𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞 .

* a ( taboo ) smut - driven roleplay blog .

written by rome , twenty3 , gtm-3 timezone .

Cian ran through the dirt path, the trees closing in around him. It was not his usual trail, but some days he was just too horny to take the main one. This was one of such days. He had even been daring enough to wear nothing under his sweatpants. He ran dressing all gray clothes, long sweatpants and an old sweatshirt. His cock, still soft, was clearly visible as he continued on his usual pace. The area he was looking for approached and he could already see one or another guy hanging around, checking him out. He did too, but he did not stop for any of them.

he was being greedy ---- he'd gotten his mouth used twice, his hair was a mess from the two different sets of hands pulling on it, and his cheeks were painted pink-red (breathlessness and some undiscreet, unwarned, but welcomed slaps). but then he heard steps coming in, and he could see the other through the branches and leaves; the sweat on his grey shirt, the bulge on his grey pants. simon was on his knees, and on his knees he stayed, as the other approached his spot. the ghost of a dirty smile creeping on his features drops at the sight; his stomach does a roll when he gets to see the other's face. “cian?”

Simon was naked, with only a towel around his waist. He had just taken a shower, now standing in front of the mirror, while he finished drying his hair. He watched as his father entered his room, so he smiled and sat down next to him when he asked to talk. His body was so beautiful and skinny, with those pretty pink nipples and those plump pink lips just the same. Hearing that, Simon smiled broadly. “Thank you, Daddy. That means a lot to me,”

the kid commented, looking into his old father's eyes. Feeling his heavy, strong hand on his thigh, something about his father's crotch caught his attention. Was he seeing right? Was his father hard? The bulge was noticeable in his sweatpants. And hearing those words, the kiddo was speechless for a few moments. What did he mean by that? His lips faltered for a few moments. “What do you mean by that, Daddy?”

“open your mouth, simon.” his words aren't cold, but there's an inflexible, firm tone to them. simon will open his mouth, willingly, or he'll be made to. when the kid obeys (of course he does; he's still his sweet boy, isn't he?), jack places a thumb on top of his son's tongue, cock hardening further at the feeling of the wet, soft surface. “suckle on it, and listen to me.”

he looks at his other hand, still resting on his boy's bare thigh, how big it looks in comparison to his young boy. he then wonders how red simon's skin will turn when slapped, and he bites his lip at the thought before continuing his train of thought.

oliver didn't know it yet, but he'd soon be learning that mr. jones appetite ---- in particular for boys like him, sweet, young, tight ---- was a well-known phenomenon around the office; a spectacle, really.

“you're the boss, sir, of course...” his jeans and panties are pulled down, and there's a small gasp when he feels the cold air from the office hit his crotch. he continues talking, anticipation for the man's touch building in his stomach. “... 'course i'll obey you.” besides, he was a polite, enlightened young man. of course he'll obey when a man tells him he needs to use him as a stress-relieving toy. and be warm while doing it. “i can only imagine how hard you work to run this company is, sir.”

his fingers are tingling as he can feels it's about to happen: his legs are taken by a much bigger frame, muscled arms wrapping around his thighs, the man's words as a warm, warning breath over his pussy. then he realizes what the big boss said, of his possible soon-future as a de-stressing toy for the whole office. “they'll what- ah-” any possible interjection is cut and dead and gone when the boss starts to work his expert tongue on him. his hands close on tight fists, his breath fastens, his eyes go from wide open to closed shut with the unusual, delightful feeling.

men aren't typically too keen on eating oliver out: they fingered him in public spaces for a quick thrill before a 9 hour work day, professors kept him as a warm cocksleeve under their glass desks throughout class at uni, friends and strangers used him as a fleshlight at bars, parties or gyms for some extra fun, but rarely someone took their stress or had their fun by tonguing him as good and deep ---- “ah, sir, thank you...” he makes sure to keep his hands to himself, resist the urge to hold and pull the man's head closer and ever closer. he's the boss, he'll eat oliver out however he wants to.

━⊱ he lifted his head the moment he heard his name it caught his attention immediately because how could this man know it, and yet feel like a complete stranger? nothing about his face sparked any recognition. ❝ what was your name again? samuel? no, wait— ❞ he squinted a little, genuinely trying. ❝ sawyer, right? ❞ still, nothing. if anything, it was the first time he’d heard that name.

he stayed quiet as the older man went on, detailing something that should've happened just a few days ago. but if it had, andrew would've remembered. he always remembered people, especially someone like him. but how did the other know his name? that was the mysterious part.

his eyes flicked to where the man pointed — the bathroom — and then back at him, now looking visibly more confused. ❝ i... i don’t think i’d just follow someone in there like that. ❞ his voice faltered. his fingers tangled in his hair as he dropped his head, the frustration bubbling up.

❝ i don’t know, maybe i’m just being dumb. is this like... a prank or something? ❞ he raised his face again, arms lifted behind his neck, fingers loosely interlaced, his expression caught somewhere between embarrassment and concern. ❝ i mean, i would've remembered you right away. that’s for sure. ❞ and he meant it. the man was attractive and definitely not the kind of person he would forget after just a few days but still... the story didn’t make sense — not to him. and maybe that’s what unsettled him the most. if it did happen... then why didn’t he remember?

even if the kid's got this sudden, bothersome amnesia, it was still fun watching his embarrassed expression, flushing cheeks and unsure eyes. it pulled at something mean, sadistic inside of sawyer. hesitation in his tone, his eyes going wide at the dirty details. and, well, maybe the kid did forget it. maybe it was a medical condition, he fell and hit his head after their messy, sloppy encounter. he doubted this random kid he met and face-fucked on a seedy mid-west diner was just that good of an actor.

ADAM DIMARCO