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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".

FUCK ME ON VIDEO MY VIDEOS: [think before following links] https://www.boyfriendtv.com/profiles/77293/

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.

Chapter 18 The weight of the last twenty-four hours pressed down on Jordan the moment he stepped through his front door. It was a physical thing, a leaden exhaustion that seeped into his bones. The emotional whiplash of Blake’s confession, the terrifying honesty with Jared, the fragile, desperate connection they’d reforged on the couch—it had all left him hollowed out. He barely managed to kick off his shoes and shrug out of his jacket before collapsing onto his bed. The world dissolved into a dreamless, merciful void within seconds. Sunlight, sharp and accusing, pulled him back to consciousness. He groaned, rolling over and fumbling for his phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up, and his breath caught. A text from Blake, sent an hour ago. Blake: I didn’t sleep. Thought about it all night. What you said… it’s insane. It’s the craziest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. Jordan’s heart plummeted. Here it comes, he thought, the rejection he’d been half-expecting. He started to type a reply, an apology already forming on his fingers, when a second message popped up. Blake: I’ll try it. For you. I’ll give this crazy idea a shot. But we all have to sit down. All three of us. We need to talk about the… the logistics of this thing. Or I’ll lose my mind. A wave of pure, unadulterated relief so powerful it made him dizzy washed over Jordan. He sat bolt upright, a wide, disbelieving grin spreading across his face. He said yes. Well, not yes, but maybe. It was a chance. It was everything. He immediately called Jared, who grunted a sleepy “’Lo?” into the phone. “He’s in,” Jordan said, the words bursting out of him. “Blake. He wants to talk. The three of us. Tonight.” There was a long pause on the other end, filled only with the sound of Jared’s slow, measured breathing. Jordan could picture him, lying in his own bed, processing this new reality. “Okay,” Jared finally said, his voice gruff but clear. “Your place. Seven.” Jordan chose the back patio. It felt neutral, a space that wasn’t exclusively his or tied to any one memory with either of them. The autumn air had a crisp, clean bite to it as the sun dipped below the horizon, and he lit the fire pit in the center of the stone terrace. The flames leapt to life, casting a warm, dancing orange glow over the three patio chairs he’d arranged in a tight circle. A circle, he thought. Appropriate. He felt better knowing Scott was inside, a steady, calm presence just beyond the sliding glass door. A safety net, should he need one. Jared arrived first, as was his way. He looked… apprehensive, his usual confident swagger subdued. He’d changed out of his work clothes into a soft-looking hoodie and dark jeans. He nodded at Jordan, a silent communication passing between them, and took a seat, staring intently into the fire. A few minutes later, the side gate creaked open. Blake stepped through, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. His eyes, looking huge in the flickering light, scanned the scene, lingering on Jared before settling on Jordan. He offered a small, tentative smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hey,” Blake said, his voice quiet. “Hey,” Jordan and Jared said, almost in unison. The synchronicity was jarring. An awkward silence descended, thick and heavy, broken only by the crackle of the fire. Jordan took a deep breath. “So. Logistics.” It was like popping a release valve. The conversation started haltingly, a stilted, painfully practical negotiation that felt at odds with the torrent of emotion that had brought them here. “So, like… who gets what time?” Blake asked, his gaze fixed on the flames, unable to look at either of them. “Do we… schedule this?” “Weekends,” Jared stated, his voice firm. He was looking at Jordan, his expression unreadable. “We each get every other weekend. That’s fair. That’s… structured.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “And what happens during the week?” Blake pressed, finally looking at Jared. There was a challenge in his eyes. “Do we just… wait our turn?” “We talk,” Jordan interjected, feeling the tension spike between them. “We agreed on honesty. If one of us needs… time… we say it. No secrets.” Jared’s jaw tightened. “And what happens when one of us gets jealous?” he asked, the word hanging in the air like smoke. “Because it’s gonna happen. Let’s not pretend it won’t.” The question landed in the center of the circle, raw and unavoidable. “We talk about that, too,” Jordan said, his voice softer now. He reached out, placing a hand on Jared’s knee. Jared flinched but didn’t pull away. Jordan then looked at Blake, including him in the gesture. “We say it hurts. We admit it. And we… we work through it. Together. Because the alternative is losing each other completely.” The fire popped, sending a shower of sparks into the darkening sky. Blake leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “A night,” he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper. “What about one night, every couple of weeks, where… it’s all three of us?” The air seemed to crackle with a new kind of energy, one far more potent than the fire’s heat. The image bloomed in Jordan’s mind unbidden: the three of them, tangled together in his bed, skin and hands and whispered confessions. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran down his spine. He looked at Jared, whose eyes had widened slightly, his lips parted. He wasn’t saying no. He was just… processing. The idea was clearly affecting him, too. Jordan’s own arousal, which had been a low hum in the background since this surreal meeting began, suddenly flared into a sharp, aching need. The discussion of rules and schedules had been a bizarre, clinical prelude to this—the undeniable, electric charge that now arced between the three of them. He could feel it, a live wire connecting their three chairs. The practicalities evaporated from his mind, burned away by a much more primal urge. His gaze swept from Jared’s conflicted, handsome face to Blake’s vulnerable, hopeful one. The firelight played over the lines of their bodies, hinting at the strength and softness beneath their clothes. All the talking was suddenly, spectacularly unimportant. Without another word, Jordan stood up. The movement was decisive, breaking the tense silence. Both men looked up at him, their expressions a mix of confusion and dawning anticipation. His heart was hammering against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat syncopated with the crackle of the fire. He looked from one to the other, his voice dropping to a low, husky register that was barely recognizable as his own. “Enough talking,” he said, the command clear in his tone. “My room. Now.” Chapter 19 The silence in Jordan's bedroom was profound, thick with the weight of what was about to happen and the faint, distant crackle of the fire pit. Jared and Blake stood just inside the door, their body language a mix of uncertainty and raw, pulsing anticipation. They watched him, waiting. For a command. For a sign. Jordan’s heart was a jackhammer against his ribs, but a strange, powerful calm settled over him. This was his. They were his, these beautiful studs. The thought was a lightning strike of pure, unadulterated dominance that straightened his spine and deepened his voice. “Close the door,” he said, the words not a request but a low, even command. Jared was the one who moved, reaching back without breaking eye contact with Jordan to push the door shut with a soft, final click. Jordan held their gazes, letting the tension build, letting them feel the shift in the air. He walked to the edge of his bed and sat down, planting his feet firmly on the floor. He leaned back on his hands, his posture open, commanding. His package visibly swollen through his shorts but not fully erect. “Come here,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky register that made Blake’s breath catch. “Both of you. On your knees.” For a split second, nobody moved. Jordan saw the flicker in Jared’s eyes—a lifetime of being the one in charge, the dominant force between them, warring with the new, intoxicating thrill of submission. It was Blake who broke first, sinking to his knees on the rug with a fluid grace that made Jordan’s mouth water. There levels of submission obvious. After another second of charged silence, Jared followed, his descent slower, more deliberate, his eyes never leaving Jordan’s. The sight of them, both on their knees before him, was the most potent aphrodisiac he’d ever experienced. The feelings pleasure and desire have never felt as strong. “That’s it, Good Boy!” Jordan murmured, his cock already a hard, aching line against his zipper. “Now. Worship my fat cock.” His words hung in the air. Blake’s hands came up first, trembling slightly as they landed on Jordan’s thighs. He leaned forward, nuzzling the denim covering Jordan’s dick, his warm breath seeping through the fabric. Jared watched for a moment longer, his jaw tight, before his own hands came up to join Blake’s, his touch firmer, more possessive, as he rubbed Jordan’s throb through his shorts. Mine, Jordan thought, the word a primal echo in his mind. Both of them. Mine. A low groan rumbled in his chest as their hands worked him, the dual pressure sending jolts of pleasure straight to his core. He could feel the dampness of his own precum beginning to seep through, a dark, tempting spot on the grey fabric. Turning him on even more, if that were even possible. He could never resist touching himself when he felt a wet spot in his underwear “Feel that?” he breathed, looking down at them. “That’s for you. Both of you.” Blake moaned at the words, his eyes fluttering closed as he pressed his face harder against Jordan’s crotch, inhaling deeply. Jared’s eyes darkened, his fingers curling more firmly around Jordan’s shaft. “Fuck, Jordan,” he rasped, his voice rough with want. “Get it out,” Jordan commanded, his own need becoming a sharp, demanding ache. “I want to feel your mouths.” Blake’s hands were a wreck, fumbling with the button and zipper of Jordan’s shorts. He pushed them down just enough, and Jordan’s cock sprang free, thick and flopping, a bead of clear precum already glistening at the tip, ready to drip. The cool air was a shock, but it was nothing compared to the heat of their synchronized, hungry gazes fixed on it. “You're perfect,” Blake whispered, almost reverently, before he leaned in and swiped his tongue across the leaking head. The sensation was electric, a white-hot bolt of pleasure that made Jordan’s hips buck off the bed. “Fuck, Blake…” Jared didn’t wait for another invitation. He moved in, his mouth covering the other side of the shaft, his tongue lapping at the taste of him. Jordan cried out, his head falling back as two hot, wet mouths descended on his cock. They took turns, switching off in a dizzying, devastating rhythm. Blake would suck the head deep, his tongue circling the frenulum, and just as the pleasure began to crest, he’d pull back, letting Jared swallow him down, his technique sloppier, more urgent, deep and gagging. They were sharing up at him. Kissing each other with their movements at the very tip of his dick, their lips and tongues sliding against each other, slick with his precum and their saliva. The visual was almost too much to bear. Swapping his precum between themselves. “Tell me,” Jordan gritted out, his hands tangling in Jared’s hair, then Blake’s, guiding their movements. “Tell me how much you love it.” “I fucking love it, Jordan. I love your thick, leaking cock,” Blake panted against his skin, his breath hitching. “Tastes so good, So fucking good.” “It’s fucking perfect,” Jared growled, taking him deep again, making Jordan choke on a gasp. “Always knew you were packing a fucking weapon.” Their words fueled him, stoking a fire in his belly that threatened to consume him. He was losing himself in the sensation, in the power, but he had a plan. A need. He tightened his grip in their hair, pulling them both back gently but firmly. They looked up at him, lips swollen and wet, eyes glazed with lust and complete submission. “Stand up,” he ordered, his voice thick. “Turn around. Pull your shorts down. And bend over. I want to see your hairy boy holes. I want to see what’s mine.” They scrambled to obey, a frantic, beautiful mess of limbs. Jeans and sweatpants and underwear were shoved down to their knees, and they bent over spreading their cheeks apart, presenting themselves to him. The sight stole the air from his lungs. Jared’s muscular, powerful white ass, and Blake’s smoother, hairy and tighter one, both offered to him, vulnerable and waiting. He stood up, his own shorts falling the rest of the way to the floor. He stepped closer, his gaze raking over them. He spat once, a glob of saliva landing directly on Jared’s tight, clenched hole. Jared jolted at the sensation, a sharp gasp escaping him. “So fucking hot,” Blake whispered, watching from his own bent-over position, his own hole clenching in anticipation. Jordan spat again, this time onto Blake, eliciting a similar, shuddering gasp. He didn’t wait. He pressed his thumb against Jared first, rubbing the spit in, feeling the incredible tightness of him, the frantic pulse of his body. Jared pushed back against the pressure, a low, guttural moan torn from his throat. “You want this big dick?” Jordan asked, working his thumb in just past the first knuckle, the tight ring of muscle straining to accommodate him. “Yes,” Jared hissed, his voice strained. “Fuck, yes, Jordan.” He did the same to Blake, whose reaction was more vocal, a high, desperate whine as Jordan’s finger breached him. “Please….” He fingered them both, one after the other, switching his attention back and forth, stretching them open with first one, then two fingers, watching their bodies yield to him, listening to their broken, pleading moans fill the room. The scent of sex was everywhere, musky and urgent.nl He was rock hard, his own cock leaking a steady stream onto the floorboards. He pulled his fingers free from both of them, and they whimpered at the loss. “Beg for it,” he commanded, stroking his own length, coating it in his precum. “I want to hear you beg for my cock.” “Please, Jordan,” Blake begged immediately, his voice cracking as he pushed his ass back toward him. “I wan it, give it to me! Please fuck my tight hole. ” Jordan’s eyes shifted to Jared, who was breathing heavily, his forehead resting on his arms. “Jared,” Jordan prompted, his tone leaving no room for defiance. Jared lifted his head, his eyes burning with a mix of humiliation and pure, unadulterated need. “Please,” he ground out, the word seeming to cost him everything. “Fuck me. I need you to fuck me, Jordan.” The surrender was absolute. Jordan stepped forward, aligning his slick, aching cock with Jared’s waiting entrance. He placed a hand on the small of Jared’s back, holding him steady. “Mine,” he growled, and with one powerful, relentless thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside his best friend. Jared’s cry was shattered, a raw scream of pleasure-pain that seemed to shake the walls. He was impossibly tight, hot, and perfect. Jordan gave him no time to adjust, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, setting a brutal, pounding rhythm. He fucked into Jared with everything he had, each drive of his hips a claiming, a punishment, a benediction. He leaned over Jared’s back, his eyes locking with Blake’s, who was watching, mesmerized, his own hand frantically stroking his cock. “You see that?” Jordan grunted, pistoning into Jared. “You see how he takes this big cock? How he loves when I fuck his hole?” “Yes,” Blake moaned, his eyes wide. After a few more devastating thrusts, Jordan pulled out of Jared’s shuddering hole, leaving him gasping and empty. He moved the half-step to Blake, not even bothering to spit again, just guiding his wet, sensitive cock to Blake’s entrance. “Your turn,” he breathed, and pushed inside. Blake was tighter, and his cry was higher, more desperate. He clenched around Jordan like a vice, his whole body trembling. Jordan fucked him with the same relentless pace, his hands gripping Blake’s hips, surely leaving bruises. The slide was exquisite, a seamless, wet, hot friction that was rapidly driving him toward the edge. He switched back to Jared, then to Blake, then to Jared again, a delirious, animalistic rhythm of possession. Their moans and pleas were a symphony, each entry met with a grateful, hungry gasp. He could feel his orgasm coiling, a supernova building in the base of his spine. He pulled out of Blake for the last time, his cock throbbing, leaking. “On your knees,” he ordered, his voice ragged and broken. “I’m gonna cum. I want you both to share it.” They scrambled to obey, turning and dropping to their knees before him, their faces upturned, mouths open, eyes desperate. Jared’s was filled with a fierce, possessive pride, Blake’s with worshipful adoration. They were both stroking themselves, their hands a frantic blur on their own cocks, ready to follow him over. Jordan fisted his own dick, his strokes short and brutal. “Open wider,” he panted, and they did, leaning in, their lips inches from his twitching, leaking cockhead. The first spurt hit Jared square on the tongue, a thick, pearly rope that made his eyes roll back in bliss. The second shot landed on Blake’s lower lip, and he instinctively licked it away with a hungry moan. Jordan cried out, his body convulsing, as the third and fourth pulses shot out, painting both their faces, marking them, claiming them. They stayed there, kneeling, their mouths open and waiting for all of it. Every drop. Blake turns to Jared and kisses him. The cum smearing across their lips, passing their reward back and forth staring up at Jordan.

Chapter 16 The sound of Jared’s truck door slamming outside was a gunshot in the quiet night. Jordan’s heart leapt into his throat, pounding a frantic, panicked rhythm. He stood rooted in the center of the living room, the air thick with the scent of Scott’s whiskey and his own dread. This was it. The honesty Scott preached felt like walking onto a battlefield unarmed. The front door swung open without a knock. Jared stood in the frame, his broad shoulders tensed, his handsome face a mask of wary confusion. He’d clearly come straight from work; he still wore his grease-stained jeans and a tight white t-shirt that stretched across his muscular chest. His eyes, dark and intense, scanned the room before locking onto Jordan.. “You okay?” Jared asked, his voice low, the concern cutting through the tension. “Your text sounded… serious.” Jordan’s mouth was sandpaper. He tried to swallow, failed. “Yeah. No. I don’t know.” He gestured weakly toward the couch. “Can you… sit?” Jared’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he moved into the room, the familiar scent of engine oil and his cheap cologne trailing behind him. He didn’t sit. He stood a few feet away, crossing his arms over his chest, a silent, imposing wall of waiting. “I talked to Blake,” Jordan blurted out, the words tumbling into the space between them. Jared’s expression instantly hardened, his jaw tightening. “What about?” The question was a low, dangerous rumble. “About the video. About why he came to you.” Jordan took a shaky breath, forcing himself to hold Jared’s gaze. “And he told me something. He told me he was gonna ask me first. To make the video. With him.” The tension in the room spiked, electric and sharp. Jared’s posture went rigid. “So what? You mad I got to him first? Is that what this is?” “No,” Jordan said, the word firmer than he felt. “That’s not it. I went to him because I was jealous, Jared. Seeing you two together… it fucking wrecked me.” A flicker of something—surprise, satisfaction?—crossed Jared’s face, but it was quickly buried under a fresh wave of suspicion. “You were jealous of me? Or jealous of him?” “I don’t know!” The confession burst out of him, raw and honest. “Both? All of it? He told me… he told me he’s been obsessed with me for years. Since high school. In the locker room, the showers… just watching. And when he kissed me that day, it… it did something to me. Something I didn’t understand. And then I saw him with you, and I felt like something that was supposed to be mine was taken.” Jared was utterly still, a statue processing a cataclysm. The silence stretched, taut and unbearable. “And tonight,” Jordan continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “When I went to confront him… he said it. He said he’s in love with me.” Jared flinched as if he’d been struck. He uncrossed his arms, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Fuck off,” he said, the words cold and flat. “Jared, please—” “No, fuck off!” he roared, taking a threatening step forward. “You called me over here to tell me you’re in love with some… some fucking side-piece? After everything? After I forgave you for the shit with your stepdad?” “I’m not in love with him!” Jordan countered, his own voice rising to match Jared’s fury. “But I… I feel something for him. Something real. And I can’t just pretend I don’t! But that doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you. I don’t want to lose you. That’s why I’m telling you this. Because Scott said the only way through this is with honesty, and you… you’re the most important person in my life.” The anger on Jared’s face fractured. The raw pain beneath was terrifying to see. His voice cracked when he spoke again. “So what are you saying, Jordan? You want us to break up so you can be with him?” “No,” Jordan breathed, taking a tentative step forward, closing the distance between them. He could see the conflict raging in Jared’s dark eyes—the hurt, the betrayal, the fierce, possessive love that had always defined them. “I’m saying I don’t know if I can choose. And I’m terrified that if I have to, I’ll lose one of you. And I think losing you would destroy me.” He reached out, his fingers gently brushing against Jared’s clenched fist. Jared jerked at the touch but didn’t pull away. “An open relationship? Polyamory?” Jared spat the term out like it was poison. “You want to share me? You want me to share you?” “I want you,” Jordan insisted, his voice pleading now. “I will always choose you. But maybe… maybe we don’t have to limit ourselves to just… this. Maybe we can figure out a way where it’s not a secret. Where it’s just… more.” Jared stared at him, his chest heaving. The fight seemed to drain out of him all at once, leaving behind a profound exhaustion and a deep, startling vulnerability. “You really love me?” he asked, his voice small, stripped of all its usual bravado. “More than anything,” Jordan whispered, his heart in his throat. A long, suspended moment passed. Then, slowly, Jared’s hand unclenched. He turned it, threading his fingers through Jordan’s, his grip tight, almost desperate. “I fucking hate this,” he murmured, his eyes glistening. “I hate the thought of him touching you. Of you wanting him.” “I know,” Jordan said, his own eyes burning. “But I’m right here. I’m choosing you right now.” Jared’s other hand came up, cupping Jordan’s jaw, his thumb stroking over his cheekbone. His gaze was intense, searching. “If I say we try this… if I even think about it… it’s because the thought of losing you is worse. You know that, right? This is for you. Only for you.” The admission was a gift, a fragile, heartbreaking concession. Jordan nodded, unable to speak. Jared leaned in then, and his kiss was nothing like their angry, passionate clash from before. It was slow, deep, and tasting of salt and surrender. It was a kiss of possession, of fear, of a love so complicated and fierce it could bend reality to its will. They broke apart, foreheads resting together, breathing the same air. “I need you,” Jared breathed, his voice rough with emotion and a rising, familiar heat. “Right now. I need to know you’re mine.” His hands went to the hem of Jordan’s shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one swift motion. Jordan reciprocated, yanking Jared’s grease-stained tee off, their chests colliding, skin against skin. The feeling was electric, a reclamation. They stumbled toward the couch, falling onto it in a tangle of limbs. Jared settled over him, his weight a comforting anchor. His lips found Jordan’s again, his tongue plunging into his mouth with a desperate hunger. Jordan could feel the hard ridge of Jared’s erection straining against his jeans, pressing into his own growing hardness. Their hands fumbled with belts and buttons, a frantic, shared goal. Denim and cotton were shoved down thighs, not coming all the way off, just enough. Their cocks sprang free, sliding together in the hot, confined space between their bodies. Jared’s hand wrapped around them both, his grip firm and perfect. A broken, simultaneous gasp escaped them. Jared began to stroke, a slow, slick friction that made stars burst behind Jordan’s eyelids. He could feel the wetness of his own precum mingling with Jared’s, making the glide effortless, impossibly hot. “Look at me,” Jared commanded, his voice a husky growl. Jordan’s eyes fluttered open. Jared was watching him, his expression a mixture of anguish, desire, and unwavering love. The intimacy of it was more intense than any physical act. They were joined, completely exposed, not just physically but emotionally laid bare. Their hips began to move in a slow, syncopated rhythm, thrusting into the tight, hot tunnel of Jared’s fist. The pace quickened, their breathing growing ragged, their foreheads pressed together. They weren’t just chasing release; they were sealing a promise, trying to fuck the uncertainty and fear away, if only for these few, fleeting minutes. “You’re mine,” Jared whispered against his lips, his stroke becoming frantic. “Yours,” Jordan gasped in agreement, his own climax coiling tight in his gut. “Always yours.” Their eyes locked, and that was all it took. The world dissolved into sensation—the pounding of their hearts, the slick, feverish friction, the overwhelming rightness of their connection. A shared, muffled cry was swallowed by their kiss as their releases hit them at the same moment, warmth spreading between their stomachs. They collapsed together, spent and sticky, limbs entangled on the couch. The only sound was their ragged breathing slowly returning to normal. Jared’s head was buried in the crook of Jordan’s neck, his body heavy and warm on top of him. After a long time, Jared shifted, pushing himself up on his elbows. He looked down at Jordan, his expression serious, resolved. He swiped a thumb through the mess on Jordan’s stomach, his touch surprisingly tender. “Okay,” Jared said, his voice quiet but firm. “You should call him.” Chapter 17 The phone felt like a block of ice in Jordan’s hand, his thumb hovering over Blake’s name. Jared’s scent still clung to his skin, a musky, possessive reminder of the fragile truce they’d forged on the couch. He said to call him. This is for us. He took a shuddering breath and pressed the call button, each ring a hammer blow against his ribs. It was answered on the second ring. “Jordan?” Blake’s voice was cautious, laced with a hope so fragile it felt like it might shatter through the speaker. “Hey,” Jordan said, his own voice softer than he intended. “Can we… can we talk? In person?” A beat of silence. Then, a rush of air, like Blake had been holding his breath. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. My place? My dad’s on a double shift.” “I’ll be there in ten.” The drive to Blake’s was a blur of neon and shadow. Jordan replayed Jared’s words, his conflicted expression, the raw need in his touch. This is for you. Only for you. The concession had been a gift, and now Jordan was about to test its limits. He pulled up to the familiar, slightly dilapidated house, the beat-up sedan parked in the driveway. Before he could even cut the engine, the front door flew open. Blake stood there, silhouetted against the warm light from inside, wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung sweatpants that hugged his lean hips, the intricate lines of his floral tattoos just visible above the waistband. Jordan barely had time to get out of the car before Blake was striding across the lawn. He didn’t stop until he was right in front of him, and then his arms were around Jordan, pulling him into a hug so tight it stole his breath. He buried his face in the crook of Jordan’s neck, his body trembling slightly. “I thought… after I said that… I thought I’d scared you off for good,” Blake mumbled into his skin, his voice thick with emotion. The ferocity of his embrace, the sheer relief in it, washed over Jordan like a wave. Any lingering doubt evaporated. This was right. This was what he wanted. He wrapped his own arms around Blake, holding him just as tightly, his hands splaying across the smooth, warm skin of his back. This. Him. And Jared. “You didn’t scare me off,” Jordan whispered, his lips brushing against Blake’s ear. He felt Blake shiver in response. They stood like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other under the dim glow of the porch light, the night air cool on their skin. Finally, Blake loosened his hold, pulling back just enough to look at Jordan. His blue eyes were searching, bright with unshed tears and a desperate kind of hope. “Why are you here, Jordan?” Jordan took a deep breath, his heart thundering. This was it. The honesty. “I talked to Jared.” Blake’s face immediately fell, the hope snuffing out into wary defensiveness. He took a half-step back. “Oh. So you’re here to let me down easy. Got it.” He started to turn away. “No!” Jordan’s hand shot out, catching Blake’s wrist. The contact was electric. “That’s not it at all. I told him everything. About us in the car. About what you said.” Blake went very still, his eyes wide with disbelief and a flicker of fear. “You… you told him I love you?” he breathed, the words barely audible. “I told him I have feelings for you,” Jordan corrected gently, his thumb stroking a slow, soothing circle on the inside of Blake’s wrist. He could feel the wild flutter of his pulse. “And I told him that I love him. And that I’m… confused. That I don’t want to lose either of you.” The confusion on Blake’s face was profound. “I don’t understand.” “I want to try,” Jordan said, the words feeling both terrifying and liberating. “I want to be with Jared. And I want to be with you.” The silence that followed was absolute. Blake stared at him, his expression shifting from confusion to dawning comprehension, and then to something that looked like hurt. He pulled his wrist from Jordan’s grasp. “So I’m what? The side piece? The thing you do when he’s not around?” He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Man, Jordan. I knew I wasn’t enough for you, but I didn’t think you’d rub my face in it.” “No,” Jordan insisted, stepping forward again, closing the distance Blake had tried to create. “That’s not it. That’s the opposite of it. You are enough, Blake. You’re more than enough. You’re… fucking incredible.” He reached up, cupping Blake’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze. “My heart… it’s just… it’s bigger than I thought. It has room. I don’t want to lose you because I’m clinging to some idea of how things are supposed to be. I want to build something new. With both of you.” Blake’s eyes searched his, and Jordan could see the war raging within him—the deep-seated insecurity battling against a desperate, yearning hope. “You really mean that?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “This isn’t just some… kinky experiment for your videos?” “It’s real,” Jordan said, his voice thick with emotion. He leaned in, his forehead resting against Blake’s. “It’s the most real, terrifying thing I’ve ever done. But the thought of walking away from you… it feels like losing a part of myself I just found.” A single tear traced a path down Blake’s cheek. Jordan caught it with his thumb. The vulnerability in his expression was utterly breathtaking. “I need time,” Blake breathed, his eyes fluttering closed. “This is… a lot. I just… I need to think.” Jordan’s heart sank, but he nodded. He understood. He’d dropped a bomb on him. “Okay,” he whispered. “Take all the time you need.” He started to pull away, but Blake’s hands came up, grasping his shoulders, holding him there. “Don’t go yet,” he murmured, his eyes opening. They were dark now, pools of wanting and conflict. “Just… stay for a minute.” He leaned in and captured Jordan’s mouth in a kiss. It wasn’t like the hungry, desperate kiss in the car. This was different. This was deep, and slow, and tasted like salt and hope and fear all mingled together. It was a kiss that spoke of a love confessed and a future uncertain. Jordan kissed him back with everything he had, pouring all his fear, his want, his desperate need for this to work into the connection. When they finally broke apart, both were breathless. Blake rested his forehead against Jordan’s again, their eyes closed, sharing the same air. “I’ll call you,” Blake whispered, his voice raw. Jordan nodded, giving him one last, tight hug before finally turning and walking back to his car. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. The taste of Blake was still on his lips, the feel of his skin imprinted on his hands, and the terrifying, thrilling possibility of what came next hung in the air like a promise.

I actually had a very fun encounter with 2 homeless guys started with one that was on grindr he was bragging he had 9 inches i almost didn't do it when found out he was homeless but once I saw his cock I couldn't help myself after the second condom broke I took him raw ended up letting his friend fuck me as well