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This is really hot start, keep it up.

Well I do have a sling, and a couple of trunks of gear to make hosting company an event to be sure.

Interesting. That seems to suggest there is data corruption across the member database. Although I wouldn't mind being local to you.

I guess I'll be the first to whine "whatever happened to the ranger?...." So perhaps that's the cliffhanger? Nonetheless, nicely done. If we were coworkers and you were telling me about your weekend, this seems pretty complete.

Needs my tongue in there... 😋 🥵🤤👅

I don't go on NKP often, but I've noticed whenever there's an outage, like the cloud flair DDS attack: the ability for NKP to recover takes well over a week. The biggest thing I noticed was the location data for profiles. Guys in the Midwest were popping up as locals in Brooklyn NY.

I have had two NKP sourced hookups this year. It's been at least a year, probably closer to two since bbrt resulted in a meetup. But, all these sites seem to evolve relatively quickly. NKP as a site has been unstable for at least the last couple of years. It might be that they're getting hammered with DOS activity. I have a website I maintain and we've had to put in countermeasures for that. There appears to be; or dare I say there is; a significant portion of our fellow citizens who think we should not be communicating with each other and seek to disrupt it. Especially when they believe we are "controversial".

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Part 2 The next morning hit like a fever dream that refused to break. I woke up tangled between them in the tent, the air thick with the smell of sex, sweat, and spilled whiskey. Sunlight cut through the nylon walls in thin, golden blades, striping our naked bodies. My hole throbbed, tender and used, a dull ache that made me shift and immediately feel the dried cum cracking on my stomach and face. Ryan was already half-hard against my thigh, his morning wood pressing lazily into me like it belonged there. Jack was behind me, his arm slung heavy over my waist, his breath warm on the back of my neck. Neither of them spoke at first. Ryan just rolled over, grabbed the back of my head, and fed his cock into my mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world. No "good morning," no hesitation—just the salty taste of him, already leaking, sliding over my tongue while I was still blinking sleep from my eyes. Jack stirred behind me, chuckled low, and reached down to spread my cheeks. He spat once, and pushed two fingers into the mess they’d left. They slipped in easily, no resistance, just a wet sound and my own muffled moan around Ryan’s cock. “Still open from last night,” Jack muttered, his voice rough with sleep. “Good boy.” They didn’t rush. They used me slowly, like I was part of the morning routine. Ryan fucked my throat steady and deep while Jack worked me open again with his tongue, then his fingers, then his cock—bare again, sliding in raw and slick with leftover lube and cum. I took it without thinking. My body knew what it wanted now. We didn’t crawl out of the tent until noon. When we finally did, it was like nothing had changed, and everything had. The world felt sharp and overly real after the close, humid dark of our nest. The air smelled of pine and damp earth, a stark contrast to the musky, scents of debauchery and whiskey that still clung to my skin. There was an unspoken choreography to our movements. I started the fire back up, while Jack wrestled with the grill and Ryan set up the percolator, the clatter of metal and the hiss of the stove the only sounds between us. It was almost domestic, almost, in a primal sort of way. After we’d choked down breakfast, I took the stack of greasy plates down to the lake’s edge. The water was a sheet of dark glass, reflecting the sky. I was on my knees, scrubbing at a plate with sand, when the stream hit me. It was hot and shocking, arcing over my shoulder and splashing across my back. I flinched, looking up to see Ryan smirking, pissing on me with a lazy, confident arch. “Taste it, freshman,” he laughed, the sound echoing across the water. Before I could even react, Jack came barreling past me in a flying leap, hitting the water with a tremendous splash that soaked me to the bone. “Get in here, you filthy whore!” he yelled, surfacing with a gasp. Ryan laughed and jumped in after him. The cold was a physical blow, a vise closing around my chest, stealing my breath. They were on me in an instant, their hands rough, scrubbing me raw, calling me their filthy whore while I grinned and splashed back. Later, naked on our camp chairs, we air-dried under the sun like lizards. Our bodies glistened, and the warmth seeped back into my bones, chasing away the cold. We passed a joint back and forth, the smoke curling up into the pines, each hit followed by a long pull from a cold, sweaty Pabst. The world felt soft again, hazy at the edges. Every time I bent over to grab another beer from the cooler, a hand—Ryan’s, Jack’s, it didn’t matter—would connect with my ass, a sharp, stinging slap that was more punctuation than punishment. We fished air drying naked on the chairs, our bodies glistening in the sun, passing a joint back and forth along with some cold Pabst's. They’d slap my ass when I bent over to grab another beer. Ryan, sitting closest to me, put his hand on my thigh, pulling my leg closer and spreading me open. He aggressively found his way into my hole again. "You’re still hungry, aren't you, freshman?" he said. “You’re gonna be sore for days,” Jack grinned from his chair, watching the show, smirking while sipping his beer. Ryan grabbed my hand and led me to the truck, where he slammed me down onto the cool metal of the tailgate. The sun was on my back, but his shadow fell over me. He leaned in close, his fingers teasing my rim as he whispered, “You want some dick, bro?” Jack appeared at his side, phone in hand, the lens already pointed at us. He held the small brown bottle to my nose. “Yeah, freshman. Open that hole for my bro.” The poppers hit me like a wave, a dizzying rush that melted my bones and turned the world into a pulsing, urgent thing. With both hands, I reached back and spread myself open for him, an offering. Ryan spat on my hole, the impact a sharp spark. He smacked my tender ass with the head of his cock, then pushed. He entered me slow and blunt, a deliberate, unyielding pressure that stole the air from my lungs. I recoiled, not from pain, but from the sheer, overwhelming delight of my own submission. He pulled out, spit on himself again, and sank back in, deeper this time. A yelp escaped my lips. “Take it, bitch. You know you want it,” Jack said, his voice tight with excitement. With my head turned to the side, writhing in a pleasurable agony, I found the words. “Fuck me, bro.” Jack hopped into the flatbed, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and fed his cock into my waiting mouth. “Choke on it, freshman.” He was filming, not with malice, but with a kind of pride, as if he were capturing the exact moment I shed my old skin and became this new, hungry thing. Ryan’s pace quickened, spurred on by my muffled moans and the sound of me gagging. He came in a series of sharp, jerking thrusts, a warmth that bloomed deep inside me. A moment later, Jack’s grip tightened in my hair, and he held me down as he filled my mouth. We were so lost in our own world, our own little universe of sweat and skin, that we never heard the car pull up. Not the crunch of tires on the gravel, not the footsteps on the dirt. We only heard the throat-clearing, the loud, pointed “Ahem,” that cut through the haze like a knife. We all froze. A park ranger stood by the fire pit, his sunglasses hiding his eyes, his expression unreadable as he scanned the scene: me, naked and bent over the tailgate, Ryan and Jack with their dicks still out, the phone still clutched in Jack’s hand. “What’s going on here, boys, huh?” he asked, his voice flat and clinical. He commanded, “Go put some clothes on and get me the beers.” We scrambled, the spell broken. We did exactly as he said, our movements clumsy and sudden. He let us off with a warning, his lips a thin, disapproving line. “I’ll be back. Keep it clean, boys,” he said, then got in his truck and headed off down the trail. A heavy silence descended. “Shit, man,” Jack said, finally breaking it. “That fucker took the weed.” “Don’t worry, bro,” Ryan said, a slow smile spreading across his face as he nodded toward the trail. “We have backup.” The tension from the ranger’s visit evaporated in the crackle of the fire Ryan built back up. As the flames took hold, he laid four thick steaks on the grill, the scent of searing meat and wood smoke a powerful, grounding force. We were still buzzing with adrenaline and the lingering thrill of being caught. It was in that charged quiet that I heard it—a low, distant rumble that grew into the distinctive, guttural roar of a motorcycle. It pulled into our clearing, engine cutting off to leave a ringing silence. A young man swung off the bike, helmet tucked under his arm. He was lean, with a sharp, confident gaze that took in the three of us. “Hey,” he said, nodding at Jack and Ryan. He shrugged off a heavy backpack, setting it down with a thud that sounded like a promise. He unzipped it, revealing a dark forest of beer, and a gleaming flask of whiskey. “Got the goods?” Jack asked, a hopeful edge to his voice. The guy—Alex—smiled, a slow, knowing thing. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small, baggie, the green inside vibrant even in the dimming light. A collective sigh of relief went through us. We rejoiced, the moment feeling like a successful heist, and returned to the fire, our spirits renewed. The brothers introduced me, and we all fell on the food like wolves, devouring our meal under the darkening sky, washing it down with cold beer. The firelight danced in Alex’s eyes as he looked at me, a new, hungry appraisal in his gaze. He set his beer down, his voice cutting through the crackle of the flames. “You want to drink my beer, smoke my weed, then you eat and fuck my hole,” he said. It wasn’t a question. He looked from me to the brothers. “I always bitch out for these two, but now you. Eat my hole, faggot.” He stood, unbuckling his pants and letting them fall. He bent over a log, grabbed the back of my head, and shoved my face right into his ass. The world shrank to that single point of contact—the heat of him, the taste, the raw intimacy. He went down on Ryan as he ground against my face, his movements fluid and practiced. “Alex is a good friend,” Jack said, his voice a low rumble of approval. “He always gets us off. I think he likes you, freshman. Now get in that boy’s ass.” I pulled back, gasping for air, but Jack’s frustration was immediate. “No, freshman,” he growled, pulling my head out by the hair. He pressed the poppers bottle to my nose again. “Deeper.” The rush hit me, and the world dissolved into a haze of need. Jack shoved my face back into Alex’s ass, and this time, I lost myself completely. Alex started to wiggle, gyrating on my face, his moans vibrating around Ryan’s cock. I felt Jack’s hands on me, slick with lube, stroking my own hard cock, jerking me in time with Alex’s movements. “You like this boy’s ass, freshman?” Jack asked. I could only manage a muffled, “Uh-huh.” “I think you should fuck him, freshman,” Jack commanded. “Fuck yeah, bro,” Alex mumbled, releasing my head. I rose, my legs unsteady, and guided myself into him. He was tight, hot, and yielding. I started to move, finding a rhythm. Alex pulled off Ryan’s cock, turning his head to look back at me. “Come on, bro, fuck me,” he urged. I grabbed his ass with both hands and dug in, burying myself to the hilt. Jack fed Alex more poppers, and Alex’s body went pliant, then he started to ride me, taking control. “Who taught you how to fuck, bro? Your mother?” he taunted, his voice breathless and sharp. In a sudden, powerful move, he pulled off my cock, spun me around, and pushed me to my knees on top of a log. He kicked my legs apart and rammed his cock into me. It was thick and blunt, a tree trunk of a thing that forced a yelp from my lips. “This is how you fuck, bro,” he grunted, pounding me without mercy. The pleasure was so intense it was agony. “Yes, sir,” I moaned, my voice breaking. “Take it, bitch,” Jack said, appearing in front of me. He fed me poppers and shoved his cock in my mouth, the dual assault overwhelming my senses. Tears streamed down my face, mingling with the spit and precum. Ryan moved around us, a shadow in the firelight. “Hold your hole open, freshman,” he commanded. I reached back, spreading my cheeks for him as he took a photo. The flash was blinding in the dark, a sudden, harsh light that captured my total surrender. “For the memories,” he said, his voice a low, satisfied smirk. I didn’t even flinch. I wanted them to have it. I wanted to be a memory, a story they would tell. I wanted to be theirs. They used me in turns, a slow, deliberate rhythm. One in my mouth, one in my ass, then they would switch without a word. The only sounds were the crackle of the fire, the wet slap of skin on skin, and my own moans, guttural and unashamed. I was a conduit for their pleasure, a vessel to be filled. The poppers were a constant, a chemical haze that kept me floating just above the pain, lost in a sea of pure sensation. Moaning like a bitch every time one of them used me. I begged them to “breed me”, words I’d never said out loud before that weekend. When they did, one after the other, I came so hard I saw white. When Ryan obliged, his thrusts becoming short and sharp as he emptied himself deep inside me, my own orgasm ripped through me. It was violent and blinding, a white-hot explosion that left me shaking and spent, my body convulsing in the dirt. Jack followed, then Alex, each one leaving their mark, their warmth mixing inside me until I was overflowing with them. When they were finished, they simply pulled out and retreated to the chairs, leaving me kneeling and gasping in the firelight. They sat back, sated and watching me with a lazy, proprietary gaze. “Beer,” Jack said, not a question, but a command. I pushed myself up on trembling legs, my body aching and numb, and walked to the cooler. I fetched them fresh beers, my hole slick and leaking, my legs unsteady. I served them, then knelt by the fire, feeling their cum ooze out of me, a slow, warm trickle down my thighs. I felt like a grateful little slut, and I’d never been more content in my life. We eventually passed out in the tent, the four of us, a tangled pile of naked limbs, wrapped in each other's filth and warmth. Sunday morning was softer. The light was amber and hazy, the fire nothing but glowing embers. I awoken last, the taste of them still in my mouth. I crawled out of the sleeping bag and knelt by the fire, giving morning head to whoever stirred first, then the next, then the next. They passed me around like a joint, their hands sleepy and gentle in my hair as the coffee pot gurgled over the flames. After the coffee, they bent me over the familiar log one last time. They fucked me slowly, almost reverently, in the quiet morning light. Ryan first, then Jack, then Alex, each one finishing in my ass while I knelt in the dirt, a grateful supplicant. Their combined release oozed out of me, mixing with the sweat and the morning dew. My legs numb and shaking, Ryan wiped a thumb across my hole, pushed it into my mouth. I sucked it clean for him. Fuck that taste is amazing. As we started to break camp, I noticed the fishing poles in the back of the truck, pristine and untouched. A smile touched my lips. We never once touched them. Can’t wait to go fishing again On the drive home I sat in the middle again, my head on Ryan’s thigh, Jack’s hand tangled in my hair. Every time we hit a bump in the dirt road, I felt a phantom echo of them inside me, a deep, satisfying ache. Ryan traced lazy circles on my neck. “Same time next month?” “Oh yeah,” I nodded, I said, voice hoarse. “Any fucking time you want bro”. My throat raw, body wrecked, sore and floating, heart pounding like I’d finally found where I belonged. The lake disappeared behind us, but I could still taste wood smoke and them every time I breathed in. That weekend was a sacred bond between us, and a fantasy come true. Fishing with the boys had a new meaning for me after that, which repeated as often as we could.

something must have gone down, cause i was on it fine earlier today but you're right, i just tried again now and buffer buffer buffer do you have much luck there in general. its worse than bbrt for me in the lack of frequent engagement. but at least i do hook up from bbrt. NKP thus far is just guys way far away hitting me up to see if i wanna buy T 😜

So, is anyone else able to see NKP? All I get when I try to navigate to the site is the spinning disk of death and dispair.

A live meetup would be delightful.

I just filled a guy’s hole an hour ago. He matters partly because he is officially straight but he must be at least bi, and although he has a girlfriend they are not married. But he definitely cheats on his girlfriend. He is 25 years old and I took his virginity a year ago. His first experience was a bare cock and a huge amount of cum in his almost virgin hole. A month ago I head a sleazy, nasty ff chem session with my FFRIEND and a third guy from Spain (originally a Hungarian). This man is married to a Spanish woman, who knows her husband’s interests in gay sex but has no idea about his obsession with kinky, leather FF central sex. This is also a kind of cheating.

ANON #Cum dump Bottom HOSTING ANON, NSA, GREEDY, TOTAL TOPS in the South Bronx. Today Mon. 12/8 10 am-4pm. Along the 2 line. (Safe, Discreet, private Apt. I live alone)

Would love to join a club like this!

Men don’t but I have a female partner that just cums from excitement when I start to get sloppy. It’s one of the hottest things

Hell yea- sign me up

Nothing hotter seeing something like this

When I moved with my wife to the Netherlands a couple of years ago we closed our relationship. But it did not take long for me to go back to full on cheater mode. I only had 2 hookups though since never having a place to meet and having weird times that I could step away unnoticed makes arrangements difficult. Recently we agreed to open up again and I have a green light to either go hog wild with randos couple times a year and get tested or find a regular safer hookup. Regardless I will be hunting for a regular hookup for sure, but playing safe is not in the cards. So cheating streak will continue.

Chapter 20 The change was seismic, a quiet earthquake that rearranged the very ground beneath their feet. The rigid scheduling, the carefully negotiated "logistics" of who got which weekend, evaporated within a fortnight. It was replaced by something far more organic, more potent. A rhythm that belonged only to the three of them. It was Jordan’s house most nights, the rooms becoming a museum of their intertwined lives. A leather jacket draped over Jared’s hoodie on the couch. Blake’s favorite cereal in the pantry next to Jordan’s protein powder. It felt different when one of them was missing. The energy in the house would dim, the air going stale and quiet. When Blake had a family dinner he couldn’t skip, Jordan and Jared would sit in a restless silence, the television playing to an uninterested audience. They were a unit. A tribe. Them against the world. Their emotional bandwidth, once strained and narrow, widened into a vast plain. They learned each other’s secret languages—the way Jared would get quiet and withdraw when he was stressed about money, the specific tilt of Blake’s head when he was feeling insecure and needed reassurance. And Jordan, they learned, needed to be in charge, but his dominance was now a mantle of care, a way of keeping their fragile, beautiful world safe. The sexual energy, too, morphed. It was no longer just Jordan’s fantasies or Jared’s possessive hunger or Blake’s worshipful desire. It was a melding. A shared exploration. They discovered kinks they never knew they had, desires that only made sense within the context of their three-body equation. The trust was absolute, a sacred space where no fantasy was too strange, no request too humiliating. They were having fun, a pure, unadulterated joy in the discovery of each other. Then came Jordan’s welding certificate. The opportunity was too good to pass, a traveling job that would take him to construction sites hours away for days at a time. The first time his truck pulled out of the driveway, the silence he left behind was a physical presence. A week later, Jared let himself into Jordan’s quiet, empty house. It felt wrong. He tossed his keys on the counter, the sound echoing too loudly. “He’s not due back until Friday,” Jared said, his voice flat. “I know,” Blake’s voice came from the hallway. He emerged from Jordan’s bedroom, wearing a pair of Jordan’s sweatpants that hung low on his hips. “It’s too quiet.” “Yeah.” Jared’s gaze traveled over Blake, over the familiar lines of the floral tattoos peeking above the waistband. The sight was a comfort. A piece of Jordan’s world, still here. “Feels off.” Blake nodded, leaning against the doorframe. “We could… I don’t know. Watch a movie?” But the suggestion felt hollow. The absence was a fourth person in the room, demanding attention. Jared’s eyes stayed on Blake, on the way the soft grey fabric clung to his lean thighs. The thought came to him unbidden, a spark in the silence. We don’t have to just wait for him. “Come here,” Jared said, his voice dropping, echoing a command he’d so often received. Blake’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise, then understanding. He pushed off the doorframe and walked over, stopping just inches from Jared. The air between them shifted, charged not with the electricity of Jordan’s direct command, but with something new. Something exploratory. Jared reached out, his calloused fingers hooking into the waistband of the sweatpants. He didn’t pull them down, just held on, his knuckles brushing against the warm skin of Blake’s hip, right over the ink. This is still his. We’re still his. But the permission felt implicit, a part of the unspoken rules of their tribe. “Miss him?” Jared murmured, his thumb stroking the soft skin. Blake’s breath hitched. “Yeah. You?” “Like a limb.” Their eyes locked. The loneliness of the past week, the quiet ache of Jordan’s absence, coalesced into a sudden, sharp need for connection. For a taste of what was missing. It was Blake who moved first, closing the final distance between them. His kiss wasn’t like it was with Jordan—less worshipful, less submissive. It was searching. Curious. A slow, deep exploration that made Jared’s head spin. He kissed back, his hands moving from the waistband to cup Blake’s face, his thumbs stroking the sharp line of his jaw. They broke apart, breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together. “He’d want us to,” Blake whispered, his voice hoarse. “Wouldn’t he? To… take care of each other.” “Yeah,” Jared breathed, the word a vow. “He would.” They didn’t go to the bedroom. They ended up on the couch, a tangled mess of limbs and shared breath. Jared’s hoodie ended up on the floor. Blake wriggled out of the sweatpants, leaving them in just their underwear. The intimacy was dizzying, a side door into their relationship they’d never thought to open. Jared’s phone buzzed on the coffee table, lighting up with Jordan’s name. A video call. They froze, a guilty, thrilling pause hanging in the air. Blake’s eyes were wide, his lips still swollen from their kisses. Jared looked from the phone to Blake, a slow, possessive grin spreading across his face. The idea was reckless. Perfect. He answered the call, angling the phone so Jordan could see them. Jordan’s face filled the screen, looking tired but smiling from a generic hotel room. “Hey, just wanted to see your faces. This place is a fucking dump—“ He stopped. His eyes scanned the screen, taking in the scene: Jared shirtless, Blake nearly naked beside him, the intimate proximity, the flushed skin. His smile faded, replaced by a look of intense, hungry focus. “What’s going on there?” “Just missing you,” Jared said, his voice a low rumble. He shifted, pulling Blake closer against his side. Blake rested his head on Jared’s shoulder, looking up at the phone with a shy, sated smile. Jordan was silent for a long moment, his gaze darkening. Jared watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Yeah?” he finally said, his voice tight. “Show me how much.” The command was there, even from miles away. It snapped into place, the familiar dynamic reasserting itself through the screen. Jared looked down at Blake, whose eyes were now heavy-lidded with arousal. He bent his head, capturing Blake’s mouth in another deep, lingering kiss, this one for an audience of one. When they pulled apart, they both looked at the screen. Jordan’s expression was ravenous. “Think you can do more than that?” Jordan asked, his voice a husky challenge through the speaker. Blake and Jared were no strangers to the camera’s focus. They’d made a handful of videos together, selling them online to anonymous viewers who couldn’t get enough of their chemistry. But this was different. This was for Jordan. Their hands moved where he told them, their bodies bending to his will even from miles away. “Fuck, yeah,” Jordan growled through the screen, his voice thick with arousal. “Jared, get your mouth on Blake. Blake, spread for him. Let me see.” They obeyed without hesitation, their movements fluid, practiced. Jared leaned down, his tongue tracing the delicate lines of Blake’s hip before moving lower. Blake’s breath hitched, his head falling back as Jared’s mouth worked him open. Jordan adjusted the camera closer, his own crotch now in view as he undid his pants, his hand wrapping around his cock. The sound of his heavy breathing filled the room. “Switch,” Jordan commanded, his voice sharp. “Blake, ride him. I want to see you take every inch.” Blake shifted, straddling Jared, sinking down onto him with a low moan. Their eyes locked on the screen, watching Jordan stroke himself in time with their rhythm. The dirty talk came easy now, a skill they’d honed under Jordan’s careful guidance. Jared’s voice was rough with need. “You like that? Watching us fuck for you?” Jordan’s response was a growl. “Fuck yes. You’re mine. Both of you. Cum for me.” The command sent a shiver through them. Blake tightened around Jared, his body trembling as he came, the ecstasy written across his face. Jared followed, his release spilling into Blake’s mouth as Jordan had instructed. They didn’t stop there, swapping it back and forth, their lips meeting in a messy, shared kiss that Jordan watched with ravenous eyes. On the screen, Jordan’s hand moved faster, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. He didn’t last long, his orgasm hitting him hard, his voice breaking as he came for them, for this moment, for the two boys who belonged to him completely. The room grew quiet, save for their ragged breathing. Jordan’s face softened, a possessive pride glowing in his eyes. “Good boys,” he murmured, the praise washing over them like a warm embrace. “Now clean up and get some rest. I’ll be home soon.” Chapter 21 The screen went black, plunging the hotel room into a heavy, post-climax silence. Jordan’s breath came in ragged pulls, his heart still thumping a wild rhythm against his ribs. He looked down. His belly was a glistening, sticky canvas of his own release, pearly ropes stark against his skin, a few drops already cooling as they traced a path through the light dusting of hair leading to his still-thickening cock. A fucking mess, he thought, a lazy, sated smile touching his lips. I love it. He loved the visual proof of his own pent-up need, the animalistic evidence of what watching his boys could do to him. The practical part of his brain, the part that shared this generic hotel room with a near-stranger, nudged him. Chad will be back any minute. Get cleaned up. You can’t be caught like this. But a newer, hungrier part, a part that had been awakened and fed by Jared and Blake, whispered a different, far more enticing idea. Or… can I? The thought was a jolt of electricity straight to his groin. His semi-hard cock twitched against his thigh, beginning to fill out again with a sudden, urgent blood flow. Chad. His coworker. The guy was… fuck. He was everything Jordan had never let himself openly appreciate before. A few years older, maybe twenty-three. Broad-shouldered and solidly built, with a thick, dark beard and arms covered in a sleeves of intricate tattoos. He was all rugged, masculine energy, the kind of guy who looked like he could fix an engine with his bare hands and then bench-press it. What would he do if he walked in right now? If he saw Jordan, pants around his ankles, dick out, painted with his own cum? Would he be shocked? Disgusted? Or would his eyes darken with that same hidden curiosity Jordan was now so familiar with? The not-knowing was a potent, terrifying thrill. Fueled by this new, reckless energy, Jordan stood, his semi-erection bouncing heavily between his legs. He left his clothes in a heap on the floor and walked, dripping, into the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door. The shower was a quick, utilitarian affair, the hot water sluicing away the physical evidence of his orgasm but doing nothing to calm the one brewing in his mind. He soaped his hair, his face, his body, his hand sliding without thought down the thick, weighty shaft of his cock, the suds making the glide effortless. A quiet, involuntary groan escaped him as his fingers brushed over the sensitive head. No, he told himself, forcing his hand away. Not yet. Save it. The anticipation was part of the game now. A game with rules only he knew. He turned off the water and stepped out onto the cool tile, dripping wet and completely naked. He reached for the towel bar. It was empty. Shit. Of course. Chad had used the last one that morning. “Chad?” he called out, his voice echoing slightly in the tiled room. No answer. The main room beyond the open bathroom door was silent, still. Maybe he wasn’t back yet. This was his chance to dart across and grab a towel from his bag. Or… it was his chance to do something else entirely. The decision was made in a heartbeat, a surge of boldness overriding all caution. Heart hammering, he walked out of the bathroom and into the main room. The carpet was rough under his bare feet. The hotel room door clicked open. Jordan froze, standing in the middle of the room, completely exposed. Water droplets traced paths down his chest, over his abs, beading on the thatch of dark hair at his groin. His cock, thick and flushed, hung heavily between his legs, not fully hard but far from soft, swaying slightly with his quickened pulse. Chad stepped inside, dropping his key card on the small table by the door. He was wearing a tight-fitting grey t-shirt that stretched across his chest and a pair of work jeans, a smudge of grease on his forearm. His eyes, a deep brown, scanned the room and landed on Jordan. There was a full, breathtaking second of stunned silence. Chad’s gaze locked onto Jordan’s face, then dropped—deliberately, unmistakably—down his body. Jordan saw his eyes widen a fraction, saw his focus zero in on his dick, hanging there, on display. Chad’s throat moved as he swallowed. His eyes flicked back up to Jordan’s, a flash of something unreadable in their depths before he quickly looked away, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Whoa, dude. Jesus. Omg, Jordan, wtf bro?!” Chad’s voice was a mix of shock and a forced casualness that didn’t quite land. “No towels?” The reaction wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t anger. It was flustered. Interesting. Jordan felt a jolt of pure, undiluted power. He saw it. He’d seen the way Chad’s eyes had lingered, the quick, almost instinctual sweep of his gaze. He looked. He fucking looked. “What you want me to do?” Jordan said, spreading his hands slightly, a gesture of false exasperation that put his nakedness even more on display. He let his voice drop, lacing it with a challenge he’d learned from being in charge. “Air dry?” Chad finally risked another glance, his eyes doing that rapid dance again—face, chest, cock, away. He ran a hand through his dark hair, a nervous gesture. “I, uh… I got an extra towel in my bag.” He made no move to get it. He just stood there, his own body tense, his attention hyper-focused on the space Jordan occupied. The air grew thick, charged with a tension Jordan knew intimately. It was the same tension that had filled his living room when Jared and Blake had knelt for him. It was the silent, screaming question of what happens next? He saw Chad’s eyes dart down one more time, and this time, they didn’t immediately flick away. They stayed. They focused on the length of him, on the way his cock was beginning to swell in earnest now, responding to the intense, unspoken attention. Jordan knew, with a certainty that burned in his gut, that he was going to get into Chad’s pants. One way or another. The game was on. He took a single, slow step forward, the carpet muffling the sound. He watched Chad’s breath hitch, saw the way his shoulders tightened. He’s not running. “You just gonna stare,” Jordan murmured, his voice a low, husky thing that seemed to vibrate in the small space between them, “or are you gonna hand me that towel?” Chad hesitated, then fumbled with his bag, pulling out a folded towel. He tossed it to Jordan, his face a mix of embarrassment and something else—something that made Jordan’s pulse quicken. “Here,” Chad muttered, eyes darting away again. Jordan caught the towel, draping it around his waist as he walked to his suitcase. He could feel Chad’s eyes on him, the weight of his stare lingering even as he pretended to look elsewhere. After dressing in a loose t-shirt and jeans, Jordan turned to Chad with a casual grin. “You hungry? Hotel bar’s got decent food.” “Uh, yeah,” Chad said, still slightly off-balance. “Could eat.” The bar was dimly lit, the hum of conversation filling the air. They settled into a booth, whiskey and Cokes in hand. The alcohol loosened them up, the awkwardness fading with every laugh and story. Chad confessed he’d been single for over a year, shrugging off Jordan’s teasing about it. “Doubt you’ve got trouble getting laid,” Jordan said, leaning back. “Decent-looking guy, good job. No kids.” Chad chuckled, shaking his head. “Not as easy as you’d think, man. Honestly… it’s been over a year since I’ve done anything with anyone.” “Damn,” Jordan said, raising his brows. “You at least jerk off though, right? That’s self-care.” Chad hesitated, then laughed, a little nervously. “Yeah, of course. Probably too much if we’re being honest.” Jordan’s cock twitched at the admission. “How much is too much?” “Two, three times a day,” Chad admitted, his voice dropping lower. “Sometimes more. Rarely less.” Jordan grinned, his mind racing. “Bet you haven’t today. We’ve been welding all day.” “Nope,” Chad said, smirking. “I’m due for a good bust.” The conversation left Jordan achingly hard, but they finished their meals and headed back to the room. An hour later, they were in their beds, the TV murmuring softly. Jordan glanced at Chad, who seemed asleep. He slipped his hand into his boxers, stroking slowly, replaying their conversation in his mind. A few minutes in, he looked over again. This time, Chad’s eyes were open, glued to him. The covers over Chad’s lap shifted, moving rhythmically. Jordan’s breath hitched. Slowly, he pulled back the blanket, exposing himself. Chad froze for a moment, then mirrored him. Their eyes locked as they stroked themselves, the air thick with unspoken tension.