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Oh agree! Have recited now a few times! Thank you so much for it.

It always is

I only go for the trained bottoms....not the newbies. No one has time to train the twinks and bring them up to speed! 😉

I'll be free next Thursday morning if there's are any hosting tops.

He vers or a pure bottom? If the former, I'd love to try to take both of you at the same time.

How was that? I'm intrigued.

I said "fag", technically male, but let's not get carried away.

Third time this week with the young guy who's fucking me. Elsewhere on this site I told about the Daddies who are paying him for his "services" but they didn't need him this week. He's flattering me by saying sex with me is the highlight of his week ;-). Well, he has several highlights too when he's fucking me! I love multi-cummers! He asked if he could come back tonight. Am I going to say no??? Silly question 😉

Do you know any resorts that allow day time fucking by the pool (and not just cruising zones) in Palm Springs and Fire Island?

I love being watched. It's one of the reasons I love group sex. I have a regular fuck buddy who loves watching me get bred so he sets up groups so he can watch...and fuck me too.

You're thinking of Mel Grey. [think before following links] https://www.menofporn.blog/2021/12/rest-in-peace-mel-grey-shot-to-the-head.html

That'll be lovely. I think my point was the skill you demonstrate. Your story is complete, stands on its own. I mention that because so many authors seem to favor the cliff hanger and then leave for a year. 🙂 The authors I tend to admire make each episode complete on it's own; a story that can live without the other parts; and still be a satisfying read. I definitely appreciate your skill at storytelling. Thank you for that. The rest of the weekend. Indeed you left plenty of opportunity with what happens after sunrise. Does the unnamed protagonist react we well in the cold light of day?

Are there typically more guys at SW than usual during Cumunion events? I’m a fairly frequent visitor (once every few months for the last 7 years), but never been to a Cumunion night. Very interested. Esp during this cold.

Awesome story can’t wait for part two

Anon glory hole bathhouse cock is the best in my opinion. Some of the heaviest cummers I've ever swallowed have come from Flex Cleveland.

Was so sad to see his passing!

Chapter 11 The warm weight of Scott’s hand on his, the raw honesty of his story, the smoky burn of the whiskey—it all coalesced into a single, throbbing point of heat in Jordan’s gut. He was completely unaware of the effect it was having on his body, the blood rushing south so fast it left him lightheaded. His thin basketball shorts, worn without underwear as always, provided no defense. A fierce, six-inch erection tented the fabric, the tip already damp with a bead of precum that seeped through the grey cotton, leaving a tiny, dark patch. He only realized his own state when he traced Scott’s gaze. Those dark, intense eyes weren’t on his face anymore. They were fixed, unblinking, on the prominent bulge in his lap. Jordan’s own eyes flicked down, then back up to Scott’s khakis. A mirror image. A thick, heavy outline strained against the tan fabric, unmistakable and just as eager. Seconds stretched, thick and silent, charged with a current so potent Jordan could barely breathe. Scott was the one to break it, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated through the space between them. “I’ve been like this,” he admitted, his eyes flicking back up to meet Jordan’s, “Hard as a goddamn rock… all day. Ever since I…” He didn’t need to finish. Ever since I saw you. Something primal and fearless uncoiled inside Jordan, speaking with a voice that wasn’t entirely his own. “Did you like it?” The question hung in the air, bold and naked. “What you saw? You...want to see more?” Scott’s answer was immediate, a raw exhalation. “Yes.” A thrill, sharp and electric, shot down Jordan’s spine. “My room,” he whispered, the plan forming in a hazy, lust-drunk instant. “Wait until Mom’s asleep. Come to my room.” An hour later, the house was dark and silent. The soft click of his door opening sent Jordan’s heart into a wild rhythm. Scott stood there, silhouetted in the doorway, having traded his button-down for a simple pair of black gym shorts that did little to hide the formidable swell of his cock. He stepped inside and closed the door with a quiet, final sound. Jordan’s nerves were a live wire, his hands trembling slightly. He didn’t know what he was doing, only what he wanted. He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand, his thumb swiping until he found the video. He turned the screen toward Scott. It was the clip Jared had recorded. Jordan on his knees, lips stretched around Blake’s thick, curved cock, his eyes rolled back in pleasure. Scott’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. He stared, mesmerized, as the movie played out on the small screen. Jordan watched him instead, studying the rapid flicker of emotions on his stepdad’s face: shock, hunger, pure, unadulterated lust. His own hand slipped inside his shorts, fingers wrapping around his aching hardness. A soft groan escaped his lips as he gave himself a slow, slick stroke. Scott’s gaze snapped from the screen to Jordan’s hand moving under his shorts. That was all the permission he needed. With a guttural sound, Scott’s large hand plunged into his own gym shorts. His eyes fell shut for a moment, his head tipping back as his fist began to move, the fabric stretching and tightening over his frantic motion. He was the first to break the barrier. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband, he pushed his shorts down his powerful thighs in one rough motion. His cock sprang free, and Jordan’s mouth went dry. It was massive, thick and cut, rising from a dense thatch of dark hair. Heavy balls swung beneath it, already drawn up tight. A glistening pearl of precum already crowned the slit. Emboldened, Jordan mimicked him, shoving his own shorts down to his ankles. They stood there, just feet apart, their erections bobbing in the dim light, the only sound their ragged breathing and the wet, rhythmic stroking of their own fists. Scott’s eyes were locked on Jordan’s smaller, slick cock, watching the way his hand glided over the flushed head with each pass. “So wet,” Scott murmured, his own strokes becoming louder, slicker, sloppy sounding. “You too,” Jordan breathed out, mesmerized by the sheer, glistening size of the older man, by the way his thick fingers struggled to close around his girth. The visual was overwhelming—the contrast of their bodies, the [banned word] of it all, the raw hunger in Scott’s eyes. His hips began to thrust forward, fucking his own fist. “Fuck, this is so hot.” “Yeah, it has to be our little secret.” Scott grunted, his pace increasing, his other hand cupping and roughly kneading his heavy balls. “Just like that. Show me. Let me see you get off.” The command, so similar to Jared’s yet so entirely different, sent Jordan spiraling. His back arched, his free hand gripping his own thigh for support. He was close, so close, teetering on the edge. Scott was breathing in harsh gasps, his muscular body tensing, a sheen of sweat coating his chest. “I’m close, I'm so close. I'm cumm…!” Jordan choked out, his orgasm roaring up from his toes. Scott’s hand flew off his own cock and clamped over his own mouth, stifling a deep, guttural roar as his hips thrust into empty air. Thick, white ropes of cum shot from his pulsating cock, landing in his own waiting palm, pumping again and again until his hand was overflowing. The sight was Jordan’s undoing. With a cry that was half-sob, half-moan, his own release tore through him. His cum splattered across his stomach and thighs in hot, frantic spurts, his entire body trembling with the force of it. For a long moment, the only sound was their heavy, spent panting. Scott, still holding his messy hand away from himself, gathered his composure with a sharp, almost military precision. He cleaned himself with a tissue from the nightstand, pulled up his shorts, and without another word, turned and left the room, made the "Shh" gesture wit his finger to his mouth, closing the door softly behind him. Jordan collapsed back onto his bed, the scent of sex and whiskey and man thick in the air. His mind was a blissful, overloaded blank. Exhaustion pulled him under, and he fell into a deep, instant sleep, his body sated and his world irrevocably changed.

Chapter 10 The silence in Jordan’s room was heavier than before, thick with the phantom scent of sex and the echoing click of the closing door. They dressed in a frantic, wordless hurry, their movements clumsy with adrenaline and shame. Every creak of the floorboards outside made them freeze, hearts hammering, waiting for the storm to break. But the house remained silent. Finally venturing out, they found the hallway empty. The living room, the kitchen—all deserted. Scott was gone. The only evidence he’d ever been there was the lingering, gut-churning memory of his shocked face. “What do we even say?” Jared whispered, his voice tight as they stood by the side door, a buffer zone between the secret world of Jordan’s room and the real one outside. “We could say we were… I don’t know, wrestling? Practicing for a play?” Jordan shook his head, a sick feeling churning in his stomach. “He saw everything, J. Everything. My… my cum on your face. You… inside me. There’s no explaining that away.” The image was seared into his brain, a brutal, pornographic snapshot. Jared hesitated, then squared his shoulders. “I’ll stay. I’ll be here with you when you talk to him.” “No,” Jordan said, the word coming out firmer than he felt. “I need to do this alone. He’s my…” He almost said ‘dad,’ but it wasn’t right. “…Stepdad. This is my mess.” After Jared left, the house felt cavernous and accusing. Jordan paced, trying to script a conversation that always ended with an imaginary Scott’s face twisting in disgust. He was spiraling, his anxiety a live wire under his skin, when his eyes caught on the corkboard by the door. A crisp, white notecard stood out amongst the pizza coupons and old photos. In Scott’s precise, blocky handwriting, it read: Jordan, need to talk. My office. 3pm. -Scott. The clock read 2:28. His mouth went dry. This is it. The walk to Scott’s downtown office was a blur of nauseating dread. The sleek, modern reception area, the quiet hum of professionalism—it all felt like a bizarre dream. The secretary, offering a polite smile, led him back and closed the heavy oak door behind him, sealing him in. Scott’s office was all rich leather and dark wood. And there he was, behind a massive desk, looking every inch the successful, composed forty-two-year-old man he was. He was handsome in a rugged, distinguished way, his broad frame filling out his tailored shirt, a dusting of dark hair visible at his open collar, his thick beard neatly trimmed. He looked up from some paperwork, his expression unreadable. “Jordan. Have a seat.” Jordan sat stiffly in the leather chair, his hands clenched into fists on his knees. He could feel a fine tremor running through his body. He was near shaking, utterly laid bare. Scott leaned forward, lacing his fingers together on the desk. His gaze was direct, but not unkind. “So,” he began, his voice calm, measured. “You and Jared, huh?” Jordan’s throat was too tight to speak. He just nodded. Yes, sir. “You two are… a couple?” Another slow, hesitant nod. The truth was the only card he had to play. Scott watched him for a long moment, taking in his obvious terror. “So then you are… gay?” This nod was the hardest. It felt like admitting to a crime. He braced for the fallout—the disappointment, the anger, the lecture. Instead, Scott pushed his chair back and stood. He didn’t come around the desk with anger, but with a quiet purpose. He walked over and, without a word, wrapped his arms around Jordan in a firm, solid hug. It wasn’t a brief pat; it was a real embrace, strong and encompassing. The dam broke. A ragged sob escaped Jordan’s lips, and his entire body went limp with the shocking wave of relief. He buried his face against Scott’s shoulder, the rough texture of the shirt wool soft against his cheek. “It’s okay,” Scott murmured, his voice a low rumble so close to Jordan’s ear. “It’s okay, son. If that’s what makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.” The words were a balm, washing away the fear and shame. They talked for a while longer, Scott back behind his desk, a palpable shift in the room’s energy. Jordan, his voice steadier now, explained how it started after prom, how new it was, how it was just them figuring things out. Scott listened, nodding, asking a few gentle questions, his demeanor that of a concerned parent, not a condemning judge. “I won’t tell your mom,” Scott said finally. “I’ll let you do that when you want and are ready. That’s your news to share.” That evening, after a strangely normal family dinner where Jordan could barely meet his mother’s eye, he retreated to the back patio. The night air was cool, a relief against his skin. He heard the sliding door open and turned to see Scott stepping out, two glasses of amber whiskey in his hands. He handed one to Jordan and took the seat beside him, the old patio chairs creaking under their weight. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, sipping the strong, smoky liquor. “I meant what I said earlier,” Scott said, breaking the quiet. “Your happiness is what matters.” He took a long swallow from his glass. “But seeing you two today… it stirred something up in me. Something I haven’t thought about in a long, long time.” Jordan stayed quiet, letting him talk, his own curiosity piqued. Scott stared out into the dark yard, his profile strong in the dim light. “I want to tell you something. Something from my past. Back before I met your mother. Back in college.” He turned his head, his eyes meeting Jordan’s, and in their depths, Jordan saw a flicker of the same hungry intensity he’d seen in Blake’s eyes, but tempered by age and experience. A shared secret. “There was this guy on my football team,” Scott began, his voice dropping, becoming almost confidential. “My roommate, actually. His name was Mike. We were inseparable. Just like you and Jared.” He took another slow sip of whiskey, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “And one night, after a huge win, we were celebrating. Just the two of us in our dorm room, drunk on victory and way too much cheap beer…” He trailed off, a faint, nostalgic smile touching his lips. “We started wrestling around, like guys do. Just messing around. But then… it changed. It got… heavier. More intense.” Scott’s gaze was locked on Jordan now, unwavering. “I ended up pinning him down on the floor. We were both breathing hard, laughing at first. But then we just… stopped. We were looking at each other. And I could feel him, hard against my leg. And I knew he could feel me, too.” Jordan’s breath hitched. The whiskey felt like fire in his veins. He couldn’t look away. “I don’t know which one of us moved first,” Scott continued, his voice a low, intimate rumble. “But we kissed. It was… man, it was explosive. All that competitive energy, that pent-up… everything, just unleashed.” He leaned forward slightly, his elbow resting on his knee, the glass dangling from his fingers. “We spent the whole night exploring each other. It was fierce, and hungry, and so damn confusing. But it felt more real than anything I’d ever experienced with a girl.” He finally broke eye contact, looking down into his glass. “We were together, in secret, for the rest of the school year. It was the most passionate, electric time of my life.” He sighed, a heavy, weighted sound. “But then summer came. He went back home to his girlfriend. I met your mom. We never talked about it again. We just… went back to our lives.” Scott looked back up at Jordan, and his expression was raw, open. “Seeing you and Jared today… it was like watching a ghost of my own past. That raw need. That total surrender. It… awakened something in me I thought I’d buried for good.” He reached out, his large, warm hand covering Jordan’s where it rested on the arm of the chair. The contact was electric. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… I understand. More than you could possibly know.”