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A similar if ORAL story. I was staying in a small gay guesthouse in Phoenix a couple years ago. 8 rooms total I think and pool. Nudity encouraged. I told the owner/manager that I was a cocksucker and asked him to get the word out if he thought it appropriate. I wasn't in my room for 5 minutes when this lanky 30-something guy was knocking at my door asking me if I needed a load. Yes! That guy came by 5 times while I was there, including once after I had gone to bed. But his dick was so suckalicious I wouldn't dream of turning him down. He even came in while I was getting ready to check out asking if he could give me a "goodbye load". I loved it and tasted his cum the entire time I was there. Love being an oral cum dump.

Nice again 👄

Nice 👄

My first cock was from another married guy and, unfortunately, condoms were used. He was a little bigger than me at around 6.5" and decent thickness. We used lube and he went slow, so it felt good. After he came in the condom, I fucked him with a condom. I wished we had opted to ditch the condoms since we were each other's first male fuck. My first raw dick and load was from a hot bear guy. This was before Prep - 30 years ago. He was about 7" and thick. It felt amazing. He bred me a total of 4 times over a 2 month period before moving away. I found out years later that he tested poz not long after he bred me, so he may have been shooting toxic loads. I'm still neg.

Nothing better than feeling a mans seed in you the next morning. The scent of cum and ass juices is intoxicating

Great story! works as a standalone….. leaves it up to our imagination as to what happens next …. My thoughts are that Jerry doesn’t pick up the contract…. why would he if he was having to use condoms now …. He owned the cumdump … whored him out and got him Pozzed up (you wonder if most of the guys since then have also been poz? And just how viral our cum dump is now) hot that they went to a different clinic each time and had the results mailed @Catchr, love how your mind works …. Looking forward to finding your other stories

Quick Sniffies hook-up this morning with a smooth young femboy staying in my hotel. Stopped by his room after my workout to find door open and him ass up in bed. Ate out his creamy sloppy hole to warm him up (he got bred last night by a bbc)…I nailed his ass to the bed and then pumped a 5-day load into him…and then ate that out as well. Zipped up and left Couldn’t stop thinking about that warm slick pussy just begging to be fucked so I went back an hour later and used my own load as lube to ream his ass again…then dumped a second even bigger nutt into his guts . Hoping to stop by and breed my boy again later tonight.

Chapter 14 The stale, greasy air of the burger joint clung to Jordan’s clothes as he leaned against the driver’s side door of Blake’s beat-up sedan. His heart was a frantic drum against his ribs, a mix of residual anger from the video and a gnawing, anxious guilt. He’d driven on pure impulse, fueled by the raw, confusing aftermath of his encounter with Jared. He needs to know, Jordan thought. He needs to know it wasn't just about revenge. He knocked on the window, the sound too loud in the quiet street. The driver’s side window whirred down, revealing Blake’s surprised face. His eyes, a startling shade of blue, widened slightly before a guarded, almost wary expression settled over his features. The intricate floral tattoos on his hips peeked out from beneath the waistband of his low-slung jeans. “Jordan? What’s up?” “We need to talk,” Jordan said, his voice tighter than he intended. “About what happened. With Jared.” Blake’s jaw clenched. He looked away for a moment, out the windshield, before his gaze returned, colder. “Look, man, if you’re here to give me shit again—” “I’m not,” Jordan interrupted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’m here to say… what you did was fucked up. Going behind my back and having sex with Jared, on camera, for money. It was wrong.” Blake’s defensive posture softened a fraction, replaced by wary curiosity. “Okay…?” Jordan took a shaky breath, the hardest part still to come. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. I sent the video of my step dad because I was mad. “But only partly because I was mad.” He forced himself to hold Blake’s gaze, to let him see the raw, unvarnished truth. “It was mostly because I was jealous.” The admission hung in the air between them, heavy and electric. Blake’s eyes searched his, the ice in them melting into something else entirely—shock, confusion, and a dawning, fragile hope. “Jealous?” Blake breathed out, the word barely a whisper. “Yeah,” Jordan said, his own voice dropping to match. “You confessed this… this huge thing to me. This dirty secret. And I threw it back in your face. And then I heard you with him, and it felt like you’d taken something that was…” He trailed off, the rest of the sentence—that was meant for me—too terrifying to voice. A slow, understanding dawned on Blake’s face. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I was gonna ask you, you know,” he said, his voice thick with a sudden, vulnerable honesty. “That day. I was gonna ask if you wanted to… to collab. On camera. With me.” Jordan’s breath hitched. What? “But I was terrified,” Blake continued, his gaze dropping to his hands on the steering wheel. “After you pulled away from my kiss… I was so sure you’d reject me. I thought it was the stupidest idea I’d ever had.” He looked up, his blue eyes glistening. “So I went to Jared instead. It was easier. Safer. And I know he struggles more financially than you do.” The revelation landed like a physical blow, rearranging everything Jordan thought he knew about the last few days. The tension that had been coiling in the air between them—the hurt, the betrayal, the unsaid words—didn’t evaporate. It transmuted. It crackled, heating from within, shifting from emotional static into a pure, undiluted, erotic charge. They both felt it at the exact same moment. Jordan saw it in the way Blake’s pupils dilated, black swallowing the blue. Blake saw it in the way Jordan’s lips parted, his breathing turning shallow. The space inside the car suddenly felt too small, too hot, charged with a need so potent it was dizzying. There was no more talking. With a guttural sound that was half-growl, half-plea, Blake shoved the car door open. Jordan didn’t hesitate. He surged forward, meeting him halfway as Blake scrambled out of the driver’s seat. Their bodies collided against the side of the car, hands grabbing, pulling, mouths crashing together in a kiss that was nothing like the tentative one they’d shared before. This was a conflagration. It was all desperate, hungry lips and clashing teeth and frantic tongues. Jordan’s hands fisted in Blake’s shirt, yanking it up over his head and tossing it blindly into the dark car. Blake’s nails scraped down Jordan’s back as he worked the button on his jeans, the rasp of the zipper a obscenely loud counterpoint to their ragged breathing. “Inside. Now,” Blake panted against his mouth, pulling him toward the back seat. They tumbled into the cramped space, a chaotic mess of limbs and urgency. The doors slammed shut, sealing them in their own private, heated world. Jordan landed half on top of Blake, their hard cocks grinding together through the fabric of their jeans, drawing identical, sharp gasps from both of them. “Fuck, Jordan,” Blake moaned, his head falling back against the seat, exposing the long line of his throat. Jordan latched onto it, sucking a dark mark into the skin as his hands finally, finally, shoved Blake’s jeans and boxers down his hips. And there it was. Blake’s cock, just as he remembered from that first video session. Thick, impressive, curving upward, already glistening with a pearl of precum at the tip. Jordan wrapped his hand around it, and Blake bucked up into his touch with a broken cry. “You like that?” Jordan murmured, his voice rough with desire as he stroked him, his thumb smearing the slickness over the flushed head. “You have no idea,” Blake gasped out, his eyes screwed shut. “No fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.” The confession was a live wire. Jordan claimed his mouth again in a searing kiss as he shimmied out of his own clothes, their naked skin sliding together in the humid dark of the car. The scent of sweat and cheap cologne and pure, unadulterated male desire filled the air. Blake’s hands were everywhere—gripping Jordan’s ass, tracing the muscles of his back, tangling in his hair. “I need to feel you,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Please, Jordan. I need all of you.” Jordan stilled, looking down at him. The streetlight outside cast shifting shadows across Blake’s handsome face, highlighting the desire, the trust, the raw vulnerability there. “You sure?” he asked, his own need a painful, throbbing ache. “It’s your first time… like this.” “Yes,” Blake breathed, his eyes blazing with certainty. “I’m sure. I want it to be you. Only you.” That was all the permission Jordan needed. He reached for his discarded jeans, fumbling for his wallet, his fingers shaking as he ripped open a condom packet. Blake watched him, chest heaving, his own hands stroking his hard, leaking length as Jordan sheathed himself. “Tell me what you want.” Jordan whispered, positioning himself, the head of his cock pressing against Blake’s entrance. “You,” Blake moaned, wrapping his legs around Jordan’s waist, pulling him closer. “Fuck me, Jordan. Make me yours.” The sound of his name coming from Blake's mouth lit his brain on fire. The filthy, desperate plea was Jordan’s undoing. He pressed forward, slowly, inexorably, breaching that tight, incredible heat. Blake’s breath caught, a sharp hiss of pain and pleasure as his body stretched to accommodate him. “Okay?” Jordan gritted out, stopping, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort of holding still. “Fuck yes,” Blake gasped, his eyes rolling back. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” Jordan began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that made the old car’s suspension creak in protest. Each thrust was a revelation. The tight, clenching heat surrounding him, the way Blake’s body opened for him, took him in, the raw, unfiltered sounds being torn from Blake’s throat. “Harder,” Blake demanded, his nails digging into Jordan’s shoulders. “Oh, yes, just like that. Your cock feels so fucking good inside me. Keep fucking me...” Jordan obeyed, pistoning his hips faster, driving deeper with every stroke. The filthy talk, the complete surrender, the overwhelming sensation—it was all hurtling him toward the edge. He could feel Blake’s body tightening around him, could hear his moans climbing in pitch. “Look at me,” Jordan commanded, grabbing Blake’s chin. “I want to see you.” Blake’s eyes fluttered open, glassy with pleasure, utterly besotted. “Jordan…” he whimpered, his hand flying to his own cock, stroking himself in frantic time with Jordan’s thrusts. “You’re mine,” Jordan growled, the possessive words tumbling out, a perfect echo of the ones Jared had used on him. They felt right. They felt true. That was all it took. Blake’s eyes snapped shut as his orgasm ripped through him with a wordless shout, his cum shooting up in thick stripes across his stomach and chest. The violent clenching of his body around Jordan’s cock threw Jordan over the edge a second later. He buried himself to the hilt with a guttural cry, his own release pulsing into the condom in hot, endless waves. They collapsed together in the messy, cramped space, a tangled heap of sweaty limbs and spent desire. The only sound was their ragged, synced breathing fogging up the windows. Jordan, still buried inside Blake, felt the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through them both. After a long moment, Blake’s hand came up, his fingers weakly tracing Jordan’s jawline. His eyes, when they opened, were clear and held a terrifying, beautiful depth of emotion. “I’m in love with you, Jordan,” he whispered, the words raw and awed. “I think I have been for years.” He looked up, his blue eyes wide Chapter 15 The words hung in the air, a dense, suffocating fog that seemed to fill the entire interior of Blake’s car. I’m in love with you, Jordan. They weren’t just words; they were a seismic event, cracking the foundation of everything Jordan thought he understood about his own heart. He pulled back, the physical separation from Blake’s warmth feeling like a necessary, painful act of survival. The scent of their sweat and sex was suddenly overwhelming, a cloying reminder of the intimacy that had just forged a new, impossible connection. “Blake, I…” he started, but his voice failed him. What could he possibly say? Thank you? Me too? The first was inadequate, the second a lie. The truth was a tangled knot of affection, lust, guilt, and a deep, anchoring pull toward Jared that refused to loosen. Blake’s face, so open and vulnerable moments before, began to shutter closed at Jordan’s silence. The raw hope in his blue eyes dimmed, replaced by a flicker of the old defensiveness. “Right,” he said, the single word flat and heavy. He awkwardly shifted, pulling his jeans up over his hips, the movement breaking the last physical tether between them. “It’s not that I…” Jordan tried again, fumbling for his own clothes. The condom felt cold and alien against his skin. “What you said… it’s a lot. And I’m… with Jared.” Aren’t I? The thought was a fresh wave of confusion. After their explosive fight and the possessive, raw sex that followed, what were they? “I know you are,” Blake muttered, not looking at him as he pulled his shirt on. “Forget I said anything. It was the heat of the moment.” But the tremor in his voice betrayed him. It was anything but. The drive home was a silent, torturous affair. Jordan replayed Blake’s confession on a loop, each iteration tightening the knot in his stomach. He felt the ghost of Blake’s body against his, the intensity of his gaze, the raw honesty in his whisper. It stirred something deep and undeniable within him, a burning ember of want that was entirely separate from what he felt for Jared. How can I want two people so completely, so differently? The question had no answer, only the heavy weight of impending consequence. He pulled into his driveway, the house dark and quiet. His mother was at her evening shift, and Scott’s truck was parked in its usual spot. Scott. Of course. The only person in his life who wouldn’t judge the messy, chaotic tangle of his feelings. Jordan found him in the living room, a half-finished glass of whiskey in one hand, a book facedown on his lap. He looked up as Jordan entered, and his relaxed expression immediately sharpened into one of concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Scott said, his voice a low, steady rumble. “Everything okay with Jared?” Jordan sank into the armchair opposite him, running his hands through his hair. “It’s not Jared. Well, it is, but it’s… it’s more.” The words poured out of him then, a rushed, jumbled confession about the video, the confrontation, the desperate, passionate collision in the back of Blake’s car, and finally, the three words that had changed everything. He left nothing out, the relief of unburdening himself making him dizzy. Scott listened without interruption, his gaze fixed on Jordan, his expression unreadable. When Jordan finally fell silent, spent and waiting, Scott took a slow sip of his whiskey. “Wow,” he finally said, letting out a low whistle. “That’s… a situation.” “You’re telling me,” Jordan groaned, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “What the hell do I do, Scott? I can’t have two boyfriends. That’s… that’s not how this works. Is it?” He looked up, seeking wisdom from the one person who might have any. Scott swirled the amber liquid in his glass, thinking. “It can work,” he said carefully. “For some people. It’s called an open relationship, or polyamory. But it only works on a foundation of brutal, terrifying honesty. It’s not a way to avoid making a choice; it’s a choice in itself, and it’s a hell of a lot harder than being monogamous.” Honesty. The word felt like a punch. He’d been hiding so much from everyone, including himself. “So, what? I just go to Jared and say, ‘Hey, I know we just reconnected after a huge fight, but I also really want to be with the guy you just made a porn video with’?” The absurdity of it made a bitter laugh escape his lips. “He’d lose his mind.” “Probably,” Scott agreed, a faint, knowing smile touching his lips. “But you have to start somewhere. You have to talk to him. You have to tell him how you’re feeling—the confusion, the pull you feel toward Blake, everything. You owe him that. And you owe it to yourself.” Jordan’s mind recoiled at the thought of that conversation. Jared’s jealousy was a fierce, palpable thing. The image of his furious, possessive expression from their last argument flashed in his mind. “He’ll never go for it. He’s too… Jared.” “You don’t know that,” Scott countered gently. “People can surprise you. But even if he says no, even if it ends things between you, you’ll have been honest. And you’ll be free to explore what you have with Blake without this guilt eating you alive.” He leaned forward, his gaze intense. “And you need to be just as honest with Blake. Tell him you have feelings for him, but that you’re also committed to figuring things out with Jared. He deserves to know where he stands, even if it’s a difficult place.” The advice was logical, mature, and utterly terrifying. It meant walking into potential fire twice over. But beneath the fear, a sliver of clarity began to form. The knot in his stomach loosened just a fraction. Scott was right. The only way out was through. “An open relationship,” Jordan murmured, testing the words. They felt foreign on his tongue, a concept from a world far more complicated than the one he thought he lived in. The idea of it sent a jolt of something through him—anxiety, yes, but also a dark, thrilling curl of anticipation. Jared’s possessive fire and Blake’s vulnerable intensity… could I really have both? He stood up, a new, nervous energy coursing through him. “Okay,” he said, mostly to himself. “Okay. Honesty.” Scott nodded, a look of quiet pride in his eyes. “It’s the hardest path, kid. But it’s the only one that leads somewhere real.” Jordan pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over Jared’s name. His heart hammered against his ribs. Every instinct told him to retreat, to hide, to fall back into the easy pattern of secret hookups and suppressed desires. But he thought of Blake’s heartbroken expression, of Jared’s furious passion, and of the confusing, overwhelming want for them both that refused to be ignored. He took a deep, shaking breath and typed out a message, the words feeling like a point of no return. We need to talk. For real. Can you come over? He hit send before he could lose his nerve, the whoosh sound echoing in the quiet room. The three dots appeared almost immediately, bouncing on the screen. Jordan’s mouth went dry. This was it. The first step onto the hardest path. The dots stopped. Jared’s reply was simple, stark, and utterly terrifying. On my way.

Chapter 13 The silence in Jordan’s bedroom was thick, heavy with the scent of sex and revenge. Scott had left with a final, knowing look, leaving Jordan alone with the phantom vibrations of the sent text message. He stared at his phone, the screen dark now, waiting. The adrenaline that had fueled his actions was ebbing, leaving a hollow, shaky feeling in its wake. What have I done? A sudden, violent pounding on the front door shattered the quiet. Jared. It wasn’t a polite knock. It was a demand. A threat. The sound echoed through the still house, a frantic drumbeat that matched the sudden frantic rhythm of Jordan’s heart. He pulled his shorts back up, his skin still tingling, and moved on unsteady legs toward the living room. He pulled the door open, and there he was. Jared stood on the porch, chest heaving, his face a mask of fury and something else, something raw and wild Jordan couldn’t immediately name. His eyes were blazing, his phone clutched in a white-knuckled fist at his side. The video was still playing on its screen, a tiny, silent, damning loop of Scott’s release. “What the fuck is this, Jordan?” Jared’s voice was low, a tremble of barely controlled rage underlying each word. He didn’t wait for an answer. He shoved past Jordan into the living room, the force of his entry making Jordan stumble back a step. “You sent me a fucking video of your stepdad jerking off,” Jared spat, whirling around to face him. “Are you insane? What is wrong with you?” The hollow feeling vanished, incinerated by a fresh wave of defensive anger. “What’s wrong with me?” Jordan shot back, squaring his shoulders. “I know what I heard at your house, Jared. I know who was in your bed. Don’t you dare stand there and act like I’m the crazy one.” Jared’s expression flickered, a flash of guilt quickly smothered by renewed anger. “So this is your solution? You fuck my boss? You send me a porno of it?” “We didn’t fuck!” The denial was out before Jordan could stop it, too quick, too defensive. We just got off on the idea of it, on hurting you. He saw the instant Jared processed the distinction, his eyes narrowing. “You just… what? Had a mutual jerk-off session? That’s supposed to be better?” Jared took a step closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming the space between them. The air crackled. “You did this to get back at me.” “Yeah,” Jordan admitted, his own voice dropping, losing its heat and gaining a dark, confessional tone. “I did. You hurt me. I wanted to hurt you back. It felt… good.” Jared stared at him, his breathing still ragged. The fury in his eyes was slowly being diluted by confusion, by a dawning, shocking understanding. His gaze dropped from Jordan’s face, trailing down his body, and Jordan knew, with a sudden, visceral certainty, what he was seeing. The memory of the video. The image of Scott. The raw, unfiltered masculinity of it. Jared’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. The anger wasn’t gone, but it was… shifting. Transforming. His eyes, when they lifted back to meet Jordan’s, held a new, terrifying heat. “It felt good,” Jared repeated, not a question, but a low, fascinated statement. He took another step, closing the distance until they were almost chest to chest. Jordan could feel the heat radiating from his body, could see the rapid pulse beating at the base of his throat. “Watching him. Making him do that for you. It turned you on.” Jordan couldn’t look away. He could only nod, a tiny, jerky motion. “It turned me on,” Jared whispered, the admission ripped from him, harsh and honest. The confession hung between them, a live wire. All the jealousy, the betrayal, the rage—it all funneled into that single, electrifying point. They weren't two guys arguing anymore. They were two animals, circling, driven by a need that was bigger than reason. Jared’s hand came up, not to shove, but to grip the back of Jordan’s neck. His fingers were warm, possessive. “You wanted a reaction?” he murmured, his voice gravelly, his breath ghosting over Jordan’s lips. “You got one.” And then he kissed him. It was nothing like their previous kisses. There was no tenderness, no exploration. This was a clash. A claiming. Jared’s mouth was hard and demanding on his, his tongue plunging inward with a desperation that felt like violence. Jordan met him with equal force, his own hands coming up to fist in Jared’s shirt, holding him there, accepting the punishment, the apology, the desperate, fucked-up desire all at once. They stumbled backward, a tangled mess of limbs and furious energy, until the back of Jordan’s knees hit the arm of the couch and they spilled onto it. Jared landed on top of him, his weight familiar and anchoring. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down Jordan’s jaw to his neck, sucking a bruise into the skin there that would bloom purple by morning. A mark. Proof. “You’re such an asshole,” Jared growled against his throat, his hips grinding down, the hard ridge of his erection pressing insistently against Jordan’s through their clothes. “You’re a bigger one,” Jordan gasped out, arching up into the pressure, his own cock throbbing in response. The friction was maddening, not nearly enough. His hands scrabbled at Jared’s waistband, desperate. Jared sat back, kneeling over him, his eyes dark with a possessive fire Jordan had never seen before. He grabbed the hem of his own shirt and ripped it over his head, tossing it aside. His chest was heaving, his muscles taut. “You want to show me what I’m missing?” he challenged, his voice dripping with a new kind of intent. “Then show me.” He leaned down, his hands going to the button of Jordan’s shorts. He didn’t fumble. He made quick, rough work of it, yanking the fabric down Jordan’s thighs in one sharp movement. Jordan’s cock sprang free, already fully hard, dripping onto his stomach. Jared’s gaze locked onto it, his lips parting slightly. The anger was still there, simmering, but it was now entirely wrapped in a blinding, all-consuming lust. “Mine,” he said, the word a low growl of possession. He didn’t use his hands. He lowered his head, and his mouth, hot and wet and impossibly skilled, enveloped Jordan in a single, devastating motion. Jordan cried out, his back bowing off the couch. Oh, god. It was different from before. This wasn’t the experimental, curious blowjob from their first night. This was… vengeance. This was claiming territory. Jared’s tongue worked him with a brutal, exquisite expertise, swirling around the head before plunging down again, taking him deep, until Jordan felt the head of his cock hit the back of Jared’s throat. Jared’s hands pinned Jordan’s hips to the couch, holding him still, forcing him to take every devastating inch. The sight was unbelievable—Jared, his best friend, the guy he’d just tried to destroy, between his legs, sucking his cock like his life depended on it. Like he was starving for it. The incoherent, pleading sounds falling from Jordan’s lips only seemed to spur Jared on. He moaned around Jordan’s length, the vibration shooting through Jordan like lightning. His own hips began to move in tiny, helpless thrusts, fucking up into that perfect, hot wetness. He was losing control, teetering on the edge far too quickly, the combined emotional whiplash and physical sensation shattering his composure. “Jared… fuck… I’m gonna…” Jared pulled off with a wet, obscene pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to Jordan’ glistening tip. His own breathing was ragged, his eyes glassy with need. He looked wrecked, and it was the most beautiful thing Jordan had ever seen. “Not yet,” Jared commanded, his voice hoarse. He shoved his own jeans and boxers down just enough to free his own thick, eight-inch cock. It curved upward, flushed a deep red, leaking copiously. He spat into his palm, a crude, primal gesture, and fisted his own length, stroking once, twice, his eyes locked on Jordan’s. “You wanted to play games?” Jared panted, shifting his weight. He positioned himself over Jordan, the head of his cock pressing against Jordan’s, sliding through the slickness there. “Let’s play.” He lowered his body, his cock aligning perfectly with Jordan’s. Their lengths slid together, a hot, velvety friction that made them both gasp. Jared’s hand wrapped around both of them, his grip firm, and he began to stroke. Oh. My. God. It was an entirely new kind of pleasure. The feel of Jared’s thicker skin sliding against his own, the way their precum mixed to form a slick, perfect lubricant, the overwhelming visual of their bodies joined like this. Jordan’s hands flew to Jared’s ass, gripping the hard muscle there, pulling him closer, grinding up against him, needing more, more, more. Jared’s forehead dropped against his, their ragged breaths mingling. His strokes became faster, more frantic, his hips pistoning, fucking his cock against Jordan’s in a sublime, frantic rhythm. “This what you wanted?” Jared grunted, his voice strained, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. “This what you thought about when you made that video?” “Yes,” Jordan moaned, his own climax building again, a tidal wave of sensation. “Fuck, Jared, just like that…” “You’re mine,” Jared growled again, a final, desperate declaration as his rhythm began to stutter. “You hear me? Mine.” The possessive words were the final trigger. Jordan’s orgasm exploded out of him with a guttural cry, his cum shooting up between their sweat-slicked chests in hot, pulsing streaks. The feel of Jordan climaxing sent Jared over the edge a second later. He threw his head back with a choked roar, his own release joining Jordan’s, painting their stomachs in a messy, shared proof of their fucked-up, undeniable connection. They collapsed together onto the couch, a tangled, sticky, breathless heap. The only sound was their harsh, labored breathing. Jared’s weight was a comforting pressure on top of him. Jordan could feel the frantic beat of Jared’s heart against his own chest, slowly beginning to steady. After a long moment, Jared shifted, propping himself up on an elbow. He looked down at Jordan, his expression unreadable, his eyes tracing the mess on both their bodies. He reached out, his thumb brushing through the cooling cum on Jordan’s stomach. He brought his thumb to his own lips, never breaking eye contact, and slowly, deliberately, licked it clean. A shiver racked Jordan’s entire body. Jared’s voice was quiet, awed, and utterly wrecked. “What are we doing, Jordan?” Jared’s phone buzzed sharply on the coffee table, the sound cutting through the heavy, post-climax silence. He hesitated, his thumb still resting on Jordan’s stomach, before reluctantly reaching for it. Jordan watched as Jared’s expression shifted from dazed to focused, his brow furrowing as he read the screen. “Who is it?” Jordan asked, his voice hoarse. Jared didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he handed the phone to Jordan, allowing him to see the message from Blake: Miss me yet? Has our video made any money online yet? Jordan’s eyes widened. “What the hell is this?” Jared exhaled sharply, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Blake and I… we’ve been making videos. For extra cash.” “Videos?” Jordan sat up slowly, his stomach churning with a mix of shock and curiosity. “Like… porn?” Jared nodded, his jaw tightening. “It started as a joke, you know? Just fucking around. But then people started paying. A lot.” “How much is ‘a lot’?” Jordan asked, his voice lowering, a strange, almost predatory interest creeping into his tone. Jared hesitated again, his gaze locked on Jordan’s. “Enough to cover rent. Food. Whatever we need.” He paused, his voice dropping even further. “Sometimes… more.” Jordan’s mind raced. The implications were huge. All this time, Jared had been keeping this secret—this lucrative, dangerous secret. And now, because of that damn video with Scott, he was tangled up in it too. “So… what?” Jordan said slowly, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re saying there’s money in this? Real money?” Jared’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of something else—anticipation, maybe. “Yeah. There is. Why? You interested?” The question hung in the air between them, heavy with possibility. Jordan leaned back against the couch, his heart pounding. This wasn’t just about revenge anymore. This was about opportunity. About power. And maybe, just maybe, about something more. “Maybe,” Jordan said finally, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside him. “But if we’re doing this… we’re doing it my way.”

Chapter 12 The low, greasy hum of the fryer followed Jordan home, a greasy film on his skin that no amount of handwashing could remove. He’d spent three days wrapped in a thick fog of confusion, Scott’s secret a lead weight in his gut that pulsed in time with the memory of their mutual release. We didn’t touch. It wasn’t that bad. The mantra did little to quiet the roar in his head. He’d avoided Jared, the guilt making his texts feel like lies. Getting sent home early from the burger joint felt like a reprieve. A surprise visit with Jared’s favorite Western Burger, a return to normalcy, that’s what he needed. Something to ground him. But then he turned onto Jared’s cul-de-sac. And saw Blake’s beat-up sedan parked boldly in the driveway. His steps slowed. Why? They weren’t friends. Jared hadn’t mentioned hanging out. A cold trickle of unease dripped down his spine. He pulled out his phone. Hey, you home? No immediate response. The house was quiet, too quiet. The front door, which was perpetually unlocked in Jared’s famously open household, was firmly shut and locked.. His heart began a slow, heavy thud against his ribs. He circled around back. The back door was also locked. A first. The only light on was in Jared’s bedroom, the blinds drawn tight. He crept closer, the damp grass soaking through his sneakers. Then he heard it. A low, guttural moan. Unmistakably Jared’s. The exact sound he made when he was buried deep, when pleasure stripped him of all control. It was followed by a higher, breathy gasp. Blake. Jordan’s breath hitched. He stood frozen under the window, his world tilting on its axis. The paper bag containing the burger grew heavy, greasy, pathetic in his hand. Another moan, this one muffled, then the distinct, rhythmic thump-thump-thump of a headboard hitting a wall. The sounds painted a brutal, vivid picture in his mind: Jared’s muscular body moving, Blake’s tattoos flexing, their sweat-slicked skin sliding together. A cold, sharp fury instantly vaporized his confusion. Without thinking, his hand was steady as he pulled out his phone, thumbed open the video recorder, and held it up to the gap in the blinds. He captured thirty seconds of their private symphony—the ragged breaths, the wet slaps of flesh, Jared’s broken, pleasured cries. Proof. Then he turned and walked away, his stomach a tight knot of betrayal and white-hot rage. The house was dark when he got home, save for a single light in the living room. Scott was in his armchair, a book open on his lap, a glass of whiskey on the side table. He looked up as Jordan slammed the door a little too hard. “Home early,” Scott observed, his voice a calm, deep rumble. Then his eyes, always so perceptive, narrowed. “What’s wrong?” The concern in his tone was the final crack in Jordan’s dam. The story spilled out of him in a rushed, angry torrent—the locked doors, the sounds from the window, the recording on his phone. “He’s with Blake,” Jordan finished, the name dripping with venom. “After everything.” Scott listened silently, his expression unreadable. When Jordan was done, he set his book aside and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “The right thing,” he said, his voice measured, “is to talk to him. Show him the video. Confront him with the evidence and have a calm, honest conversation.” Jordan just stared, his jaw clenched. The advice was reasonable, adult. And it felt utterly inadequate. A slow, knowing smile touched Scott’s lips. He stood up, crossing the room until he was standing right in front of Jordan, looking down at him. He reached out, not touching him, but his presence was suddenly overwhelming. “But that’s not what you want to do, is it?” he asked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You don’t want to talk. You want to hurt him back. You want revenge.” The word hung in the air between them, dark and tempting. Jordan gave a stiff, silent nod. Scott’s smile widened. “Good.” The single word was full of dark promise. “Then let me help you.” His hand finally came up, his thumb brushing against Jordan’s lower lip. The contact was electric, a jolt that went straight to Jordan’s core. “He took something from you. Your trust. Your... exclusive attention. So take something from him.” Jordan’s heart was hammering again, but the furious ache was rapidly being replaced by a different, hotter, more desperate thrum. “What?” he breathed out, his lips moving against Scott’s thumb. “Me,” Scott said, his voice a low growl. “He knows what I saw. Show him you have access to something he can only watch from the doorway.” His other hand came up to cradle Jordan’s jaw, forcing unwavering eye contact. “Let’s make him a movie of our own.” The proposition was so devious, so perfectly targeted, it stole the air from Jordan’s lungs. All the conflicted guilt from the other night vanished, burned away by the inferno of betrayal and this new, intoxicating offer of power. Yes. This was the language he understood right now. Not talking. Not crying. Action. “My room,” Jordan whispered, his voice husky. “Now.” Scott didn’t hesitate. He followed Jordan down the hall, a predator’s grace in his step. Once the door was locked, Jordan turned, his back against it. Scott stood in the center of the room, already pulling his tight black t-shirt over his head, revealing the broad, sculpted chest dusted with dark hair. His hands went to his belt buckle. “Wait,” Jordan commanded, the new authority in his own voice surprising him. He held up his phone. “We’re making this for an audience of one.” Understanding flashed in Scott’s eyes, followed by a wave of raw hunger. He dropped his hands to his sides, a willing participant. A prop. Jordan hit record, framing Scott’s powerful upper body in the screen. “Take them off,” Jordan said, his voice steady, his own arousal a hard, demanding pressure in his jeans. “Slowly.” Scott obeyed, his eyes locked on the phone’s lens. He unbuckled his belt with deliberate slowness, the rasp of leather loud in the quiet room. He unbuttoned his jeans, the sound of the zipper coming down a slow, torturous descent. He pushed them down his thick thighs, along with his boxer briefs, and his cock sprang free, already fully erect, thick and formidable. Jordan zoomed in on it, on the glistening bead of precum welling at the tip. “Touch yourself,” he instructed, his own hand sneaking into his jeans to grip his own hardness, stroking in time with the fantasy playing out in front of him. Scott’s large, calloused hand wrapped around his shaft, and he gave a low, gravelly groan that vibrated through the phone’s speaker. He began to stroke, his fist moving with a practiced, devastating rhythm. Oh, fuck. The visual was overwhelming. The sheer size of him, the possessive way his hand worked his own flesh, the pure, undiluted masculinity of it. “Faster,” Jordan breathed, his own strokes becoming frantic. He panned the phone up Scott’s body, capturing the ripple of abs, the heaving chest, the intense, focused expression on his face. Scott’s breath hitched. His hips began to piston forward, fucking his own fist. “You like watching me pump my cock, Jordan?” he grunted, breaking the fourth wall, speaking directly to the camera—and by extension, to its intended viewer. “You like seeing what makes my cock feel good?” The possessiveness in the question, the implication that he was what was owned, sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through Jordan. He was so close. He could see Scott was too, his balls drawn up tight, his muscles corded with tension. “I’m gonna cum,” Scott growled, a warning and a promise. “You want me to cum for you, son? You gonna show him how I shoot when I lose it for you?” That was it. The trigger. With a choked moan, Jordan’s orgasm ripped through him, spurting hot into his own hand, his body trembling violently against the door. The phone wavered in his grip catching his orgasm on video. On the screen, Scott followed him over the edge with a stifled roar, his thick release pulsing over his fist and stomach in dramatic, pearlescent streaks. The video ended. The room was silent except for their ragged panting. Jordan lowered the phone, his legs feeling like jelly. Scott stood there, spent and glorious, a slight, triumphant smirk on his face. Without a word, Jordan typed Jared’s number, attached the video file, and added a single line of text. Missed you tonight. Thought you should see what you’re missing. His thumb hovered over the send button. He looked at Scott, who gave a single, slow, approving nod. He pressed send.

Great first chapter…. Wish I had a boyfriend like Scott…

Damn. …. Great writing…… short and to the point in capturing the “need” hopefully another chapter or two is coming also would love to know more about our narrator… how old is he ? And how he responds when “nature takes it’s course”

When reading the best stories on the site you can clearly pick up that the author has experience of the very specific nuances of chemsex and used that experience to draft an engaging and sexy story that is relatable, even when the story goes beyond the physical boundaries of what is actually possible. These experiences we participate in are often hard to describe as we experience them in individually unique ways. If you have ever been in a k-hole it can be amazing or alarming. I happen to enjoy it. I can often recall and describe the visuals, but find it almost impossible to describe the overall experience . Certainly the reason I am not a story writer! An AI agent using a large language model has zero actual experience of chemsex to call upon, instead having to rely on a relatively small set of relevant information that it can use as reference. I am sure this will change and improve! What the models can do is write in certain styles with great effectiveness due to their ability to pull from hundreds of years of literature. This seems to translate to AI generated stories being written with a high level of maturity and complexity. However just like the too many fingers we see in AI generated images, this can translate to too many words to say the simplest thing or extra words that a human author would simply edit out. Personally I think this can make a story harder to read and as a result less sexy. I applaud the authors giving AI stories a try. Their skill in putting in the correct prompts to the large language model already exceeds my ability. I suspect we have to tell the large language models a lot more about the feelings we experience during sex and the impact that drugs have on that. To get progress there has to be pioneers. The end goal of using every tool at our disposal to get more stories onto this site, is to be encouraged I would like to see them clearly identified as AI but I'm also realistic enough to know that soon I may not be able to tell if something is written by AI, Human or a combination @Pozzible Thank you for being a pioneer.

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