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I'm assuming that when he said "It's done" that he ensured the bottom would convert by giving him a blood slam... or will he make the young man another offer of sex for money that he will find difficult to refuse? I hope it doesn't end here as the story line was excellent and very well written.

It is a pity because the guy was a good writer but he did get WAY too enthusiastic in that last part. There is going up to the line of what is OK and then there is smashing straight through it. He did the latter so I absolutely understand it being removed. Austin is right - its a shame his talent couldn't be reined in. From writing elsewhere I know some of the fun is writing 'to a brief'. Getting your message across in a more subtle way can sometimes end up being even hotter to write and (hopefully) read.

Intermission #1: A Casual Affair Trevor and Elias’ apartment. Bedroom. 0400 MST. 31-Oct-20XX The sensation of oppressive downward pressure while floating in a state of pure darkness was all Elias could remember as he woke, taking several seconds for him to remember where he was. Elias woke from slumber, and raised his head. All the lights in the bedroom were still on. They stung his eyes more than normal, and he had no memory of having gone to sleep. His head felt woozy and stuffy, and his entire body felt slick with sweat. Elias rolled over on to his back, and stared at the ceiling, unsure if he had been sleeping or if he had only just got on to his bed. Trevor still wasn’t home yet, so the latter was totally possible. Elias blinked slowly, and turned his head to the right to look at the clock. Just after four…he thought. Time for a workout before he gets home. It was his normal habit to rise early and put in a couple hours at the gym. Pushing himself up from the cozy bed felt like an immense slog, but discipline won out, and Elias was back to standing before he knew it. His balance felt off, and everything felt like it was stuck in slow-motion. His vision was somewhat blurred, as if in a perpetual dream sequence. His joints felt stiff, and he felt dehydrated. Elias became aware of a warming sensation throughout the body as he slowly came to life. Must be wiped from last night’s craziness. Elias went into the adjoining bathroom, and pissed a hard yellow stream into the porcelain bowl. Even in his foggy state, the scent smelled odd. Familiar, but not the familiar scent of urine. As the voiding of his bladder concluded, he looked down at the piss in the bowl, and caught sight of his own penis. It seemed somehow larger and longer than he was used to, but a new wave of dizziness caused him to give very little thought to it. He washed his hands and face in the sink, and looked into the mirror as he finished. Something caught his attention. Looking closer in the mirror, he was shocked to see his pupils blown wide open, his normally blue eyes looking strange with barely a ring of color around them. His skin had taken on an almost feverish sheen, looking pale where his skin normally had a healthy tan look. He could almost make out the veins in his face, looking black for a few seconds. Blinking hard, the vision of his veins disappeared. Cupping his hands under the faucet, he took several greedy gulps of cold water, feeling immediate relief as the liquid trickled down his throat. Returning to the bedroom, Elias gently shook out his limbs. He felt a little more human, but something was definitely different. He dressed in loose gym clothes, popped his running shoes on, and grabbed his gym bag from the closet. Going out to the front room, he suddenly recalled that he wasn’t alone in the apartment. Shit, Tex … Tex is still here. Barely moved an inch, Tex was still passed out in the position where Elias had left him just hours before. Tex snored lightly, and Elias took extra care to not disturb him as he sneaked out of the apartment and down to the first floor entrance. Taking a familiar right turn, Elias slowly walked down the street, glad that autumn was finally here, and with it the colder nights. The low steady hum of the city met his ears, almost deafening compared to normal. Rubbing his hand on his neck, he tried to let the tension in his body relax. After a short walk down the block, he crossed the street and was met with the harsh glow of the 24 hour gym. Coming to the gym at this hour had one specific benefit: it was largely deserted. Night-shift workers and insomniacs were the usual crowd. And popular equipment was always available, which made finishing a little faster than it would be in the daytime. However, this morning’s crowd was sparser than normal: maybe three or four people plus the attendant. — House of Gains gym. 0415 MST, 31-Oct-20XX. One of these sunrise gym bunnies was a man named Spencer. At thirty-two, Spencer cut an impressive figure: five foot ten, close cropped hair, a chiseled face that commanded attention from both sexes, frigid ice blue eyes, and a muscularity seldom seen outside the world of professional bodybuilders. His striated shoulders sat atop a wide barn door of a back that tapered down to a narrow waist, forming a perfect V-shape. His arms were thickly corded, and his pecs looked like they might need a training bra. His belly was slightly distended from use of growth hormone, and bore the recognizable tortoise-shell definition. Each thigh looked like it had swallowed a watermelon, and was covered in a roadmap of veins. And between these massive tree trunks swung a girthy 8-inch dick. Physically Spencer had hit the genetic jackpot, but all the ladies were disappointed when they discovered that he was more interested in men who looked like himself. Yet he was always single, and was nowhere to be found in darkrooms or bathhouses. Sexual randomness wasn’t his scene, and if he ever got laid, he didn’t kiss and tell. Spencer was more in love with himself, yet his standards were so high that he found himself sexually frustrated. He made his living as a gogo dancer, and used his adonis body to its full advantage. After dancing all night, he’d pop into the gym where no one would bother or ogle him, and he could sleep the morning away when he left. He came out at a young age and devoted himself entirely to developing his figure, and it had yet to pay off in the way he desired. Higher education didn't work out, and he worked in a wide variety of fields, never quite finding where he belonged. Sex work happened to be lucrative, but the current situation couldn't continue indefinitely. Dating yielded no one that maintained his interest. Spencer’s masturbatory fantasies involved his growing to unnatural monstrous proportions, with endless and mindless fucking of men who looked like him, and an as-yet unnamed hunger for something twisted and dark. He couldn’t quite identify it, and expected he might go his whole life without finding the right word for the desire. — Elias observed him from across the gym. Spencer wasn’t that hard to miss. On this morning, he wore a stringer that looked like it had been slashed with a sharp knife multiple times. Threadbare and designed to show as much beef as possible without being totally naked, the letters on the front were bold enough to be read. ‘TOXIC AF’ with a large (but faded) biohazard symbol stamped on the back. Elias started getting hard at the sight of him, and his tongue licked his upper lip in sudden hunger. There’s a new face. My God, that dude’s a monster. Then he shuddered at the thought of the word ‘monster’ as a memory of last night flashed across his eyes. The sight of Gravestone almost flying backwards as he was struck by the impossibly strong smiler caused Elias to wince in sympathetic pain. Damn, and we just left him there. He felt a sharp stab of guilt in his heart, but another thought intruded. That’s not your focus. Go get the meat before you. Shaking his head, Elias gave little attention to the strange thought that had popped into his head, both sounding and not sounding like his own internal voice. He started to walk in Spencer’s direction, but stopped after a few steps. He realised what he was doing, and remembered Trevor. “I’m not a cheater,” he said aloud without meaning to speak at all. His own voice sounded strange on his ears, and believing it to be morning phlegm, he looked about for the nearest water fountain. Elias spotted one on a wall just a few feet to his right, and moving around the gym equipment, he came to the fountain. Gratefully pressing the large lever, he bent down and drank from the spout. The water tasted cold and metallic, and in a moment, he was refreshed. Turning around, he wiped his mouth with a hand, and took in the room from this spot. Spencer was now by the free weights, and pumping out a set of dumbbell shrugs. Elias slowly moved closer to get a better look. As Spencer’s reflection came into focus, Elias remembered seeing this guy before. Oh yeah, he’s a gogo dancer at InfraRed. I’ve seen him. Not a drop of ink in his skin. If I were a bit more shallow and still single, I’d go after him. He must be drowning in boy pussy. Never even seen him bat an eye at any of the guys at the nightclub. Well… I can at least be friendly. Elias twisted the wedding band on his finger to remind himself of his commitment, and walked in Spencer’s direction. The larger man’s eyes shifted in the mirror as he saw Elias draw near to him, and quickly finished his set. He set the weights down on the rack with a loud CLANG, and exhaled loudly. He turned back to his bench, and now Elias could see Spencer from his front side. Jesus, what a balloon animal, he thought. Spencer raised his head slightly, and looked directly at Elias as if he heard that remark. He took a small white towel in his hands, wiped the sweat from his face, and tossed the towel at the bench. Then he went up to Elias with a cautious smile on his face. “Good morning, big guy,” Elias said with a slight nod of the head. “What’s up,” Spencer replied. It was an acknowledgement, nothing more. “I’ve seen you dancing at InfraRed,” Elias said coolly. “You’ve got quite the moves.” He found himself entranced by those frigid blue eyes, but was more drawn to the amount of meat on this man and the sweat pouring off his muscular torso. “Thanks. I really appreciate that,” Spencer said, almost breathlessly. Elias didn’t know where to take the conversation next, but didn’t want to distract the man from his workout. Spencer was clearly in “the zone”, and likely wouldn’t appreciate Elias’s probing further. “Sorry if I’m bothering you. I just… I notice you’re not wearing any headphones or anything,” Elias began. “Been listening to music all night,” Spencer quickly answered. “I need the quiet open space in here after work.” “I’m Elias,” he said, offering his hand in a friendly greeting. Spencer took the gesture with a guarded look on his face, and shook his hand. “Spencer. Do you mind? Can I get back to my workout?” “Sure thing. I’ll leave you to it. Um… Pleasure to meet you, Spencer.” With that, Spencer returned to his weights. Opting for two slightly lighter dumbbells, Spencer took these weights, and sat down on his bench with one on each knee. After a loud inhalation, he threw himself backward on the bench until he was lying face up on it. In one swift motion, he went down as the weights went up. Elias stood nearby and watched silently while a growing hunger grew in him. He knew it wasn’t from his stomach. Spencer cranked out an impressive set, exhaling sharply with each repetition. Up and down the weights went, and a new sheen of sweat broke out on his large frame. Elias found himself staring at the space between Spencer’s pecs. The mounds of muscle contracted and protracted as his set continued, and the veins beneath the skin began to bulge a little as the set concluded. Elias forgot to count how many reps Spencer had executed, and he instinctively started matching his breathing up with Spencer’s as if he were performing the set himself. Elias’s chest began to heave with each rep. On the very last rep, Spencer brought the weights down to his torso, and couldn’t quite push them back up. Sensing an opportunity, Elias rushed in to help him push the weights back up one final time. “Come on, bud. It’s all you,” he shouted. Elias positioned himself behind Spencer’s head, and lightly using his hands, guided the weights back up to the top. “Light weight, baby! You got this!” Spencer let out a groan, and then a growl as he reached the top. The weights came down forward in an arc, and pulled him back up to seated, the weights coming to a stop on his knees as at the beginning of the set. Spencer stood up again, and returned the weights to their spot in the rack. “Yeah… Thanks. Elliot, was it?” he said breathlessly as he turned around to face his rescuer. He began to unwrap his lifting straps from his wrists, and looking at Elias, said, “Ugh… fuck it. All right. You’ve earned my time if you want it.” “That was impressive,” Elias said approvingly. “Yeah, I’ve been doing this for years. Get big or die trying,” Spencer answered, taking a grateful pull from his large water jug. “Took me a long time to get there.” “Can I see a flex?” Elias said, licking his lips nervously, unsure why he was getting so worked up. Spencer didn’t answer, but raised both arms above his head, swooped them down together, and gave a ‘most muscular’ crab pose. The man was clearly close to contest shape, and as he flexed, his skin turned a dark reddish color. Each squeezed muscle fibre strained against the tanktop he wore, and all the striations and veins popped in a beautiful way. The sweat running off his body glistened, and Elias held his breath in awe of the beast before him. Fuck, he would look incredible in rubber gear, Elias thought as he admired. What an absolute unit. Elias felt his dick twitch in response. Spencer grinned hugely, and again, Elias was reminded of the smilers he encountered several hours ago. Another shudder went through him, but he found his dick hardening again at the sight of Spencer showing off his muscularity. Perfection, but we can give him something better. Give this man your seed, an intruding voice said. Elias glared at the thought, and wondered where it came from. Spencer released his flex, and inhaled deeply. “What do you want?” he asked bluntly. “Look, I appreciate the assist and the attention, and I’m sure everyone tells you you’re cute, but… no. I’m looking for a specific body type, and you army guys aren’t it.” Embarrassed, Elias felt his face flush as he was taken flat aback by the man’s bluntness, but didn’t allow himself to be unmanned. “Oh.. I didn’t mean… I’m not interested in… How did you know I was military?” “The haircut, for one. And the way you carry yourself is a dead giveaway,” Spencer said. “I dated a lieutenant once. Real closet case. But the way he moved just said ‘army grunt’ like it was drilled into him. Total bastard and weird, too. He just wanted me for my body like everyone else. Just like you seem to be doing, in fact. Didn’t even come close to what I was looking for. So I swore off army men after that.” “Oh yeah? What was his name? Maybe I know him,” Elias asked, trying to salvage the conversation. Spencer thought about it, and looked up to his left as he thought. “Fuck if I know. It started with a B. I try not to think about him. It didn’t go anywhere, and I was barely interested in him. Too lanky.” It sounded familiar to Elias, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. Pay attention to me, dammit! Don’t give him a choice. We can upgrade him, the mysterious voice demanded. Elias looked at his own reflection in the mirror behind Spencer to see if someone stood behind him and whispered in his ear, but he could see no one there. “No harm, bud. I'm married, and I don't cheat. This isn't about that.” Shaking his head in an effort to clear it, Elias began to fidget with his ring. Why am I having these thoughts? What in the world is wrong with me? Spencer shrugged his shoulders quickly and answered as if he didn't hear this last part. “Uh huh. Sure you are. Anyway, if you’re looking for a score, go market somewhere else. I’m not interested. Got things to do and make.” With a wave of his hand, Spencer turned his back to Elias and sat on his bench. What’s this guy’s problem? Elias thought, his brain feeling muddled like someone was feeding him strange information. Friendly one minute, dismissive the next. These hot and cold types are not worth it. Goddamn muscle teasing asshole. He shrugged his shoulders, and eager to quit the scene, he went across the gym to the treadmills. Something is off with me. And I’ve had enough humanoid monsters for one night, thank you. “Struck out, didn’t you,” a bright masculine voice said from somewhere. The voice belonged to a much more human-looking young man. “Hi, I’m Todd, and that’s Spencer. Everyone tries to get with him, and no one ever really succeeds. Good try, though!” This one is more willing. Make your move. Make him ours. “Is he actually straight now, or just an asshole?” Elias enquired, shaking his head slightly as he swore his head felt like a high-pitched screech had just been ringing in his ears. “Oh, he’s definitely gay. He just likes other musclemen. Got this insane growth fetish, but yeah, kind of a prick. You’re lucky he didn’t have the energy to say more, or we might have to separate you two,” Todd said, snickering as he spoke. “Last guy who told him off got banned from every decent nightclub in the city.” Elias looked back at Spencer, who was again engaging in another round of weights he would struggle to handle. “Yeah, he’s definitely got something up his ass, and it’s not me.” Elias felt some regrets that such a fine specimen got away from him. “Don’t take it personal,” Todd said. “It’s never about you. He’s just sexually frustrated. God help the man he takes to bed. I’m sorry, didn’t mean to be eavesdropping on you both. But what was your name again?” “Elias Kade.” “I’m Todd Cochran, but I’m sure you knew that,” he said bouncily, giving a lopsided smile to Elias. The name meant absolutely nothing to Elias, but he decided to play along and give the man a broad smile. “Come on, let’s run together.” They each got on a treadmill, and kept an even pace so they could talk. Todd was lightly dressed in an old gym shirt whose sleeves had been cut off at some point. The armpits of the shirt still bore signs of sweat and deodorant marks from years ago. His shorts were ridiculously short, and a bright pink color. Todd had one tattoo on his arm, a little yellow Pokemon character. Without any prompting or questions, Todd just began spilling his guts and telling Elias whatever came to mind about himself. Elias was lost in too much brain fog and the weird experience with Spencer to pay any attention to Todd’s avalanche of words. Todd continued aloud his life story and didn’t ask Elias any sort of questions, or say anything that required a response. All Elias could do was continue walking on the treadmill while trying to orient himself. Something felt really off, and he couldn’t put his finger on what. None of the outside stimuli was sticking. Before he knew it, twenty minutes had passed, and Todd was still talking. What snapped Elias back to attention was Todd repeating a question at last. “I said, how about you and me go share a forbidden shower?” Elias pressed the pause button on his treadmill, and as the belt slowly ground to a halt, he looked over at Todd, blinking. Todd stopped his own machine. “What did you say?” Elias queried. Todd leaned in closer, and spoke in a whisper. Not that anyone would have heard them. “God, the daft ones are always so fucking hot. Look… You’re a hot guy, and I want you to fuck me.” DO IT. BREED HIM. MAKE HIM OURS!!! The hairs on the back of Elias’s neck stood up on end, as a sudden wave of horniness blasted through him. The feeling was immense as all the reasons for him to stop this craziness felt like they were pushed aside. All reason suddenly went out the window, and the need to copulate took over. Quickly taking Todd’s hand, he led him off the treadmill and toward the locker room. From across the room, Spencer saw the swift exit in the reflection of the mirror. The look on his face clearly said he knew what was going to happen, and he snorted softly, shaking his head. “Fucking knew it. He was looking for a quick score. So much for his vows. This isn’t a hookup joint.” Up went the weights, and Spencer started on his next set. Elias didn’t care if anyone saw them. And the gym was so depopulated that a little tryst in the changing area would likely be unnoticed. Wordlessly, he pushed Todd over one of the benches in the locker room area without even looking to see if the coast was clear. Todd wordlessly braced himself at the last second on the wooden bench, catching himself just in time at the shock of Elias’ roughness. As he did so, Elias pulled his gym shorts down to his ankles. In one swift movement, he likewise depantsed Todd. Elias stared hungrily at the tight hairless hole in front of him. Todd braced himself against the bench as Elais hungrily dove face first into his ass, letting out a soft groan as Elias licked and sucked on the tight swirl of muscle, enjoying the feeling of him trying to work his tongue deep inside. Pulling back, Elias spit a large glob of saliva onto the hole as he began to roughly jerk on his definitely larger than normal cock. “Wait,” Todd said, turning around slightly and pressing his hand against Elias’ chest. “Maybe we should move this to the showers or a stall. I can get some lube on the way.” Pushing the hand away, Elias placed a hand on Todd’s shoulder. “No. I want to fuck you up hard, and you’re gonna like it.” Elias surprised himself when he heard this. Where had that come from?, he wondered. Drooling a large line of spit, Elias carefully let it land on the head of his cock, slowly working it up and down the throbbing shaft. The spit seemed a little thicker than normal, more viscous than expected, and had a familiar scent around it, but it barely registered with Elias. Satisfied he’d slicked himself up enough, and without warning, he drove his hardened cock home in Todd’s ass. Todd let out a small cry of surprise at both the cool but barely slick feeling of Elias’s spit and the rapid intrusion of Elias’s dick. Todd held on to the edges of the bench with both hands now as Elias instantly started pounding Todd’s hole without mercy. “Got a few loads in there already, man,” Todd said, groaning as Elias’s cock pulled out for a brief moment, slick with the cum of other men. Some primal part of Elias felt angry, and the need to flood Todd’s ass with his load grew stronger inside of him. Surprisingly, there was almost no noise except the running of the hum of the HVAC and the occasional slapping of flesh meeting flesh as they fucked. Todd, knowing secrecy and silence were of utmost import, struggled hard to keep from crying out or moaning. Yes. Good. Give it to him. Spread that seed. Elias raised his head slightly as he heard the strange internal voice again. Are these my thoughts? While his body took over its carnal instincts, his mind was elsewhere. He kept imagining his missing comrades, Lockjaw pounding Sticks in the hotel shower, and Spencer’s impressive flex just a couple rooms away. The mental image of the bulging muscles sent him over the edge, and with a feral growl of immense satisfaction, Elias emptied his balls into Todd’s ass prematurely. The sensation for both was unlike any they had experienced. Wave after wave of euphoria washed over Elias, and internally, he let out a mental cheer. Todd stopped panting, and stood upright. He turned back to his paramour. “Thank you, Elias. That was amazing. Best rando hookup ever. You must have had several days worth of cum in those balls of yours.” Elias pulled his shorts up, unsure what to say. So he opted for the excuse to make an exit. Turning aside, he said, “I… What did I just… I gotta get home and crash.” “Can I come with you? Maybe go for round two?” Todd asked like a small child asking to ‘go with’. Elias’s senses were returning. “NO! I mean… Uh… No… I’ve got a bud staying there. It would be awkward.” What an understatement - Tex would not approve of this, and Trevor would most certainly be beyond displeased. Todd wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Let me at least give you my number.” He carefully walked over to his locker, yanking the loose gym shorts up his waist on the way. Elias followed at a distance, saying nothing. His mind was somewhere else, and he felt connected to that void of a space. In an instant, he knew his comrades were all right, and he couldn’t understand how or why he knew this. Todd cheerfully returned to Elias, who was now staring into his reflection in a long bathroom mirror without a word. “Here’s my number. Text me if you want to hook up again. Thanks for the load. That was fucking hot.” Todd handed him a scrap of paper, and Elias took and pocketed it without looking at it or him. Todd got his things from a locker, stuffed them into a small gym bag, and went out of the locker room, whistling a happy tune. Elias did not watch him go. Taking a hard look at himself, he felt his heart race as he noticed his eyes looked almost yellow. His vision was getting foggy again, and the brain fog started to return. “I… um… better get home before I pass out completely.” More. Find another to spread to. NOW. Shuddering at the intrusive thought, Elias collected his own bag, and slowly left the locker room. Everything felt like it was stuck in mud and slow motion again. His gait somewhat resembled the ‘walk of shame’, but there was something more to it. Like someone or something was trying to stop him from leaving. Taking a deep breath, he pushed away the feeling, forcing his muscles to work as he picked up the pace, bursting through the front of the gym and into the dim dawn light of the city. Moving as fast as he could, Elias forced himself to focus on the ground, ignoring the few various people walking by. Breathlessly, he stormed up the stairs and shakily fumbled with the keys to the apartment, dropping them a few times before finally taking a deep breath and slowing his motions down. After one final attempt, he finally seated the key into the lock and turned it, remembering at the last minute the sleeping form of Tex on his couch and gently opening the door. Unable and unwilling to look at his friend, still obliviously snoring away, he gently dropped the gym bag at the entrance of the ensuite bathroom he shared with his husband. An errant thought crossed his mind about how Trevor always jokingly gave him a hard time for leaving his gym bag around the room. A sudden stab of guilt laced through Elias at the thought of what he just did, and in a fit of disgust, he ripped the gym clothes off, swearing he could smell the sweat and cum from his sudden fucking of Todd on the clothing. A wave of fatigue and dizziness washed over him as he felt himself falling, landing face first on the bed, promptly passing out.

This is for the obedient, the eager, the ones who crave structure, correction, and purpose under a powerful hand. Whether you’re experienced or a curious beginner, if you understand the value of surrender and respect, we may be a good match. Kik@goodnesseva223 Telegram@benicetome4 Zangi@ 10-5189-7015

Now that Dad and Son DP of you hole is just a matter of timing...

You've really captured how age provides us with wisdom from life experiences. At one point, we didn't appreciate the reasoning behind the limitations in age of consent laws. I suspect I'm not alone in saying that as we mature, we no longer view a younger person as our equal peer, but more as a recent recruit in the adventures of life. As a senior officer, it suddenly becomes our charge to guide and protect them, rather than capitalizing on the vulnerabilities of the situation.

WOW! I wish that my conversion played out like this, high as kit and then enjoy being used like slutty toy. Being that high I’d slip a butt plug in and have my phone out looking for more loads. 😈🐷😈🦯😈🐷😈 thank you @Jnjbarebkhusbands

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I am glad you have finally got his babies and mixed in with Drew's kids too. Awesome.

Also in the Seattle area.

Both are hot men, wish the top has deeper longer strokes but a hot video nonetheless

Hi will be in Seattle from Sun to Fri this week. I'm a bottom love being used, like being in the sling blindfolded, huffing and taking group loads. Enjoy porn, light BDSM, if you're interested hif me up. Open minded, open to ideas. Neg, clean and STI free, you must be as well.

Has Drew’s dad always been having sex with men or is it new? Seems like kinda going from 0 to 100 in a short span of time lol if he’s going from no sex with men to orgies with his son 😸🐽

Sound advice. Unless it's a moderator misbehaving.

16 here and I think that's fine. The bigger problem is age gap, because it would be legal for an adult my age with a 16 year old and there's a lot of issues with that. Some countries manage this by having age of consents, potentially higher than 16 but add rules for people being close in age, so for example the age of consent is 18 but they're not going to get involved with a 17 and 19 year old, but they would not be ok with a 17 and 37 year old. I recently had an experience with the youngest guy I've been with, he was 20. I am just old enough to be his dad. I asked extra questions and felt more comfortable that he actually wanted to be top. He wasn't my usual type to top me, but he was super keen to get his hands on a hairy guy old enough to be his dad and I was having a hard time to say no to that kind of energy, so we met up and was a good meet.

People have a long history of wanting stuff they can't have, like the hot married guy next door. Or so it seems in this situation because they can have some 'straight' guys. My experience, as long as you're talking about liking women, masc, stick on some plaid and jeans or whatever all the guys are wearing locally, you're 'straight' for a lot of guys. I'm not looking different to the guy next door that he's been wanting, so I'll good enough give him that experience. But I am bi, even if he does not see it. And the hot married guy next door might be bi as well. It's a problem that bi and gay men aren't seen as potentially being any guy, it makes stereotypes worse.

what happened after the 3 years?

It was definitely once of the hottest fucks ever.

Two nights ago Drew’s Dad came over. He was hard and ready to fuck. We all sucked cocks for a while. Drew’s Dad has a real handsome dick - just like his son. When the time came I got down doggy, spread my legs, arched my back and presented my hole. Drew’s Dad didn’t hesitate, he mounted my arse forced his thick uncut cock deep inside me. He rode me hard and with a loud grunt he pumped his seed in me. He pulled out and Drew mounted me. As his Dad watched Drew fucked me good. Soon he was moaning and I knew was close. He went in deep and fucked his load in me. I was in fucking heaven. My arse was full of my Boy’s and his Dad’s sperm. there’s so much I’m gunna do with them. Drew’s Dad has gotta give up his arse to us.

Chapter 4 - The conversion The world vanished into deep, rich black silk. He tied it firmly but not painfully behind my head, the knot pulling just enough to emphasize my helplessness. My other senses exploded into hyper-awareness, each one suddenly a raw nerve ending. I heard his measured footsteps on the concrete, moving around me, the slight scuff of his expensive shoes a deliberate punctuation in the heavy silence. I felt the cool, almost clinical air of the expansive room on my bare skin, a stark contrast to the internal inferno already raging within me. My pulse throbbed in my temples, a frantic drumbeat against the hum of the drugs already coursing through my system. Before he’d blindfolded me, the scene had been a blur of neon and shadow. I’d arrived already buzzing, a few tabs of Molly dissolving that pesky voice of conscience, an initial gulp of G loosening my limbs and my inhibitions. But he had upped the ante. He’d laid out the works: a mirror glinting with crystalline shards of Tina, a small vial of clear liquid, and a sterile pack containing a new syringe. “This is about more than just a fuck,” he’d said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my bones. “This is about surrender. Total, absolute. You want the payment? You earn the experience.” He’d insisted on the ‘booty bump’. A small, meticulous line of crushed Tina, carefully mixed with a drop of water, drawn into an oral syringe. The clinical precision of it was almost a turn-on in itself. He’d guided my trembling hand, the applicator slick with lube, as I eased it into my own asshole, pressing the plunger. The rush had been immediate, a molten wave of heat blooming deep inside, spreading outwards, sharpening every sensation, every desire. He’d followed suit, a shared intimacy of self-violation that bound us even before our skin touched. The Molly made me crave connection, the G made me careless, and the Tina… the Tina made me an insatiable, reckless animal. Now, blindfolded, his presence was a magnetic force. I smelled the sharp, chemical tang of poppers when he uncapped the bottle nearby, the scent tearing through the residual haze of the other drugs. “Hands on the table,” he commanded, his voice a gravelly rasp that seemed to vibrate in the very air around me, cutting through my heightened senses. I obeyed, my hands flat against the cold, smooth leather of the examination table. The leather itself felt alive, cool and yielding beneath my palms. I heard the soft rustle of his clothes as he undressed, the material whispering against itself, revealing hints of the taut, muscular body I knew was beneath. Then his hands were on me, gloved in latex, slick with cold lube. They were impersonal and efficient, turning me around, guiding my hips to lie back on the table. He spread my legs, lifted them, adjusting me with a practiced ease that made me feel utterly dehumanized, yet thrillingly exposed. His fingers, deft and unyielding, began circling my asshole, dilating and stretching me, pressing deeply, exploring every inch of my opening without asking for permission. The clinical nature of it, the cold, latex-covered invasion, was its own unique kind of depravity, stripping away all pretense of romance or even mutual desire. I was a subject. An experiment. A vessel. My heart was hammering against my ribs, a frantic drum against the backdrop of my roaring drug-addled brain. The Tina had me rigid, my muscles trembling with a barely contained energy, my cock already painfully hard, ready to explode. The G had me loose and pliant, my asshole relaxed even under his relentless assault. The Molly had stripped away my fear, replacing it with a desperate need for all of it. Then I felt the head of his cock, blunt and insistent, at my entrance. It was bigger than I remembered from the hazy night on the couch, from the quick, anonymous touch that had initiated this dark bargain. A thick, veiny column, slicked with my own lube, pressing, prodding. “The poppers,” he said again, his voice a gravelly whisper right by my ear, the sound a physical vibration against my skin. He held the bottle to my nose. “Now.” I inhaled deeply, the ammonia fumes burning my nostrils, then blossoming behind my eyes, a dizzying, head-rushing explosion of pure, mind-numbing sensation. The world tilted, spun, and for a glorious, terrifying second, ceased to exist. In that same instant, as the chemical high erased the last shreds of my resistance, melting me into a puddle of pure, raw sensation, he thrust into me. It was one smooth, brutal motion. He buried himself to the hilt, stretching me to my absolute limit, filling me completely, a hot, heavy mass of flesh. I cried out, a strangled sound that was equal parts pain and overwhelming ecstasy. My body seized around him, accepting, yielding, desperate for more. The poppers hammered everything home, locking me into this moment of exquisite, agonizing pleasure. He set a punishing rhythm from the start, each thrust jarring me against the cold leather of the table, driving me deeper into the abyss of sensation. He was silent except for his ragged breathing, the animalistic grunts that escaped his throat with each powerful stroke. This wasn’t about mutual pleasure. This was about ownership. About transmission. About a transaction being fulfilled. Suddenly, a different cold sting, a sharp prick on my forearm, cutting through the haze. My mind, drug-addled as it was, registered the familiar sensation. A slam. He wasn’t just fucking me; he was initiating a different kind of penetration, a different kind of shared experience. I heard the faint click of the plunger as he injected something into my vein, then his own low hiss of satisfaction as, I presumed, he slammed himself too, a shared ritual of chemical surrender while he was still buried inside me. The second rush hit me almost immediately, a fresh, electric wave of Tina surging through my bloodstream, amplifying every nerve ending, every tremor, every thrust. My body became a conduit for pure sensation, my thoughts dissolving into a soup of insatiable lust and dizzying oblivion. “This is what you sold,” he grunted, his voice strained with effort, his hips grinding into me with renewed ferocity. “This is what you bought.” He wasn’t talking to me, not really. He was talking to himself, narrating the event, cementing the terms of our dark contract to the universe. One of his hands found my hair, tangling in it, pulling my head back, exposing my throat, my vulnerability. The other closed around my already throbbing cock, stroking me with a relentless, knowing rhythm that mirrored his own thrusts. I was babbling, begging, though I didn’t know for what. For him to stop? For him never to stop? For this glorious, terrifying oblivion to swallow me whole? The combined effects of Molly, G, Tina, poppers, and the fresh slam had me utterly unhinged, my body a puppet to his every command, my mind lost in a shimmering fog of pleasure and fear. I felt the tension coiling in my gut, the familiar pull of an impending orgasm, but it was different this time. Darker, deeper, tainted with the primal fear of the unknown, yet liberated by the utter surrender. My body was screaming, stretched to its breaking point, yet aching for more, for this relentless invasion to continue, to consume me entirely. “You’re going to take it,” he growled, his pace becoming frantic, erratic, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, each impact a punch to my gut. “You’re going to take my load. You’re going to remember this feeling for the rest of your life. The feeling of becoming.” His words, infused with the guttural release of his own impending climax, tipped me over the edge. My orgasm ripped through me, violent and uncontrollable, painting stripes across my stomach and chest as my cock spasmed relentlessly. I screamed into the blindfold, a guttural, primal sound that was torn from the deepest part of my being, my body seizing around him, clinging to him even as I bucked against the table. My climax triggered his. With a final, deep, almost guttural roar, he stilled, buried inside me, his body trembling violently. I felt the hot, pulsing release, wave after wave of his molten seed pumping into me, filling me to overflowing. The physical manifestation of the transaction. The moment of conversion. A tremor wracked his body, and he let out a long, low groan that sounded like victory, like a predator sated. He collapsed on top of me for a moment, his weight heavy and warm, his breath hot against my ear. Then, with a sudden, almost clinical detachment, he pushed himself up and pulled out of me. The loss of his presence was a physical ache, an emptiness that echoed the void left by the drugs now beginning their inevitable descent from their peak. I felt a cold trail of his come leaking out of me, mixing with the lube and my own bodily fluids, running down my inner thighs. He untied the blindfold. The sudden rush of light was blinding, harsh, cruel after the intense darkness. I blinked up at him, my eyes struggling to adjust, the fluorescent overhead lights throwing stark shadows across his face. He was looking down at me, his expression unreadable, a strange mix of exhaustion and triumph. Sweat gleamed on his chest, on his brow, the remnants of his exertion. He looked down at where his spend was already leaking out of me onto the black leather, a shimmering, sticky testament to what had just transpired. “It is done,” he said, his voice flat now, all the passion and intensity spent, replaced by a cold finality. He turned and walked away, his back to me, not sparing another glance. He began to dress, methodically, as if nothing profound had just happened. I was left lying there, shattered and transformed, my body still buzzing with the chaotic symphony of drugs and lingering pleasure, my mind reeling from the raw, undeniable impact of the experience. The $50,000 problem was finally solved, a debt paid in the most absolute currency. But a million-dollar worth of new ones, unseen and terrifying, had just begun to bloom in the darkest corners of my soul. The conversion was complete. I was no longer just me; I was a host, a vessel, irrevocably altered, carrying the heavy weight of a secret, and perhaps, a new life ticking inside

I am a daddy with a big cock As such many guys want me to fuck , I maintain an erection but find it difficult to cum I enjoy being bottom much more & always cum especially with a loaf or two in me Do Any other guys have the same problem

I've gotten happy ending by stroke with a massage ... my preferrence these days is to give the happy ending rather than get. Tell the guy up front that I want him to tease my mouth while he's working on me. When he's ready fill my mouth and I'll be a happy man. Will have to add my ass to the menu next time.