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“Why not?” I inquired, brazenly. “Your girlfriend is out of town, and you just told me your balls are full.”

“It’s just that . . . I don’t usually get head from guys,” he replied.

“Usually?” I asked, homing in on that word. “Are you saying you have let a dude suck you off before?”

“Well, yeah,” he laughed. “I mean, look at me. I’m hot as fuck. I can’t go to the gym without some twink faggot offering to blow me.”

“I’m not some novice twink cocksucker,” I argued. “I’ve got mad skills.”

“Oh, yeah? You think you can handle this?” he taunted, unzipping his pants and pulling out a thick nine-incher.

“Damn,” I gasped, undoing my pants. “Fuck the blow job. I want that big dick up my ass,” I declared, bending over his desk.

“I don’t know,” he demurred, standing up and teasing my hole with his big dick. “I don’t usually fuck guys.”

“Usually?!” I gasped as he shoved his big dick in my ass, splitting me in two.

In my defense, Adam was incorrigible. He was always front row in my Econ 1 lectures. He raised his hand for every question. He came to all of my office hours and peppered me with questions on the course material. He saw the framed photo on my desk of my wife, kids, and me at the Grand Canyon — and yet he still pursued me tenaciously.

And in Adam’s defense, I did nothing to discourage him. I reveled in his attention. I’m pushing 40, and yet this hot 18-year-old piece of ass thinks I’m hot?! No man can ignore that.

It was the day after grades were posted when a knock came at my office door. I looked up and there was Adam standing in my doorway. “Congrats on your A last semester, Adam,” I commended him. “You earned it.”

“Thank you, Professor, but I’m not here about my grade.” He closed the door behind him, locked it, and faced me as he began to take off his clothes.

“Adam, stop right there,” I cautioned. “We can’t do this. I think you’re hot as fuck, and I want this as much as you do. But you’re my student. It’s unethical. We could both get kicked out of the university.”

Completely naked, Adam walked toward me. Christ, his young, tight body was hot. I was motionless as he wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled his head under my chin. “They can’t do anything to us,” he began to explain. “I looked into it. The university’s policy on sex between faculty and students applies only to students enrolled in your class. Now that my grade has posted, I’m no longer your student.”

I relented as Adam pushed me down on my office couch. My shirt was off, and then my pants. He got between my legs and started to suck me. “Mmm. Your cock tastes good,” he moaned. Fuck, his mouth felt good on my big dick. I thought he might suck a load out of me, but he stopped and began to kiss his way up my stomach and chest. He kissed me tenderly on the mouth, and then whispered, “I want to ride this big cock.”

Adam straddled me as I locked my fingers behind my head. “Fuckin-A,” I moaned as he took my cock deep inside his hole and then bobbed up and down on it. I grabbed his hips and pushed him down hard on my cock as my balls emptied inside him. “Yeah, breed my pussy,” he cried out. Adam dismounted me and then fell back on the couch beside me.

“You know,” Adam said breathlessly, “I was thinking of taking your Econ 2 class next semester.” I raised my right eyebrow and shot him a reproaching look. “Nah,” he laughed. “I’ll take it with Professor Watson, instead. He’s like eighty years old. I have no interest in his old dick.” I gave the boy an approving kiss, and then ordered him to clean up my cummy cock with his tongue.

But after practice, we linger in the showers when the rest of the team has cleared out. We fuck in the last shower stall, where steam and a flimsy partition give us a secluded space to be who we really are. We embrace. We kiss. We unite as one, giving our bodies to each other. Our shared fluids become our sanctified communion. Afterward, a brief kiss at our lockers and a whispered, “I love you,” must serve to sustain us until our next clandestine rendezvous.

“He seems like a homophobic asshole,” I told my husband when we first met our landlord Mitch. We were renting one-half of a duplex in which Mitch and his wife lived on the other side. “You two are brothers?” he had asked when we signed the lease, noting our shared last name. “No,” my husband explained. “We’re actually married.” Mitch stared awkwardly at us for a moment before finally grunting, “I guess that’ll work.” As if we needed his permission to be married?

After we moved into the duplex, Mitch pretty much kept to himself, which was fine by me. His homely wife sometimes brought over cookies or a slice of cake, but we rarely saw Mitch. That changed late one night when my husband was out of town for a conference. The sink in our bathroom was leaking into the cabinetry underneath. I knew something just needed tightening, but I couldn’t find a wrench. Knowing I was to immediately report any issues to Mitch, I gave him a call. Two minutes later he was at my door with a toolbox in hand.

Mitch was shirtless and in just a pair of athletic shorts. He was much more muscular than I had realized and had a thick carpet of silver hair that fanned across his chest and down his stomach, complimenting his silver beard. The outline of a fat cock head was evident in his shorts. I was taken aback, realizing I was attracted to him. “I hope I didn’t disturb you and your wife,” I apologized as I led Mitch to the bathroom sink. “Nah,” he grunted. “She’s gone to bed and I was just … uh … watching TV.”

I was sitting on the bed when Mitch emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later with his toolbox in hand. “The sink is fixed,” he reported. “I just tightened up a few things.” Mitch then looked about the bedroom I share with my husband. “Where’s your husband,” he asked, adjusting the bulge in his shorts. “He’s away … on business,” I replied. “Which one of you likes it up the ass?” he then inquired matter-of-factly, as if asking which one of us likes to drink coffee. “Uh … we both do,” I stammered, shocked by his question. “But I’m usually the one to bottom.” He looked confused. “I take it up the ass,” I clarified.

“Look, faggot,” Mitch said, stroking his silver beard. “I was jacking to some porn when you interrupted me earlier. I can either go home and finish myself off in my favorite chair … or I can stay here and fuck my load into you. Your call.” Jesus, I couldn’t believe what was happening. My mind reeled as I weighed the import of cheating on my husband with this hairy beast of a man. And then he pulled down the front of his shorts, revealing a massive cock. Fuck. “You want this cock or not?” he demanded. I then dropped to my knees like some mindless, cock-hungry faggot and took his big dick down my throat.

”Hold up,” he interrupted me, pulling out of my mouth and slipping off his shorts. “Strip down and get on the bed.” I dutifully obeyed his orders as he positioned himself on his knees near the top of the bed. Dropping my briefs, and spreading my legs so he could get a view of my plump ass, I leaned forward and took his big cock all the way down my throat. “That’s it, faggot. Suck this big dick,” he ordered as I slobbered all over his thick, hairy, nine-incher. And then reaching forward to slap my ass, he said, “Get that cock good and wet ‘cause it’s going up your ass next.” I couldn’t wait a moment longer for that. Turning around on the bed, I presented my ass to him.

“Damn, you’ve got a sweet cunt,” Mitch moaned as his fat cock head began to breach my tight hole. And then with both hands on my shoulders, he shoved that huge nine-incher all the way inside of me. “SHIT,” I screamed, grasping the sheets. “Yeah, I bet this big cock is bigger than what your husband gives you,” he taunted. I nodded and moaned, “Uh huh.” It was true. Mitch’s huge cock was much bigger than my husband’s dick. “You ever had a cock this big up your ass, boy?” Mitch inquired, giving me deep, rhythmic thrusts. “Yeah,” I exhaled breathlessly. “Just one cock as big as yours. A basketball player in college.” I could feel Mitch growing even harder inside me as I spoke. “He passed me around to the rest of his team and they’d take turns tagging me after practice.”

Mitch leaned forward, his lips to my ear, and whispered, “I knew you were a dirty slut from the moment I met you, faggot. And now I’m gonna treat you like a dirty slut.” Instantly, Mitch grabbed me by the hips and began to jackhammer me, pulling my ass toward him. Fuck, his big cock hurt so good. I could feel my eyes rolling back into my head as he pummeled my hole. Suddenly, his hand was upon my head as he shoved my face into the bed, raising my ass higher for him. “Yeah, this is my favorite position, faggot. This angle always gets me off.” It was a great position for me, too, as he was going deeper than I had ever experienced. It was so intense, I found myself biting the sheets to endure him.

“You want my cum, faggot?” Mitch urgently demanded. ”Yeah? You want me to dump this load up your faggot ass? Uh huh?” But he allowed me no time to answer before he bellowed, “Aww, FUCK … Aww, SHIT … Take this nut, you motherfucker.” Instantly, a flood of warmth filled me from within as his cock throbbed and pulsed, emptying his seed inside me. Mitch collapsed upon me, his weight pushing me further into the bed. I could barely breathe as he heaved to catch his breath. “Fuck, I needed that,” he growled. He finally rolled off me, his hairy chest and stomach matted with sweat. His cock was still semi-hard and leaking the last of his jizz onto the sheets. I rolled onto my stomach and, taking his cock into my mouth, sucked him clean.

“Shit. I better get home before the wife notices I’m gone,” Mitch announced, rising from the bed to retrieve his shorts. “When does your husband get back?” he asked. “He’s gone one more night,” I answered, pulling my legs together to stem the flow of cum that was leaking onto the sheets from my wrecked hole. “Call again tomorrow night around the same time,” he directed. “Tell me your sink is still leaking, and I’ll come over to fuck you again.” I nodded in agreement, intent on following his orders. “Oh … and faggot?” he paused on his way out the door. “Be sure to change those nasty sheets before tomorrow.”

As identical twins, Reese and Tyler had spent their lives as carbon copies of each other. And though they had forced their doting mother to stop dressing them alike at some point in kindergarten, the brothers remained alike in most every other way. Always in the same class, they often got the exact same grades on tests. They both loved baseball, and would fight over who got to play first base. They liked the same food, the same music, the same video games. In many ways they were simply two halves of a whole. And that got tiresome.

“I think we should consider separate schools,” Tyler had told Reese as they started applying to colleges. “Yeah,” Reese agreed. “We’re always in each other’s shadow.” But Tyler had another reason for wanting to go to separate schools, for he knew he was gay. And he was certain Reese was straight. Tyler had finally discovered the one way in which the twin brothers were different, and he planned to carry that secret with him to college. But Kara got in the way.

“Kara wants us to tag her, bro,” Reese shared excitedly with Tyler one night a week before they were headed off to college. “She said it’s on her bucket list to get fucked by twin brothers.” Reese had been fucking Kara all summer, along with half the other lifeguards at the pool where the brothers worked part time. “Dude. I don’t want to fuck that slut,” Tyler objected. “I’m gay.” Tyler froze in horror at his impulsive admission. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. He wasn’t ready for Reese to know.

“It’s about time you came clean,” Reese smiled. “Wait … You knew?” Tyler asked, confused. “Yeah, it was pretty easy to figure out,” Reese laughed. “You’re always borrowing my laptop, and you never delete all the gay porn in the search history before you return it.” Tyler had to laugh at his own stupidity. “I’m sorry,” Tyler apologized. “I should have told you. I didn’t want things to be weird between us, or for you to think that I want you to fuck me.”

“But maybe … maybe I want to fuck you,” Reese replied. And then it all happened in a blur. The brothers’ clothes were suddenly off as Tyler begged for Reese’s cock. Reese then tackled Tyler onto the floor, spitting on his big dick as he wrapped his arm around Tyler, spooning him from behind like they used to do as boys when they were scared in the dark. “FUCK,” Tyler screamed, his virgin hole destroyed as Reese pushed into him.

“Raise your leg a little higher,” Reese directed. Tyler complied, feeling relief as his hole accepted more of Reese inside him. “Fuck, you’re tight,” Reese moaned. “I’m not gonna be able to last long.” He held on to Tyler tightly as his cock worked in and out of his twin brother. “Fuck me, Reese … Fuck my pussy,” Tyler repeated over and over again as Reese pounded his hole. Reese’s balls began to tighten, the cum rising in his shaft. “FUCK,” he grunted as his seed shot deep inside of Tyler. Reese collapsed upon his brother, still holding him as his balls reached empty.

“Don’t pull out yet,” Tyler begged, wanting the moment to last. “Did you like it? Was it better than pussy?” asked Tyler hesitantly. “Yeah,” Reese admitted. “It was fucking hot. Way better than pussy.” The twin boys were quiet for some time as Reese continued to hold Tyler, his cock slowly going soft inside his brother. “Reese?” asked Tyler, breaking the silence. “Do you think it was a mistake for us to go to different colleges?” Reese was quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he finally exhaled. “I’m gonna file for a transfer. It’s not too late.”

The first time he asked me to put them on I was hesitant but, when I did, I was surprisingly aroused by the sheer fabric rubbing against my cock and the thin strap riding up between my muscular, round ass cheeks, and tickling my hole.

"Damn," he said, "I knew those would look good on you. Now show me that pussy."

After I peeled them off, tossing them aside with my size 12 foot, and spread my legs, he split me open with his fat cock and fucked me into the mattress, harder than any of the previous times we hooked up.

Since that first time, he's given me a few more pairs that he was able steal away without her noticing. I know it's kinky, but I wear them whenever I know I'm going to see him...even at family gatherings. One time, at my niece's birthday party, I lifted the back of my t-shirt and discreetly flashed him the back of the lace thong panties I was wearing under my jeans. A few minutes later, we were in the garage, and his dick was balls deep inside me as he took me from behind.

Marshal shuffled into the kitchen and set his bag on the bar counter. The light over the stove had been left on. Marshal pulled a glass out of the cabinet, and when he went to open the fridge he noticed the note on the handle: Hey love, figured you’d be hungry. I made some cold ice tea for you, and you have a choice of ramen, a sandwich, or a frozen meal. Sleep well <3 J “Awwww,” Marshal cooed. He smiled and put the note in his pocket. Inside he fridge he found a picture-perfect ham sandwich saran-wrapped on a plate. Marshal took it out. He turned back to the fridge to pour himself a glass of iced tea. It was only when he went to put the iced tea back in, did he realize something was slightly off. He stared at the fridge and waited for his sleep deprived brain to catch up.

The bento box wasn’t there. Jaime always put his lunch in this special tupperware he used and it always sat in the upper left hand corner of the fridge. Why had he not packed a lunch? Marshal furrowed his brow. Whatever the reason, he decided to return the favor by packing Jaime lunch.

His plans were thwarted upon opening the fridge drawer containing sandwich stuff. It was empty besides a half opened package of sliced cheese. They’d forgotten to get more deli meat when shopping yesterday. Marshal groaned. “Ah crap,” he muttered. He glanced at the sandwich on the counter and had a revelation. Jaime had used the last of the ham for him. The realization made Marshal’s heart feel warm and full. Such a sweet man, his Jaime. Even though Marshal’s body was begging for rest, he had to set this right. Jaime was really trying to eat out less so he could lose weight, and Marshal didn’t want him to break the streak at work. So Marshal popped a frozen meal into the microwave and set out to make Jaime his lunch. He found the bento box thing in the drying rack of the dishwasher. In it went the perfect sandwich, some grapes, and some of that bean salad they’d taken home from their friends pool party. He also whipped out the cutting board to chop up some celery sticks which he dumped into another little container, along with peanut butter. The bento box went into the fridge, where it belonged, with the celery container on top. Marshal also positioned its carrier bag on the counter and added some pretzels and two cookies from the jar.

The only thing missing now was a note. Marshal stirred up the half-defrosted frozen meal and shoved it back into the microwave as he thought about what to write for a moment. His eyelids were struggling to stay open and poetry wasn’t his strong suit. So, Marshall simply wrote: I love you, you can hit your weight goal for sure <3 -M, and stuck it to the carrier bag. Marshal shoveled the warm meal into his face, drank the whole glass of iced tea in one go, and stumbled to bed. The shower would have to come tomorrow. He was crashing. Marshal slid between the sheets and adhered himself to Jaime’s back. Jaime made a soft noise  Marshal nuzzled the back of his neck and fell asleep in less than a minute.

When Marshal awoke the next morning, he was alone in bed. It was inevitable, but a bit lonely. His emotions were buoyed by a new note waiting for him the kitchen: Oh my god, you’re so sweet, I actually kind of cried a little. This lunch looks amazing. Thank you so much. Love you so much too. Can’t wait until I get off to work tonight and I can see you. Let’s fuck <3″

Marshal laughed. Jaime had a way of making the most vulgar thoughts sounds adorable. And Jaime was not a shy man. Jaime liked his sex. Marshal was pretty smug that he was the one Jaime picked to receive it. Marshal decided a run to the grocery store was going to be a priority today. He made a mental note to make sure they had enough lube and condoms before he went out. Lord knows they didn’t want to open that drawer and find it empty tonight! Not like they could use sliced cheese instead!

“You’re coming with me, Martin, and that’s final,” my mom shouted at me on my first Sunday home from college for the summer. “Jesus, mom,” I complained. “I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t want to go to church.” Mom pursed her lips. “Do not take the good Lord’s name in vain, especially on a Sunday,” she admonished. “And you’ll go to church while you’re under my roof. Besides, there’s a new pastor at church. Pastor John. He’s younger than the last one. Has a wife and two young daughters. I think you’ll like him.”

I had no interest in Pastor John … until he stood up to give the benediction at the start of the service. Holy fuck, he was hot. He looked no older than thirty. With his trim beard, his dashing smile, and his muscles bulging under his white clergy robe, I wanted him in the worst way. His adoring family sitting in the front pew didn’t help matters. Unbeknownst to my mom, I had developed a predilection for getting fucked by hung daddies during my first year of college. I had bent over for several professors, but never imagined I’d be attracted to a man of the cloth.

“Stand up, Martin,” my mom ordered as she raised me by the collar for the closing hymn. I was struggling to hide my raging boner. I held the hymnal over my crotch as we sang. Upon the close of the hymn, Mom grabbed me again and pulled me down the aisle to stand in line to greet Pastor John as we exited the church.

“And who’s this strapping young man?” Pastor John asked my mom as he extended his hand to greet me. He shook my hand firmly and lingered as he held my gaze. It was like he could see into my soul. He finally released my hand, stroking my palm gently with his index finger as he pulled his hand away. “Your mom tells me you’re home for the summer,” he declared while placing a hand on my shoulder. “Yes, Pastor,” I replied, trying not to blush under his steely gaze. “Would you mind if I borrowed your son for the afternoon?” he then asked my mom. “We’re still getting settled in at the parsonage, and I could use a strong, young man to help me get some boxes up to the attic.” Mom beamed. “Yes, Pastor,” she replied ingratiatingly. “Martin will be glad to help.”

An hour later, I climbed the steps to the parsonage in a shady yard behind the church and rang the door bell. Pastor John opened the door and leaned against the door frame. Fuck, he was even hotter out of his white clergy robe. He was in a crisp white shirt that was partly open at the collar with a tuft of chest hair peeking out. He had on a pair of slim, khaki pants that couldn’t conceal the large bulge at his crotch. In his hand he held a tumbler of Scotch, which I could smell on his breath. Once again, I felt he could see into my soul as his eyes surveyed me.

“Come in, Martin,” Pastor John finally said. “Thank you, Pastor,” I replied. “No, call me John,” he insisted. “I like to be more … uh … casual here in the parsonage. Care to join me in a drink?” he asked while closing the front door and holding up his tumbler of Scotch. “Uh … no thanks,” I stammered. “I like beer, but I’m not much for the hard stuff yet.” John shrugged and led me into the living room, inviting me to sit on the couch with him. As I looked around, I didn’t see any of the boxes he had mentioned. I also didn’t see his family. “Mindy took the girls down to her parents in Tuscaloosa for the afternoon,” he informed me. “They won’t return until after dinner.”

“You … uh … said you need help with some boxes?” I asked. Placing his scotch upon a sofa table, John leaned back against the couch, unzipped his khakis, and pulled out a thick, hard, eight-incher. “Fuck the boxes,” he said. “I’d rather have your help with this big dick.” I was instantly salivating and wasted no time in leaning over to get that big cock in my mouth. “No, boy,” John admonished. “Get down on your knees and worship this dick like you need it.” I dutifully complied and was soon on my knees, slobbering all over that big tool and taking him down my throat. His precum tasted delicious, and I couldn’t wait to swallow his load, but John had other plans.

“You want it up your ass?” he asked, pulling his cock from my mouth and playfully slapping my cheek with it. I nodded as John stood up, grabbed me by the hand, and led me upstairs. I thought he’d fuck me in the guest room, but John led me into the bedroom he shares with his wife. “I love fucking a guy on the bed where I fuck my wife,” he confessed. “It makes me feel so … naughty.” John’s hands were all over me as we stripped out of our clothes. He lowered me onto the bed and was soon on top of me, his hard cock pressing against my tight hole. With his big cock working slowly inside me, Pastor John closed his eyes in what appeared to be prayer.

“Are you asking forgiveness for fucking me, Pastor?” I asked. “No,” he replied. “I’m asking forgiveness for what I’m about to do to you. And I told you to drop the Pastor shit,” he admonished. Suddenly, it was like a great awakening took place inside of him. He seemed possessed. With his big cock now all the way inside of me, John went from zero to sixty in about three seconds and began to jackhammer me furiously. There was a violent rage behind his eyes, a desire to destroy me or my hole … or both.

“Yeah, faggot,” he grunted. “You like this big cock in your pussy, huh? Tell me you like this big cock,” he demanded. He was pounding the shit out of me, and my head was banging against the headboard unrelentingly. I gave out a muffled, “Mmm hmm,” in agreement, but that didn’t satisfy him. “I said … do you like this big cock in your pussy, faggot. Speak up. I can’t hear you.” Mustering my breath in between his merciless thrusts, I exhaled as hard as I could, “YES. I fucking love your big cock.” He gave a satisfied grin, pounding me harder. I raised my head to kiss him, hoping that might slow his pace some, but my effort was futile.

“Don’t kiss me, faggot. I’m not your boyfriend,” he admonished. John then pulled out of me, flipped me over onto my stomach, and mounted me from behind. “Yeah, this is the view I like,” he announced. “Watching my cock wrecking your cunt.” He was able to go even deeper in this position, and I was loving it. “You like being used like this, faggot?” he asked. Not waiting for my response, he continued, “Yeah, you worthless cunt. The only thing you’re good for is being a cum dump for married men like me.” The intensity of his fucking was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. He couldn’t last much longer at this pace, was my thought. And I was right.

“SHIT, faggot. I’m gonna bust,” he announced urgently. John’s hands were on the small of my back as he raised himself higher and gave my hole some deep, final thrusts. “Aww, FUCK. Here it comes, faggot. Open that pussy for it.” And instantly his body began to convulse as I felt his warm load release inside me. “SHIT … FUCK … DAMN,” he exclaimed as his balls continued to empty, filling me with his seed. He pulled out of me with a violent thrust, his load spilling out of me and onto the sheets. He rolled over and stretched out beside me.

“Whew,” he exhaled. “I fuckin’ needed that.” And instantly it felt as if Pastor John had returned to his normal self. Whatever had possessed him, had finally relented and released him. “I’m … uh … sorry if that was too intense for you, Martin. I get a little crazy when I fuck a guy. I’m not like that with my wife.” I told him that I understood fully, and that I actually loved being fucked hard like that.

“Shit,” he exclaimed while looking at his watch. “I’m leading a Bible study in an hour. I gotta shower and change. Maybe put these nasty sheets in the wash, too,” he laughed. He pulled on a pair of boxer briefs as I got dressed, and then walked me downstairs. His cock was still hard and straining against the front of his briefs. I wished he had time for another round, but I felt confident that I’d be back another time soon.

“Hey, Martin?” John asked as I stepped off his porch. “Be sure to tell your mom we had a good talk and got you all straightened out, OK?” He was smiling, like it was some kind of joke. “I don’t understand,” I replied. “Oh, your mother asked me to talk with you because she thought you might be a faggot,” Pastor John confessed with a smile. And then with a wink he added, “Lucky for me, she was right.”