf pants, enough to rival Jon Hamm. The guy was clearly packing.

“Let’s see your swing,” Branson directed a week later as we began my private session on the driving range of the golf club. Feeling a bit nervous in front of him, I teed up the ball and managed to drive it a little under 200 yards down the range.

“Not bad,” Branson observed. “But you need to rotate your hips a bit more when you swing. Here, lemme show you,” he said while coming up behind me and placing his hands on my hips. I got a whiff of his intoxicating cologne, which drove me wild. With his body pressed into me, Branson led me through a series of hip rotations. His massive bulge was pressing into my ass, and it felt like he was getting hard. Jesus, I was turned on.

I could have stayed that way forever, our bodies pressed together, but we then left the driving range to play nine holes while Branson continued to critique me. I’d like to say I learned a lot from his instruction, but I was far too distracted by his handsome looks and his massive bulge. Christ, I wanted his cock. It took all my strength to keep from begging him to fuck me behind the sand trap. Before I knew it, we were headed back to the clubhouse.

“For the last part of our session,” Branson said, leading me to the weight room, “I’m gonna show you a few strength-training exercises that can improve your game.” We were alone in the weight room, where Branson noted that my hamstrings seemed tight. Pulling out a yoga mat, he had me stretch back as he raised my right leg over my head.

“This stretch will really open you up,” Branson advised, kneeling between my legs and putting his weight into me as he continued to press my leg over my head. My ass was slightly raised, and soon I could feel his bulge mashed up against my ass. It occurred to me that I’d been fucked many times in a similar position. Like at the driving range, I could feel Branson getting hard. As his cock rocked against my hole, I let out a soft moan.

“Well—uh—it looks like our time is up,” he suddenly stammered awkwardly. “I’m gonna hit the showers now, but you’re free to spend more time in the weight room. The clubhouse closes down in an hour.”

As Branson stood up, I could see he was clearly hard, his big cock straining against his golf pants. Spend more time in the weight room, he had suggested? Fuck that. Joining Branson in the showers sounded far more promising. I quickly stripped down and wrapped one of the complimentary clubhouse towels around my waist as I headed to join him.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I entered the showers. Not ten feet away from me was Branson, washing his incredible body. He soaped his meaty ass and then reached down to give his legendary big cock a quick tug. But he didn’t stop there. With a little more soap applied to his cock, Branson began to rub one out. This was the stuff of dreams—wet dreams. In that moment, I knew I wasn’t going to leave those showers without his load up my ass.

I stood frozen for a minute, my mind racing as to how to play this opportunity while Branson continued to jack his cock under the warm shower, his left hand bracing the wall. Should I take the shower head next to him and drop the proverbial soap? Or should I be more direct and just ask Branson if he wanted to fuck me? In the end, I didn’t have to decide. He was looking right at me.

“Sorry, bro,” he half-apologized as he continued to jack himself. “Things are—uh—difficult with my wife right now, and I just need to rub one out before I go home.”

“You want to talk about it?” I offered, hanging up my towel and taking the shower head next to Branson.

“Shit. I might as well tell you. It’s gonna be all over the news,” he began. “TMZ has a sex tape of me fucking an 18-year-old waitress after a tournament in Scottsdale last month. The bitch set me up, hoping to get some cash out of me. I told my wife about it last night. My agent said they’re releasing the sex tape tomorrow.”

“Fuck. That really sucks,” I sympathized.

“Well, the worst part is my wife has cut me off,” Branson shared. “No more sex. Probably for good. And I’m too afraid to fuck some other bitch, now that all the news outlets are gonna be tailing me, waiting for me to slip up.”

“You can fuck me,” I offered.

“Shit, man,” he exclaimed, his cock getting harder. “I was hoping you’d offer up your ass, especially from the way you’ve been grinding against my cock all day.”

“You ever fucked a guy?” I asked, reaching for his cock, teasing him with some slow strokes.

“Yeah. We had a cum dump who used to come around and take our cocks when I played college golf. I dumped so much cum in him,” Branson chuckled, “I’m amazed he never got pregnant.”

“I’d carry your baby,” I joked, turning to brace myself against the wall, presenting my eager hole for his use while Branson spit on his cock.

“Jesus, you’re tight,” he grunted, pushing into me. His hands went from my hips to my shoulders as he began to pummel my hole without warming up.

“Christ,” I gasped. “Slow up a little. I need to adjust. You’re thick as fuck.”

“Shut the fuck up, you little bitch,” he sneered, a marked change in his demeanor. “I get to set the pace here. Your ass is mine now.”

I took some deep breaths, clinging to the shower wall as he hammered away at my tight hole. After a few moments, my hole relaxed and started to feel good—really good. His big dick exceeded my expectations. Without realizing it, I began to emit a low, rhythmic moan with each thrust that he delivered.

“You better shut your fucking mouth,” Branson admonished. “I can’t risk getting caught in here with my cock up your ass.”

I nodded solemnly, gritting my teeth as Brandon continued to use my hole. Suddenly, his breathing intensified as he began to emit a series of low grunts. It felt like his big cock was increasing in size within me.

“Aww, FUCK, man . . . SHIT,” he growled, his hands digging into my shoulders as his balls released his load inside me. I could feel his body quaking as blast after blast of his cum flooded my guts.

“Fuck, that was hot,” I exclaimed as he pulled out of me, his load washing down my leg in the warm shower water.

“Clean yourself up,” Branson ordered, washing off his cock under the shower head, “And then meet me at the lockers. I need to talk to you.”

I dutifully complied and then wrapped a towel around me. He was waiting for me on a locker bench, his hair wet and a towel still around his waist.

“You don’t have to worry,” I spoke before he could say anything. “I’m not gonna run to TMZ and tell them you fucked me.”

“Nah. I trust you,” Branson replied, brushing the thought aside with a wave of his hand. “My caddie quit on me this morning when I told him about the sex tape. He doesn’t want to be associated with me and all the bad press. You think you might want his job? It pays well.”

“Me?” I asked incredulously. “You want me to be your caddie?”

“Yeah,” Branson smiled. “I’ve got a few tours on the horizon, leading up to Augusta in April. You know the sport really well and . . . I kinda like you.”

“Wow,” I exclaimed, unable to believe my ears. “But will you—will you want to—”

“Will I want to fuck you?” Branson interrupted. “Hell YES. As much as you’d like. You’ve got a sweet cunt, and there’s a lot of long nights in hotel rooms when I’m doing tournaments.”

“Then I’m game,” I announced. “I’m honored to be your caddie.”

“Awesome,” Branson replied, opening up his towel to reveal his big dick, which was hard again. “Now why don’t you climb on this cock so we can celebrate? I’ve got another load in these balls for you.”

“I—I can’t,” Bryce stammered, unable to look at me.

“We don’t have to fuck again, if you’re too sore,” I assured him. “I just want to hold you.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I can’t do this with you anymore.”

It had been over a year since I had picked up Bryce in a bar near campus. I couldn’t believe my luck when this incredibly hot college boy accompanied me back to my hotel room. At thirty-five, I was almost old enough to be his father—almost. Yet, like me, Bryce seemed to be turned on by our age difference.

The sex that first time was incredible, our chemistry off the charts. We fucked four times before Bryce fell asleep in my arms, my cock going slowly soft inside him. I assumed the encounter to be a one-night stand, something too rare and beautiful to be repeated. Thus, I was somewhat shocked the next morning when Bryce asked when I was coming back to town. I told him it would be another month before I’d need to see my client again, but I found an excuse to be back in another week and every week since then.

Our pattern was always the same. My flight would arrive in the morning. After my meetings, Bryce would meet me at my hotel, a stone’s throw from campus. We would fuck twice, go to dinner, fuck twice more, fall asleep, and then fuck once more in the morning before he headed to class and I caught an Uber back to the airport. Our relationship was a weekly whirlwind, but it was magical—until Bryce said he couldn’t do it anymore.

“I don’t understand,” I replied, rising out of bed to put my arms around him at the window. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing you did,” Bryce assured me. “I’m—I’m seeing someone—a guy from my biology class. I should have told you. His name is Warren.”

“Wow. That’s—that’s great,” I stammered, taken aback. “Are you and Warren serious?”

“No—not just yet,” Bryce admitted awkwardly.

“Good,” I smiled. “That means we don’t have to stop seeing one another. We never said we had to be exclusive.”

“Warren doesn’t want me with you anymore,” Bryce informed me, pulling away. “He thinks you’re too old for me, and that you’re using me.”

“I’m using you?” I gasped. “You don’t really think—?”

“Warren thinks I’m just a whore to you,” Bryce interrupted. “The dinners—the hotel room. It’s just sex between us.”

“You’re not a whore to me. And it’s not just sex,” I insisted. “I take you to dinner and invite you to my hotel because I like being with you, Bryce. I thought you liked that, too.”

“I do—I mean—I did,” he replied. “I don’t know. It’s just complicated now.”

“I think you should go,” I declared, my tone firm.

“Don’t be mad at me,” Bryce pleaded, reaching for me. “I don’t want it to end like this. Will you fuck me before I leave? One last time?”

“Bryce, I don’t think we should—”

“Please,” he begged, leading me back to the bed. “I want to feel you on top of me just once more. I want to remember you that way.”

Reclining back on the rumpled sheets of the hotel bed, Bryce spread his legs for me. His pink cunt was still wet and puffy from a marathon of fucking the night before. Pushing into Bryce, he winced as I penetrated him for the last time.

“We don’t have to do this,” I offered while holding still inside him, “if you’re too sore—”

“No, I want this. Fuck me,” he pleaded.

Pushing his knees against his chest, I put all my weight upon Bryce. I was hurt that he was ending it with me so abruptly. I was also angry. And I planned to take it out on his ass. If the boy wanted break-up sex, he was going to get it with a vengeance. Raising myself into a plank above him, I began to jackhammer his sloppy hole.

“Yeah—that’s it—fuck me harder,” he begged, rocking his ass while I dominated him. “Fucking use my hole.”

Bryce’s hands went to my ass, pulling me into him. Pushing his knees wider apart, I slid deeper inside him. His eyes rolled back into his head as my big cock plumbed his depths. His sphincter gripped the base of my thick shaft, heightening my pleasure. My balls couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to nut.

“You want my cum?” I asked urgently. “You want me to shoot inside you?”

“God YES,” he replied, wrapping his arms tightly around me. “Breed my fuckin’ hole.”

Instantly, my cock began to throb, flooding his guts with my warm load. My body convulsed uncontrollably, purging me of my seed. Instinctively, I kissed Bryce, my tongue tasting him for the last time. He began to cry.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so rough,” I apologized, pulling out of him.

“No—you weren’t too rough,” he insisted, trying to stem the tears flowing down his face. “That’s not why I’m crying.”

“Then—then what is it?” I inquired softly, kissing his cheek, tasting his salty tears.

“I’m crying because I’m in love with you,” he sobbed, pulling me close and burying his face into my chest.

“I’m in love with you, too, Bryce,” I whispered in his ear. “I have been for some time.”

“What?” he asked in disbelief. “I thought you just wanted a fuck bud—something easy.”

“Yeah, that’s what I wanted at first,” I admitted. “But then I started falling for you. The job with my client actually ended five months ago, but I’ve been coming back every week just to see you.”

“I don’t understand,” he replied. “You had an appointment here yesterday. You were late to the hotel because of it. Was that made up?”

“No, that appointment was real,” I admitted. “I was meeting with a realtor. I was looking at a condo near campus.”

“Wait—you’re moving here?” Bryce asked in disbelief.

“Yeah. Well, maybe not now,” I shrugged. “I was gonna ask you to move in with me. I wanted to see if maybe—maybe we could, you know, be together. But I see now that it was stupid.”

“Stupid? Why would you think that?” Bryce demanded.

“Because you’re younger than me,” I answered. “I now realize that you should be with someone your age, like Warren. He’s right—I’m too old for you. Shit, I’m almost old enough to be your father.”

“I like that you’re older,” Bryce stated, pulling me into an embrace. “I feel safe when I’m with you. I feel—loved.”

“You are loved,” I assured him, kissing him deeply, passionately.

“I want you back inside me,” Bryce pleaded, his hand reaching for my cock, guiding it back to his hole. But before I could push back into him, Bryce’s phone buzzed on the bed table.

“Is that Warren?” I asked hesitantly as Bryce checked his phone. “You can go to him—if you’ve made your choice.”

“I think you know my choice,” Bryce whispered in my ear as he opened his legs and took me into him—body and soul.

Every Friday My phone dings with a simple: “Is it time, Master?” Sometimes it’s more desperate, even via text it’s palpable.

“Yes. My house, 15 mins, in uniform. You know the rules.”

“Yes Sir. On my way!”

“Thank you”

15 mins later it’s in My home with its pussy on display. It doesn’t look Me in the eye but it’s hungry.

My fuck toy is kept all weekend… it tends to My every desire. Then the weekend ends and I send it back to its “real” life. That’s the hardest for it, I can tell.

Every Sunday night it’s, “Please can I stay? Please Master? I need it.”

“No. This is how it works. You’re on this planet to make Me happy, right bitch?”

“Yes Sir…”

"Fuck you're so big.." You whimpered as he pushed inside slowly.

"Yeah and it's all yours baby. This dick is all yours." He said, moving to the other side whispering.

"You feel good inside daddy." You whimpered more, trying to allow him inside, your arms and torso getting weaker, you'd began to try to lay flat.

"You feel even better wrapped around my shaft baby boy. Ah, ah ah-" He said pulling you back up to his chest, holding your neck.

"You're gonna stay here and take daddy's dick until you're adjusted to it." He said gently chuckling.

"Daddy.." You moaned.

Now he’s got one of the worst records of all the wrestlers in the state, getting pinned in match after match that he should easily win. But he gets in jeopardy, his boner betrays him. Throwing wood when he’s on his back and some other wrestler’s crotch in his face.