Leaderboard

A Couple in the Bar My boy and I were taking a much-needed vacation to reconnect and have some down time. We’d both been traveling a lot for work and hooking up with other guys, nearly always bareback. He would send me texts that his top hookup would take of my boy’s hands on his ass, cheeks spread wide, and his hole oozing fresh cum. It always boned me up and then I’d likely log onto one of the apps and find a guy to come over to my hotel and take my load. It was risky, but super hot. We’d talked about starting up PrEP again, which we’d both been on before we started seeing each other, but somehow never got around to it. So, we went to a seedy gay bar in a midwestern town and saw a handful of hot guys. I spotted to very sexy men, one older, one younger but clearly a couple, a beefy guy with a shaved head and a slightly-wasted look. His boyfriend was a scrawny twinky guy, also with a buzzed head. After a few beers, I went to the bathroom to take a piss in the trough. The daddy guy followed me and stood right next to me. He made grunting oink noises and I saw him pull out his meaty cock with a huge gauge prince albert piercing. He took a piss while looking at me and oinked knowing I was drooling over his cock. He told me he’d see me around and left the bathroom. When I got back to our spot at the bar, the younger guy was chatting up my boy while the daddy was ordering a round of beers. I got back to them and the daddy gave me a bottle. My boy excused himself to the bathroom and the younger guy followed, winking at the daddy. Of course, they were in the bathroom a little too long and the daddy invited us back to their place for the night. I knew the reason for our vacation was to reconnect, but this was too hot of an opportunity to pass up. I gulped my beer down and headed to the bathroom to find my boy bending over the trough as the younger guy was on his knees eating my boy’s hole. I cleared my throat and my boy sheepishly looked up at me. I told them we were headed back to daddy’s place and my boy pulled his jeans up and tucked his leaking hard cock into them. We made a quick exit as daddy paid the bar tab. Thankfully, they lived right around the corner, and we walked there, with the daddy’s hands down the back of my pants and the younger guy clearly fingering my boy’s spit-lubed hole. They tore our clothes off of us as soon as we were in their small run-down apartment. My boy and I were shoved down on the bed on our backs, and the guys climbed on top of us and we made out hardcore. I went down on the younger guy while my boy blew the daddy. I rarely bottom, but I knew I wanted that thick cock and prince albert inside me, and I thought it would be hot to see my boy take it too. My boy was lapping at daddy’s balls and said, ‘these seem really full. You good for a couple of loads?’ Daddy just oinked in reply. The younger guy and I made out on our knees as my boy sucked my cock. I leaned forward to spread his ass open and guided that raw daddy dick into his hole. I love that moment of delivering a new raw cock inside him. The younger guy got in front of my boy’s mouth and shoved his dick in. He had be get behind him and spit on his hand, lubing up his ass. My dick plopped right inside him. It was clear that regularly taking daddy’s dick had really loosened him up. As we fuck each other’s boys, their faces were next to each other and they started making out, lunging forward as they took our cocks. Daddy started cursing and really pounding my boy. I knew he was close to losing his first load. Sure enough, he started to cum inside my boy, without slowing down or even offering to pull out. My boy had just taken this daddy load without even knowing his name. Daddy caught his breath and asked me if I was close. I shook my head no. ‘He’s too loose for you, right?’ I nodded, almost embarrassed. But the daddy grinned knowing it was his girth that had ruined his boy’s hole. Daddy had me lay down on my back and his boy mounted my dick facing me. The boy bent forward as daddy slapped his cummy cock on his boy’s ass. I heard a camera sound as my boy snapped a photo of our cocks going into the boy's ass. I felt that cool metal plop inside his boy’s hole alongside mine. The boy groaned as his hole was stretched to the limits. My boy knelt down, fingering his cummy ass and ate daddy’s hole as we fucked away. I was close to cumming, and I knew I wasn’t finished, so I let my cock plop out of the boy’s ass. I crawled out from under them and made out with my boy, fingering the goo dripping down his thigh. I needed a piss and offered it to anyone who wanted it, but they all shook their heads ‘no’ so I headed to the bathroom as my boy got on his knees next to the boy and invited daddy to go back and forth between their holes. Seeing those guys fuck made it tough to walk away, and difficult to piss with a full hard-on. I heard my boy groan as daddy entered him. As I finally went down enough to piss, I noticed two bottles of B******* on the counter, and I knew it instantly to be one of those newly approved one-a-day HIV meds. These guys were POZ, but medicated. I noted there were two names on them, Brian and Dan, but didn’t have a clue which man was which, only that they were both POZ and I wanted to take their cum. When I got back to the bedroom, they had changed positions. My boy was on his back holding his legs up. The boy was pounding his ass, about to breed him with his POZ cum. I laid down next to him and pulled my legs up. He looked over at me and smiled, blissed out and full of raw stranger cock. ‘Babe,’ I said. ‘They’re POZ.’ He had a momentary look of shock as the daddy oinked again and his boy announced, ‘I’m cumming! Breeding you good!’ Daddy nodded as he pressed forward and that cool metal ring teased my ass. My boy kissed me hard as daddy slipped inside my tight hole with nothing to lube me up but his leaking precum and our boys’ ass juices. Daddy didn’t stop until he was balls deep inside me, then he hammered away. I was lucky he was close to cumming or he really would have ruined my hole. The boy knelt beside daddy and slid his finger into my hole alongside that thick raw cock stretching me out as much as I’ve ever been. Daddy looked straight into my eyes and nodded, ‘Gonna breed you, slut, just like I bred your boy. Fuck yeah!’ With that, he picked up his speed and jackhammered my ass. I felt a soothing wetness and warmth as his cum seeped into my guts. He collapsed on top of me. Feeling his weight and furry chest grind into me was amazing. He slowly got softer until my tightness pushed him out of me. I went to the bathroom to clean up and daddy followed me saying he liked to watch his prey cleaning up to ensure they didn’t try to push out his seed. I didn’t, and he pointed to the meds on the counter. I said it was hot taking POZ cock even if it was medicated. He looked a little confused and then picked up one of the bottles. He took the cap off to show that the foil liner was in place, unopened. He then handed me the bottle and pointed to the date. I noted it was dated last year. He told me his boy convinced him to start treatment after infecting him… and that he’d convinced his boy to stay off them, just as he had. I got lightheaded as I realized that my and my boy had just taken unmedicated loads. I steadied myself and saw my boy in the doorway making out with daddy and the younger guy. He smiled at me and reached out to me, pulling me into the four-way kiss. My boy led us both back to the bed side by side and laid down on his belly, ass up, encouraging me to do the same. Daddy and his boy bred me and my boy at least two more times that night. We got daddy’s cell and promised to take their seed anytime they wanted to share it.

Decided that I needed to get back to exercising when I remembered that a friend lived near the 40 mile or so walking/bike trail called The Silver Comet. My friend was busy but lent me his bike. It was such a great sunny day that I headed off on his bike with attached water bottle. As we have been having a heatwave here in Atlanta, and since school was back in session, the trail was virtually empty. A very people but nobody interesting until this very athletic guy wearing skintight cycling gear rode up to where I was and said hello.He promptly passed me by and I did not think about it again til I saw him stopped ahead of me at an abandoned railroad crossing. I checked to see if he was ok, and thats when I could see his hardon and his smiling toward me. He then took his bike off trail and I followed him with my bike til we were deep on the woods. He kept checking behind to make sure I was following him til he stopped.I went over to where he was standing and he told me to bend over ,of which he pulled my shorts down and started fingering my hole. As I moaned, he told me to shut up, spit on fingers, and then my furry ass, and quickly inserted his cock pounding me hard and deep with one hand around my waist and another over my mouth as I started to scream til he unloaded what felt like tons of cum in my ass. As I pulled up my shorts, he gave a quick smile, mounted his bike and pedalled away. I felt that was a good start to exercise so I turned around and headed back to my friends house to get my car and drive home.

I was feeling the need for some play on Sunday and, looking around on the apps, found an "I'm interested" message from a guy whose profile I'd looked at a few times before. A bi guy, shorter than me, younger than me, solid and strong looking with a thick, rigidly hard looking dick. After some back and forth on the app we agreed to get together at his place and switched to texting. I asked if he was okay with sharing face pics and he agreed. It turns out he's as cute as hell with a face full of scruff and a big sexy smile. I was keen before, but now I'm feeling even more keen. I get the directions and make the 25 minute trip to his place, walking up the few flights of stairs to the door. As I walk down the short corridor his door opens and I'm ushered in by the same handsome man I saw in his picture. After hellos and closing the door behind me we stand close and our hands are touching and exploring each others arms, chest, nipples, back, ass, with soft smiles blooming on our faces. I can feel his dick already very hard as he presses his hips into mine. Not the sometimes awkward and slightly nervous dance this time. We wander into the bedroom in his very clean and tidy home and, still standing, touch some more, kissing slowly and discovering he's a very good kisser. Breaking from our kiss with the big smiles that come with really good kissing we remove a few layers and get comfortable. I strip down to t-shirt and briefs, and he to his sport trunks. We climb onto his bed and make out, feeling something flowing back and forth between us. There's a sweet shyness to him that is very sexy on that strong and solid frame. I roll from my side to hover over him and kiss his soft wet lips before I lick and tease his nipples while my fingers tickle his balls and taint through his trunks. The sounds he's making tell me I'm on the right track. I move from nipple to nipple, licking, nibbling, sucking, while my fingers find the spongey inner shaft of his cock lying under his taint and stroke it firmly back and forth. I think its at this point he flips me on my back and hovers over me, kissing briefly before going after my nipple through my shirt. He says it's time we get everything off and agreeing I squirm out of my shirt and briefs, tossing them over the long horizon of the bed. Now that we're both naked he kneels, lifting and parting my legs, letting his hard and now wet-tipped cock drag up along the crack of my ass as he leans over me to suck and bite my nipples making me squirm slowly under him. I tell him that he can handle me as firmly as he likes, I like hard nipple play and being manhandled. He obliges and my dick chubs a little in response while my cunt is feeling more and more in need. He moves to my dick and starts to suck it, pausing to ask if it's okay. I tell him yes, of course, but I'm totally focused on my ass-hunger. As if reading my mind, his hands slide to my thighs and he flexes me, trailing his tongue into my furry crack and onto my hole. He wets his tongue and licks my hole until all the outer nerves are awake, then he presses my thighs to flex me open and pushes his firm tongue inside me. I make a long groaning sigh and relax to give him more access. He eats my hole until it starts to relax and, feeling the give he pushes his tongue in further and as he pulls out, leaves a pool of his saliva in its place. Straightening, he puts the head of his cock into that wet pool and holding my legs presses forward slightly so that I feel his knob slowly slide inside me. At this point I tell him I'm going to need lube because, well, most every time I have. He asks how it feels, and when I say good he rocks just a little in me, letting me get used to the sensation. Realizing it feels fine, I tell him to keep going. He keeps up the very gentle rocking in me and I feel his knob throb, harden and pull up on the muscle of my hole drawing a chest deep sound of satisfaction from me. He does this a few more times and flexes forward a little more, easily gliding in a few more inches. Rocking a couple of inches back and forth in me for a few seconds he slides all the way into me with the thick root of his cock stretching out my hole for the first time. My head goes back and a long deep "Ahhhhh" punches out as his cock seats in me fully. This is when he tells me he precums a great deal - easy penetration mystery solved. He doesn't know about my serious precum kink, so I have a big grin on my face when I tell him how much I love that. I suddenly realize all the slow rocking was him milking his precum into me to lube up my cunt and my smile gets even bigger. He moves his balls-deep cock around inside my cunt, getting me used to the thickness of it stretching me in different directions. Looking up at his scruffy face with my legs held wide by his strong arms, he begins to fuck into me with a slowly lengthening stroke. After a few minutes it becomes clear he knows his business, first fucking me slowly but firmly to the root, then building up to a good hard "slap" fuck that shakes my whole body and has me instinctively flexing my ass up onto his dick. I can't help how I'm moaning on his cock and watching his face as everything he's feeling plays across it. Every now and then as we fuck his shy face gives way to an intensely determined primal expression, a confident not-quite-sneering smile. This is the first time he tells me how incredible it feels to be inside me. It's been just over a month since he had sex, but I'm still pleased by how pleased he is. I return the favor by telling him how great it feels with his cock inside me, fucking me. He slows down his pace admitting he can cum several times but he really doesn't want to as he's enjoying the feeling of my ass snugly massaging his cock. I try using my cunt muscles to grip and stroke him and he sighs thrusting into me again. He fucks me soundly for over an hour, the changing pace and intensity feels so good, slow, firm, shallow, fast, hard, deep, and I'm incredibly turned on and ready to receive his load. During this time he flips me from missionary onto my sides with my body folded like a deck chair and snugly tucked between his legs as he leans in and finds a new deep part of my cunt to fuck and paint with his precum. I twist to keep eye contact as he fucks me, at first finding the change in position overwhelming with new sensation in my cunt until, after a few moments, I feel myself center as I focus just on his cock. He moans and I feel freshly awash with his precum. He quickly flips me back into missionary and leans over me as he presses all the way inside and begins to fuck me getting deeper and harder as he goes. Looking at his face I can see the shy guy is gone, he's 100% the primal horny ass-fucker I glimpsed earlier and I'm definitely about to get bred. I'm so in need of his seed in my cunt after more that an hour of intense fucking that all I can do is half-sob "Please" with each thrust as his whole body tightens and pounds into me. Then I feel his already rigid cock thicken and harden in me as his face is transformed and he pumps his seed down into my thirsty cunt. As he finishes cumming, he keeps moving inside my now well-bred cunt, just a little back and forth, feeling the slickness of his seed inside me. He didn't go soft, but now I feel him hardening up inside me and I know he's definitely good for longer. He starts fucking me again, clearly getting off on the feel of his seed in my cunt and working it into every part of me. Leaning back, he talks about how much he enjoys watching his cock penetrating my now very juicy hole, telling me how hot and sexy it is. Knowing he's looking, I relax my hole a little, holding it slightly open and he sees his cum peek out. He fucked into the slightly looser hole and groaned how much he loved that wet feeling and the sound his cock makes fucking me filled with his cum. Over the next hour he fucks me in missionary, on my left and right sides, on my stomach and breeds me in every position. At one stage he tells me he's got no more cum left in him and, hearing a challenge, I begin milking him with my cum-filled hole and managed to make him cum three more times. In the end we fucked for a little over two hours and he bred me nine times. We chatted as we cleaned up and I got ready to go. As we were kissing and hugging goodbye, I told him how much I loved having his cum in me and that I'd take good care of it for him. His still half-hard cock became rigid in a few seconds and he admitted that he really likes having his cum inside a man and for him to keep it there inside him. The temptation to fuck just one more time was strong, but we both had things to get done. I think there is plenty of kink potential on top of some incredible fucking action to be had in the future. Here's hoping he's up for a repeat sometime soon. Lifetime loads (well, since March 2019) was 84, now 93.

I just did my first true anon fuck. A guy without a face pic messaged me on BBRT. After just a few messages, I send him my address. He wants the room dark, me face down/ass up. I hear him come in the door and walk into my bedroom. He pushed his dick in my hole and fucked me for a while. Once he came in my ass, he put his clothes back on and left. I never got a look at him. Really hot

I have one "straight" (well he is married) top who fucks me every month or so and he is the roughest top I have ever had. He is verbal, he punches me , slaps me that hard I have often been bruised, chokes me if I make a pleasured sound, spits in my face. There has never been a tactile moment between us in the four years he has been using me - just making me gag on his cock and he fucks like an animal. Very little conversation unless it is to humiliate and abuse me. But I have never not been available when he wants to come over, as he is always good for a 20 minute pounding and he then drags me in the bathroom and pissed on me. I wish he would come over more often, but he runs the show and he probably has other sub bottoms he uses. That is one reason I never refuse him as he is pig arrogant and I don't think he would take a knockback well and probably move onto the next hole.

Late afternoon yesterday. Text message from a fuck bud. He was horny and was I available? I have not seen him in a while....trying to be attentive to my partner...but the thought of my fuck buds big black poz cock in my ass was too good to say no. Told him I would be there in 10 minutes. We stripped as soon as I arrived and headed to his bedroom. He is the type that all I need to do is kiss him and pinch his nipples and he is rock hard. Lay on my back on his bed and he slides in balls deep. Holds it there while it grows even longer and goes in deeper. I beg him to fuck me and to recharge my ass with his poz seed. I continue to play with his nipples. We kiss deeply and wet while he breeds my ass with his hard poz black cock. Soon it grows even harder. I know what is cumming. He fills me and collapses on my chest. We cuddle and kiss with his cock still in me for 10 minutes. I touch his nipples and he immediately gets hard again and gives me load two. Hope to see him again this weekend.

Part 4 - Jacob The Designer Luckily this morning was only partially naked just wearing shorts, strangely though I didn't feel so awkward or embarrassed today, it was like I had new found confidence. As I came round the screen I caught a side on glimpse of the man, he looked to be in his 30's, fairly tall quite muscular build under his perfectly fitted suit and groomed to perfection, his black hair styled to suit his face and even his beard was sexy. At first he paid no attention to me but engaging with Patricia over getting a new model for his male underwear range. Patricia was trying to juggle him and me and she excused herself coming over to assist as the shorts were not sitting right. Eddie and the man said hello and kissed each other on the cheeks. Then our eyes met across the studio as I took the full sight of him in, he was drop dead gorgeous and exuded masculinity and sexual appeal. I must have blushed as he started walking over towards me still talking to Patricia but his eyes were now focused on me, it felt like he was sexing every part of me the way he looked me over carefully and so obviously. "Jacob I will see what I can do but you need to reign in your expectations" Patricia said getting annoyed. His eyes still on me "That simply won't do" he paused looking at me "I want him" he said making her turnaround. Patricia looked at me "No he is not right for your brand, to inexperienced" she said moving my arm. Jacob smiled at me "I want him so make it happen" he didn't wait for an answer, he turned and walked out. Eddie laughed from the other side of the room "You can't win Patty". "You are friends with him so tell him he can't have him" she replied turning to look at Eddie. Eddie snapped a picture of Patricia "No can do, he has made up his mind. Anyway a trial won't hurt" he said. Patricia huffed "Designers Tom, they just want everything and mostly never happy with what they get". "She says the same about me Tom" Eddie said walking over. "Your just difficult Eddie, good thing your good at your job" she said trying to stifle her laugh. "Don't pick on Eddie he is the perfect gentleman" I replied and Eddie coughed hiding his laugh. Patricia looked at me "Oh that is great now models are sticking up for Eddie" she shook her head "what ever next...". I was struck since it was the first time she actually referred to me as a model. Enter Jacob the designer, he would be the second most influential and very instrumental person in my life after Brad. Now don't get me wrong Eddie was instrumental in a different way and one I lied to hold close to my chest. Patricia's phone pinged just as she finished adjust my shorts, she read the message briefly smiling then looked at me. "Well Tom, you have your first rebook for one of the department stores" she said "congratulations". "Eh" I said forgetting my manners "Sorry what does that mean" I asked looking confused. Eddie walked over "More money" he said getting ready to start shooting. Patricia rolled her eyes "It means they like what you did last time and they want you on a formal basis". "More money" Eddie repeated chuckling "That's quick though" he said looking at her. She smiled at me "You have just jumped nearly all my models" she said "well done and thank you Eddie". I didn't know how big a thing that was, mostly models were just provided by Manon and only around 4 of her top models where specifically requested formally and I just got a ticket in to the top 5 models. We worked hard and before I left for lunch and my flight back to Texas Patricia came back to the studio and said I was needed back in LA next Monday for 3 days again. I wasn't sure if I had done something to upset here or if she knew about Eddie and I as she quickly went back to her office. Steve and I went downstairs and across the road to grab a salad and sat outside in the sunshine. "So now I know your gay, how was it with you and Eddie?" Steve asked facing me. I blushed "Incredible, I never expected him to stay with me last night" I replied "Hot body" I continued. "All the years I have worked with him, he has never bedded a model before. You must have something on him" Steve sounded a little jealous. "Please don't let this come between us" I said to Steve "did I upset Patty?" I asked him. Steve chuckled "No, Jacob did that. Apparently he has asked, well demanded you next week" he said. "Yeah, she wasn't that enthused about it" I said "although don't you think he is quite sexy?" I asked. "Oh yes" Steve laughed "he never strays though. And don't worry you and Eddie won't come between us". We returned back to the office and I managed to say good bye to Eddie who was busy and just nodded and winked. On my way to the airport I got a text from him apologising he couldn't say goodbye properly, he also said he hoped that us having sex would not prevent them from being friends first and foremost. It was a side to him I never could have imagined from when I first met him. As usual the midweek flight at 4pm wasn't overly busy, I walked through the boarding gate and hot to the aircraft doors wondering if Mike would be on the flight. As passengers file through to their seats I saw a female attendant, my first thought was how boring the flight was going to be without the eye candy. She checked my boarding pass and pointed me towards the seat, as I said I was getting good at this and managed to get row 7 again on the aisle. I settled down in my seat and looking through the music on my phone deciding what to listen to for 3 hours. "Well good afternoon 7C, nice to see you again" Mike said standing behind my seat. I turned and smiled "Hey, I didn't think you were on here, your not up at the door" I replied sounding stupid. Mike smiled "Training a new girl" he replied looking at her "So is this you going home or to work?" he asked. "Home, just finished work and now I have to catch up of my studying" I replied. "Studying?" he looked surprised learning forward "how old are you?" he asked in shock. I laughed "19, and you?" I asked him as he moved to let a passenger past. "24 but if you tell anyone I will kill you" he laughed patting the headrest of my seat and going to the front. It's those strange things in life that you never understand, seeing Mike on the flight was nice and almost made me feel at home although we didn't really know each other. I watched him going through a long ream of paper then writing something down on it and handing it to the despatcher who had just stepped on board. He then spoke to his trainee who nodded her head and started walking down the plane stopping at my seat. "Good afternoon Mr Miller, we have a seat for you in first class if you would like to follow me" she said. I stood up "Thanks that is very nice of you" I replied following her blushing so hard I thought my face would erupt. "We like to reward our loyal passengers" she said showing me to seat 1F. Okay so it looks like being nice does have some pay off in life. It goes without saying I was extremely well looked after and had a lovely meal, Mike even allowed me a glass of champagne since I was still to young to drink, officially that is. About two hours in to the flight I could see Mike and his trainee finishing service and cleaning up, he brought me a sparkling water over when they were done. "Mr Miller how is your flight" Mike said handing my the drink. Grinning "Perfect, really thank you for this" I said but Mike just waved a hand as if it was nothing. "What do you do in LA if you don't mind me asking?" he asked catching me off guard and unsure what to say incase it was lame. "Oh, you probably think it is stupid but I kind of do modelling" I replied. Mike didn't look surprised "Okay that figures" he replied smiling. I shrugged my shoulder "What figures?" replying looking very confused. Mike chuckled "Come on look at you, your so good looking and fit" he said quietly "What do you model?" he asked. "I will show you" I stood up and got my rucksack and pulled the folder out and opened it for him. Mike ran his finger of the photo and smiled "I would buy that suit but only because you wore it" he said. He showed the photo to his trainee who appeared just as taken by it. They started preparing the cabin for landing and Mike asked when I was flying back to LA, I showed him my flight details and he looked on his phone nodding and telling me he was rostered on that flight. He only did the Dallas to LA route as most other cabin managers didn't like doing the route but for Mike, he knew so many regulars, but most of them never get upgraded as it causes problems. Brad was at the airport to meet me and we stood chatting for a few minutes whilst he got a coffee for the drive back to Medina. Mike came through the arrivals door and walked over wishing me a good weekend and that he would see me Monday morning. Brad looked at me and chuckled so I had to explain it wasn't what he was thinking. Needless to say the entire journey home he went on and on about Mike constantly. Back in Texas for a few days I did an internet search on Jacob and found his name was Jacob Jansen very popular fashion designer and married to a man called Marcus and they both ran Jacob Jansen Fashion, the logo was simple it was two letter J's back to back. I couldn't believe how much a pair briefs cost though, you could buy at least 10 for the price but I guess you pay for the brand name and prestige of wearing them. Brad stayed home for the weekend which cheered me up no end and we spent every minute together, going in to town and sitting by Medina river although the weather was now starting to turn and got colder. We talked about the modelling and Jacob, to my surprise Brad had actually heard of the designer. The Sunday afternoon we sat by the river, I read a little but Brad seemed distracted and not really in to it, I put the book down and turned on to my stomach resting on me elbows and looked at him. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" I asked "is it Melinda?". Brad nodded "She is getting serious again" he replied picking a long stem of grass and tickling my arm with it. There it was again he kept doing these little things that aroused me and I wondered if he knew that "Marriage?" I asked him. "Yeah, and kids" he replied "I don't know if I want to be tied down like that" Brad said hitting me with the stem. I looked ahead "I can't help you on that bro" I said "but it's not fair on her if you keep dithering not knowing what you want in life". "I know" he said sounding exhausted "enough about me, what about you?" he asked changing the subject. "What do you mean?" I replied dithering myself. Brad laughed "Are you still a virgin or do I need to get you laid?". I chuckled "And where are you going to find someone?" I asked then paused looking at him. He sat upright "You have haven't you, you got laid?" he asked and I nodded "Why the fuck didn't you tell me?". I shrugged my shoulders "It's not something I want to talk about". Brad pounced on top me "I thought we were close enough to be honest with each other" he said head locking me. I giggled more out of wanting him to hump me than anything "I know". I told him all about Eddie, not in graphic detail except for me blowing him then puking which he seemed to find totally amusing and gave him something new to latch on to. He seemed happy that I finally was letting myself go and exploring things. It niggled at me the rest of the day, something was telling me he was a little jealous but I put it down to the reaction over the gay thing and he not understanding. Brad got up early to drive me to the airport before he went to work since my flight was at 7am. Dropping me off he made me promise to facetime him on Tuesday evening and I joined he queue for security. Boarding started and I waited a while to let the mad people get on first who thought the plane would leave without them if they didn't get on first. I joined the queue and they scanned my boarding pass, the gate agent looked at the screen for a moment then wrote 1F over the seat number, she smiled and pointed it out to me being discreet and I just nodded and smiled back. There he stood bright eyed and cheery, more than be said for me as I hated early mornings. "Welcome on board Mr Miller, 1F I believe" he said pointing to my seat. "Morning Mike, thanks" I said giving him a smile and leaving him to finish the boarding process. The flight was busy in first class so I didn't get much chance to chat with Mike, he wrote down my return flight details when he had a few minutes. Disembarking the flight he quickly apologised and said hopefully Wednesday we could chat a bit more. I was surprised to see Steve at the airport waiting for me. He admitted he missed having his new friend around and I hugged him at the airport in front of everyone. Wow I was getting brave I laughed to myself as we headed to the car park. The drive was crap with all the traffic and we headed up in the elevator, the doors opened and I only just managed to get out when Eddie pulled me towards the studio saying I had to get ready quickly, not even a hello or anything from him. A dressing assistant was present and handed me two boxes, I ran my fingers over the two embossed letter J's, I knew then that Jacob had got his way with Patricia. Opening the box I muttered oh crap as I saw it contained underwear, well if you could call the skimpy bit of fabric underwear. The dressing assistant chuckled and told me they are jock straps when I complained they were missing the behind bit. Eddie laughed having appeared and sent the dressing assistant out and fetch Jacob. She stomped off and Eddie rushed over nearly knocking me over to kiss me 'Fuck I missed you Tom' he said then composed himself. I knew there was nothing in this as Eddie made it clear he was in no way looking for romance he liked sex and he loved his boyfriend but stuff on the side was okay since his lover lived in New York. Which is great but random acts like this still gave me a massive boner and there was no way I could put the underwear on just now. "Can I see you tomorrow?" Eddie asked. I folded my shirt up "Depends, only if you stay over" I replied "I enjoyed being in bed with you". "Yes I will stay over maybe even fuck you twice if you can handle it" he kissed me and went around the screen. So this wasn't going to be a one off I thought to myself grinning, but then apart from having his body next to and on top of me I actually liked him as a person, much to the annoyance of the other gay male models who tried everything to get him in bed but he just showed no interest. One male model in particular was the one I had to watch, his name was Eric and I underestimated him big time. Jacob came in with Patricia who was not overly happy as it was a dead range she told me, they then had to explain that a dead range was a design that didn't sell very well but Jacob was adamant it was Patricia's fault she dissed him saying it was bad design. Still embarrassing enough knowing that I only had weird piece of underwear on under the dressing robe as I walked around the screen. Jacob was already sat there next to Patricia who had her unamused look of her lips pursed. I dropped the robe and hung it over the back to the chair, Jacob stood and walked towards me and indicated for me to turn around. It felt like a medical exam as he checked over every inch of my body and then he smiled and nodded to Patricia, she smiled in relief and took him off to her office. As soon as the shoot was finished I put the robe on and Eddie told me to stay put and left me sat there alone in the studio, unsure what to do I waited until they all appeared again but this time the designer had a box of different style of underwear. By the time the shoot ended at 2pm I was shattered not realising how exhausting or demanding Jacob was, clearly Patricia hated having designers in the studio during photo shoots. Jacob was packing the garments back in to boxes then walked over and handed them to me 'Thank you, these are for you to keep' he smiled. Jacob kissed Patricia on the cheek 'Amazing' was all he said and to her, Patricia waited for me to finish changing and walked with me to the elevator. "Well today has gone better than anyone expected" she told me. I smiled "No one gives much away so I have no idea how I am doing with you" I replied. She laughed and smiled "I will have a 5 year contract drawn up" she said as we walked. Seth had already advised me what to do in this situation "Can we discuss this in 11 months" I replied. She stopped and looked at me "Don't run before you can walk" she warned me. I looked at her "I am just not sure if this is what I want to do" I said. She seemed convinced and smiled "Your first fee has already been transferred to your bank account" she said. I really should have read the contract properly "Fee?" I asked. She smiled "Yes apart from a salary you get a 10% commission on the fee we charge the client". I nodded "Oh right". "Only if they are happy with the results" She went on to explain "It might change your mind" she said smiling. In the car back to the hotel I opened my banking app and checked nearly choking when I saw $5,000 deposited by Manon International. My mood had really brightened up thinking how much money was in my account, I kept closing the app and reopening it to double check it wasn't a mistake. Back at the hotel I must have smiled all the way through my shower and workout. I wrapped a towel around me and walked back in to the room, 4pm was to early to eat so I put the TV on flicking through the channels when there was a knock at the door. Not expecting anyone since I was meeting Eddie tomorrow after work, I rushed over to the peep hole and saw Jacob standing there, I leaned back against the wall 'oh fuck' I said to myself interrupted by him knocking again. I opened the door slightly just so I could peek through the crack. "What are you doing here?" I asked nervously. "I want to take you to dinner" he said looking at me through the crack in the door. Looking at him "How did you know where to find me?" I asked. Jacob laughed "A little bribery to Steve in the form of underwear and he sings like a canary". "I really don't know you" I replied debating to close the door. "Tom from Texas let me in for gods sake" Jacob demanded "or I will cause a scene outside your door". I chuckled and opened the door letting him in "Why do you want to take me to dinner?" I asked him. Jacob walked in to the room "I will speak to Patricia about getting you a better hotel" he said ignoring my question. I closed the door "Is your husband in town as well?" I asked turning to face him, unsure why I even asked that. "I see you have done some homework" he said laughing "so am I taking you out to dinner?" he asked again. I walked in to the room "Okay" I surrendered holding my hands up but actually I quite liked him. Grabbing a shirt from the closet and putting it on Jacob looked at me "Is that what your wearing?" he asked. I smiled "JC Penny's finest" I replied and Jacob laughed putting his hand on my shoulder. "Okay so we make a little detour before dinner" he said "Can't have you dining in shorts you will ruin my reputation" he laughed. His limousine was waiting outside the hotel causing much attention by people on the sidewalk and in the hotel. A few people in the lobby recognised Jacob and snapped pictures of us both leaving the hotel, little did I understand about fame and how innocently him taking me out to dinner can be twisted in to all sorts of suggestive narratives. Jacob asked all about me in the limo as we drove, I told him about the town in Texas where we live near and all about the Medina ranch and river and how perfect the place was. The limousine stopped outside a very posh looking boutique store that was quite busy. I looked at Jacob who smiled and said 'don't worry I am not a monster despite what Patricia might think', stepping out the limo I saw the two gold letter J's above the store front and knew immediately it was his store. Walking inside there was gasps from the customers as they saw the designer enter, the manager dropped what he was doing and came over. Jacob greeted him and introduce me to him explaining I need a casual but stunning suit for dinner. The manager laughed and reminded Jacob that they only stocked stunning suits. "I don't need clothes Jacob" I protested to him being ushered in to a private dressing room. Jacob smiled "I didn't say you did, I want to give you something for a good job today" he explained. I laughed "I stood and got photographed" I said to him. Jacob put his arm around my shoulder "Your so funny, I see why Eddie likes you". I stopped and looked at him "What do you mean?" I asked sounding a little upset. He smiled "Word on the street is Eddie was patient with you it upset Eric but then he is a nasty bit of stuff on the inside". "Oh" I said calming down "he called me a fucking amateur" I replied. Jacob chuckled "He forgets he was an amateur once. But he has blown any chance of working with me now for calling you that". By the time we left the boutique I felt like a million dollars dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, wearing JJ's underwear, socks and shoes. Jacob had been on the phone to his husband sending him pictures of me wearing one of his suits, I was a little dazed by all of this but Jacob was very open and honest saying he kept Marcus informed of everything as the media took things and put a spin on everything. I joked with him that he was trying to get me in bed, truth be told I hoped he was but he smiled and told me he was completely faithful to his husband. We dined in a haunt of many celebrities who would pop by and ask for him to dress them for the awards season, sitting there with my mouth open throughout dinner at the number of famous people who casually walked up to him. Jacob apologising for the continuous interruptions. One thing I learnt about Jacob was that he didn't style celebrities for award shows, if they wanted to wear one of his creations they had to pay and pay through the nose. He never gave them freebies as they had the money to buy his clothes, this way everything kept a much higher price tag and demand. That evening I spent with him would be where I made my first real friend in the world of fashion who would stick by me after things went sour, I know I was friends with Steve but I classed him as my gay friend and didn't see him as in the fashion world. The drive back to my hotel Jacob finished off a text to his husband. He turned to me "I have loved every minute being with you. Meeting someone genuine is refreshing". I blushed and chuckled "Thank you for taking me out I had a great time" I said leaning back in the seat. "Hope you don't mind if I hang out with you when I am in town" he suggested smiling at me. I nodded "I think I would like that, I mean to be friends with you" I replied stumbling my words. Jacob laughed and leaned over kissing me on the cheek "Only friends, if you need any clothes call me" he said. I smiled "Even this is way to much" I said running my hand down the smooth fabric covering my leg. Jacob shook his head "No it isn't, anyway you look as hot as fuck in that suit". I chuckled "Hmm I wonder who designed it, probably a rip off" I said feeling Jacob punch my arm playfully. "Get out" he laughed "you have my number, call me if you ever need anything" he said seriously. I suppose it may have been just one of those things when you say yes of course I will blah blah but never call, this wasn't the case with Jacob. Everyone at Manon International liked to tell you how difficult designers are to work with except when they are getting free clothes. I suppose he was no different to them but to me he would become Jacob my friend, a person I could really trust and eventually play a important part of my life. Tuesday Patricia was finalising the shoots I did with Jacob's underwear or as I would call them 'Jacob Straps'. He had given me so many of them yesterday that I gave Steve around 6 of them who smiled and hugged me, exclaiming he would have no trouble getting guys wearing these. To much information I told him as we headed off for lunch. That afternoon I did a few more shoots for some tailored shirts. Patricia came in the studio and showed me the photographs that were already on line modelling Jacob's dead range and said they were putting the same advertising campaign behind it as before. I just nodded and smiled but loved the photographs Eddie had taken, it was hard to pin it down, somehow he managed to capture me in some very sensual way that just looked hot. Eric had wandered in from his photo shoot in Studio B with a different photographer and looked at the screen 'Nice' he said and wandered off talking to Patricia. His arms clasped tight around my body as he carried me across the bedroom and dropped me on the bed, I was giggling so much I hiccupped several times, my underwear tenting from my erection and feeling so horny and turned on by him. Eddie kneeled over me as I looked up at his naked body the giggling finally stopped and my hand reached up and held his hard cock. I leaned up and closed my mouth around the head gently teasing it and licking it like a melting lolly. "You sure you want to do that again, if so I will get a bucket?" Eddie said with a cheeky smile on his face. I kneeled up looking in to his eyes "Are you trying to be funny?" I said forcing my mouth on to his. Eddie pushed me away "You know I would rather fuck you" he said holding my arms "and you have kept me waiting to long". I laughed and collapsed on the bed pulling him down "Do you want me as a friend or someone to fuck?". "Both" Eddie replied "I am greedy and I need to fuck The Model Called Tom" he chuckled. He was quick and he was good, my reaction was to slow, possibly on purpose. Eddie had my legs up and his tongue at my hole waking my body up I wriggled and moaned in pleasure feeling his tongue working me good. Kissing my body he worked up to my neck and eventually my mouth, deliberately putting me in a missionary position his hand stroked along my body and rounded my ass. He positioned his cock against my hole and gently began prising it open. 'Uh' I moaned feeling the pain as his head slipped through the outer ring. He stopped pushing and kissed me, my hand roaming over his arms and back letting me get use to his cock for several minutes. He looked me in the eye and I nodded watching the smile grow on his face leaning forward feeling hips lips press against mine. My hand gripped his arms and my back arched slightly off the bed as I felt more of his cock easing deeper in to my body. The little pain I felt was over shadowed by the pleasure surfacing and enveloping my body. It was strangely so different, he hips moved in a steady pace, our mouths sealed together in a very long sensuous kiss, holding on to each other it felt so perfect. To all intense and purpose this was no fuck, Eddie actually made love to me, I knew it and he knew it. It was slow and very erotic, I could feel every inch of him inside me building up with every lovingly delivered thrust. I could sense every change in his body and he began to show signs of reaching his climax. He kissed deeper and his hips picked up speed the sounds of his balls hitting my ass providing the back ground ambience. I moaned into his mouth my tongue on his my hands moving around his back holding him closer, my mouth filling with a rush of his air as he groaned deeply his eyes squinting and his hips pushed up hard forcing his cock deeper in to my body. His arms around my body and neck tightened his body going rigid, breaking the kiss he held my head close to his pushing up hard causing me to cry out in ecstasy, the feeling of his cock twitching in my ass reverberated down to my cock sending me over the top, without touching myself I came, my legs clamped around Eddie's waist and my eyes closed. I felt his mouth kissing me erratically across my face looking for my mouth which opened and received so welcomingly, holding him so tight I didn't want to let him go. I woke in the morning face to face with Eddie watching him sleep. I wasn't in love with him you have to understand that, but the sex we had that last evening was so powerful and intense, Eddie would only ever get that from his partner and me. For me it would only ever be matched by one other person. I arrived for my last shoot in the morning as I was booked on the 4pm flight back in the afternoon. I didn't know when or even if I would be coming back. Patricia called me in to her office and threw a paper in front of me, the title read 'Fashionista JJ and who?' underneath was a picture of Jacob and me leaving the hotel the night we had dinner. She sat there in silence looking at me, I explained that he wanted to take me for dinner as a thank you for the shoot during the day. She warned me not to get involved and tangled up with Jacob, it wasn't healthy mixing business with pleasure. I apologised to her, she told me she would speak to Jacob about it as well. My chat with Patricia had revealed the businesswoman inside who was ruthless and demanding, she called the shots and pulled the strings to the point where people didn't like to cross her. I never knew what went on between Jacob and Patricia but rumour has it that he threatened to dump her agency if she tried pulling a stunt like that again. Patricia reminded him on the contractual clause about designer and model, as much as she didn't want to enforce the clause she would if needed. My main concern would be if she found out about Eddie and me. Steve waved my flight details "Your back next Wednesday" he said crossing the reception. "Oh really, great" I said walking over to him. Steve held the paper back "For some reason your booked in to the Fairmont Miramar at Santa Monica". He handed the papers to me "Oops, I think that was Jacob's doing" I said looking at him. Steve laughed "You will be here for a week, so can we hang out over the weekend sometime?". I smiled and hugged him "Of course" I said seeing Patricia and Eddie came out of the studio. Patricia called over "See you Wednesday afternoon" disappearing in to her office. Eddie walked over towards me giving me a cheeky kiss and hug "See you next week" he said and looked at me. I smiled "You bet" I replied as Eric came out of the studio and glanced in my direction nodding his head. I couldn't be sure but maybe Eric was getting friendlier towards me. He was incredibly arrogant and Steve hated being in the same room with him, but he did have a bit of a sexy side to him. Steve warned me that Eric was quite the fuck machine and bedding anyone who gave him the time of day. Interestingly Steve said his previous boyfriend took a restraining order out against him on the grounds of obsessive behaviour but rumour has it was his boyfriends wandering eye that caused the problems. Mike stood at the door and smiled seeing me walk down the airbridge towards the aircraft and put me in seat 1F. Having time to chat to him on this flight as his trainee was with him again I showed him some more shots and gave him a pair of Jacob Jansen underwear still in their box. He looked utterly surprised and thought I had spent money buying them until I explained that the designer Jacob had given way to many after doing a shoot for him. I had a whole week before going back to LA and arranged to meet up with Mike at the weekend. As usual Brad was getting a coffee and I watched to see if Mike would come through as I knew this was always his last flight of the day, sure enough he appeared just as Brad got his coffee. He walked over to say goodbye and I introduced him to Brad. We hadn't decided where to meet until Brad suggested he come down to Medina and the ranch. The weekend turned out to be a lot of fun and Brad got on well with Mike, clearly Mike and I flirted but kept it very plutonic as we seemed to have a lot in common. Mike would come down to Medina several times even when I wasn't there to visit Brad as a friend to him as well, it was a break from Melinda which really kept him from being pushed in to decisions he didn't want to make. Mike would turn out to be a great friend with benefits (airline ones of course).

This is the first time I've ever posted. This story is true and, if you like it, I'll post more. It dates back to 2006 when I still lived in Manchester, UK and had visited a gay bathhouse there for the first time. Enjoy. I remember my first visit. I hadn't meant to take it raw. I'd always wanted it, but had never given in, too scared of the consequences. I was nervous even just entering the sauna. Terrified someone would see me and recognize me. That was scarier than taking it raw, I don't know why. Basement in Manchester is hidden down a backstreet, Tariff Street, in the city's Northern Quarter. You enter the building down some stairs and come to a door with a buzzer. My fingers were trembling, but I pressed it. There's a camera, so staff can see who's there in case... well, I'm not sure what it's there for - I imagine they let anyone in, in fact my later visits would confirm this. The clientele are a mix of young muscle pups, skinny queens, ageing queers and everything in between. When I walk down the stairs there's a desk and the tall, muscled man, fit with an 'I could fuck you three ways from Sunday and not be out of breath' grin on his face asks me if I'm a member. I'm not. I have to pay extra, but it's a one off payment and I'm here now anyway. What freaks me out more is that they take my picture and they want details: my name, my birthday - they have my picture. Fuck! I notice the walls and desks are crudely painted black, the countertop red - whore-red. He passes me a towel and I ask for poppers too. I can get fucked quite happily without poppers if the top starts off slow, but who wants to start slow? And anyway, I like the high. He hands me my locker key. I've read stories about saunas in America, but it's different in Britain - you don't get your own cubicle. It's more of a wandering free-for-all. I enter the door into the locker room and a couple of guys are getting changed, nude, taking their time, no inhibitions. I strip as quickly as possible and throw my towel around myself. I feel like people are staring at me. I'm 23, 5'9", slim, toned, nice big arse and I'm hairy - I'm not ashamed to say it. I hate all of the prepubescent shaving shit. I'm hairy - fuck it. I've had guys ask me to shave my hole before. Fuck right off. Men are supposed to have hair - real men, that is. With my head down, I walk through the locker room, gripping my towel firmly around myself with one hand and my poppers in the other - I've already taken the plastic wrapper off - I don't want that to spoil a moment, should any occur. On my left there's a darkened passage leading to somewhere I can't see, on my right there's a Jacuzzi, showers and toilets and at the end of the corridor is a seated TV area where you can buy drinks etc. I wasn't here for that. I turned left. In the darkness I can only see shapes in white towels, forms passing me, stroking me, brushing against me, but I'm too nervous to stop and reciprocate. I keep walking. There's rows and rows of cubicles, doors hanging open, some closed, some empty, some with guys doing... Well, you know what they're doing. It's my first time in a sauna - I want to scout the place out first. See what it's all about, so I do a lap of the facilities, head still down. There's a sling, gloryholes, a cage, a darkroom, a porn room and loads more cubicles. I focus on the darkroom. I've never been bothered about looks. Yes, we all like attractive men, I myself am a good looking guy - boy next door type, no model, but I'd turn your head a little if I'd made an effort that day. I just like men. I don't care about age, colour, size, etc. For some reason I've always felt ashamed of that when with friends so I've never admitted it. I didn't need to admit to anything in the darkroom. I walk in and I'm blind. My eyes take forever to adjust and I can still only see towels hanging from silhouettes and hear anonymous moaning from the corners. I feel a swarm of hands feeling over me and I panic - it's too much. Fuck. What's a nice boy like me doing here anyway. I brush them away and leave the room. After a while I get cruised in the corridors and I accept an invitation from a guy, late thirties I guess, tall, dark hair, ok looking. We fuck and kiss, but it's a cold mechanical fuck and he can't kiss, one of those tongues that darts in and out really quickly - it's not good. He seems way more into it than me, but it gets me horned up and after a good sniff of poppers o just lay on my stomach and let him hammer away until he's done. He wears a condom throughout and he's careful when he pulls out to slide it off gently and put it in the bin, then he slaps my arse, kisses me and says thanks, before leaving. I'm less than satisfied. After a fumble in the gloryhole-cabins, I head back over to the darkroom, a bit more courage now that I've had a bit of cock and I'm seriously in need of more. I feel around, groping for he first cock I can find - nice and thick with a really bulbous bellend. It tastes of lube but that only occurs to me later. I feel hands from behind me, groping for my cock and arse and this time I don't stop them. I sniff my poppers as they continue to explore and I slide my mouth up and down on the thick meat in front of me, now oozing precum and dribbling with my spit. I hear spitting and feel wet fingers probing me but I let it happen, why wouldn't I? Eventually my towel drops from my waist and I fumble for it, throwing it over my shoulder. Fingers are deep inside me now and I can hear whoever is behind me sniffing poppers and groaning to himself. More fingers enter until there's 3, maybe 4 from two hands, the poppers are blurring it now and the guy on the end of the cock I'm eating is moaning louder and louder. I feel him swell and the fingers in my cunt slide more smoothly as one, in and out and I'm in ecstasy, when the meat in my mouth explodes and I lick, drink and suck every last drop like its my last meal. As he moves away, I lean forward, hands against the wall and I realise that it's not fingers now, it's cock. Raw cock. There's no condom, just skin on skin. My fingers stay at my hole feeling it slide in and out and hearing him moan and it's amazing, but I know I should stop it. I get worried he might cum. Inside me. Cum. Inside me. I panic and I lean forward so he falls out of me, but he continues to try and reenter and begins to grow forceful. I push him away and in a hurry, embarrassed and worried, I leave the room and head for the showers. I wander around for a while before trying the darkroom again. Within seconds I'm sucking another cock, pierced and it's all I can do to keep my teeth in tact as he plunges it in and out of my throat. And then suddenly I feel hands again at my hole and before I know it he's guiding his cock in. I'm still concentrating on making sure I keep all my teeth and the guys behind me is just forcing his way in - it's the same guy from earlier. I don't know how I know, I just do. Same cock. Same guy. And I can feel him in there raw. It stings as there's been no introduction, just whacked it straight up inside me. The guy I'm sucking grabs my shoulder and the back of my head and I can't move as he fucks my face aggressively and deeply. I hear the guy behind me shuffle forward as he enters me balls deep and begins to hammer away quickly. I know what he's doing. He's determined to cum inside me. I edge forward, as much as I can without choking, but he follows, slamming my cunt until my natural juices flow and I'm dripping. They're both groaning now and both getting faster and I'm stuck, bent over awkwardly, I want to stand up, but I can't. The guy behind me finishes first, thrusting himself as deep as possible and gripping my waist to pull me closer . He's making sure I've got it all. As he pulls out the guy in my mouth cums and I suck and drink up - it'd be rude not to. Fuck. I feel my arse, fingering it a little and sniffing my fingers, sticky and pungent. Cum. Fuck. Panic takes over again. Fuck. I don't even know who he is. I don't even know what he looks like. I literally don't know a thing about him. As I stumble out of the darkroom, a little unsteady on my feet from poppers and being bent over in the dark, several guys eye me as I come out - was it one of them? If so, they don't give themselves up. I head to the showers and clean myself up. It's done. I've got a stranger's raw load inside me. There's no going back. I dry myself off and walk through the corridors, my head still low. Do any of them know what I've just done? I throw my towel on to the plastic mattress in a cubicle and climb in and lay face down. Fuck it. It's not long before I hear my cabin door creak and then close, the bolt sliding it shit. Locked. I stay face down. It could be anyone. God only know what they want, but I wait face down and don't move, trying to stifle my breathing. I can feel myself tremble a little as a firm m, warm hand grips my buttocks and slides about my arse. I can tell that he's wanting with his other hand. He fingers my hole, still wet, ready lubed. He uses his thumb and forefinger to stretch it a little and rub it in all the right places. Then he stands up and moves forward. I don't want to see him. If I see him, it's real. Glue grips my hair and turns me to face him, sliding his cock straight into my mouth. It's semi hard. Shaven, cold like it's just been washed, but tastes fresh enough. I can't resists a glance up, but I can't make much out from the angle I'm at. I suck him until he's hard, relishing his cock like the good slut I'm becoming. He leans over while I continue, fingering me and pulling at my hole, before pulling away. He spits on my cunt and I can feel him dribbling more saliva on there too. He rubs his cock against my arse like he expects me to pull away, or tell him to put on a rubber. I should, but I don't. 'I'll let him play a little,' I think, 'then I'll tell him to put a condom on.' He takes my lack of reaction as the go ahead and slides himself in me bareback, groaning and relaxing as he moves every once deep into my cunt. I take a few big sniffs of poppers, lay my head on my towel, hands limp by my side and just lay there as he goes to work. He's hot and sweaty and I feel it dripping on me. It's disgusting, but it makes me hard and I want more. He leans with both hands on the small of my back as he works my arse. Sliding smoothly and rhythmically in and out, never quite withdrawing completely, he fucks me like he owns me and I let him. I don't move, save to take more poppers - I simply lay and groan. I feel him getting faster and faster and he presses harder on the small of my back, which makes me arch my back and lift my head. He's really pounding me now - he doesn't care what I feel. I hit the poppers again and he cums, panting, groaning, spurting his jizz in to my gut. He slows to a halt and stays there for a moment, before collapsing in me, for one me down, his sweat slick along my back and I feel for a moment like I can't breathe. As I start to push up his cock slips out and he climbs off me. I breathe deeply trying to clear my head from the poppers and he unlocks the door and leaves. I just lay there. My body is still, but I'm fraying on the inside. I'm coming apart. What have I done? I begin to rationalise. It's only two guys. You don't do it often. What are the chances of catching something? Questions flood my mind and I try to play them down but before I can address all of them another hand is crawling over me. I feel his towel, damp and heavy, drop across my feet and he climbs onto the mattress,'forcing my legs apart to make room. His fingers find my hole immediately and within seconds his short fat cock is in my and I can feel his beer gut leaning on my as he thrusts crudely, I gratefully into my sloppy hole. It doesn't take him long before he's done and he leaves. For some reason I'm hard again. I have the cum of three complete strangers, none of whom I've even seen, swimming around inside me and my 7" cock is solid, pressed hard against the now sweaty plastic wrapped foam mattress. 'I'll give it another minute,' I think, the. I'll go home. But it doesn't take that long for people to come in. I'm still lying flat, my head turned to face the wall. There are at least two of them. One immediately turns me to suck his cock. His body is tan, smooth and I can see tattoos and pierced nipples, a shaved head and a weathered face that doesn't give a shit. His cock is bound by a thick metal ring and I eat it like my life depends on it. The other guy(s) (I'm still not sure if it's one or two) play with my arse and I feel warm breath on my arse as a tongue begins to play me. I writhe in pleasure. My entire body feels electric. I don't know what they look like. I have no clue who they are. But in that moment I want both of them, all of each of them, on me, in me - I just want them. They swap places but the guy whose cock I've been sucking doesn't rim me. Instead he straddles me and pushes my legs together so he's either side of me. He pressed his bare cock to my hole and slides in slowly. The cum inside me is beginning to dry and my insides are a little tacky - he sort of kissers further inside me, letting out a relaxed grunt as his balls halt him from going further. I'm still going to town on his friends veiny meat, I shaved with pubes bouncing off my chin and tickling me, but I don't care, I want him pubes and all. After fucking me for a few minutes, he pulls out and slaps my arse with his cock and I feel his hands lift my hips so that I'm brought up on all fours, but carefully so as the cock I'm sucking doesn't spill out of my mouth. I feel the guy behind me sit up, levelling his cock to my cunt and then he begins. He thrusts inside me so deeply and with such rhythm that I can't tell if it's the most amazing thing I've ever felt or if it's hurting me but there's no time to think. The cock in my mouth is dripping precum and I lap it up, licking his balls and sack and the gap between his thighs and enjoying the fact that the cock couldn't possibly be any harder - it's solid. He mimics the other guy's earlier actions and takes it out of my mouth, slapping me on the cheek with it. The other guys pounds away until he ruts up high inside me, gripping the flesh around my buttocks so tightly that it hurts and he lurches forward making me feel as though I can taste his cock too. I have nowhere to go. While they swap places again, the guy who's just cum lets me clean him off - less lets me, more makes me, but I do it - it seems like I have to. It's not long before his friend cums and the pair of them leave, thanking me and laughing to themselves. I took many loads that day. I've been back many times since too. Let me know if you like and I'll post some more

Just to lighten this up, I friggin love latino tops, they are crazy aggressive. As to the inclusive thing with different body types, to me that is just a preference if you don't turn me on then you don't turn me on, I realize I'm not going to be hooking up with 20yo porn stars because I'm older and don't turn them on, which is weird because I'm amazing to look at lol

So glad to hear that Daddys hand is still with us and not just for the story. Get well soon.

Lol - Oh, thank God somebody finally said it! 🤣 I can’t tell you how many times I’ve nearly typed “Will you two get a plane ticket and a room, for Pete’s sake?” All I can say is that we here had better get a riveting after-action report when this breeding eventually takes place... As to the images you posted - I have a sense that the only guys who can truly get away with a thong are those blessed with the entire package: the build, the muscle, the ass and the cock, the face, and the moxie that says they not only know they’ve got it all, they know that you know they’ve got it all. If any of those elements is lacking, it becomes obvious that the Emperor is showing his ass, and not necessarily in the desired way. Even if all is in place, but then he turns around and the face doesn’t complete the picture, the glamour is dispelled and the choice of a thong becomes questionable. I’d love to be able to wear one on a beach or in a bathhouse - but not a snowflake’s chance in hell. I do think thongs are probably something age may make us ineligible for, no matter how fit we are...

I’m 29 and blond, and though I have a boyfriend, I go to my local sauna a lot. The BF has no idea. I suck and swallow, which is risky, but have only got fucked bareback in the sauna once by this hot 18 year old top who I couldn’t resist. The BF and I have never used condoms, and I fuck him several times a week. I had gone to my local sauna as usual, and had taken a kamagra herbal tablet to keep my cock rock hard. Because the it always makes my head pound I took three paracetamol tablets also - or I thought they were paracetamol. When I looked at the packaging after swallowing them, it turned out they were nitrazepam (my boyfriend was taking to help him sleep), though I had no idea what nitrazepam was at the time and shrugged it off. Well after about 30 minutes I was rock hard laying on my back in the steam room, some random old guy sucking my cock. Thankfully it wasn’t that hot in there today so I could stay in there for ages while getting blown. I was starting to feel a bit woozy- the nitrazepam - but didn’t know why. My eyes were heavy and I felt so lazy, too lazy to move. When another random, somewhat younger guy came in and sat between my legs and started rubbing my anus, normally I would’ve pushed his hand away, but I just lay there moaning as I enjoyed my bj, my arms feeling too heavy to move. The younger guy rubbing my ass lifted my legs up, my floppy unresisting body complying with however he moved it, my head still awake but my body just empty and lifeless. It was weird: I was aware but detached. The old guy started licking my ass, sucking my ring and slobbering all over my anus. Normally, the thought of being covered with an old man's spit would have made me cringe, but not this time. I simply lay there, seemingly indifferent to his approaches. The old guy sucking me stood up when I was bent double and rubbed his cock on my face. He poked it between my lips, but I didn’t suck it. "Are you ok mate?" he said in my ear as he stroked my mouth. I moaned, but didn’t properly reply. He stood up and walked off, saying to the other guy "He’s too out of it to give me a good blow job" and left me alone with the other guy, who stopped rimming me and scooted up between my legs, his erection rubbing my bum cheeks as he reached up over my body, holding my face in his hand. "What you taken mate?" he asked, squeezing my cheeks. I didn’t reply, just stared at him blankly. "You don’t want me to put a condom on do you?’" he asked, shaking my head from side to side with his hand holding my face. "Noooo, good," he said as he shook my head "No" for me. He reached down and positioned his cock at my hole, rubbing the helmet in his spit as he nestled it in my anus, then he slowly pushed in, just shoving the entire length of his cock inside me bareback to the hilt in one go, his helmet drooling precum deep in my bowels. He started sliding his cock in and out as he hunched over me on the steam room bench, grinding my ass raw as he fucked my limp body. "Feel my cock and your ass skin to skin. I’m guessing you wouldn’t let me do this if you weren’t fucked up on something" he said as his fucking got harder. "You want my cum in your ass hey kiddo? Yeah, you’re getting it in your ass mate. Fuck, yeah. Here it comes. Gonna breed your little ass raw. Yeah. Fuuuuuuuck, I’m cumming in you kiddo... uh uhh..... fuck yeah, take my load, fuck." He moaned and shuddered as he bred me raw. I knew I was getting filled with cum, by a dirty old stranger, and I knew that was really bad, but I didn’t move, couldn’t move, just lay there, my legs hooked over his shoulders, my blank eyes staring at his contorting face as he came in my ass. As he did two guys came in, chatting until they saw the old dude finishing grinding his sperm into my bowels. "Sorry" one said as they sat down. "No worries" the guy breeding me said as he pulled out, cum dribbling out my ass. "This one is out for the count. Either of you want a ride?" he asked, fingering my gaping anus. "I’m a bottom, but George here might" one of the couple said. "Should I go and get a condom for you George?" "You don’t need to wear a rubber. Fuck, I didn’t. He doesn't care. Look" the guy said, pulling his cum covered fingers out my ass then shoving them back in. "Yeah, looks sweet" George said. "You got the clap, hey mate? It’s curable, fuck go for it" the guy fingering me said. "No, George is poz, I'm afraid" George's friend said. "Maybe I could, just this once. I haven’t felt bare ass in such a long time..." George started. "No, hold-on George, I'll get you a condom" said his buddy, leaving the sauna. George got in position between my legs, and I saw him for the first time as I hadn’t bothered to turn my head before to look. He was fat and hairy, fat cock but average length that he was rubbing on my toes. The guy who had already bred me was spreading his cum on George’s helmet and rubbing it up and down my crack. "Just put it in quick before your friend gets back" "‘I can’t, he’ll kill me" George said. "Nestle it at his hole for me quickly" my breeder said. George pointed his cock down and his helmet slid into my outer anus very easily, my ring closing round the poz guy's coronal ridge. "Oh my goooood, I am so close, I haven’t been skin-to-skin since I was diagnosed" remarked the poz guy. "How close?" asked the breeder, maneuvering my body so I slid into the raw poz cock another inch. "Like, about to blow. I better pull it out. Slide his body back again" said the poz guy. "Fuuuck, quick." ’ "Or deeper?" countered the breeder, pushing me down further on the poz cock instead of pulling me off. "Do it, cum in him, fucking poz his hole, I scraped it up real good, cum in him before your mate comes back." "Fuuuuck,’ the poz guy said as he buried his cock in my ass to the hilt. He rammed it in two or three times before moaning "Fuuuuuck, yeah, take it, take my load, buddy - feel my cum deep in your insides." He came in me, holding his cock buried to the hilt so his poz sperm was buried deep in my body. "Fuck yeah, fill him up, poz him, yeah. Stick your fingers up to keep the cum in when you pull out" instructed the breeder. "Why?" asked the poz guy. "You know why" replied the breeder. The poz guy pulled out and slid at least three fingers in my ass to the hilt. I was waking up a tiny bit, perhaps from the adrenaline of laying there and not resisting being fucked raw by a poz guy, and letting him finish off inside me. About then the BF returned with a condom, squatting next to me and wrapping-up George’s cock. "You’re not very hard, George. I thought you would be with your fingers buried in his cummy ass. Wow. What a lot of cum is leaking out, look at that" George’s friend said as he saw George fingering my ass. "Now, let me see you fuck this boy" he said. George pulled his fingers out and slid his covered cock into my poz cum filled ass, getting hard pretty quick again he fucked me for ages, trying to cum again, pumping his poz cum deeper into my ass as he fucked me with his sheathed cock. After about ten minutes of fucking George’s friend said "I’m going to get some water" and stepped outside. "You want me to help you cum, George?" said the other guy. "Sure, how?" George asked. "Pull out a second" ordered the my first breeder. "You can’t pull the condom off. My boyfriend will be back in a moment." "I’m gonna snap the end off. It will look like you’re still wearing a rubber." George pulled out and I heard a snap like an elastic band, and then he rammed his raw cock back in. "Better?" "Fuck, yeah" replied George. A few seconds later George's boyfriend came back in, and felt George’s cock. "I’m still wearing it" George spat as he fucked even harder into my insides. "Just checking. You getting closer to cumming honey?" George’s boyfriend asked. "All this is making me horny. I might want a ride after all." "Oh, yeah, real close" George said, grunting and moaning. "You gonna fuck him raw - since you're clean?" asked the first breeder. "Yeah, I guess so." "Fuuuuuuuck, yeah" George moaned as he came inside me a second time, his cock deep in my bowels as he injected his second dirty load deep into my guts. George slumped over me as he finished cumming inside me, discreetly slipping the broken condom off. He stood up, withdrew and his boyfriend took his place between my legs. "Wow, his hole is sloppy" the boyfriend said. With that he rammed his bare cock right inside me to the balls, unknowingly coating his cock in his boyfriends dirty load and pushing poz cum deeper into my bowels at the same time. "Yeah, fuck him mate. Fuck his cum-filled ass" urged the first breeder. "Fuck, I don’t know how you lasted so long George. Fuck. Here it comes. Yeah, take my cum, blond boy." I could feel his cock jerking into me spasmodically as he came inside me. The guy pulled out, and the first breeder sat between my legs and started finger fucking my arse again, sliding four fingers straight in. George and his boyfriend left, leaving me alone with the sick old pervert. I passed out completely as he was trying to get all five fingers inside me. I recall he had inserted all his fingers and was slowly trying to get his hand into me past the widest point. As it slipped in I must have passed out, laying there with his hand inside my body, completely at his mercy. I woke up as someone sprayed my face with water. Blinking my eyes open, I was being supported under my armpits by a huge tattooed guy. "Mate, are you ok?" he asked as I struggled to my feet, gradually standing free of him. I noticed, however, he didn't fully let go, as his arms still wrapped round me from behind, and his erection was pressing into my back. "Are you all right?" again he asked. "I dunno, um......" I stammered, still pretty out of it. "I found you in the steam room. Some guy had his foot buried in your ass. Seriously, the front half of his foot." I felt my gaping ass with my fingers, it was open wide by an inch, not closing up even when I tried to clench it. "Uuhhh, I err....." I mumbled for want of words. "He said you took nine loads. I think you might have got some dirty ones too. Sorry, mate." I flashed back to the poz guy and wondered what else I was impregnated with. About then the tattooed guy's cock slid into my hole. You know what followed. That was two years ago. I still haven’t been tested. Every time I fuck the BF raw, I know I could be bug-sharing with him.

I work up a little early this morning and noticed my man had a rock hard cock. I reached over to grab and jerk it; I can never resist his beautiful cock. He started to stir at my touch, and slightly spread his legs. This was all the invite I needed. Min no time I had a brown bottle to my nose taking a huge hit of poppers as I got between his legs and started to throat his cock. He work up a little bit more as I as working my mouth up and down his dick. He started to get more verbal “yeah, throat my cock. You love love my dick don’t you, slut?” As he was fucking my face as I took another his of poppers, and got really into sucking him off. After a few more minutes I felt him start to pulse and throb in my throat, and I was rewarded with his load. It is the beginning of a great day.

Part 7 It has been over a week since my poz daddy gave me the biggest thrill of my life and if this was a rollercoaster I would say we are still on the precipice of the highest peak. When he pulled out of me before cumming and told me his grand plan I was in heat so bad, I just wanted that big thick cock in me and his charged semen, I simply laid there and listened. I had always played out the fantasy of taking poz cum in my head but this was a whole new level. I never felt more me than ever before. I was more amazed about how 0 hesitation I had, he did not need to threaten. I think his potent cum had already kick started the real me by then. Part of this super high I was feeling was this waiting for just what the end result of his plan was going to be from that first day. Sure since then he has been back to my house, installs one window and then 'finds' an issue that makes doing another one impossible. Our days then are spent him keeping me in a state of cum charged bliss. I have had probably over 50 of his loads deposited deep in me since that first day. We make love, in my opinion, on my marital bed, hot missionary with him now not needing any lube to slide into me. He tells me he loves my sloppy hole and how he knows all day he can just walk up and enter me at his leisure and seed me deep. I love how we do missionary mostly now just so his load can stay inside and I can soak his charged DNA. I find any other position the loads just pour straight out. He of course loves that since he says it's a sure sign of how much he owns my ass. He laughs when I tell him that my wife thinks I have an intestinal problem when I randomly queef his loads in my pants doing boring house stuff with her. I love feeling him leak out, but love keeping it in me as much as possible. Everytime before my wife comes home he tells me he will be there when my first fever kicks in, nothing yet but I keep hoping I am knocked up soon. Knocked up before he unveils his final piece of his plan, he told me it would be in an email. I think I just got an alert, ooooo, it is from him. Part 8 soon

Thought I’d share mine.

1. Apt #5C He was drenched. Dripping. The rain let up two blocks from the address he held in his hand, but too late. He was already soaked. Shoes squished climbing the stoop. Manetti/Prior, written in faded blue ink on yellowed masking tape, ink running in splotches, evidence of at least a year exposed to weather—rain, snow, cold; now heat and steamy humidity, even now near midnight—but those words he could make out. The second, his and his brother's last name. There was a stack of buttons each with tape next to it, each with a name or names next to hard, rusty buttons. Manetti is who he wrote to the second time, the time he asked if he could come out and stay with him, with them. The first time he wrote to his brother directly, but Manetti, Mike Manetti, answered for his brother. He wrote he didn't know where his brother was. He thought he might have gone back to his mother’s house in Long Beach. Back to California. Chris pushed the button. There were only quiet sounds of a summer Tuesday night in New York. Except for a cab slowly prowling down the street, the block was abandoned, desolate. A fire hydrant left open poured into the summer street. The cab's tires slushed through the puddle and drove off into the night. The facades of the streetscape was dreary, few building’s windows lit, most were boarded up. The one next to this building had a big 'Condemned' placard on the door. A movement in a trashcan at the bottom of the stoop. A rat emerged setting the lid ajar. A couple of needles lay on top of black garbage bags inside. No, he wrote to Manetti, his brother Ben hadn't come back to California. He, Chris, Ben's younger brother, lived in Long Beach with his mother—well, had lived with her, he wasn't exactly getting along with her at the moment—well, her boyfriend actually, which is why he was trying to get a hold of his brother. The letter he sent back to Manetti was rambling. He didn't have a place to live. His mother didn't actually ask him to leave, but every morning, usually at the bathroom, Carl, his mother's new boyfriend, posed, arm on door frame, menacingly in his heavily sweat-stained underwear, pee stain in the crotch. Chris would squeezed passed him. Every day it seemed Carl took up more and more of what was left of the space in the doorway, inched his underwear's yellow bulge closer and closer to him. The day he wrote to Manetti, he felt desperate. He had felt Carl's body heat as he passed under his arm, felt a wisp of his chest hair, a brush on his shoulder from Carl's black, musky pit. He felt Carl's wetness linger on his shoulder, his residual stink. Could he crash with them? He'd pay his way. He couldn't stay at home any longer. Please, he implored in his letter. Yes, Manetti wrote back. A single word. So Manetti. The door buzzed and Chris leaned into its weight as the bolt unlocked. After receiving Manetti’s reply, Chris, a month shy of graduating high school, stopped at his house to pick up some clothes. For the last couple weeks he was crashing in the back seat of his best friend's Impala. His mechanics job at the Chevron gas station where he worked after school and on Saturdays didn't pay enough for him to afford an apartment, but he had saved enough for a one way ticket to New York. California didn't seem to want him, and living in a car’s back seat wasn't living. Carl was a growing menace that was about to boil over into...he didn't know what. And didn't want to know. The type of menace in Carl’s eyes he was unfamiliar with. Abuse, yes. His own father was brutal to him and his brother sometimes. But there was something else he felt in his gut with Carl. Maybe lower than his gut. It stirred some excitement, but he wanted to get away from it before he knew exactly what its root was. Inside, the hallway was lit by a flickering fluorescent bulb. Two dogs barked in an apartment down the hall. There should have been two bulbs in the ceiling fixture, but one was flickering its way out. The halway was dim, full of shadows. A rickety staircase filled half the narrow corridor. He climbed five floors, each landing a bit dingier than the last, heavier in graffiti as he climbed. On the top floor landing it was nearly pitch black, but a door stood open a crack and a shadow draped in a flimsy robe hovered in the door frame. "You Chris?" a deep voice asked. Chris set his gym bag down at the landing and said yeah, catching his breath. He felt his heart beating. There was a momentary fight or flight response he was trying to suppress. He hadn't expected that he'd be fearful upon arriving at his brother's apartment, but his brother wasn't here. Just Manetti. Manetti moved a little forward, enough so the apartment's light spilled over his broad shoulders, put a halo in back of his long brown hair. Chris made out teeth, a bit of a smile. Manetti extended his hand and the two shook. “Manetti. Mike Manetti.” His grip was firm but the skin soft, a little clammy. "And your Ben's little brother Chris. C’mere!" Manetti pulled him forward, gave him a warm friendly bear hug. Chris could have stayed there in that embrace forever. There was a familiar smell to him. And strength. He hadn't expected it, but he suddenly felt relief; his worry and a continent-wide anxiety melted in that embrace. Manetti released him and looked him over. "Dog shit day out there, Chief. Thunderstorm didn’t even help. Looks like it got you bad. Get in here and take your wet sneaks off." Chris saw the robe was open and that Manetti was naked underneath. He caught a quick view of Manetti' dark hairy torso, thick uncut cock, donkey balls dangling between two muscular, wooly legs. He opened the door for Chris while at the same time knotted up his robe. Chris carried in his gym bag, his few pitiful things: gym clothes, another pair of worn jeans, two old t-shirts (The Romones, Adidas), underwear (dirty), socks (smelly). Manetti closed and bolted the door. Three separate locks snapped into place. "Sorry, I was thinking about going out. Didn't know if you'd get here tonight. It's pretty late." "No, yeah. Sorry." Chris was pretty quiet generally. Didn't like to talk. Always self-conscious of saying something dumb, a leftover from an over-critical father. He looked around at the filthy kitchen—sink full of dishes, ashtray full of butts, dark grimy windows—not much different from home, actually. It was kind of reassuring in a perverse kind of way. Manetti was giving him an intense examination in the kitchen light. He felt he needed to say something to distract from his self-consciousness. "Um, I waited a long time for the bus in Newark. And then I walked to the East Village from the bus station. Lot farther than I thought. I wasn't prepared for rain. Didn’t bring an umbrella. Didn’t really think I’d need one. Dunno why. Guess I'm an idiot." His voice trailed off. Usually he never even said that much. That was [robably more than he'd said in a week. He was nervous, a little frightened, and yet glanced up several times to get a better look at Manetti. “Sorry, I’m going on like a moron. I’m tired I guess. It’s been a long day.” "I can see that," Manetti said, ruffling Chris’ wet hair. “Take your things off and hang them on the window bars. Let ‘em dry out." Manetti picked up Chris' gym bag and tossed it next to the archway to the next room. The kitchen window had retractable bars. It was set at an angle to the building, faced a brick wall and shadowy darkness beyond. Chris looked up and gave Manetti a quick smile, then concentrated on kicking off his shoes. He peeled off his socks and shirt, hanging them through the diagonal bars. A light from across the airshaft flashed. The flash blinded him for a second, and maybe it was a residual image imprinted on his retina, but he thought he saw an outline of a figure lurking in the gloom across the airshaft. "Pants," said Manetti, snapping his fingers. It almost felt like an order, but Chris didn't seem to mind. He was, though, a little embarrassed especially because Manetti was so big compared to him. He looked like some of the dockworkers he'd seen in the port of Long Beach. Big and burly, a little intimidating. He felt the man's eyes running over his thin frame. He felt small, miniature even, in this tiny kitchen. His pant legs dripped on the linoleum but Manetti didn't seem to care. He sat down at the dinette table in his threadbare underwear, setting his back to the window, putting his folded hands in his lap. "Is the bag all you brought?" Manetti nodded to his gym bag. "Yeah, not much, right? I'm not used to packing. Never really gone anywhere. I didn't have no time. Just picked up what was on my floor." Chris noticed the robe had fallen open again revealing one of Manetti's dark, hairy thighs. He quickly looked around the kitchen. "Bathtub?" he said surprised that there was a bathtub in the kitchen. It sat right smack in the middle of the kitchen, dividing the room essentially in two. Didn’t know how he could have missed it when he first walked in. A metal top that doubled as a counter lay on top of it. "Yeah, it’s pretty common in these old walk-ups. Hey, you want some soup or something? I have some left over. Just need to heat it up." Chris nodded eagerly. He hadn't realized just how starving he was. He had a cheese sandwich on the plane but that was hours ago. Manetti was nice, he thought. His furtive glance took in his deep set brown eyes and thick black brows over a smooth forehead. Long brown hair and sideburns. It was weird his brother never spoke about his roommate. "How do you know Ben?" he asked. Manetti went to the fridge and took out a pot and started warming it up on the stove. "Met at a bath house last winter. Took pretty quickly to each other. He fucked me, then I flipped him. We did that all night. Didn’t hook up with anyone else. That night anyway. Then I moved in here with him a week later." Manetti gave him a once over to gauge his reaction as he stirred the soup. Then he added, "You don't really look like brothers." Chris was surprised by how frank Manetti was about being gay, especially that part about the bath house. We wished he could be that bold. "We're step brothers. My dad adopted him when he was sixteen, but that didn’t work out," Chris said. Chris stopped himself from saying more. He listened to the spoon stirring in the pot. It was pretty common for people to say, that they didn’t look alike. He had thin blond hair, almost white, parted on the side, was skinny and on the short side. He liked wearing his hair shoulder-length, whereas his brother had almost a lion’s mane of thick dirty blond hair he always wore in a ponytail. It was one of the first things he could recall, Ben's ponytail. Ben was tall, athletic, broad chested, ten years his senior. They both had their mother’s wide face and striking blue eyes, but that’s where the similarity ended. Ben ruled any room he was in. People flocked to him. He was magnetic. Chris was a loner, shy. Not the brightest bulb, said he dad endlessly. But he was resourceful, could figure stuff out. He was a pretty decent mechanic without ever having any real training besides a semester in shop class. It was the one 'A' he ever got. His mother tried to shield him from his father, but she had her own demons and wasn’t always there for him. So he retreated. To his room, or the back of his friend's Impala, and now to a red Formica kitchen table sitting in his wet underwear with his hands folded in his lap. He looked at the refrigerator across from him. A magnet held up by a photo of Manetti and Ben, arms around each other’s shoulders, standing in knee-length bathing suits on a balcony that looked out at the sea. Chris wondered where they were? Manetti looked a few years younger, had shorter hair and wore a huge goofy smile. He looked a little stoned. Ben's deep tan set off his blue eyes; they almost glowed. He looked happier than he ever did growing up. It must have been breezy because his long ponytail flew like a kite behind him. Chris stared at it while his soup heated up. He idolized his brother. Worshiped him really. Many times after his father had given him a bad spanking, he’d sneak into Ben’s room, into his bed, and silently fall asleep on his chest refusing to shed a tear. He did cry, though, wept inconsolably really, when Ben said he couldn’t stand their house anymore and shouted he was moving to New York. Manetti tested the soup with a loud slurp. His mother demanded to know why New York. He'd met someone in a bar, Ben said, who'd offered him a job. What kind of job do you get offered in a bar? shouted his step father, but Ben was storming out the door raising a middle finger. “When’s the last time you saw him?" Manetti asked. "He’s changed some, you know,” he said. "He's not that Long Beach surfer you used to know." In the photo Chris saw Ben had added a bunch of tattoos. A big dragon crawled over his right shoulder, it's tail re-emerging over his ribs. He saw his brother wasn't that slim teenage surfer he once was either. He was a lot more bulked up, even handsomer if that was possible. "Ben moved out right when he turned eighteen. Hated my dad. Can't blame him. My dad was pretty much of a dickhead. He was okay to me except for my whoopings. He tackled him one time, tried beating the shit out of him, and Ben wailed on his so hard my mom called the police." Chris caught himself as Manetti eyed him. He didn't like to talk about his family’s problems—not to the school counselor, and never to strangers. He rarely did talk about them, didn't even really like to think about them especially. Manetti filled a soup bowl, grabbed a spoon from a drawer, and set it in front of him. "Yeah, I've seen him loose it. He's pretty awesome. You want a towel? You're still dripping," he said. Chris nodded and dug into the soup. Manetti popped out and then returned with a large terrycloth towel. The soup was full of large chunks of vegetables and warmed his stomach. He took the towel and mopped his head, then draped it over his shoulders. For the first time in as long as he could remember—weeks? months?—he was beginning to relax. He wasn't used to someone being nice to him. Especially someone he didn't know that well. After his dad left, his mom had turned into a basket case. And now, any day with Carl in the house was like walking through a minefield; made his dad seem like Gandhi. He must have been scowling into his soup because when he looked up, Manette said, "You Prior boys are so serious, aren't you?" Manetti flashed him a warm smile, which he shyly returned, then went back to shoveling spoonfuls of soup. "In your letter you said you haven't seen my brother in two weeks,” Chris said between bites, keeping his eyes in the soup bowl. “Ain't like him to just disappear. He’d split for a time but would always come back. Know where he’s at?" Manetti sat across from him, reached in the ashtray and took out a half-burnt joint. He lit it and took a long drag and looked up at the ceiling. He exhaled, thought for a moment before offering it to Chris. Chris put down his soup, pinched the joint, and took a short toke. He exhaled, said thanks, handed it back and went back to his soup. "Well,” said Manetti thoughtfully. “Chris Prior..." He paused, taking a long hit, taking an even longer time to reflect before exhaling. "...Ben Prior, or Big Ben, as he's called, disappears from time to time. So do I. I didn’t want to get into it in the letter, but truth is, sometimes, a client will want us for an extended period of time." Manetti took another hit. As he exhaled, he leaned in toward Chris. "Sometimes drugs are involved, so you know, we’re sometimes really out of it. Sometimes someone buys one of us for a time. Comes with the territory. We come back to each other. Eventually. But we’ve learned our partnership needs to be very open." Chris' spoon stopped in mid-air at some point while Manetti was talking. He looked him over. Long dark wavy hair, highlights of red in the harsh kitchen light, long side burns who's points hit his high cheek bones, a wide mouth with lips like seagulls wings, brown eyes that suddenly glinted with mischief. His robe had fallen open again revealing swirling black hair over pale white skin across an expansive chest. Chris' brain twitched. Something was off. He knew stoned, and he wasn't getting stoned. Manetti scratched his chest but his fingers lingered in his mat of chest hair. Chris saw him open his robe a bit more to brush his left nipple on his massive pec; he diddled with a thin metal bar that pierced his large tit. Chris placed the spoon in the bowl, took up the proffered joint, took a hit as casually as he could. With a clenched throat, hoping it sounded like he was being offhand, he asked, "So you're his boyfriend. You’re both hustlers?" He was confused, but not by the news that his brother turned tricks, but that Manetti’s nipple, so unusually large, looked so very appealing. He'd never seen a pierced nipple up close in real life. So much was flooding his senses at once it was hard for him to keep up with his thoughts. "Boy, this is strong shit," he said, handing back the joint. "Laced?" "Just a bit." Manetti's grin widened displaying a beautiful row of perfectly white teeth. Why hadn't Chris noticed just how good looking Manetti was before? He had looked at him through a filter as one of his brother’s friends. But whatever the joint was laced with was magnifying Manetti's magnetism. If Manetti was a hustler he must be a very good one, thought Chris. Manetti’ smile, as it grew, highlighted his strong jaw, became the smile of a shark. Chris was easily bait. "This soup is really good," he said, trying to snap out of his gaze. He finished up the last of it. "Uh, can I use your bathroom?" "Other side of the bedroom. Ready for some more soup?" Chris stood up, placing a hand on the back of the chair. For some reason he didn’t feel hungry anymore. “Nah, I’m good.” He glanced out the airshaft and again a slight paranoia gripped him as he looked into the inky darkness. In the apartment across from them something was moving. He was wobbly, but more than stoned, he was suddenly horny. He also saw he was starting to get a woody, one that was pretty evident wearing only thin underwear. Manetti noticed it too. Chris excused himself before it became even more obvious. Suddenly, he was confused by the apartment layout. Off the kitchen was the only other room, a bedroom. Off it, a small closet, and a smaller closet with a toilet and a dinky sink. In the bedroom a sling hung over a futon on the floor. He knew what it was even though it was the first sling he'd ever encountered. He'd seen them in Ben's magazines, the ones he left behind between his mattress. Rawhide, Stroke, Bound and Gagged, and Chris' favorite, Magnum. He saw the leg straps, the leather pillow, the wrist restraints, the mirror perched over the top. He felt himself woozy, and grabbed a leg strap to steady himself. Not the best choice, for it immediately flew away from him and with his other hand he had to grab the metal support. The whole sling set into motion a round of clanging as chains banged against metal posts. "You okay in there?" Manetti's voice called out from the kitchen. He peered around the kitchen door to see if the kid was still standing. "Yeah, I'm good," Chris answered stumbling to the bathroom. "I bet you are," Manetti responded with a laugh. "Ben said you were a choir boy. That really true?" "Really true." He shut the bathroom door, relieved that he had found a room, compact as it was, where he could compose himself. As soon as he shut the door, he struggled to get his act together. He mulled over the fact that there were only two rooms in the entire apartment—kitchen, bedroom. Where was he going to sleep? And, fuck, he couldn’t deny how horny he was for Manetti. He saw how the evening was leading in one direction, and he saw he couldn’t and didn’t want it to go any other way. Manetti would be gentle, he reassured himself. That first embrace in the hallway surely proved he would understand that, being his first time, his brother’s lover would be gentle, would let him take things at his own pace. But he was his brother's lover. But he was also a hustler. His brain was frazzled. Sitting down with his underwear around his ankles he looked up at the back of the bathroom door. Taped to it was a foldout from Magnum magazine. It was Ben and Manetti sixty-nining each other with their forearms up each other's ass. Cocks dripping, Crisco smearing, Ben and Manetti were frozen in a frenzy of fists. Chris popped a rock hard boner and dropped the biggest shit of his entire life. *** Manetti unhooked the leg straps from the end of the sling, folded it in half, then re-attached the straps to the arm hooks. That left the futon on the floor unencumbered from above. He popped in one of Drax's bareback twink videos in the VCR, grabbed the remote and laid back on the futon propping his head with an oversize pillow against the radiator. It was late but the Tina laced joint had him in a semi-energized mood. He was sure Chris must have felt similarly. The toilet flushed and Chris emerged. The boy, still clad only in his white underwear, shirtless, flawless, a thin little scarecrow, stood at the bathroom door. Blond hair, dry now but flying every which way. A perfect skinny beach boy, ten years Ben's baby brother. Their resemblance was minimal. Whereas he and Ben worked out regularly, having pecs, necks, and 'ceps to prove it, Chris, looking around the small studio confused, seemed frail. He was more than a little intimidated by all the pornography he was discovering on the walls, porn stars Manetti and Ben had either known or worked with over the years. Mostly signed. "To Manetti / Good times, bad times, baddest times! Rich" or "Big Ben / Your name does not lie, Eric." "Come. Sit," encouraged Manetti patting the space next to him. "How you feel? Like the joint?" "Yeah, man," said Chris, trying to sound cool. "That's powerful dope. It's dusted?" "Nah, a little Tina. You like?" Chris gave a single nod with a flicker in his eye that Manetti zeroed in on. He casually took a sip of water he’d brought from the kitchen. "Want to try it pure?" Chris sat next to him cross legged. "I guess so," he said. Manetti could smell him. A little grungy, a slight smell of urine probably from the wet, dirty underwear. Ben had told Manetti he thought his little brother was on-again and off-again homeless, at least not staying at his house much cuz of the mom's new boyfriend. Manetti grabbed a pipe from the window ledge, set his glass aside, and stuffed the pipe with a little white powder from a baggy. He handed the pipe to Chris. "Have you blown clouds before?" Manetti knew the answer before he asked it. Chris shook his head. Up close Chris was even more striking than across the table. It was his eyes, soulful lost puppy eyes. When you first looked at him he looked just like any skinny white kid, but sitting crossed legged next to him, you could really see how lost he was. His six pack abs wasn’t from working out but from not eating enough, his ribcage pronounced as he breathed. Hairless chest, tiny nipples, little or maybe no armpit hair. The kid didn't even look like he shaved yet. Whereas he was all hair. From his heavy five o'clock shadow that was dark even right after a morning shave, strong jaw with a cleft chin, his father’s rugged aquiline nose, shaggy, unkempt cluster of chestnut hair, and trade-famous pointed sideburns. "Just inhale it like you would hash and hold it." Chris did as he was told. The kid was nothing if not a fast learner. And obedient. The idea of introducing him to Drax crossed his mind. He brushed the thought away. The kid was much too cherry. Drax would eat him alive. Still, what was he going to do with him after tonight? He was definitely going to get in the way of his trade. As Chris was about to blow the smoke out, Manetti took the boy’s mouth and covered it with his own. He breathed in the smoke from Chris' lungs, held it for a beat before exhaling. "No need to waste it. You take it from me this time." Manetti lit the bottom of the pipe, waited for the white cloud to form, then sucked it in. Out of the corner of his eye he could tell Chris was grappling with how Manetti had grabbed his chin and brought their lips together. Chris watched him, biting his lip with anticipation, moving closer to Manetti’s mouth. It was almost like kissing, something he'd never done with man. Manetti motioned with his finger and Chris moved in. Manetti exhaled into him, breathed a new kind of life into him. As he held it, Manetti leaned back against the pillow. "So, what's your plan, Chief?" Chris followed suit and leaned back into the large pillow he shared with Manetti. After he'd exhaled, Manetti took a long sip of water. He offered the glass to Chris. "Don't really have one. Thanks." Chris took a sip and handed the glass back to Manetti. "Not a really good plan, Chief—not to have a plan. Ben thought you were queer. He right?" Manetti was fixed on the TV, watching a blond dude about Chris' age but not as skinny getting sucked by a balding, stocky daddy type. "I used to beat off to Ben's porn. So I guess, yeah. Twice, when I stayed over at my best friend Jeff's place, before his parents didn’t want me coming around anymore, we jacked off to some straight shit.” Chris looked around again at all the porn posters and photos hanging on the walls. “I think I recognize that guy in that poster there from one of them," he said pointing to a huge 'roided porn star with an extra-long dick, one with perfect hyper-masculine features perched on the hood a Rolls Royce. It was signed "To Manetti, thanks for the ride, TJ. "Mr. No Balls? Hah! Tyler says he's straight, only does gay for pay. Don't believe him. You can shit in his mouth and he'd pay you for it." Chris barked out a surprised laugh. “No, seriously he loves twinks. I bet if I call him right now, he’d come over and ask you shit in his mouth.” Manetti made a motion like he was going to get up and call, but Chris, laughing, held him back. Chris’ hand on Manetti’ shoulder, feeling it's mass, registered quickly on both of them. Chris quickly put his hands back in his lap. Manetti added a little more white power to the pipe. "’Nother hit, Chief?" Chris nodded. His heart was already pounding and he felt flush all over. He was also pulling on his pud unconsciously, getting a little wet spot on the tip, staining his already stained underwear. Manetti took note, seeing the kid was totally unaware of what he was doing. He calmly fired up the pipe and slowly leaned into Chris. He blew into his lungs lightly adding just the tip of his tongue, and deliberately scraping the boy’s face lightly with his cheek. Chris's eyes widened. He'd never felt a beard against his face like that. "So that's it. A couple wanks with Jeff, you on one end of the couch, your best bud on the other, eyes glued straight to the TV. Aware of him but never dared to looking. Am I right or am I right?" "Yeah, something like that.” Chris’ mind spun. His next words flew out of him as if he was compelled to confess to Manetti. “Except one time this real nerd, Kyle—I never told nobody this—he helped me with some math homework. His parents both worked so we were alone at his house. Everyone knew he was a fairy. Ran like a girl. We were in his bedroom. He put his hand on my pants, which usually kind of hangs cuz I don’t hitch ‘em up, and he pulled them right off me and gives me a blow job. Like, I didn’t even stop him even though he was sucking my dick. I can’t believe I’m telling you this.” But it felt good being open with Manetti. He felt a mild release and a kind of excitement in the act. "Did you give Kyle a blow job back?" Chris scoffed at the thought. Then after a beat, added, “Actually, I thought about it. Sometimes late at night, jacking off under the covers, I remembered how much I liked it. How soft his mouth was. How it felt to cum into it, into this big wet thing. Like how I didn't have to hold back at all. Like how maybe I’d like to give Jeff a blow job. Give him the same feeling. Like he wouldn’t have to hold back and just come in my mouth and I’d swallow it. Okay, shut up. Stop talking now,” he said, talking to himself in a voice that could have been his father's. Manetti laughed, but made a quick U-turn and became serious. "Well, what wasn't nice, Chief, is that you should always reciprocate. Know what I mean? I mean if I gave you a blow job, I'd expect you'd give me one back. That’s only fair, right? And if I rimmed your ass, I expect you'd return the favor." "What’s rimming?" asked Chris. Manetti looked at him sideways, saw he was honestly confused. This kid was too innocent to be believed! “You must have seen it in one of Ben’s magazines.” Chris shook his head. Manetti found the remote control and sped the video up. "There. See what that kid’s doing?" Manetti pointed at the screen where the blond kid was under the older daddy’s hairy ass. "He’s eat out man's pussy." "The fuck out!" said Chris but didn't take his eyes from the screen. Manetti saw the kid's boner tenting up in his shorts. "That's fucking nasty, man. Gross! Why would someone do that?" Yet the boy’s eyes couldn’t be pried from the screen with a crowbar. He was pulling again at his underwear. "It's like getting a blow job but a hundred times better.” He motioned to Chris’ hardon. "Looks as if you like the nasty." Chris stopped pulling at his dick alarmed. “Wait. I’ll fast forward. You're gonna love this." The VHS tape sped up, then skidded to a stop. The boy was now under a rim seat with the daddy sitting on top. A close-up showed the boy lifting his head, licking the daddy’s balls then sticking his tongue deep into the daddy’s hairy ass. "I bet you’d be good under there." Chris felt his whole skin glisten in a light sweat. His nerves felt electric. Manetti flicked off the room lamp. The room basked in the dark glow of the TV. Chris felt an imaginary blanket was enveloping him and Manetti, separating them from the world. With the light off, he had an urgent need to take off his underwear and bare himself to Manetti. Manetti sensed it and reached out and slipped off Chris' underwear. The kid had a nice seven inch rod, rigid and beaded with pre-cum. Very little pubic hair. Looked like he clipped it, too. His legs were hairless, thin and smooth. Such smooth pale skin got him excited and he casually opened his robe revealing his long, uncut cock angling above his firm, hairy belly. Chris looked at him achingly. He took the boy's hand and placed it on his manmeat. Chris caressed it lightly at first, the first time he'd ever touched a man’s penis. Manetti felt him quickly go from a light touch to a firm grip. He pumped a little in the boy's hand. The hand barely wrapped around his shaft. But what he did hold was like being in the grip of a cobra. His other hand aimed for Manetti’s chest. His finger ran through his chest hair making a bee-line for his pierced nipple. When he make contact Manetti could wait no longer. He pounced, gripping Chris’ legs and spinning him around, pulling his legs into the air to expose his butthole. He dove down to engulf his sphincter and the kid let out a moan of pure pleasure, his neck arched looking up to his face. "Oh, fuck, dude," Chris cried. "Oh, shit that feels good. Jesus. Christ! Oh shit." It coaxed Manetti to pull the boy's pursed asslips apart even more and deep dived his tongue into this virgin hole. “Push out,” ordered Manetti. "More!" The boy hadn't wiped well and there was an acrid taste of shit around the kid's stained hole. It horned Manetti even more, driving his tongue deeper into this nasty, puckering pit. “Push fucker!” Every nerve ending in Chris' bunghole bristled in pleasure as he pushed out his hole. Manetti's long tongue dug into the hole, which fought instinctively against entry. Manetti’s mouth was relentless, chewing, licking, sucking on the boy's ass lips. Chris tried fighting against the tongue from entering, but bit by bit he felt the pleasures of giving up his hole, physically and mentally, to push out and let this man he’d met only a few hours before enter him in his most vulnerable spot. Manetti beard scratched his tender skin, but it felt incredible, loosened him more and more. He heard the man spit, his hole dripping wet, and felt a finger entering him. This was the first time he'd ever been penetrated, and though it was uncomfortable and hurt, at the same time it excited him. He felt conflicted, fooling around with his brother's boyfriend, afraid of where this might lead. But he knew where he wanted it to lead. Manetti held his legs firmly, looked down into his open face. Chris was afraid and yet attracted at the same time. Manetti was all hair, chest, shoulders, a black jungle around his cock, even a bit of hair on his back that he felt with his legs. Manetti held his legs over his shoulders to dig into that smooth, tasty boyhole. From that vulnerable position, Manetti sucked in a testicle, then the other, which made the kid cry out in pleasure and surprise. He then returned to that beautiful virginal, pliable, slowly opening tunnel. The sensation of having his hole eaten was driving him wild. Hoarsely, he spat out, "Mike, I want to return the favor." Manetti looked down into the boy's face, became curious, wondering if the kid would do it or would cop out at the last minute. He released him and the kid scurried through Manetti’s legs, putting himself beneath the man's furry butt like he'd seen the twink do on TV. Manetti squatted over his face as he felt the boy’s lips surrounding his crack. The kid pulled on Manetti's legs to get him to squat lower. "Oh, fuck yeah. You're as big of a pig as your brother. Eat my shithole, boy. Dig in, get lost in it.” Manetti ground his ass over the boy’s face. “Rank, right? Be a little toilet pig. You felt what I did, how deep I got. Return that favor. Be a sewer. Be a cell pool. Just give in to it. Get lost in there." And Chris did. His cock remained an iron pole, Manetti noted, while his tongue didn’t stop for a moment cleaning his dirty shithole. Chris had never felt as uninhibited as this. Manetti’s whole butt was one massive trench of black hair. The crack seemed to go on forever. He licked and licked, searching to find the center. Manetti’s musky odor drove his brain into delirium. He was a boy on a mission and would not give up until he made Manetti’s hole feel as good as Manetti had made his. Minutes went by till he arrived, finding the smooth oasis of flesh through the dark brush. It pulsed with heat on his tongue, and gave off the pure scent of a man. He couldn't believe how wonderfully soft the skin felt across his tongue nor the nasty taste that reeked from his hole. Instead of being repulsed by the stench, he was in a frenzy to please Manetti but he also found he really liked it. He did what Manetti had done and lapped and circled the hole, until he found he could dart his tongue inside, which produced an animal snarl from Manetti. "Rrrrrr, fuck yes, piglet. Get in there you little fuck pig." Then something happened Chris didn't quite understand, but knew in his gut he liked right away. The hole he was chewing on opened up slightly and a vast area of Manetti's rectum pushed out with it. His mouth was confronted with his first rosebud, although at the time he didn't know what it was. Right after this mound of gelatinous flesh revealed itself to him, like some startled sea creature, it pulled back into its hole. Manetti went wild. Chris felt his legs being pulled in the air again, separated, a tongue slithered into his entrance. An infinite amount of pleasure, giving and receiving, before there was a brief pause, then a heavy hand cracked against his butt. "Say, Thank you, Sir." "Thank you, Sir," repeated Chris, his ass stinging, feeling a sense of shame and pleasure and pride all at the same time. "You taste so fucking good, I want to eat you up, pig boy," growled Manetti. "Let's get you in the sling. I have to bang this pretty pussy." They sprang up and he quickly showed Chris how to connect the legs chains back to the hooks. Chris rubbed his butt and felt the heat from the slap Manetti had given him. "Climb in, boy, and I'll give you the ride of your life." As Chris was figuring out how to get in, Manetti said, "You liked blowing clouds?" Chris nodded. "Then you're going to love this." He quickly poured some powder in a shot glass, mixed a little water in it and sucked it up in a plunger. "Okay, settle in. Put your legs through here.” Manetti paused, then ran a hand up and down Chris' torso, ending by fondling his cock and balls. “You happy you met me?” Chris nodded. "And you've never been fucked before?" Chris shook his head fiercely, anticipating what was to come. “Comfy?" Chris nodded again eagerly, starting to slowly hump Manetti's paw. "Not so fast, boy. I want you to learn to feel it not just in your dick but also inside your hole.” Manetti pulled Chris' dick away from his body to the boy cried, then let it slap against his belly. “You gonna do whatever Sir says, yes slave?" Manetti squeezed a little lube on Chris' hole. He wet a finger in his mouth and pushed it up Chris' ass a good inch or two. It was uncomfortable for a second while Manetti twisted his finger lubing all side of Chris’ tight cave, but Manetti kept wiggling it around and Chris not only got used to the sensation, but found himself writhing a bit on Manetti finger, trying to get him to penetrate him further. "Okay, this'll be a little cold and might sting, but just for a minute." Manetti replaced his finger with the plunger, stuck it up Chris's canal as far as it would go, and then shot the liquid into the boy's empty hole. Shit yes, it was cold and stung like a bitch. Chris bore down as Manetti finished injecting his ass with the cold liquid, then pulled the plunger out of him. At first he felt nothing but coldness warming up inside him. He felt a bit let down anticipating something intense. Manetti looked him over, stroked his erect dick and tweak his small nipples. “Feel anything?” Chris shook his head. Manetti went over to the VHS recorder and switched tapes. While it was revving up, Manetti put on a leather cap and vest over his otherwise naked body. Chris was truly impressed, if not a little intimidated, by the severe transformation a few bits of costume made to Manetti. It also altered Manetti's attitude. Manetti looked straight out of one of his brother’s leather magazines. It brought out a sense of privilege and arrogance even. Manetti went to the bookshelf and opened a box and pulled out an orange capped rig. He strapped his arm with a tourniquet, feeling for a vein against the dim TV light. He slammed himself and started breathing heavily. His mouth shaped into an round 'O' and his eyes widened in sudden astonishment. Something was happening in Chriss too, something like a serpant eminating from his hole. He felt a strong surge of desire. "You look so fucking great, Sir. Like a god." Chris could not see Manetti’s eyes, only dark pockets where his eyes should be. Chris couldn’t help himself and started pleasuring the feeling his ass. Words flew out of him. "Or like the devil," he whispered like at confession. Something heating up inside his hole made him feel intensely desirous of Manetti. Wanting him like he never wanted anything before. Manetti cough. "FUCK!" Manetti shouted widening his eyes. "Christ fuck!" He could barely stand, and leaned heavily on the bookcase. "Hot damn, boy. How you feeling?” He was breathless, trying to put the orange cap back on the rig. “You feel it yet?" Manetti looked to him out of focus, but a feeling of euphoria was sweeping through Chris' body, making himself pull on his cock at the same time he fingered his butthole. He felt electric, energized, wanted Manetti to touch him all over, maybe even smack him again. "I feel great, Sir,” he said. As Manetti staggered from the bookcase and came closer, he sat up in the sling and ran his hands across Manetti’s hairy chest. "I wanted to do that the second I came in the door, Sir. Fuck, you are so hot. My ass is yours. Whatever you want to do to it. Beat me if you want to." "Beat my ass—SIR!" returned Manetti, now holding on to the chains while he was rushing, where Chris' butt lay exposed, so desirous of being fucked for the very first time. "Yes, SIR, beat my ass again—SIR." And Manetti did, harder than the first time. "Thank you, SIR," replied Chris, falling back against the leather pillow, pushing his ass out of the sling. A light turned on in the room across the airshaft. Chris didn't notice, but Manetti did. "You're welcome, boy. Let's get you settled in." With that Manetti quickly locked his leg restraints, still breathing heavily, punctuating fucks under his breath as he worked. Before Chris knew it, Manetti had restrained his arms above his head. He gladly went along with whatever Manetti wanted to do. As long as it didn't involve needles. That was the only thing that freaked him a little but he tried not to think about it. If it wasn't for the feeling of horniness overcoming every molecule in his body he might have been spooked by the restraints. But now he was accepting everything that this hairy demon breathing over him was doing. It was easy to inhale Manetti’s pheromones, which blotted out the picture of him hunched over, shooting up. Or maybe he secretly liked that. He didn’t know what he thought anymore. He arched his head toward Manetti’s cock. It was veiny, half sheathed in foreskin. Leaking pre-cum. He licked it. A taste of salt and cheese. Nothing had ever tasted so delicious and desirable to him. He still had a trace of Manetti’s dirty ass on his lips and it mixed with salt and cheese from his foreskin. Manetti turned on a light over the sling and flipped on a video camera propped next to the bookcase. Manetti slowly turned the boy’s peach fuzz face to the side, checked that the view finder was in close, recording each translucent strand of blond hair on the boy's upper lip, and slid his veiny cock into the boy's mouth. He swallowed have his fat nob. Manetti was impressed at how much Chris could take. He pushed him further, getting half his shaft into the boy's mouth, feeling where the boy’s throat constricted, made him choked on his shaft, then skullfucked him at that length for a while as his cock grew from semi-flaccid to fully engorged. Manetti withdrew his cock from his mouth, and a web of pre-cum hung like a spider web between them. He let his uncut cock trace over Chris’ pursed mouth. "Ah Chris," he said looking into his eyes. "I'm going to fucking love knocking you up." Chris felt the words echo in his head, puzzled at first by their meaning. On the TV screen a body was being pummeled by a Master with a whip, with a boy writhing in pain and ecstatically twisting under the lash. He looked back at Manetti. Beyond the harsh light shining on him, in the dim light of the room, he saw covered by the beautiful black fur surrounding Manetti's navel, the three prongs of a biohazard tattoo. Manetti placed a red ball in his mouth and tied it behind his head. Chris realized too late what the ball was for, and started fighting against his bindings. Manetti pushed in between his legs. The kid tried to close his legs but the sling and Manetti easily pried him open. He was exposed and vulnerable. Manetti greased his cock and lubed the boy's tight hole. With his first thrust his aim was true. He slid the entire length of the kid's clutching rectum, straight up to his thick black patch of pubic hairs. The girth of his shaft ripped the boy's hole apart. Manetti's hairy balls smacked into the boy's tailbone. He didn't stop till he was right up the boy's chute, fully inside. The boy cried in anguish behind the red ball, tears in his eyes, panic running across his face. Fiercely he was beathing, spitting saliva through the ball in heaving gulps of air. Spit ran down his chin and cheek. He fought as much as he could against the thickness of Manetti’s enormous shaft, against his cuffed arms and legs, but the struggle only engorged Manetti’s immense tool more. "Fight against it, bitch. I love it." Manetti picked up his pace. The pain was unbearable but he was helpless to stop it, and with every stroke he felt his resistance falling away. The longer it went on, and against his will, he started deriving a small bit of pleasure from the pain. Chris slowly began to unclench against Manetti’s girth. For a while, at the pinnacle of each thrust, Manetti would hold his crotch against Chris' hole, letting the boy experience the magnitude of the amount of raw flesh that filled his hole. Chris felt all the hairs of Manetti's pubis surround his hole. Manetti gyrated inside him. He felt the stiff cock push his insides around, moving everything inside, his bladder, his prostate, a gateway to an inner chamber. The sensations started owning him. Making him feel things he didn't know he could feel, sensations that were newly possible. Manetti felt Chris’ hole beginning to open. He looked into the bound boy’s blue eyes and saw a dawning pleasure deep within him. He wasn’t sure the boy even knew he was beginning to draw pleasure from his pain, but he would know and eventually desire it in ever increasing amounts. He new his journey and he would have the boy follow in his tracks. Tears were being overcome with lust as the chemicals were taking over Chris' body. The boy stopped struggling and for a moment became placid. He grew annoyed with the passivity so with both hands, as hard as he could, he smacked with all his force Chris' ass. It made Chris yelp and clench his sphincter which pleased Manetti. He looked down on the boy and was surprised to see a spark of gratitude in Chris' eyes. Just a spark. He needed to work him harder. They fell into a rhythm. For minutes that turned to hours Chris got used to the battering his hole was taking. When he went slack, Manetti slapped him to tighten him up, or twisted his small nipples until he tried to cry out in pain behind the gag. At the beginning, Chris fought the massive rod slamming into him and the occasional whipping his ass endured. But after non-stop fucking, accepting the alternating pleasure and pain, he came to desire the torpedo that was tearing him inside. The familiar walloping he received growing up, he secretly desired from Manetti. In the mirror he watched and felt his butt turn from pink, to red, to purple. At some point he got lost in it, started thrusting himself to get impaled deeper, to be slapped hard, to be punished for sins he couldn’t name. Manetti felt Chris' entire canal loosening. The ass smacking was now built into their fucking. Chris, in fact, in a haze, began thanking him behind the red ball. Whether or not Manetti heard him was questionable, for Manetti's eyes rolled back in his head and he mindlessly fucked and abused what at times became an anonymous body splayed beneath him. Manetti occasionally snapped out of his daze and saw how much he was controlling this innocent young kid, this younger version of his partner, his boyfriend, his lover—imagined he was fucking an innocent version of Ben, one from long ago—then he would lose himself again to the sheer, dark pleasure he derived from his raw cock having its way in a stranger's body. He felt himself edging closer to a climax as his mind vacillated between thoughts of Ben and this new fresh piece of nameless meat. As he felt he was close to cumming, he broke through to awareness of Chris beneath him. He saw Chris' sweat dick never lost its erection no matter what he did to him. He started playing with the boy's meat, milking him, lightly slapping his face so that he came out of his drugged revelry. "I'm about to cum, Chris,” he said as the boy focused on his mouth and words, “but I’m not going to cum in you unless you cum first, got that? That shows you want me to give you my poz cum. Shows me you want to be my fuckhole no matter what. Lets me own you." Through blurred eyes Chris lobbed his head no, but almost immediately started squirming his cock in Manetti clenched fist. "I can't tell if you're trying to get away from me, fuckhole, or you're jacking yourself in my hand. I think you're jacking, you little cum pig." He broke into a dark smile. "Feel how hard you are?" Chris kept bucking, thrashing, squirming away in a sea of ecstasy and lust, both wanting this man to cum and fearing it with all his fiber, but he couldn't hold back, jacking into his fist and slamming back onto his cock, a see-saw that wouldn't end until he pushed himself over the edge. He let loose the longest stream of cum he'd ever shot. Ribbons of sperm spewed over the room. The boy’s hole clenched and spasmed as he shot, immediately triggered Manetti who gushed in rivers of ropey sperm up the boy's open chute. They both quaked in orgasms, each building on the other’s spuming bodies, until they were thrashing uncontrollably against each other, grinding bone against bone, skin against raw skin, till there was a thrust of Manetti that hung in the air, then one more, then a final lunge plunging Manetti deep inside Chris. He held it there, on the edge, feeling himself unload an afterbirth of cum. Manetti stood dripping heavy sweat onto Chris' glistening chest. He rubbed Chris' cum all over his chest and face. He sucked the boy's small nipples, licked up and down the boy's arms, licked his pits, still hard and draining inside him. “You still with me?” he whispered, as he loosened the ball in Chris’ mouth. “That was fucking fantastic.” The boy’s eyes, drugged as they were, did not lie. Manetti kissed him deep, then lay on top of him feeling his heart beating against his. He rested there for a moment feeling the slickness between them, the kid’s sperm matting his chest and abs and pubes. He licked up a river of the boy’s cum welled in his sternum, and was surprised to see Chris open his mouth for him. The boy had the makings of a true pig, he thought, as he released the drool into the greedy boy's maw. He watched the lust still simmering within the boy as he swallowed. Maybe he was Drax material after all. ***

I have always been a "dirty ,cockhungry, cumthirsty bottomboy, fucktoy faggot" (that was my description on pickup sites in grade 9 lol) And I have always been such a slutty little cumdump that 1 or 2 cocks was never enough. I met one of my boyfriends by writing "cumthirsty schoolboy looking to blow groups" on a bathroom stall with my email address. Before becoming a bareback gangbang toy I loved nothing more than sucking cock after cock for hours and drinking load after load. whether it was a small group of boys or a group of horny chickenhawks or blowing guy after guy understall or through a in a public restroom or on my knees, naked in a porntheatre out in the open sucking of stranger after stranger while other guys watched and waited for their turn to use my mouth (about 9 out of 10 guys who used me in there wanted blowjobs) or in porn theatre private booths where I would get on my knees naked with the door left open and guy after guy would come in. the more cocks I suck, the more I want.gloryholes taught me it doesn't matter what the guy attached to the cock looks like, I just need that hard cock in my mouth and cum down my throat.i used to stop at the porntheatre on my way home from school and suck off 7 or 8 guys in an hour.or skip class and blow guys all day.once I became a bathhouse cumdump most guys just wanna fuck me but I still love being on my knees sucking off cock after cock. I have sucked over 25 cocks in a day several times. how much do you love sucking cock? how many?have you sucked off many groups?

I had been barebacking for years and never asked guys their status. While I was never an overt chaser, the idea of taking POZ Cum turned me on. I loved reading Conversion Stories. Today I write ‘em. I suppose I wanted to get bred all along. In the late fall I connected with a guy from Gay.Com. He was a real Bareback Pig.! We'd both stopped using Condoms, gloves, and other Safe Sex paraphernalia. When he fingered my Pussy, I asked him to fuck me. He said he'd have to pull out cause he didn't want to cum up my Ass. I asked him why not; and he said that he was POZ, and I was still NEG. I almost flipped! Never before had I known in advance that the guy about to fuck me was POZ. That was a first! In essence I got down on my knees and begged him for his Cum! He got this shit eatin' grin on his face. "Let's see if I got this straight. You WANNA get POZZED ?" "FUCK, YEAH! GIVE IT TO ME!" He started to screw me like there was no tomorrow, ranting about the Bad Seed he was about to plant up my Butt; that there could be no turning back; and that, from that day forth, all my partners would be at risk. I got rock hard. He told me he was gonna shoot. We both came—he up my Ass—and I, all over my chest—probably the most prolific Load of my life. He stayed the night. I took a couple more Loads and gave him two back. I fisted him for over an hour. After that we talked of the BUG till the morning sun shone blood red on our Dicks. He made me promise to call him if and when I got "the Flu." Nine days later I woke up sick as a dog and soaking wet. I called him and told him I didn't feel so good. He stressed how awesome it would be if I hit the Baths—while my immune system was depressed and my Viral Load was outta sight. THOUGH I FELT LIKE SHIT, I dragged my Butt down to the Tubs. I ended up taking five Loads up the Ass and two down my throat. But there was a price to pay for my contagious escapade—I almost had to crawl home to bed where I stayed put for a week. It was spring before I finally got tested. I don't know why I postponed it so long. The Baths were offering free HIV testing, and I availed myself. Two weeks later I called and gave my code-number to the little Fairy on the other end of the line. He hemmed and hawed, and ended up making me an appointment with a Counselor. She turned out to be a loquacious old spinster, who commiserated with me for half an hour before pronouncing me POZ. I could barely keep a straight face. That night I had dinner with my NEG ex-Lover. As usual, I fucked his Ass. So far I have 5 confirmed Conversions to my credit, the first being the aforementioned ex-Lover, and the latest, a neat little drama student down the hall.

The Poz Boat Dillon was going on the cruise without his bride since she left him at the altar. They had been dating since college and after Dillon’s couple years in the minors trying to make it in baseball he asked her to marry him. He felt embarrassed after she didn’t show at the ceremony. He knew he couldn’t get a refund on the cruise they had planned for a honeymoon so he went alone. Jack figured it would give him time to forget about her and reflect on his life. He spent the first day at sea alone at the pool working on his tan. That’s where he met Christopher and Jack. Christopher was the oldest of the couple at 30 he was a bit taller than Dillon coming in at 6’ 3” and weighed about 180 with dark brown hair and eyes. Jack was his younger partner just shy of 20 years, 5’ 10”, 140 pounds, with Black hair and green eyes. Both men were fit and well defined after obvious work in the gym. Jack had noticed the 25 year old as he stretched his 6’ frame out on a lounge chair in his board shorts. Jack pointed the young man out to his partner as they admired his lean, muscular body, flat 6 pack abs, smooth skin and long blond hair. Christopher commented how nice it would be to use him for a night of fun. Quickly the three men started to chat. Before too long they had made plane to hang out that evening. The sun began to dip in the sky as they went to their separate rooms to get ready for dinner and a night out. After dinner Dillon was to meet the two other men at their cabin. He found their room and knocked on the door. The door opened up by Jack wearing just a towel who told Dillon that Christopher was in the shower. Jack welcomed Dillon in the room and offered him a drink. The towel clad man fixed Dillon a drink and handed it to their guest. As Dillon sat on the queen size bed in the middle of the room Jack dropped his towel and searched through his bag for something to wear that night. Dillon tried not to stare at the young man as he searched his bag. After many years in locker rooms Dillon was accustom to other naked male bodies. Dillon was sipping on his drink as Christopher came out of the bathroom with his towel over his shoulder. He greeted their guest. Jack asked if Dillon had any thoughts what they all should do that night. Dillon was well into his drink as he began to feel a little horny. He was confused at the feeling as he began to get hard. The tent in his cargo shorts was hard to hide as a naked Christopher moved in closer. Dillon was caught off guard as the naked Christopher was close. Dillon had a friend in college that was gay. On a couple rare occasions he was in the receiving end of a nice blow job while drunk but never thought of anything more. Christopher asked Dillon again what he wanted to do that night. Jack made a comment about Dillon’s hardening cock as the two men were now on either side of their guest. Jack looked at and Christopher and gave him a wink to signal that Dillon’s drink was spiked with ample Viagra and GHB. Dillon was in a daze as he noticed both naked men standing with their cocks pointing at Dillon. Dillon was beginning to feel the G as Jack took his drink from his hand. Christopher started to unbutton Dillon’s shirt. Jack came back and began to rub the back of Dillon’s head. Dillon was lost in the G and the sensations he was receiving from the two men. Christopher made a suggestion that seemed to go right into motion. Knowing what happened to Dillon with his bride, Christopher suggested that he relax and let whatever happens between the three of them happen. With the G in his system Dillon was easy prey as Jack helped remove the rest of Dillon’s clothing. Jack got on his knees and began to suck Dillon’s hard cock. Jack was impressed with Dillon’s 8” cock as Jack thought to himself that it was too bad he wouldn’t get to use it after this suck job. While Jack worked on Dillon’s pole Christopher put the rest of the plan in motion. While out of sight of their guest he retrieved a prefilled point and moved in for the kill. When he returned to the bed he found Dillon on his back with his eyes closed while Jack was still sucking Dillon’s cock. They had Dillon right where they wanted him. Christopher sat down laying his legs across Dillon’s chest. Dillon looked up at Christopher as he looked for a good vein in Dillon’s arm and stuck the point in Dillon. Dillon looked up as Christopher registered a quick flash then emptied the slam in the unsuspecting Dillon. Dillon coughed out 3 times as Jack stood up and kissed his partner before retrieving 2 more points for themselves. The slam given to Dillon was double what the couple were about to administer to themselves. Jack handed one to Christopher as they kissed again. They each administered their own slam as Dillon was riding a strong rush. After each coughed and were ready they began to work on their new toy. Dillon was positioned on all fours as Christopher got behind him and Jack was at his head. Jack took a moment to kiss Dillon as he took a hold of his head before he sat down in front of Dillon and worked his mouth on his own hard 8” cock. While Jack was teaching Dillon to suck cock Christopher began to rim his virgin ass. As Dillon began to suck on Jack’s cock moans were escaping around Jack’s tool as Christopher’s tongue began to probe into Dillon’s hole. Jack gave Dillon instructions as Christopher readied his ass. Since Jack had just slammed he knew he’d blow a load quickly and Dillon would have his first taste of cum. Christopher looked at Jack as prepared Dillon’s hole for his own 9” cock. Jack signaled to Christopher that he was getting close. Christopher knew it was time and got on his knees behind Dillon. He positioned his cock at Dillon’s virgin hole, grabbed his hips as he pushed his way inside.’ While Christopher was invading Dillon’s ass Jack took a good hold of Dillon’s hole as he knew he was about to deliver his load in Dillon’s mouth. Jack cums fairly quickly after his first slam and he was ready to deliver his load as Christopher was sliding inside Dillon’s formerly virgin ass. The thought of Christopher taking Dillon’s virginity had him on the verge of blowing his load. As he was about to cum he told Dillon one thing, swallow bitch. Dillon felt Jack’s cock expand and then fire his cum as he swallowed without a thought. After Jack had finished cumming he held his cock in Dillon’s mouth for his to clean and help him get harder again. Christopher began to fuck away at Dillon’s tight hole as Dillon was working on Jack’s semi-hard cock. Dillon was lost still lost in the G as he Christopher was fucking him. Christopher was eager to drop his own load inside this young straight man. As the G began to wear off Dillon was growing a wear of what was happening. Jack’s cock was growing hard in his mouth as he realized that he was getting fucked at both ends. He felt the cock in his ass grow harder as Jack pulled him off his cock and kissed him. While Jack was kissing him Christopher grunted as he unloaded inside Dillon. Christopher commented, that’s one load in each end as Dillon looked back to see who was fucking him. Dillon was lost in what was going on since he felt as if he was enjoying himself the action continued. Now it was time for Jack to fuck Dillon. As Christopher slowly withdrew from inside Dillon, Jack moved to take Christopher’s place. Jack quickly slid inside Dillon as Christopher moved to Dillon’s head. Christopher sat down in front of Dillon and told Dillon to clean his cock. The G was mostly out of his system as he looked at Christopher’s cock and eased the soft tool into his mouth. Christopher ran his fingers through Dillon’s hair as Jack fucked. Since Jack had already dropped a load it would take some time before he would drop his second load. This gave him time to work Christopher’s load in deeper as the couple shared an evil grin. Dillon’s legs were getting tired as Jack fucked into him. They repositioned him on his back and Jack continued to fuck him. Dillon began to wonder how long this guy could last when Jack began to breathe a little heavier. Dillon could feel Jack’s cock begin to thicken and he knew it wouldn’t be much longer. It was another 15 minutes until Jack screamed out and filled Dillon with another load. Christopher was hard and ready and took a second turn at Dillon’s ass. As Christopher teased Dillon’s hole he noticed that there was a slight pinkish to the cum that oozed out. Christopher smiled as he slid back inside Dillon. Dillon was left moaning as the couple took turns filling their chemmed up bottom. After each took several turns Christopher lay down on his back as Dillon was directed to mount Christopher’s cock. Once Dillon was down to the base Christopher pulled him in for a kiss while Jack got behind the impaled man and began to work his 8” in alongside the cock already inside. Dillon moaned out in pleasure and pain as his hole was stretched to accommodate both cocks. This fuck took the longest as both assaulted his hole as the sun began to peal through the curtains. After both men deposited their loads and withdrew their softening cocks Dillon could hear Christopher comment that after those two loads the grand total came to 9 charged loads, 5 from Christopher and 4 from Jack. Jack reminded him of the one load down Dillon’s throat. Dillon had no clue what charged load mean as he was starting to come down from his high. The couple helped Dillon back to his cabin and left him in bed to ponder his unknown future.

Part 1 Yeah, I knew I was gay. I was only 18, and still in high school, but I had fooled around with a few guys. This was early 1990’s. My experiences had been quick and anonymous at the adult bookstore. The first couple times I just let a guy suck me in the video booths, but after several sessions I also found myself on my knees, blowing guys. I had gotten fucked exactly twice and both times it had hurt and both sessions were totally safe as both guys used a condom. I was, at that time, the total surfer twink, at 5’ 10” and 170 pounds, dark blonde hair and surfer tan. I was also totally not out. And still coming to terms with the fact that I not only liked guys, but that I was definitely more interested in the pleasing side of things versus sitting back and being pleased. But the bookstore was really hit and miss, and I was somewhat picky. My usual target was white guys in their late 30’s or 40’s. And that was really all I liked. Guys my age didn’t interest me really. So there I was, 18 and about to graduate high school and sneaking off to the adult bookstore when I just couldn’t take it anymore and either getting sucked or sucking guys. And I could still count my gay sex experiences with both hands at that point. My parents were divorced and I lived with my mom, who by then was either at work or at her boyfriends place. I had a lot of time to myself. We lived in a big apartment complex and I had to walk past a couple of buildings to get to our place from the parking lot. It was during one of those walks from the parking lot that spring of my senior year that I met Tom. I had kind of noticed him, even though he was pretty new to the complex. One, I had to walk past his patio and front door and two, Tom was hot. He was maybe 40 (turned out to be 44) and tall, 6’ 2”, but he was thin. I doubt he weighed more than me at 170. His hair was graying and cut very short. Our neighborhood was not gay Mecca, so I figured he was straight, probably some guy getting divorced. Anyways, I was waking up the path after getting off of my after school job and it was just getting dark. I knew my mom wouldn’t be home, but that was fine and I was used to making myself dinner. I saw him ahead of time on his patio so I wasn’t spooked, but I was surprised when he raised a hand and called out "Hey there, neighbor. I was standing here hoping a young strong guy would walk by." Slightly unsure how to respond I gave a light laugh, whereupon he continued "My name is Tom. I just moved in here a few weeks ago and I bought a new TV and need to move the old one upstairs but it’s really a two man job. Any chance I could talk you into giving me a hand?” Like I said, I already thought the guy was hot and, well, he was wearing a rather revealing a v neck t-shirt and gym shorts. Besides, it just seemed polite to help so I finally replied "Hi nice to meet you Tom. I’m Chris. I just live down the way, and yeah, I can help.” Smiling, he replied "Great, thanks. Come around the front door and I’ll let you in.” I walked in and my naive gaydar went off a little, but then I asked myself 'What do you know?' What was clear, however, is that the house was far from being slobbish. His furniture was tasteful and several cool, well-mounted, framed black and white photos hung on the walls. The TV of which Tom had spoken was prominently located in the living room, positioned on the floor. The new TV was in the prime position on Tom's entertainment center. “I really appreciate this. I just want to get it into my play... into the other bedroom, the first one at the top.” Most of the units in our development were the say layout, so I knew the room of which he was speaking was, in my house, my bedroom, so I knew what to expect. Tom led the way, hefting up his end of the TV, and I took-up my end, and we rather clumsily made our way up the staircase. As we began the turn into the bedroom doorway Tom grunted "Let's put it on the long desk up against the wall, ok?” It wasn’t til we set it down that I looked around and realized the purpose of the room, and why Tom had initially begun to use the word 'playroom' in identifying the room. Now, my experiences might have been slight, and I had certainly never been in a room built just for sex, but I was in one now. A bed on one wall, with the big desk which contained a TV, a DVD player, and a VCR on the opposing wall. The third wall was all mirror closets. And in the corner was something that took a naive 18 year old a second to figure out: a sling. In the most remote corner I couldn't help but notice a camcorder on a tripod. I think he noticed my shock and offered a light joke "Well, doesn’t everyone have a sex room?” He paused and then added more quietly, “Well, every gay man anyway.” He stared right at me when he said that. And while I was 95 percent sure before he said that, I knew now I was standing in Tom’s gay sex room. “Do you like it?” he asked. My heart was beating 1000 miles an hour when I replied "I like it a lot.” He looked at me a long time. “Chris right? Chris, how um, how old are you?” “I just turned 18 in January,” I replied. This was totally different than a two minute blowjob in the dark. This guy was my neighbor. “Chris, I’m not the only gay man in the room right now am I?" he asked quietly. I shook my head. "I was just gonna make sure the TV works right. Want to watch a video with me?” I again just nodded. “One thing though, one of the few rules of my room, clothes are definitely not allowed.” With that he stripped down. Holy shit. He was naked in front of me, and half hard. And his cock was amazing. I nervously stripped down. I was hard as a rock and tried to hide it. He patted the bed and motioned me to sit. “Don’t ever hide that from me here Chris. This is a place where we celebrate man sex.” He grabbed a remote and hit play and settled back onto the bed next to me. I couldn’t help staring at him and he seemed to want me to. I was so nervous still but could feel myself starting to lose control. The nerves were fading into want. I had never been in a guy's place before like this and had never had sex outside the bookstores, where it was all about rushing through as quickly as one could. Tom seemed in no hurry. As I watched him wrap his hand around his thick cock and slowly stroke himself, I thought 'Whatever happens will be fine and it’s nothing you haven’t done before at the bookstore'. I had no idea. I was 18. No one had shown me yet. Tom would. I just didn’t know it yet.

Traded for Drugs His parents split up when Loan was only 15. His mother remarried Couple years later and headed off on a month long honeymoon with her new husband who was a wealthy business owner. Logan, now a senior I high school was left on his own since his mother felt he could manage for that time. He went to school and worked out in the week equipped fitness room at their new home I his step father's house. Logan was surprised to get a call from his father, whom he bent heard from I nearly two years when his mother through him out. Logan's father had become addicted to drugs (meth, heroin, ecstasy). With all that had happened, Logan still loved his father and missed him in his life. Logan had no reservations when his fatter asked to meet him. His father wanted to let him know his side of the story between him and his mother. His father swore that he was now clean and sober and had been for months. It was time to make amends, one of the twelve steps. Logan headed out to meet his father where hesitation. He pulled up to a out of the way bar, parked and headed inside. He father was sitting I the back corner and waved to Logan. Logan walked over and joined his father. As Logan walked across the bar the bar ender asked if Logan wanted something to drink. He said yes, a Coke would be fine. Logan sat down as the bartender bought his drink over giving Logan's father a wink. Logan's father began to go on about how wrong he was and that he hoped that some say Logan would forgive him for what he had to do. Logan was a little puzzled with his father's choice in words, he wasn't asking for forgiveness for what he had done, but what he had to do. As Logan sat there puzzled he began to feel strange, he felt like the room was spinning until he passed out. .The bartender commented that Logan should be out could for at least 12 hours. They carried Logan out to his car, put him in the trunk and his father drive off. Logan pulled up to an old house where he pulled into the driveway and into the garage to hide Logan's car. He went inside and was immediately greeted by his dealer. The dealer asked if he had the money he was owed. Logan's father said the be did one better. He gave his dealer the keys to Logan's car and house. He told his dealer that the boy was in the trunk. His dealer had some friend who needed a his boy to rent out and Logan was perfect for their use. He have the boy shipped to Mexico for his friend and with the car and house contents that more than settled what he owed.

1. Tucker Broderick Doesn’t Give a Shit About You From where Sergei is crouched straddling the rooftop, he can see right up Tucker's shorts. He’s aware, too, that Tucker does this on purpose. Tucker bites down on a string of nails between his teeth, methodically laying down a shingle, pulling out a pair of nails and securing the oyster grey shingle in place. He then crab-walks up a foot or two to ready the nails for the next shingle. Between hammering, he looks up at Sergei in his wary, enticing way (the shit) and scratches his balls, also on display. Sergei glances down from his rooftop peak and secures his top ridge cap shingle. Since Tucker is close to laying the final, upper-most course of shingles, he’s pretty close to Sergei. His balls will soon be close enough to touch. Sergei has to look away. Sergei takes wire rim glasses from his shirt pocket and wraps them around his ears. The view from the roof of this Echo Park home is epic. The smog abated with last night’s windstorm, and today you can actually see Santa Monica. Past old Hollywood, past Beverly Hills, past Brentwood, right down to fucking Santa Monica beach, miniature palm trees and all. The blue expanse of the Pacific ocean is almost as blue as Tucker’s eyes. The view up Tucker’s shorts is even more epic. The sun slashes directly over his large hanging pink crown. In the dark cave beyond you can even make out a dark patch of pubes. Inside the shadow glints the thin metal P.A. piercing his dickhead. His crouch has his left leg bent up toward Sergei on the upside of the roof at a right angle. The other leg, muscular and taught, is straight out, balancing him against the roof’s pitch. The baggy shorts are long and droop open enough to let the warm afternoon breeze flap the black polyester silk, swaying his long, hanging ballsack in the same warm breeze. Sergei feels his own balls churn in his worn Levis. The breeze up here on the roof blows Tucker’s auburn hair off his shoulders. If not for his red cap it would blow all over his face, but the cap holds it down. He nails his last shingle at roof’s peak next to Sergei, then stands, scales back down the roof to his last course of shingles. Sergei quickly replaces his glasses in his pocket hoping Tucker hadn’t seen them. He feels they make him older than he is. His bald spot doesn't help. "Boss-man," says Tucker turning to him. Sergei shields his eyes against the sun, low in its descent toward the ocean. “Only got a few more in my row, then what?” Tucker voice is sonorous. Sergei learned sonorous in English class last night, and it describes Tucker’s voice to a tee. Deep and full. He has no right to have a voice so rich, when his is so scratchy with these foreign, garbled words always tripping over his tongue—or a face so striking he feels he's always caught staring. Admit it though: You’d spot Tucker easily in a crowd, even if he wasn’t just wearing shorts and tennis shoes and nothing more. He isn’t pumped up gym-built, but his torso’s a perfect V. His arms are cut like a bronze statue from working construction outdoors for him since graduating two years ago from high school. His chest is broad, tan and smooth; his chiseled pecs rise and fall with his breath while his foreman thinks what, indeed, was next. An invite for a beer after work? Maybe enough to have him once again pass out on the couch? Sneak a quick blow job that would not be mentioned in the morning? The breeze changes slightly so Tucker is now directly upwind of him. He can smell the suntan oil and body sweat. Being near-sighted, it’s the first time Sergei reads the words on Tucker’s red cap. Make America Great Again. A cloud of birds suddenly swoops close to the roof and scatters overhead. They gathers again into cloud formation and disappears over the ridge. Sergei sits back on his butt, seeing Tucker in a different light. “Really, man?” Sergei asks. “Fuck yeah. Trump that bitch, yo.” Tucker hears the disapproval, takes off his cap, reaches in the pocket of his shorts and takes out a black hair band. His face is impassive. He twists a pony tail, sticks the band over it, and puts the cap back on. He looks down at Sergei, asks, “You think owner-man would mind if I use his shower before I take off?” Sergei thinks about it. “You have towel?" he asks. Tucker nods. "You lock up afterward, okay?” “Da,” Tucker mocks his accent with a smirk and a wink. He knows what works on Sergei. At the lip of the roof Sergei's his younger brother Alexei—or Alex, as he insists now that he’s married a pretty American girl—pops his blond head up. He scans the two figures at the rooftop, tilts his head down slightly, raises his eyebrows, opens his eyes wide, and swears, “What the fuck? You guys aren’t done?” He eyes Tucker guardedly seeing how Sergei is eyeing him, or specifically—he knows his brother weakness—is trying not to eye him. “Come on, man. I told you I want to knock off early. Cindy wants to go to her parents' house and show off the baby. Sergei, she wants you to come too.” Tucker says, “Fifteen, twenty minutes, bro. Right, boss-man?” “Da,” says Sergei, spreading his legs out, straddling the roof, and hammers down another ridge shingle. Alex disappears down the ladder, while Tucker inches over to his last course of shingles. Squats. He’s maybe a foot away. Sergei stills smells him. It’s not lost on him that Tucker’s crouch exposes more than an inch of his crack. In fact, in the bright sunlight streaming down his spine, Sergei sees the brown swirl of butt hair blooming out of Tucker’s waistband. He even sees the parted canyon of entangled hair that disappears down into darkness. He follows a trickle of sweat traveling like a rollercoaster that falls into the canyon. He's staring again. This close, looking up at Tucker’s billowed back spread like a sail, he can’t tell if the tribal ink covering his back is supposed to be wings of an angel or wings of a bat. Tucker shuffles up another inch closer to attack a nail at mid-shingle. He’s close enough to see beads of sweat perched on the swirls of crack hair. He loves his brother but he feels trapped in his life. However crisply in focus the glistening beads inches away, tonight, and most likely forever, they’re out of reach. 2. The Closet Sergei and Alex putt-putt down the street in their nondescript coup. Sad! Tucker Broderick takes his day pack from the bed of his truck and walks to the house. It's weird, this house, you gotta admit that. He looks up at the scattershot pink structure, at its many angles and levels. Nothing straight about it, especially the owner, Alex had told him. Ground level's the one-car garage. The green door accordions sideways. A staircase to the left leads up the steep cliff to a stone landing where there's a glimpse of downtown Los Angeles. Mostly, though, the landing looks out to the flatlands of South Central. The front door is thick and arched, probably the original mahogany from the 1920s. A caged peephole and ironwork hinges so ornate he's surprised someone hasn't stolen it decades ago. Terracotta pottery with bougainvillea surround the stone landing. Large palms overhang making the area, even though it's still in the nineties, feel shaded and cool. The inside entrance is small but with the arched picture window above the garage expands the view to the hills of Hollywood and makes it feel larger than it is. French doors to the left are curtained and hide a staircase that leads to the main floor. Why cover the staircase? Seems bizarre. Lots of wallpaper on this floor. Printed bougainvillea and palm fronds again. Tucker hates coordination. Reminds him too much of mother. You might miss it but under the stairway a glass nob opens a camouflaged closet wallpapered over. A table stands in front of the railing with a glass bowl filled with loose change and keys. The stairway is not grand but nicely refurbished. He and Sergei had toured the house looking for the bathroom once before. He remembered there were many staircases, some leading to just one room. Yeah, weird like that. It was like someone one day woke up with a bright idea and added another room on a whim. That's how the house was. No real design, just a collection of whims. He remembers you go back to the master bedroom on the main floor to find the bathroom. He's taking his time today, though. He doesn't have real plans. No one's waiting for him. Here's the dining room on the main floor landing, a large kitchen is in back. He strolls through the kitchen, opens an ancient fridge to see what's cold. Milk, a half-filled bottle of Pinot Grigio, no beer. He picks up the wine, recognizes it as a decent label from a very old year. Uncorks it and chugs down half the content before he tastes that it's terribly bitter. Must have turned. Goes to the sink and bends over to sip from the faucet trying to get the bad taste out of his mouth. Back out in the dining room there's a small room to the left. It has an arched window that opens to a balcony, which overlooks the stone landing. Wallpaper in here is of large Chinese lanterns. There's a old oak desk in the middle facing the window. He peaks in a drawer. There's several manila folders. He pulls out one. Yellowed photographs of naked boys and men. None handsome but tough, some almost sinister. They look like derelicts, homeless men and boys, naked on mattresses passed out, drunk, drugged, under overpasses, in flophouses, a few which look like this room, same desk chair. He puts it back and closes the drawer. The house is silent except for a clock ticking somewhere. The opposite side of the dining room is the master bedroom and through it is the master bath. He looks up seeing dust play through sunlight from the great room upstairs. He wants to see the sunset. A set of stairs perpendicular to the dining room leads up to the great room. Not large but its double height ceiling gives the feeling of vastness. From here he overlooks the dining room, the silk table runner, two ornate candelabras, the dark painting of bulls on the wall. Three stories above street, he looks out to the city. The height clears the low canyons and expands out to see the city basin. You see the sailboats coming back into the marina for the night, a tanker trolls off the coast of South Bay beaches, Palos Verdes where he lives with his parents in the detached studio above the garage, all the way over to Long Beach with its oil rigs that dot the coastline. It's a rare day in L.A. when you see this much. The sun's still far from setting but there's the beginning of pink tinge in the sky. A ribbon of yellow follows the sun across the water. He figures it'll set in another hour. He'd like to be on the freeway by then. Opposite the window is a huge fireplace, not that one's ever needed in L.A. In front of it sits a couch. He flops down and kicks his sneakers up on a large coffee table. There's a silver tray with crystal glasses and two decanters, one clear, one brown. He picks up the dark one and smells very oaky scotch, pours himself a good amount in one of the crystals. Looks out to the city, toasts himself. He grabs his crotch for no discernible reason but simply because it feels good. He takes another sip, feels it burn his lips, tongue, throat, and then his belly. He's feeling exceptionally good and he's getting hard. He's inclined, against his better judgment, to whip out his hefty meat and beat off right there on a stranger's couch. A gong from a clock strikes the half hour. He swigs the rest of the glass and sets it back on the tray. He hops down the staircase and back to master bathroom. Palos Verdes where he grew up is filthy rich, but this bathroom he recognizes as old wealth; wealth from when L.A. was new. All original fixtures. Spacious. Pair of white porcelain faucets that read Hot and Cold at the sink, white tiles with a stripe of mint green at chest height. Hand-laid hexagon tiles in elaborate patterns cover the floor. The toilet's metal and huge, flushes with a pull chain atop a tank that sits at head height. It had been a long day. He lets his shorts fall to the floor and steps out of his shoes, puts his backpack on the counter. He opens the toilet lid. He's semi-rigid so he needs to carefully aims his piss over his P.A. He tilts over so it's aimed straight down, not splashing in random streams. He gushes powerfully for a few solid minutes, relishing the release and enjoying the loud noise it's making in the bowel. He shakes his dick a few times and goes back to the mirror. He pulls the band off his ponytail, shakes out his mane, and stuffs the band in his pack's front zipper. He's tempted to use one of the big white plush monogrammed towels on the rack. SM, reads the monogram. Funny. Instead, he takes out a small terrycloth beach towel he grabbed from home and flops it over the glass shower stall. He peers down and notices a lower drawer partially open. There's something flesh colored inside. He opened it up and finds a cone-shaped piece of rubber that then tapers down to a slab of pink rubber the size of a quarter. He's heard of butt plugs but never seen one up close. By all rights he should be grossed out but he isn't; mostly he's curious. He picks it up and feels its heft and density, where it gives, where it's rigid. It's pretty big. So fags put these up their butts? Why would you do that? He puts it back in the open drawer and rinses his hands. He gets in the shower and picks up a hanging metal hose. He gets what the nozzle's for and let it drop. He turns on the faucet and water spouts out the hose in a spray that makes the hose dance and clang around the stall. He reached up and turns a nob connected to the wall pipe that makes water run through the showerhead. He rinses the day off him. The spray feels like rain and the splatter echoes across the tiled room. He soaps his pits, his butt, his pubes. His got a full eight inch erection and it's soaped and ready to go. He gives it a couple of whacks, then holds his balls and starts getting into it. First he thinks of tits, huge tits swinging, wet and bouncy. Pussies pushed open showing pink and red. But then there's an image of the derelict man on a mattress under an overpass, his prison tattoos, a lewd pose showing off his dirty holes, another picture of a filthy boy reading a girlie magazine, cum on his stomachs. He's edging. He switches his mind to cunts he's fucked, sloppy twats, dry tight virgins, but they're pushed out, he's edging more when he feels the density of the buttplug, knowing it's been up someone's asshole, what that must feel like. He spurts hard and spurts hard again, right across the shower stall. A big wad of cum's running down the glass. He shakes and steadies his knees. He strokes himself a few times more. He contracts with each stroke. Then polishing his nob hurts and he stops. There's a bottle of shampoo on the floor. He picks it up and smells it approvingly. He rinses off his hands and lathers his head, massages his scalp, and then rinses his head back with the sensual streams running through his hair. Some soap gets in his eyes and he turns around and lets the water wash over his face. He rubs his sockets and floods his face with water. His body loosens; the soot, the sun, wash away until he's fully relaxed, freshly jacked and ready to head home. His dick's still hard. He shuts off the water. He clicks open the gold handled door and wipes himself with his beach towel. The owner's hairdryer sits next to his pack on the counter. He sets it on high, brushing out his hair with his fingers. Straight, parted in the middle, feathered to perfection—he's satisfied. His dick's still hard, which is increasingly weird, but looking at himself in the mirror he looks pretty hot. He thinks about taking a selfie. Nah, instead goes for his jeans and tee-shirt in his backpack. It's empty. He opens a back compartment. Also empty. He looks on the floor for his shorts. Missing. He's being punked. He put his knuckles on the counter. "Hey!" he shouts, echoing against the tile. "Cute, bitch! Not funny!" He smacks his hands on the counter. The only thing not missing is his red cap, which he puts on. He tries wrapping the towel around his waist but it comes up short. He goes out naked looking for the thief. He darts through the master bedroom into the dining room. Dusk's approaching and the wooden floorboards creak hollowly. Only thing he hears is tick-tock. "Hello?" he calls up to the living room before bounding up the stairs. The sunset has gone from pink to red, the sun a few inches above the water. He looks out to see if there's a car outside. The driveway's deserted. It's possible someone had parked in the garage but he isn't going out in his mini towel to find out. He thinks maybe he can borrow something in the owner's closet. He'd bring it back on Monday. And why won't his dick go down? The bedroom's in the back part of the house close to the hillside. It's cavernous and dark in here. He switches on a light which does little to fill the darkness. The light's maybe forty watts and the room's paneled in rich mahogany, which easily drinks up the wattage. The bed's enormous with pillars on each corners. Large eyehooks where the mattress meet the bedposts. He isn't liking this much at all. He finds the closet secreted within the wood panel. He opens it up and finds a shadowy gloom. He can't see a thing inside but senses it goes in really deep. He reached around the door looking for a switch and finds none. He enters cautiously raising his hand in the air hoping to find a light cord. A few feet in and he's still searching. It's probably the biggest walk-in he's ever seen—or not seen. About eight feet in his hand hits a small piece of chain. He tugs it and the closet bursts with a harsh light. Surrounding him is an enormous collection of leather jackets; beneath hang leather pants, some with, some without crotches; a row of various height boots stack against the back wall; above them a row of caps, a second shelf of masks, some with zippers for eyes and mouth, and a few gas masks; opposite the jackets are harnesses and vests, also some rubber shorts and tops, one piece is shiny rubber that would encase you from head to feet with only a few holes at your mouth and one hole for a dick. From the size of the jackets and pants he figures it fits someone tall and either extremely fat or exceedingly muscular. Neither he wants to meet. He turns around to leave but someone's blocking his way. He jumps back only to realize it's a full length mirror on the door that shut while he's been looking around. He wedges the door open and lets the light spill into the room. There's a dresser where he should find something, underwear, shorts, a sweater, something that will get him to his truck and out of here. In the first drawer he finds handcuffs and wrist restraints. A second drawer is full of rope and bandages. He started to get panicked and rifles through drawers several at a time. Blindfolds, ball gags, leg restraints, studded arm bands, cock rings, long metal rods, medical instruments that he can't even begin to think what they're for, jars of lube, a drawer filled with large and extra large dildoes, a box of small brown vials. The vials are slimy and smell off-putting. In fact the whole room has a stale scent of grease. Now that there's more light he can see the bed is covered by a large rubber sheet and streaked with grease. Art on the wall is of men with exaggerated nipples and massive cocks, fisting, fucking, and pissing on each other. They're signed Tom. The entire ceiling's mirrored. He sees himself on the ceiling looking down at himself, naked, cock still amazingly erect. Also reflected, taking up the entire doorway, a bearded leatherman smacking his palm with a nightstick.

Part 1 He was one of the few straight guys I sold to and definitely the hotest. His name was Troy and he was 19. And at 6'2", lean 190 pounds, blond hair and blue eyes he was the next door AF/frat boy type. He had a scholarship at the local university, but lost it over the summer for some infraction (probably drugs). He was mostly doing weed and coke, until a girl he picked up one night introduced him to Tina. He loved fucking on Tina and developed a nice habit. That's where I came into the picture. She introduced Troy to me so that he could get his own supplies. Soon he was hitting me up on a regular basis, but always seemed to be short on cash. Now, I am an entrepreneur. I have several "businesses' I run in addition to selling the best shit on campus. One of my businesses is a video web site where guys show off (either solo or couple). I knew he needed cash and started to plant the seed in his brain at how much cash he could make in one night. The conversation wnet like this: Me: "If you need cash I have a way you can make $100 a night easy." Troy: "I'm not seeling drugs!" Me: "Nothing like that, I have a web site that features hot guys like you that show off for viewers all over the world." Troy: "I aint doing anything gay, I'm not a fog." Me: "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with, but I will tell you the more you please your viewers the better tips you might get. I have a couple guys that clear close to a grand in one night." Troy: "I'll think about it." Me: "There's a special, secret viewing for those hot boys who like to blow clouds and stroke for the customer." I knew I had him thinking as I gave him a small supply of Tina for the night. It was enough to cloud his brain and when he wanted more without any means to pay for it I would have him. Sure enough by the next morning I got a text from him asking for more Tina. He and a girl he hung out with went through what he had in a few hours. He had no cash on hand and I brought up our discussion from a few hours earlier. I could tell he was in desperate need as he agreed to do the web site if I fronted him some Tina. I had him! He came over to where the video was broadcasted and I presented a contract for him to sign. He signed it without reading (what a dumb jock) and I gave him a teener of T. I informed him that he was to be back at the studio the next night around 8 pm to be prepared and given instructions. The next night he showed 5 minutes late (better late than never) and he was given a razor and instructed to trim or shave his balls, ass and chest. He was then led to a bathroom (which had a number of concealed cameras) where he proceeded to shave his entire body hair off. When he returned he was shown to his private room and told to show off for the viewers while chatting with them. I reminded him the more he would do for them he might get some tips. He spent the next 8 hours on camera stoking his coke (a nice coke actually, too bad by the time I'm done with him he won't really get to use it. By the end of the night he had received very few tips and only made $150. He was disappointed and asked "Do you have any suggestions how I could make more money. I lost viewers as the night went on." I asked him "Would you let another guy suck your dick? I know that would get you more viewers. They'd love to see a straight jock sucked off. I'd even up your base to $150 plus tips." Troy siad h "I need to think about that, when do I go on again?" I let him know he has a week to decide. The following week when he returned, hungry for some smoke made his decision easy. He agreed to have another guy suck his cock. I made sure he had plenty of G laced Gatorade (since it would help hide the taste) and plenty of Tina for them both to smoke. I knew with all those factors I might get him to do more. I had paired him up with Tommy, who was actually one of my vers/top studs and also HIV+! This session went better then his first session. He let the Tommy play with his cock and eventually give him a blow job while paying some attention to licking his taint and a few licks to his hole. As the night progress Tommy made sure that Troy smoked a lot of Tina. Troy started to get offers ($$) to blow Tommy. The first offer was $50 to which Troy politely replied that he was straight and didn't suck dick. The viewers questioned Troy on his sexuality and he continued to tell them that he was in deed straight. The offerd began to get better until the final one (prompted by me) came in offering him $500 to give Tommy a blow job to completion. I saw Troy's eye go wide at that offer and he thought this over. It was apparent that Troy was having dificulties getting hard as Tommy was still playing with his Tina dick. Tommy let Troy know that if they were going to make some serious cash they needed some action. I added to the fire with my private chat to them to get the action on before we lose any viewers and I lose money!! Tommy helped guide Troy's head to his crotch as Troy gave in knowing he needed to perform. He reluctantly began to suck Tommy's growing cock as he produced ample amounts of precum. Soon Tommy had Troy's mouth fully on his 9" cock as he he paid a little attention to Troys ass. Troy was lost in his attempt to suck cock for the first time he barely noticed Tommy work a finger coated in Tina laced lube into his hole. Troy was starting to get plesure from the attention to his ass while he attempted to suck his first cock. Tommy took his time as he added more lube and eventually a nice size shard of Tina to Troy's hole. Troy began to moan around Tommy's cock as more fingers were added to his hungry hole. When Tommy had worked a second shard inside Troy along with 3 fingers Troy was definitely entering slut mode when he asked Tommy "Oh god bro, that was feeling great, will you put your fingers back inside me." Tommy was perfect, "You want something in your straight, jock ass bro? How about my cock? Would you like me to slip my cock inside your ass?" Troy attempted to deny his fate, "Bro, I'm straight. I don't get fucked by guys" as he continued to suck Tommy's cock. Tommy pushed Troy down as far as he'd go onto his cock and asked "Do straight boy's like you suck cock? I know you want cock in your hole, it's hungry for me to breed it." Troy was completely defeated as he never let Troy's cock out of his mouth and shook his 'yes' letting Tommy know that he was accepting his fate. Tommy moved between Troy's legs positioning his bare cock at the jock's virgin hole. I made sure to get a close up of Troy's face on a split screen as Tommy's cock began to make its way where no man had ever been before. When Tommy's head breached the outer ring, there was a look of confusion on Troy's face. But as he slowly sank the full length into the Jock's ass the look turned to one of pure pleasure and desire. Tommy sank in balls deep as the Troy moaned out "Oh, fuck yeah!" Then he pulled out a bit and began to slowly initiate our former straight jock to the joys of man on man sex. With Tommy's abilities (and a little bit of Tina) he fucked Troy bast the time their show was supposed to end giving him 6 dirty poz loads of cum, and bringing this jock one step closer to being a gay porn star.

I've gone on a couple of gay cruises (Atlantis) in the past couple of years. There has always been a DL/discreet "dick deck" on these cruises...but this last cruise Atlantis gay cruise of the western Med (out of Barcelona) took the cake...the Atlantis staff announced the first night that for the first time ever there was now an official "dick deck." 10pm - dawn every night on deck 17...woohoo...had an amazing time 🍆🦴💦🐷😛🏳️‍🌈!!

And your cock in my holes! You STUD!

No fiction from me! I leave early for the city this morning. Wanting to shoot some video and hopefully get an anonymous load or two. The day didn’t disappoint! after doing my video I get a message on Grindr, a guy wants to hook up. I head over to the address and I walk in the long driveway to his door wearing my black tight mini, frilly socks and black stiletto heels. He leads me to a room with a mattress on the floor and starts to undress revealing a nice cut 8” cock. I immediately drop to my knees and start sucking and kissing it and putting both my hands around it. I love a big fat cock in my mouth. After a few he has me get on the mattress face down with my ass up high for him. He stands over my hole and plunges deep into me. All the way to his balls. He thrusting deep and pulling out repeatedly until he dumps his load into my gaping ass with a final thrust. He says how good my ass is as I pull down my skirt and hobble out the front door. With that load soaking I get another hookup offfer on Grindr. I head to the Airbnb where this guy is staying. As I walk up to the house door some high school kids cat call me as well as throw slurs. I loved it. Once inside and in the room he pulls out his dick and I start sucking him. He tells me that he’s nervous and kinda looses his erection. I tell him I’ll fix that. I get on the edge of the bed facing away from him and reach back with both hands and open my ass wide. In about 15 seconds I feel a hard shaft enter my ass. I’m waiting on him to start fucking me but all I hear is an apology and feel him push deep in me as he looses his nut in record time. So I’ve got two anonymity loads mixing inside my slutty ass and yet another Grindr opportunity knocks. A BBC wants to fuck me too!!! Off I go to hookup! once inside this BBCs house and in his room he lies on his bed and I start sucking his cock. He’s telling me what a good sissy I am and I’m getting into working his shaft over. Once he’s ready he has be get on my knees facing away from him. My face down and my ass high in the air. He wastes no time and he’s fucking me bareback with anger! Hitting my ass hard from behind and spanking my ass cheeks. It gets very verbal as I beg him for his babies and he’s calling me ever dirty name associated with sluts like me. He gives me a good fuck and as I’m begging and bleeding for his seed he gives it to me deep up my ass! All three loads are still mixing up inside my slutty ass as I typed this they will be there until tomorrow morning

Dressed? Your a naked faggot no clothes allowed bitch lol

I just took a straight mans load while his wife watched. They hooked up with me from a guy who fucked me and told them I would be down to take his load easy and that I would let his wife watch him fuck me. she likes to watch him fuck slutty faggots and he needs a hole to bareback cause his wife is neg and he's not so they find femme cumdumps for him to use as long as she can watch. he had me wear one of his wives matching bra and panties and slutti stockings, highheels and a wig. fucked me in their hotel room. he fucked me mostly from behind and when he was ready to cum he pulled almost all the way out and she jerked him off into me then pushed him in me balls deep. she ate his load from my ass.like licked it and sucked it out of me.he jerked himself hard and slid back in and the wife sucked my cock (not bad for a female) so when he came the second time it actually made me cum in her mouth. funny thing is the last time I came in a girls mouth was the same way.she ate his load from my ass again and then I dressed and left

I have to say my number one favourite is to have some one piss in my ass then i piss in theirs and alternate between fucking them and rimming them as we both leak piss and then for the guy to let go in mymoth after i have cum in them

Gosh I agree that all my problems are caused by others. Those pretty young white boys look away now that I am older. They know all about climate change, evolution and video games because unlike me they accept what they are told. I wish we could hang out and I could share their superior wisdom and hot, relatively undiseased bodies. I don’t deserve such rejection.

Today i was crazy horny and all over Grindr and Adam but of course came up with the same old BS. Luckily a FWB i suck off like once a week text me. He is like 40 years old, handsome, fit (runner), white (European), and has a nice 7 inch pretty thick uncut cock. I have been seeing him regularly for a few months and pretty much have just sucked him off though he has fucked me raw a couple times in the past they were quick sessions where he only was inside for a few strokes. Today his text said he wants to fuck me for real this time. I was nervous but hot for it. Though i love to get fucked raw i dont do it often and i dont really take loads very often. After showing up and his place he walked me over by his garage (he likes to play outside) and i started to suck him. He was rock hard instantly. As i worked his cock and balls he reached down and started to play with my ass. He told me to stand and lean on the wall. He pulled my gym shorts down revealing my jockstrapped ass and he moaned in approval. I gave him the bottle of lube i brought with me and he pushed his cock against my hole and rubbed it between my cheeks. I was super nervous and uptight and couldn’t get out of my head. My hole was not loosening up. I said lets go inside so i could sit on it. We no sooner made it through the door and he pulled my shorts down again and laid on the floor cock at full attention. I lowered myself onto his cock and rode him after i opened up a bit. He stopped me a few times because he was close to cumming. Then he said i want to breed you from behind. I knelt on the couch and he stood behind me. Pushed his cock in and started fucking me like aggressively. It hurt as i still hadn’t opened up completely but i took it. After a few minutes he said “i am going to cum inside you” and he buried his cock deep inside me and filled me with his cum. I love when he cums because he shoots huge loads and his cock pulses and throbs. It felt amazing as he bred my tight hole.

Love Flex. Fucked many a hole there. Never been to manifest!

hi dude! fellow pig bottom in Atlanta here. There is a ton of cock to be had. Get on the hookup apps and sites and you won't be disappointed. Also hit Flex and (when it reopens) Manifest for even more anonymous multi-partner open use.

O.M.G. ! Extremely HOT ! I used to work at a main series of stores cleaning out the bath rooms . I guess it started by sniffing the bath rooms - cleaning out the garbage / waste can - seeing what types of people been in there - really cleaned them good - smelling clean afterwords . Sometimes seeing used condoms or used bloody tampons . Anyway , I started smelling my worn underwear - guys butt holes and more - with groups - always gave me erections !

https://www.xtube.com/video-watch/2-studs-bareback-a-twink-41319622

I, honestly, like most cocks. I've taken very small to very big and all in between. It's cliche, but if the guy knows what he's doing, he can make me very happy with a variety of sizes. While playing with toys, I enjoy both depth with snakes or girth with plugs - depends on my mood, sometimes both! <oink>

Raw for me, we were both so into the moment we didn’t even mention condoms and we ended up breeding each other

It's always about the fuck for me. Love me a long fuck sesh, the type where I make the Top nut over and over until I squeezed every last drop out of him. And if the Top is equally adept, me may even give a hands free orgasm while we're at it.

What a great tattoo!!

Reading most of these responses makes me think that I'm a true freak on here. No one "owns" me, and I have no desire to "own" anyone when I do top. Being fucked feels great. It is the top's responsibility to make me feel good. It is my responsibility to make the top feelgood. In no way do I feel it is a one way street, when fucking. If he is hurting me, he "WILL" stop. And, I don't want to hurt someone for my pleasure. I consider him to be nothing less than a selfish prick if he doesn't care about my wel being. I am a human, not a worthless animal for someone else's pleasure. If no one agrees with me, so be it.

Peto coast as a top. I'm 90% top but he can rape my hole.

Banged this bearish 29 year old last night. He was a major horn dog. Took it all with no complaints just a lot of moans. After has said he felt a sense of accomplishment. I guess so. After 2 hours and three loads. Lol.

So this young 19yr old guy asian guy comes over, just to chill, because he's totally new, and has never bottomed before. We cuddle and chill on the couch for a bit, and we are making out super hard, and he says he wants to try getting fucked for the first time. We head to the bed still making out, and we suck and lick and do all the fun foreplay stuff, and he finally says "Do you have condom?" I say I do (I had one left, and I super just wanted to be fucking him however I could) so we dome up and he starts riding me like crazy. Like I can't believe how tight and awesome he feels! We cum, me in the condom in him, and he shoots all over my chest, but we're still cuddling and making out. I start getting hard again as I spoon him, and he reaches around, pulls the condom off me, and says "Slide it in" so hell yes I do! And we have this really relaxed spoon fuck. He turns his head and whispers "I want your cum in me" which drives me crazy and I shoot for the second time deep inside of him. We keep texting through the week, and finally we were both so hard for each other we had to meet up. And Holy SHIT did we fuck! No condoms, just 3 orgasms ALL inside him. He's definitely a craven bottom now!

Chris leaked when Manetti squeezed his dick. His still hard purple head was covered in spooge and Manetti wanted to torture the kid for a bit, polishing his nob, just cuz he could. The palm of his hand went back and forth as Chris squirmed in pleasure and pain under his control. “Stop! Nooo,” he laughed howling and thrashing. The wall phone in the kitchen immediately began to ring and light flood into their darkened room from across the airshaft. The light brought Manetti more in focus to Chris, breaking their intimacy slightly. As his mind settled back from his raging high, what they had just done started to frighten him a little. Manetti’s slimy cock slid out of Chris' ass like a fat slug. There was an audible 'plop' like a cork as it popped out of the grip of his sphincter, and he felt a small amount of liquid dribbled out his crack, down his tail bone and slide under his back. Manetti went into the kitchen and picked up the receiver and silently listened. "Thanks," he finally said. "Yes, he definitely has a hot pussy, Master," said Manetti into the receiver. The long phone cord allowed him to come back into the room talking. "We were that loud, huh?" He gave Chris an 'oops' look. "Well, I'm glad it enticed you, Sir." Manetti paused, then was quiet for quite a while, considering the proposal from the person on the other end of the line. He grew serious looking at Chris while the voice on the other end continued speaking. There was a pause on the other end, seeming to wait for Manetti to reply. Then the voice added a few words, which brought a smile to Manetti’s lips. "Well, we were probably going to bed, but I think our boy could be convinced otherwise. What do you say, Chief?" Manetti asked the bound boy covering the mouthpiece. "Up for a drop-by to my Master’s? Could be worth your while," he said rubbing his fingers together and wiggling his dark brows. "Even might be the beginning of a long term plan. A little for you, a cut for me, and the rest for Master. Maybe the plan you were looking for, Chief." Manetti’s teeth glowed in the light from across the airshaft. Chris gave him an I-don’t-know look in return. Frankly, he'd do what Manetti wanted him to do as long as Manetti was there. Back to the phone, he said, "Sure, the kid's psyched to meet you. We’ll come over right away." He paused. "Yes, Sir, I know what you like. I'll get him prepped just like that. Right, give us a little time then." Another pause, then a finger went up Chris’ hole. “Yep, he’s still wet but his hole is tightening.” Manetti sucked his finger smiling at Chris. “Sure, I have some G. Will do.” He went back into the kitchen and hung up. "Boy, to get through this night, I think we need to up your game." Manetti came back into the room and stopped by the bookcase and picked up the box with the orange tipped needles. He came over to Chris, who suddenly became alarmed, shook his head emphatically side to side. Manetti saw the kid stressing and put his hand on his face to reassure him. “Nah, Chief, nothing like that,” he said lifting out a little vial of liquid, putting a reassuring hand on Chris’ beating heart. “Only a couple of drops of G right now to prep you.” He took an eyedropper and counted out some drops in his water glass, swirled it around, and put the class up to Chris’ mouth. “What is it?” “Something that’ll take the edge of the booty bump I gave you. Makes you relax. Kind of like a warm bathtub. Nasty tasting though,” he broke into an evil grin. “But you like nasty, right?” Chris took a sip and made a face. “Yeah, I know. Here, I’ll take some too so we’ll be on the same planet, okay?” Manetti drank and made the same face as Chris. He got Chris to drink a little more. “Drink me, Alice,” Manetti said in a tiny voice. “You’ll need it to get through the door.” Chris gave him a blank look. “Never mind. Here, take this too. It’s a muscle relaxer. I think you’ll need it.” He put a white pill on Chris' tongue, and let him wash it down with a last sip from the glass. “Why do I need a muscle relaxer? Is he going to fuck me, Mike?” “Most definitely, he’s going to fuck you, buddy, and he’s a lot bigger than me, and I ain’t no small zucchini, am I?” “Oh shit.” Chris' head fell backward. “Yeah, but on the bright side look how hard you are. I gotta warn you though, if you come with me, Master Drax does believes in everyone slamming and doesn’t take no for an answer. So rule number one: never say no. He has lots of ways to make you say yes and they aren't any fun, believe me. Second rule: don't say 'I can't.' To him that translates to 'I won't.'" Chris looked trouble. Manetti went on, "Your Catholic so you'll get this: Saying no means he can always change your mind, so to him that's a venial sin. But refusing him outright, saying you won't? That's a mortal sin. And you don't want to do that. Ever. Got it?” “I think I wanna stay here, if that’s alright.” “You're scared of needles cuz of your ma, huh?” asked Manetti, with a note of compassion. “Your brother told me she was tasting even before Carl came sniffing around. He said last time he checked in with you guys, she was living with Carl, but she was married to her H.” “Can you untie me?” Chris asked. Manetti removed his cuffs and Chris slid out of the sling and sat on the futon crossed legged. He started looking around the room then looked at his boner. “Man, is this ever going down?” He tried to make a joke of it, but Manetti saw the G was making only a mild dent in his mood. He was playing again with himself, pinching his nipples, which seemed to be something new to him, was a tactic, thought Manetti, to try and take his mind off his family and this, Manetti saw, wasn't working. The Prior Puss was taking over the evening. Manetti knew he had to distract the kid for a while for the G to take full effect. “Hey, how’d you like me to shave you?" Chris perked up and looked at him curiously. "I shave Ben all the time and he loves it. It’ll really calm you down. It goes well with G too. Wanna try?" His caterpillar eyebrows wiggled. "I love shaving your brother.” “What do I do?” “Nothing but lie there. Just look pretty." Manetti went toward the bathroom. "Like you could ever not look pretty.” The words did their job and Chris laid down smiling. Manetti went in and made preparations. Chris lay there blushing and grinning to himself. He could see why Ben liked this guy. “But I like my bush,” he called out to Manetti in mock protest. He felt his small bush. Not much of one he had to admit. “You clip it, baby. Think it makes you look bigger, right? Ya’know you got nothing to be ashamed of.” He came back in with a bowl of water, shaving cream, and a straight razor. "I know you'll enjoy this." He sat next to Chris, and set out his wares. "Listen: Master Drax has special tastes. We're start with the simplest. He likes his new boys shaved. Everywhere." Manetti wrang out a wash cloth over the pan and soak the little bit of blond pubes Chris had. "You like keeping it short. But maybe you don't want them at all. Prefer to stay a boy." He sprayed foam in his hand and covered Chris' pubes. For pleasure or torture, he also coated his shaft and balls, massaging it in until Chris was squirming again in his hand. A few well-placed strokes of the razor and Chris' pubes were gone. He spent special time kneading his balls, flattening them out, squeezing them hard. Part pain and eventually part pleasure for Chris. "Lay your arms back." His pits were easy to shave. While on the second pit, Manetti said, "Man, how long since you showered, boy?" "A month, I guess." Chris was starting to float in his body. He succumbed the water and the warmth of the rag. With Manetti taking care of him, they were bonding closer. It was a feeling he didn't want to stop. "A month?" he asked incredulously. "Last gym class I took, I guess. After that I stopped going to school." "Well, no wonder you smell like a hobo." He gave a small laugh as he scraped the last of Chris' arm pit hair. "Master's probably gonna like your smell. Once I finish your butt, I should probably douse you with a finishing touch." Chris opened his eyes to see Manetti pretending to take a wiz on him. Chris mouthed silently, fuck, yeah, agreeing to whatever came into Manetti's dirty mind. "Up, Chief. Back in the sling." Chris got up slowly, then slunk back in the sling and put his legs in the stirrups. Manetti moved down below Chris' butt hole, pulled up a stool and started soaping his crack. To Chris, the feeling was sensuous; to Manetti it was salacious. He played with the boy's hole for a while, prying it apart with two fingers up and down, and then side to side. He spat in it and pulled some of his own cum out to use as lube. He stuck a finger deep inside, rubbing his prostate and generally feeling out the kid's hole. Chris head lolled to the side enjoying the sensations, looking up to the mirror occasionally catching Manetti brown head studying his anal anatomy. Soon, with a few deft strokes, his cheeks were soft and smooth. His purple hand prints were fading to pink. "Okay, hardest part. You're nicely stretched but I want you to remain totally relaxed." He took the straight razor and made micro-scrapes against the boy sphincter. Each stroke made the boy clench. He stopped for a moment, stood up, and smacked his ass hard. "I'm serious now, boy. Stop flinching or I'm going to slice you. I'm a lot more careful than Master would be, so you want me doing this, not him." Chris bit his lip. He liked when Manetti ordered him around, but he was apprehensive if he could keep his hole perfectly relaxed. "I'll try." "Rule three: there is no try, only do. Think Yoda. Seriously, I'm going to put this inside you," he said holding up the straight razor. "I'll be twisting it a full three-sixty. If Master finds even one hair in there I can guarantee you your ass is going to be a bloody mess when he's done. Trust me, I know. Picture my hole for a minute. Yours is a piece of cake." Chris felt the warm washcloth wipe the remainder of soap away. He then felt Manetti's tongue circle his hole, licking the edges then spiraling deep inside. It felt fantastic. His hole relaxed even more the deeper Manetti's tongue went. Then he felt the cool razor slide ever so gently and slowly into his hole. He concentrated on how relaxed he was under Manetti's spell, how much he liked him, put all his trust in him. Thought only of that. He felt the razor slowly twisted around his open hole. Six, then seven nicks of stray hairs he felt intensely as if they were being ripped out of him. Still he remained open. "Good boy. I'm coming out." The blade fell out slowly. It almost tickled. At the last moment of contact, however, he couldn't hold back a last minute flinch. The blade pricked him only slightly, but enough to draw a small trickle of blood. It stung and his sphincter went into delayed spasms, pushing some residual cum out his hole. Manetti lapped at it without without scolding him. His tongue was soothing though Chris knew blood, saliva and Manetti's cum was mixing in his wound. But the lapping tongue was hypnotic. Minutes went by silently. His sphincter stopped clenching and he lightly dozed off feeling Manetti tongue going on for eternity. Not caring what happened next. Remembering only Manetti's tongue lulling him to sleep. He would fall asleep every night like this if he was Manetti's. *** But he wasn't Manetti's. First one hand was pulled up and buckled in place. Then the other. Still he was content and floating like a baby in a swing. "Good boy. Now for your reward." From far away he heard the words and responded like he was still asleep. "What?" His words felt unnaturally slow coming out of him. "Wait." He realized his arms were again bound. "Wait. What...?" Through droopy eyes he saw Manetti take out a prepared point. "Just a small one, Chief. It'll put you in the right frame of mind to meet Master. He's expecting it." Manetti tied a rubber tourniquet around Chris' small bicep and began tapping the crook of his arm. It was pretty easy to find a vein on the skinny boy. He found a juicy one and told the kid to hold still or he might hurt him. Chris stopped squirming and watched with fascinated horror as the needle found it target. "Stick. Tell me if this burns." A swirl of red flooded into the vile and slowly Manetti unloaded the liquid into Chris' vein. The boy felt nothing immediately as Manetti withdrew the needle and pressed his thumb on the point of entry. His other hand unleashed the tourniquet, just as the boy coughed. Chris panicked. Manetti stood above him, his face easing into that large shark smile he'd had before. "That's it, my red blooded American boy." He watched the kid flush beet red, going through alternating phases. Panic turned to ecstasy, turned back to panic. "Just ride it. That's it. Enjoy it." "Too intense." Manetti leaned over Chris' face. He knew what would help the kid. He pushed his pec out to hover over his face, unleashing one of the boy's arms. Chris put his hand on Manetti's chest, felt the muscle flexing just for him. He caressed the hair, found the pierced nipple. Manetti bent even lower to the boy. Chris started sucking away, nursing like an infant, both metal and flesh. Chris looked up at Manetti and met the shark smile with one of his own. A smile shaded with a bit of evil he'd never let out before. He struggled to get up forgetting his other hand was still bound. Manetti helped him get it off. Chris buried his face in the man's chest, inhaling him, licking him. Put his face under Manetti’s armpit. Manetti took pleasure in letting him lick the pit, then helped him get up. Chris slid off the sling and began pacing around the bedroom murmuring fuck repeatedly. "How's that feel? You like?" Chris couldn't form any words but held up his thumb. "Go ahead and lay down. Enjoy the rush. Just ride it through." As he sat he fell back, feeling like he was falling down a rabbit hole, that the ceiling was rising above him, his vision was crossed and he felt the rush of euphoria jet through him. He was giddy, flush with excitement, he only wished Manetti's cock was back inside him. "Fuck," he grabbed onto the only words that made sense, confessing, "I feel like a little boy with you. I want you to molest me." He felt around his smooth, wet hole and stuck a couple of fingers inside. Manetti laugh. "You feel it don't you. Feel all those carnal urges you've buried. You want to suck a dog dick, don't you?" "Yeah. Big horse dick. Your dick. I want to be buried in cum. I want you to fist me like those guys are doing." He flicked his head at the TV where a black guy was punch fisting a young guy in a sling. "I want you to fist me like you and Ben fist. I want you to use dildoes on me and make me have a huge cunt like yours. I want you to fist me to your elbow and your armpit. I want to feel your hairy pit rub against my hole." "Looks like you like-y? And that's just a teeny bit. More to come at Master Drax." Manetti put the orange cap back on the syringe, and pointed the camera back on the boy as he rolled around feeling all his erogenous zones, spewing a watershed of perversions. Manetti left him to his pleasure, feeling his hole, pulling on his flaccid dick, tweeking his nipples, going at them all with abandon. He went over to the closet and pulled out chaps and put them on, then pulled out a chastity cage out of a drawer and put it in his pocket. He went into the kitchen where he took the metal lid off the bathtub. Fuck, he heard Chris repeating, unable to contain himself. He heard a never-ending stream of fucks and perverted ideas spewing out of the kid's mouth, that he wanted Jeff to fuck him, for Carl to fuck him. He wanted to have someone at work named Shakir cover him in Valvoline oil and fuck him. He wanted to get fucked in the gas station toilet. He wanted the gas station owner named Duke to fuck him from behind while he licked the urinal. “You think I stink, man? You should smell that toilet some time. It's righteous foul!” The kid had an imagination! He enjoyed how spun the kid was on such a little amount, how open he was to anything right now. As a test Manetti came back in the room and picked up a filthy jock strap, held it out for the boy to smell. "What do you think of this? It's your brothers." The boy sniffed it and then began to tear into it. He sucked it and his saliva made the jock wet and unlocked the odor of piss emanating from the stains. "You want to wear it over your face to meet Master? I know he'd love that. He's a nasty mother fucker like no one you've ever met." Chris was almost unrecognizable animal in his drug frenzy, nothing at all like he was when he first came in the door. He was so into it with the jock, it looked like he hardly heard what Manetti was saying. "Ya'know, you’re lucky I took your cherry. Master Drax wouldn't have been so gentle." "I don’t think," he managed to get out while chewing the jock strap, "that you were that gentle." He was high on piss fumes, high on the residual cum, reeling in lust sucking his brother's jock. He looked at Manetti like an idea had just struck him. "I liked it rough.” "I'll relay that thought, boy. C'mon, get up. You’re ready to meet Master. He's got a wide variety in his stable. The rougher, the more money he'll make off you. The less limits, the more we’ll all make. Think you'll like that?" Chris bobbed his head, agreeing to anything Manetti said to him. He sprung up and put the wet jock around his neck. Manetti steered him into the kitchen, told him to get in the tub. "You need a douse before we go." "Douse of what?" Chris asked, stepping in. "Master likes raunch, heavy raunch. Let's get you prepped and stinkin'. Open your mouth, pig. You know you want it." He hadn't thought about it but was susceptible to any suggestion coming from his idol. He laid down in the tub and opened his mouth. Manetti immediately covered him in piss, going up and down the kid's naked body. Chris ran his hands up over his torso like he was washing himself. He let out a low moan of pleasure. "Warm," he sighed. "Open." Chris stopped rubbing and opened his mouth, propping himself up on his elbows. Manetti took aim and hit his mark right on target. "Swallow." The boy obeyed. It was salty and bitter and came out of Manetti, so he guzzled the piss letting it splash in his mouth, and gulped it down into his stomach. "Good pig. You like that, pig boy?" Chris bobbed his head. Without prompting he leaned back and spread his legs to expose his hole to Manetti. "Okay, you fucking filth pig." With that, Manetti let a stream of piss hit his hole. Some went in and the kid pushed it out like a mini-geyser. "You stinkin’ fuck pig! Get up—you’re ready.” Chris scrambled getting up. They both stopped for a second regarding each other, listening to the remains of piss draining down the pipe. Two massive shark grins flashed between them. Manetti helped him step out of the tub; Chris' platinum hair yellow and flattened, his eyes electric.

7. The Eel (Epilogue) You can check out any time you like, But you can never leave. —Hotel California, Eagles, 1976 It lays there on the bed solidifying its epidermis, from pink flesh to grey skin. It will ossify in a matter of minutes if it's not coated with mucous or put into water. All the guests have dispersed. The clock ticks in the empty house. Its ends have sealed, eyes and small dorsal fins developed, but it's gasping. Elijah picks it up. It's larger than the previous one. Maybe over five feet in length. Surely it will beckon a more pure soul. One not so small and bitter as what was once called Tucker Broderick. Elijah carries it up to the aquarium and let's it slide in. The doorbell chimes. It will take him ages for him to descend the two staircases to answer. The front door creaks open and Sergei is staring at the ancient owner leaning against his cane. He's always a little creeped out by the man the few times he's met him. His snow white beard and long grey hair is incongruent with the short-sleeved leather shirt and pants he wears. He's like a relic from vintage porn websites he's visited: he's a study in black and white. Ashen skin, black eyes that are surprising alive. "Yes, Sergei?" the man inquires. "I'm sorry to disturb you on a Sunday, but I received a call from the parents of my worker. He never comes home Friday and they worry. I see his truck here and wonder if you have seen him. Long brown hair, very tan, blue eyes?" The man blinks at Sergei several times before speaking. "Yes. No, a backpack. Yes. There was a strange backpack in the bathroom. Please, come in." Sergei thinks better of it. The man is large, solid, but old, hunched, and he's concerned with Tucker's whereabouts. "I get so few visitors. Would you share a tipple of wine with me?" They have made it to the dining room level, where a half-filled bottle of white wine sits, surrounded by several liqueur glasses. "I can't, sir. My family is waiting Sunday dinner." "Pity. Let me get the backpack." Since they've gotten to the dining room, the old man seems a little sprier, leaving his cane leaning on a chair. He disappears into the dark of the bedroom. Sergei fidgets close to the staircase. Looks at the curious bull paintings, the large Chinese lanterns in a side room, the play of dust through light streaming from the great room a level above. He wonders about the bulls. Is it accidental that their penises are so pronounced? Sergei is a little embarrassed even thinking about it. The man returns holding Tucker's backpack. His beard is different as is his hair. Streaks of grey run through it that Sergei was certain weren't there before. Maybe it's the light. "Would this belong to the young man you're looking for? I did not look inside." He accepts it and rifles through the contents. A black hair band, black silk shorts, a pair of jeans and a rebel flag tee shirt he's seen Tucker wear. He smells Tucker's sweat and tanning lotion on the shirt. Keys, wallet, driver ID of Tucker with his usual wary smile. "And you haven't seen him?" "No, Sergei. I believe I would have noticed a stray workman wandering through my house," chuckles the man. "He's a young man you say? Maybe he has found a desperate housewife in the neighborhood." If the client is kidding he's not too far off from how Sergei fantasizes about Tucker in his spare time. "Are you near to finishing the roof?" The man pulls out a chair for Sergei. "Please," he indicates the chair. Sergei raises a hand to decline. "We finished. Tomorrow my brother and I clean up." "Then I must pay you." He exits to the room with the red Chinese lanterns, rumples through a desk drawer. Sergei notices the staircase next to the bedroom. He doesn't remember it from when he and Tucker were searching for a bathroom a few weeks ago. The man is suddenly next to him, laying a surprisingly solid hand on his shoulder. His other hand holds a check. The man's beard definitely has streaks of greyish-black where it didn't before. "For you and your workers, with a little extra for you. We must toast to a job well done." The man is about to pour the wine into liqueur glasses. "No, sir. I'm afraid I am not a wine drinker." "Ah. Vodka, yes? You must. One toast. I have delicious Kalashnikov upstairs." Sergei is impressed. He's not had it since he left Kiev. "I must get home soon, though. To my family." "You mean your brother's family." The correction stings Sergei. It also makes him suspicious how his client would know that. He has never spent much time with him, nor does he wish to. "Humor an old man. One toast to a lovely afternoon. It will make the day less solitary for me." Sergei considers again while he holds the check. He feels compelled and acquiesces, and they mount the stairs to the great room. There's two decanters on the silver tray on the coffee table. From the clear decanter the man pours out a good amount in the crystal glasses. "Nostrovia!" "To your health," Sergei says, downing the whole amount at once. It doesn't sit right at all with him. He coughs loudly. When he turns to the man, he's shocked by the transformation. He appears no more than forty, dark beard, not hunched at all but upright and strong. Muscles bulge under his short-sleeved shirt. Sergei suddenly feels a little woozy. The man pushes him back. "Sit, Sergei. Sit." Sergei isn't sitting so much as trying to get his bearings and not fall over. He's sails back onto the sofa. His eyes blur. As quickly as he can he puts his wire-frame glasses over his ears to try to focus. Then, the strangest thing, he feels he's getting an erection for no discernible reason. Looking out the window at a view he sees it cuts down straight to the ocean. It's even more stunning than the roof. He's comfortable, feeling increasingly euphoric. Bells go off. This isn't any high from vodka. He doubts it was vodka. He can't seem to move, yet his dick keeps rising. Blue ocean, his mind drifts, blue like Tucker's eyes. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it, Sergei." Elijah bends over. Unlaces, then takes off one of Sergei's shoes. "Tucker is going to love having a visitor so soon." He unlaces and takes off the other shoe. "Especially one with such a good and gentle soul. I can tell these things, Sergei. I was with the church for a terribly long time. A terribly long time to be held in such servitude. Let's unbind that demon so it can breath." Elijah unbuckles Sergei's jeans and let's his large and growing penis bounce out of his fly. Elijah starts stroking it. Sergei flinches, the last movement he'll make of his own volition. "Oh, you're a virgin. I had no idea, child." His dick is leaking precum like a faucet. Elijah, a relic from ages ago, out of the pages of The Inquisition, slows his stroke to a barely discernible crawl. "No. You're right, boy. We should just sit here quiet for a while and take in the view. Tucker's not going anywhere. And neither are you."

4. Duncan There's no reason to be coy about this or draw it out further. Either the late seventies seeped into the present, or the other way around. Just so we're clear before the WTF confusion sets in. Time is a door. It’s always locked with no way to get from one room to another. You age through without noticing, and you travel in one direction only. But that’s not the propensity of this house. Doors connect to other random rooms, designed by whim. Passageway to staircases to doors you thought were elsewhere. Here, there are passageways that lead back to different eras; here, there are stairs that lead to a wall, sometimes lead, akin to a relationship, nowhere, to a dead end and a waste of precious time; here, there are hallways that lead to different mores, different beliefs, different outcomes, different proclivities, some as amoral and far afield as The Inquisition or the cell of de Sade. One link to The Inquisition timeline lies in this house upstairs, preserved in the antiquity of a St. Andrew’s cross, within what Elijah calls The Tower. Echoes of victims are burnished within the aged wood, burned bones, fractured bodies. Their cries are not limited to only one time, but reverberate throughout time in the nails of the cross. This house breaths life into such a relic and takes life from it. The Tower is part of the original structure built a floor above the kitchen. A spiral staircase behind the kitchen leads to up it. Besides the stellar view of the city, it houses a small stage complete with spot light and a sling, the aforementioned St. Andrew’s cross, a fireplace ablaze, causing the current occupants to loosen their dinner garb one button at a time, a padded fuck bench, and four overstuffed wingback chairs, three of which are occupied at the moment. A fourth, a slave, sits next to one of them. Time is a locked door. And while it holds that no one gets to pass from one time to another, there’s always a keyhole that leaks light through it from time to time. Depending on your perspective you can look through it forward to back, or back to front. It only depends upon which side you’re on and how open you are to seeing the other side. Three men sit in comfortable wingback chairs, all have backgrounds in performance of some kind or other. Two ex-Jesuits come from the church. Elijah, Master Eli, who you’ve already met, is upstairs rousting Tucker; Samuel you don’t know yet, but is the nastier of the two ex-monks, and is petting, at his feet, his slave's wavy red hair; the lawyer and San Francisco councilman, Terry Brenner, comes from the court; and a young-ish actor-director, Alan Riggs, comes from the stage and from back east. Samuel, as Eli knows, has brought along a young slave and protege, Duncan, who’s been instructed to remain on the floor this evening—collared, body shaved except for bushy red pubes left intact, exposed to the room in his chaps. Wearing his leather harness, you can admire his young, developing muscles. Certainly the councilman does. Riggs, on the other hand, focuses and the ginger pubes. Samuel’s been intrigued why only his young protégé has been invited. Elijah, during dinner, said he had, through pure serendipity, found another young man this evening, naked, erect (having gotten into the chem piss), going through his things when he got home. He left him upstairs “stewing” with an eel to keep him company through dinner, and thought it would be interesting to bring him and Duncan together as after dinner entertainment. "It kills the eel, you know. You remember, don't you Duncan?" Samuel says. The slave is not allowed to speak, but nods with a slight shiver. "Poor eel," says Brenner excitedly. "I must try and get some." "Duncan, you've taken an eel?" asks Riggs, gazing at the luscious lad. Duncan nods and looks back at the floor. "And I thought that was just urban legend." "It was an excellent bridge to his first fist. He could take anything afterward," the defrocked priest says, "couldn't you boy?" The boy looks up, agrees, then looks back at the floor. "Look who I found," announces Eli, coming back in the room with Tucker. Tucker's naked, wearing just a collared and a dazed look. Duncan looks up at Tucker and immediately, like a starving dog, starts to get hard. "He's lovely. What's its name?" Brenner ask Eli. "You know, I never got around to that. What is your name, boy?" "Tucker," the boy says glancing around the room at the men and the red haired boy growing a noticeably large erection. His own is now on the rise, too, looking at the attractive red head. Eli points a finger next to his chair and Tucker instinctively kneels down next to it. Eli sets a quarter filled bottle of chilled yellow liquid on the coffee table between all the chairs. From the side table he brings over four liqueur glasses, setting one in front of each of the men. Duncan perks up beside Samuel. "Down boy," scolds Samuel. "You know only from the tap or if I piss in you. Tonight's special, though, isn't it brother Elijah." Eli smiles and takes two large syringes from the side table. Duncan sees them with wide frightened eyes, but Tucker can't focus on them. He's still looking around the room to take in the new men, and trying to figure out why he feels so empty. "Master? It's really dead?" Tears are welling in Tucker's eyes. "We all die, boy." Eli is wiping a tear off his face. "We can only hope we die as happy and warm someday." Eli is pouring the chem piss in the four glasses. "He's been shitting the eel for at least the last hour. Poor thing," he explains. Eli lifts up his glass. "To the eel. Heil!" "Heil," shout the other men, and down their glasses. "Brother, will you do the honors?" Eli asks. "Mine needs his booster and it looks like yours is a bit skittish tonight." Eli goes to the fireplace and tends to the fire. "He'll be fine in a minute or two. Duncan, heel!" Duncan lays out his muscular forearm and pumps his fist to push out his veins. Samuel scans them over, picks one that isn't as bruised as the others, and pops the needle in at an angle. He rotates the syringe till he gets a good draw of blood and gushes the content into the boy's arm. Duncan's on his haunches, and staggers a bit as the drug hits him hard. He's trying to focus on Riggs directly across from him. Riggs is licking his lips as the boy grabs hold of Samuel for balance. He can't help himself and begins chanting, "fuck, fuck, fuck." "Oh, yes you will be fucked alright," Samuel assures him. "Now sit. Tucker, come over here to me. Let's try something fun." Tucker starts to stand, but Eli yanks his chain, pulling him by the collar back to the floor. "Always on all four, boy, unless I tell you otherwise." The boy crawls on all fours to Samuel. While Riggs and Brenner watch Samuel prepping Tucker, Riggs continues a conversation they were having at supper. "The artistic director of the company is retiring in September?" "Definitely," assures Brenner. "It'll be announced at our next board meeting. I chair so I can certainly guide the nomination your way. The company's on the elderly side so I'd say you're going to need some new blood." They both spy Duncan, who Samuel informed them at dinner was a broke, out of work actor. The two men see he's now on the lust side of the drug looking around the room licking his lips and growing his manhood to monumental proportions. "I'd say, Samuel has enough of a corral he could spare one or two." Samuel hears his name and looks up from Tucker's cock in his hand, smiles a "perhaps" at the men, and sticks the needle in the large vein on Tucker's shaft. Tucker is puzzled at the syringe stuck in his dick, then feels it. "Oh, shit," are the last words out of Tucker's lips before he falls backward hitting his head on Eli leg. "How much was that," Riggs asks. Eli rights the boy's head. "Six or six-five. He had half a gram before you came." "Phew!" says Riggs. "I'd be a fried mess if I had that much back to back." "Well, I think that's what he is," says Brenner. He's right, too. Tucker is bright red, mouthing words without speaking, eyes shaking back and forth. "Holy fuck!" Samuel slaps his knees and cheers loudly, "Just another regular American boy! Let's get you up and ready, you hot fucking piece of boy meat. Grab that arm, brother." Between Samuel and Eli they grab Tucker under each of their arms. Even though Samuel has been losing weight at alarming rate this past year, both the men are tall, and easily drag the boy over to the sling. Tucker's toenails scratch across the rug, then over the mosaic tiles, then up the wooden platform. He's flying through the air, sees his legs miles out from his body, feeling the best he's ever felt in his life, two men putting his feet into leather straps, a small pillow being adjusted under his head. He can't keep up with the dopamine flowing through him. Everything is perfect. Lights are adjusting so there's a dim glow outlining his body. A fire illuminates some men in the room. He's hot as hell and his loins burn for someone to touch him. He sees a tall dark hair man between his legs who looks familiar. The man is stripping off his black shirt. He looks super-human, less man than a figure built from rocks. Tucker feels his hole fully agape and invites the man to enter him. A phallus larger than he's ever seen pierces his hole all the way to the man's black patch of hair in one fell swoop. A hand turns his head sideways, encouraging him to suck on a half-erect cock. There's lots of foreskin on it to push back, and an overwhelming taste of rotten cheese, but he's boiling in lust and wants to be used by these anonymous men, so eats the smegma and licks the knob till it's clean. The one he's sucking off shouts, "Duncan, get your ass on the bench. Let 'em fuck you, then you can help me play with this one." Tucker looks off in the flickering darkness and sees a boy positioning himself on a bench, with two dark figures entering him on either end. The foreskinned man brings Tucker's head back around to continue sucking him. The two men over him take turns pinching his tits. He reaches up the foreskinned man's chest and tweaks his nipples. They're gigantic, nipples as big as baby bottles. The man brings down his nipple for Tucker to nurse. They're foul tasting, sulfur mixed with feces, but he's hungering for it. The nipple almost fills his mouth. When he's scraped the taste off it, the man offers his other one, all while his ass is pounded relentlessly. He spies the foreskin man reach over to the man fucking him. He feels a finger, then two slip in his ass in addition to the pounding cock. The black figure between his legs lets out a roar, then slams his ass hard, and hard again. He pauses, head bent. Tucker feels a pulse cock enlarge, contract, enlarge, before he feels a mammoth cock slip out of him. Again he has that empty abandoned feeling. I trickle of sludge slides out his ass. It's warm and foul, extremely pungent and the man he was moments ago sucking is now at his ass, eating him. He feels an unnaturally long tongue sliding inside of him. The dark haired man is now next to him shoving his filthy cock in his mouth. It reeks of shit and salty cum and grease. He gags but the member is pushing against his face so the dark bush that absorbed much of the butt slime is now covering his nostrils. He's breathing through the black bush but as much as he feels suffocated, he's also desiring and completely enjoying it, feeling how helpless he is to giving into and being used by these pigs making him one of them. The slime of a tongue is replaced by firm fingers, three is what he counts, sliding into his hole. A slippery fourth is added. Something is broken under his nose and the vapor he inhales sends him deeper into denigration. Piss spurts from the cock buried in his mouth. He's not drinking because it's so deep in his throat, it's pouring directly into his stomach. The man encourages him to let go and be a sewer for him. Another cap is broken and a whole hand is beckoning at his hole, trying to enter him, whole. Butts weren't make to take in hands, he thinks, but he's surrendering to the seductive thought of it. He's never considered it, but since it's being offered he's thinking how much he'd like to give into it. It's crowning, at its largest stretch and straining the muscle, how hard it hurts, how much he wants it. Then it breaks through and he's repeating a mantra of the fisted: oh fuck, oh fuck. Every nerve ending inside is calling out in overwhelming pleasure. He can visualize how his asshole is clamping down on the hand, pushing it deeper inside. He doesn't know when it will stop sliding up his ass. He doesn't know if he wants it to. He can't believe how good he feels, how unnatural it is that he's sensing the world from the inside. He didn't know this was possible. "Yes," he says to the man who's inside him. "That's so good," he says looking up into the face. It's white, the face, black eyes, sunken cheeks, mucous running out his nostrils. "More," he intones up to the man. The man sneers and obliges. He feels the large hand bend into a fist, nails scrape against his rectal walls. The man purposefully twists his knuckle against his prostrate sending waves of intense pleasure, too much pleasure, it's hard for him to stay in his body. The hand unfolds and journeys deeper into him. The hand is stuck on a blocked passage. He is in the passage. He is the cause of the blockage. It is him, he has to tell himself. It is his body that is willfully being used. He is as much participant as spectator. He feels first one finger drilling against the internal barrier, then two fingers circling, applying pressure. With the third finger penetrated, forming a small triangle in his colon, it's able to pry apart the second sphincter and open the passage for the rest of the hand. It feels like his body is being raped, forced open and he's loving it. He's writhing on the man's open palm, impaling his body as much as he can in the swaying sling. He's trying to bounce on the man's hand, and the man is all in favor of it. Two men talk above him, demons in a flickering hell. "I don't want him damaged," the man by his head says. "The boy is completely swallowing my arm. I can't help how much in heat he's in." "Slow it down," the man next to him warns. "Duncan, get over here!" calls the man fisting his ass. Tucker feels the hand being withdrawn and is almost ready to cry as it leaves. A feeling of abject abandonment is taking him over. As the hand withdraws he's trying to draw it back in. He squeezes on the palm and it slides back in somewhat. "He's doing it, not me," objects the fister. "You want to get pistoned, boy?" he asks rhetorically, as he started pile driving his fist in and deeper in, though never breaking completely out. "Don't close your eyes. Look at me when I'm fisting you!" He doing it hard to keep Tucker's attention, but it's having the exact opposite effect. The harder he's being fisted, the further out of his body he is. All that remains is his voice: "Fuck me harder, harder, harder." They are trapped like Chinese finger puzzles: the harder the fist pulls out, the harder Tucker clamps down on it. "Yes, yes," Tucker begs, luxuriating on the trapped fists, unable to control how hard he's rocking on the man's fist. His colon is on fire, flaming in lust, seeing out of the darkness a beautiful young man with bright fiery hair coming toward him. With one enormous gut-wrenching punch exiting his hole, the fist flies out of him. Four men and the boy are transfixed, staring at a very open hole. "Beautiful," exclaims the man who fisted him. He bends down and licks his hole. He sees the man pulling his asslips apart, lapping at his insides, coaxing him to push harder. In the mirror above him reveals his pushed out colon that all are fingering. The dark pleasure he's feeling he wants to continue. "More," he begs the group. "Duncan. Show him more," instructs Samuel. Duncan smiles, feeling Tucker's splayed out hole. "Aye, Sir. It'll be a pleasure showin' the lad how much he can take, and then showin' him he can take a wee bit mure."

3. The Aquarium He's backlit so it's hard to make out the face but this is what he can see: his leather cap, with black shiny visor and chain that lays over it, almost scrapes the top of the door; there's a black beard, maybe with a touch of grey; the eyes are deep set and unseeable; leather jacket, black shirt, leather tie, leather pants, leather boots; a black baton that clinks against a ring on his left hand. "Not the kind of house you want to break into," says the figure. The voice is the essence of authority; calm, resonant, deliberative. The voice of a cop who pulls you over; the dread you hear in the doctor who has bad news; the judge who asks how you plead—final, unequivocal, no second chance. "Did you shit on the dining room table?" his first questions. Tucker's compelled to respond but at the last minute is taken aback by absurdity of the questions. "Wait, what?" He's incredulous, ignoring the fact he's naked and holding a box of the man's poppers. The whole situation is absurd. "I, no! I'm working on your roof, man. I'm one of the roofers." "You're naked going through my drawers is what I see. There's shit on my table. And I don’t employ roofers." He waves the nightstick, calling him out of his bedroom. “Let’s go.” "Huh? Dude, I just took a shower and my clothes are missing. That's it. Do you know where they are? I just want to get them and leave." "You think your clothes are in a drawer with my dildoes? I'm not telling you again." He beckons with the nightstick a second time. Tucker has no choice but moves toward the man who backs out of the door to let him pass. "Up the stairs," he instructs, pointing with his stick. Tucker takes a quick glance at the table. Jesus fuck, there really is a pile of shit on it. He smells it too. When he’s a foot away from the man, his fight-or-flight response kicks in and he decides to make a run for it. Naked be damn, he'll choose running naked in the street rather than stay here. He tears past the leatherman who only has to take one step in his direction, grab his ponytail, yank him back and crack the back of his knees with the baton. Tucker's crumpled on the floor. Leatherfuck pulls him up by his hair and tosses him like a doll toward a stairwell between the kitchen and the bedroom. "Up," is all man says. It's not the stairs to great room but through another archway, that, if Tucker has his bearings right, would be leading him into the side of the mountain, which seems unlikely but true. "Up," says the man. "I won't tell you again." Tucker staggers up the steps feeling the backs of his legs. Now he's truly scared. The man pokes his butthole with the nightstick. "Move," he orders. Tucker takes two steps at a time. "Dude," he's whining during his ascent, "I swear to Christ I just took a shower and someone took my clothes. Hey," Tucker says, turning around halfway up the stairs. "Whoever took my clothes probably took a shit on your table. He's probably still here. The door was unlocked, I bet, right?" "It was wide open. Move!" Tucker proceeds to climb but his feet are damp and he stumbles on the last step, falling forward. "Get up and get in that room." Tucker scrambles up holding onto the railing, sees the door the man intends for him to enter. "I bet he ran away just before you came in." Tucker turns the glass doorknob. The room is bathed in blue light undulating in waves filtered through the water of a large aquarium. It's dark except for the aquarium taking up most of the far wall. A small window is cracked open, but it’s on the mountain side of the house so no light comes in. On the other side is a single bed and nightstand. In the center of the room stands an old, ornate barber's chair. "Sit," the man says indicating the barber’s chair. "Please, sir. I apologize. I'm really, really sorry." He doesn't want to go in. The nightstick prods against his butt again. He turns around and pleads. "I just want to leave." He’s afraid he won't come out of this room if he goes in. "I work for you, man. Ask Sergei. Call him. I even asked if it was okay to use your shower and he said it was." The man's physical presence forces him to step backward into the room. Tucker scans the room, sees within the aquarium a large eel slip out of pile of rocks. "Were you in my refrigerator?" the man asks. "What? No. Yes, I drank some of your wine." The man is backing him deeper into the room. He hears the aquarium’s filter hum as he nears the chair. "My wallet's in my clothes. I'm sorry. I'll pay you. I didn’t drink a lot. It had turned, I think." He's totally creeped out by the dark grey eel. It's four feet long and tracking back and forth in the tank. Tucker looks up at the man hoping his eyes look pleading enough, but he's flashing on the cum on the shower glass, the crystal he drank out of and left unwashed, if he put the desk photos back exactly as he found them, the shit that’s not his on the table, how fucked he is in this stranger's eyes. "Sit." Tucker falls back in the chair and looks up to the man's face bathed in the aquarium’s light’s blue glow. His face is broad with wide set eyes. The brows arch menacingly. His nostril flare as anger washes over his face, then recede when his face becomes once more placid. His beard covers everything but pock marked temples and a deeply creased forehead. Between his thick brows a furrowed W forms as he scrutinizes Tucker. He has one silver earring on his left lobe. Tucker's uncomfortably sticking to the chair trying to move back away from him. The large chair’s cold, the brown cowhide’s tacky on his bare ass, and metal arms have straps, which brings him to a new level of anxiety. "You drank yellow liquid in my refrigerator?" Tucker nods apologetically. The man's burst in a roar of laughter. “Hope you liked it, fucker.” His mood’s lightened. He takes off his jacket, then his leather tie and throws them on the bed. "Your cock. I see. Strap your legs down." "What are you going to do?" His mind is racing. What choice does he have? The man's unbuttoning his shirt displaying a chest that’s incredibly ripped. His pecs are boulders. Even his nipples are enormous, unnatural, each the girth of a fingertip. "What was in the bottle?" “It’s keeping you hard for me.” The man's teeth shine blue. "Strap yourself in." "What? Why?" Tucker asks, confused. Looking down he sees straps at his ankles, thighs, waist, and chest. "Legs first," instructs the man. Defiantly Tucker shakes his head no. The man immediately strikes his nightstick down hard on the metal chair's armrest. Tucker barely gets his arm away before the rod strikes with a loud clang reverberating through the room. Tucker makes sure he's not going to swing the baton again, then folds over to take the two ends of the strap at his feet and loops one strap through the metal binding of the other. He does the same at his thighs, waist and then chest. The man sets the stick down with a clunk on a metal tray behind him. ‘Roid freak binds one of Tucker's arms down, once at the wrist and once below the elbow. He then slowly walks around in back of the barber chair and puts his hand on Tucker's bare shoulder. It's the first time he's touched by him and his large, cold digits engulf his entire shoulder, sending a shiver through him down to his erect dick. His ice cold hand runs down his bicep and the man binds his other wrist. "Chem piss. I’m guessing that’s why the dick," he says. His voice is calm, relaxed, even amused. His words are chosen and explicit. "How long have you had your Prince Albert?" he asks. There is a layer of seduction lying between his words, the phrasing, his cold breath on Tucker's shoulder. He comes around back into the blue light and places cold fingers on Tucker's erection, stroking him soothingly. "Almost three years." Tucker's not used to a man touching him. Still, his cock is rock hard. "When I turned eighteen. Sorry, man, can’t seem to lose the stiffy. Had it since the shower. Chem piss you said was in the bottle? What’s chem piss?" The man tilts his head and smiles blue teeth. Tucker is trying the read the man's face. One moment he’s amused, the next angry, and in the next lascivious. The wavering blue light makes it hard to get a fix. His size is obviously intimidating. He's gotta be one of those Gold Gym body builders. Muscles on top of muscles. Veins in the neck when he's pressing rows of huge plates, teeth gritted, grunting. His spread lats makes him look like a cockroach. The black beard hides most of his face, a mask. His eyes are dark, but Tucker’s seen the lascivious look when it crossed his face before. He sees it in Sergei occasionally—a marked intensity that scurries away when confronted, lays hidden beneath the eyes. When he was in high school, he and his friend Reed would lure men at department stores into back dressing rooms when they came across this look. Then on threat of an accusation of molesting a minor, being threatened to be turned over to security, they'd rob the dupes. Once Tucker even peed on one of his victims. Now that look flutters across the man's face, only this time there’s not one fucking thing he can do about it. The man puts a frigid finger through the P.A. and gives it a tug. "You must have had one of the first ones." He unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants letting his pants fall to the floor. He steps out of them. A majestic meaty member flops around, surrounded with a black bush as hairy around his cock as he is hairless over the rest of his body. Smooth cut legs, rock solid veiny arms, slim six-pack abs, crowned by an enormous, thick double zero P.A. jutting out of his piss slit. "Malloy did mine. Did he pierce you? You’d probably be the youngest." "Uh, some girl in a store in Hollywood. Sarah something. I forget." "A girl?" The man examines him skeptically. "There's no women I know doing this. Malloy's the only one I know that's piercing." His nose flairs as he's breathing. "You lying to me again, boy? He doesn't know why the guy is getting worked up. "Uh, no sir. They got a couple of bitches piercing there." He's pacing back and forth like the eel in the tank. "Bitch did your wings too?" "No, sir. Geezer in Venice. Did it on the boardwalk. Kinda used me to draw in customers. Took two days." "You like pain, then?" He’s starting to flop his dick around in his hand, getting it hard. "Not really." "Bullshit. See this pentagram?" He bends his shoulder over to show Tucker. "Hurt like a mother fucker." His dick’s oozing a little pre, grown out now to maybe a good nine inches and still going. "You lay there for two days for that? You have to be one hell of a masochist." The man's up against Tucker's shoulder rubbing his fist and dick against him, with his other hand he’s pushing his head down to his cock. "Not that I have anything against a good masochist." "I'm not queer, man," declares Tucker, snapping his head away from the man’s giant woody. The man smacks Tucker's with his palm hard enough for spittle and a trickle of blood to splat out his mouth. "You calling me a queer?” He takes Tucker’s face in his large hand. “The fuck you're not. The only reason I didn't hand you over to the fuzz right away was because of that tattoo. I thought, maybe this boy might have some surprises in him." The man is holding back final judgment, searching Tucker's face. He's looking at him quizzically. "So tell me—boy who runs around naked in a stranger's house—are you Greek active or passive?" Tucker's lip feels swollen and he's looking at the man as if he's crazy, which he probably is. "What the fuck are you talking about? Your bat-shit crazy." Tucker thinks he might be hit again, but the man's pacing, not nervously, but in thought, deliberating. He stops. His eyes are fixed on the eel watching it swim back and forth. His eyes follow it like a metronome. The whites of his eyes are tinged blue. He speaks, staring past Tucker at the tank, "There's something off about you, boy, which I like. You talk like you’re from outer space. You're not like my other boys. But you will be. We just need to re-wire you." He's now pondering Tucker's dick. "Three years and you're still at a ten gauge, huh?" The man goes to the nightstand, suddenly enticed, decided. He takes out a small box and brings it over to the tray behind the chair. Tucker hears metal on metal, then something heavy hits the tray. "We have a long night ahead of us," he hears the voice behind him say, "but first things first." He wheels the tray around, also bringing with him a stool. "Anyone who shits on my table the night I'm giving a dinner party better have at least a zero gauge hanging between their legs." He shows him a massive piece of jewelry, a thick captive bead ring, one that will in no way fit his pierced channel. “You got a piece of meat where it will hang nicely.” He tugs the pull chain cord overhead and a bare bulb lights up the room. He pulls a lever and Tucker falls backward almost horizontal in the chair. His captor straddles the stool and scoots it close. He picks up a two-inch rod, thin at one end, tapered thick on the other, and applies a liberal amount of lubricant over it. He takes Tucker's P.A., bend it open and releases the small ball that holds the captive bead. It flicks off and rolls under the bed. The man pulls the opened P.A. out through Tucker's hole. He then takes the tapered rod and sticks the narrow end into Tucker's piss slit, feeling around till he finds the pierced tunnel and starts pushing it through. As the rod grows fatter Tucker starts squirming against his restraints. His hands claw at the arm rests, and as it gets to the thickest point he starts yelling in genuine pain. The small nerve cluster area scream out as they're being torn and ripped apart. The man pauses the stretch. "This will get you to a two gauge but not as big as zero. Zero gauge is like getting pierced for the first time. Did you enjoy your first time?" No, please, stop. No, I didn't enjoy it, but it was fast and it was over." The man moves the tray closer and brushes up against Tucker's ear. "Where's the fun in that?" he asks, and continues pushing the rod to its broadest width, lets it hang there agonizingly stretched while Tucker hollers, takes a breath and hollers again. "Almost done." And he passes the object all the way through. "Right on, right on," he praises Tucker who shudders, forcing back tears. The man examines Tucker's face, almost as if seeing him for the first time; searching for who he is, what kind of person is revealed through pain. This is the currency in which the man transacts. "Now, what's this about making America great again?" He reaches up and brushes his hands through Tucker's hair, calming the boy down. "I thought hippies hated America." The man runs his icy fingers over Tuckers face, feeling a single tear trickle down. Tucker’s trying to recover, breathing in diminishing huffs. "I have to tell you, I'm conflicted, boy. I do like something to hold onto when I fuck a slave, but truth is, I prefer them shaved, completely. Tell me, have you been collared and shaved before, freaky boy, with your tattoo and your Prince Albert? You must have had a Master. Maybe a few? A kinky perv that likes to play with stranger’s sex toys, that gets off on nasty pictures of filthy men. You want to be with filthy men like me? Your dick doesn't lie, son." Tucker's realizes he jacking himself in the man's hand, riding his cock up and down through the man's clenched fist. "You want to serve Master Eli?" Tucker stop his jacking, but Master Eli's not having it. He bends over and sucks Tucker's nicely cut dick. Tucker's hand splay out trying not to enjoy it but he feels he might nut any second. "I'm not into it, man. It's cool you are, and I'm not dissing you, but, dude...oh, shit, you’re going to make me cum." Master Eli releases his dick. "French passive. How about French active?" He gets up and offers his half-mast dick to Tucker. Tucker turns his head away. "You're are a tease, aren't you, my hippy-dippy prowler? Either that or you’re conflicted. One thing you're not, is not digging this. But I think all you need is to be opened up. Your limits pushed. Relax your morals. You do uppers? Downers?" Tucker shakes his head. "Not any of that shit. I’ll do molly at a club, sometimes, but that’s it." "You are a strange one, I have to say. Never heard of molly. But I have something that will definitely un-conflict you. They say speed kills." He goes over to the nightstand and opens a second drawer and brings out a syringe. "But I say speed liberates. It has all my boys anyway." Tucker eyeballs it from across the room. "No, definitely not. Dude, seriously, no needles. That's asking for AIDS, nada, no way, not into it. Listen to Nancy Reagan. Just say no." "What’s this AIDS? Nancy? The last governor’s wife, the actress? You come out with the strangest things, I think I want my friends to meet you. You’re a funny...dude. You sound like you're from another planets. But what I have here, son, it going to send you into orbit. Then you're going to belong completely to Master Eli. I guarantee. You won’t believe the things I’ll do to make you feel good, boy. Unbelievable things." The man runs his cold palm down Tucker’s chest to his stiff prick. The man flips Tucker's arm over, taps inside the crook, and jabs the needle in a juicy vein drawing a plume of blood. "Ready for takeoff, rocketman?" "No. Don't." "Just go with the flow, baby. Go with the flow." He releases a complete half gram of speed into Tucker's body. Tucker coughs violently, while Master Eli withdraws the syringe and bends over to lick the trace of blood. Tucker's head’s thrown back, his eyes lose focus, he feels a rush sluice through his body, in his ears, in his heart, in his ass. He alternates between repeating Shit and Fuck. There’s a high-pitched ringing in his ears as he’s rips through a tiny hole in reality that changes his orientation to the world. Wrong is right, hot is cold, Master is God, good is evil and evil good. His eyes focus back on the huge hulk that's in front of him. Thank you, he mouths while his Master takes up a very large two-inch rod, lubes it and sticks it into Tucker's pee slit. He finds the hole and pushes it in as far as the stretch allows. "Daddy's got to hurt you but then it will all be alright. If you want to cry it's okay. Be a big boy and it will be all over soon." Master Eli sports a raging hard on as he push the fattening rod further through the hole. He can see Tucker's face contorting in sweet, blissed out agony. He's fighting the pain as best he can, the drug careening through him is scrambling his senses. "Daddy's so proud of his boy. Almost through. Boy loves how much he penis hurts, doesn't he?" "Yes, daddy, hurt me." Tucker's face is twisted from too many sensations at once, his hands are clawing the arm rests. He's beet red fighting against his bindings and from the initial rush of the slam, his heart rushes blood everywhere. "Wait, wait! Please, it too much. Let me get used to it." "Daddy needs to finish, son. Daddy got lots to do. Daddy wants to show you off with a big boy piercing to the guests. Just a bit more and it's through." He pushes the rod another fraction of an inch, drawing a wail that echoes thunderously through the house, roaring through windows and chimney, through the canyons of Echo Park. A coyote high up in the brush recognizes a wounded animal and howls back an answer. Tucker’s head thrashes against the chair's headrest. Anguish is entwined with the drug, bringing him past shock, laying him out naked to a world with awe that is at once ecstatic as it is destructive to who he is, his logic of desire, where his sexual loyalties fall, what he wants—no—what he needs from now on out of the man deconstructing him. The man sees Tucker fall through another rush of the drug’s powerful pleasure, not only accepting his tormentor along with the administration of pain, but bearing through drug and shock, encouraging Master Eli to hurt him even more. Tucker looks in his face and whispers do it. With that final surrender of his soul the breach is ripped wide open, there is very little blood, and the circular ring passes through his piss slit and through the newly stretched passage. His head is back in a silent scream. "One last thing to do, my hippy boy, my beautiful, debauched intruder, who called me out and debased himself for me." Tucker sees through watery eyes his Master hold up pliers that are closing the thick ring onto an enormous bead. With a pressure that shakes his Master grip, the ball is sealed shut. He’s locked into the zero gauge. The ache is strong in his dick but the agony is starting to diminish. The chair’s straps are loosened and his Master's lips seal over his mouth. He wrestles a warm tongue filled with passion and lust. He's being lifted from the chair, cradled in the most powerful arms he’s ever felt. He utterly surrenders to a Master who will take care of him, provide for all his needs, who's lays him on the bed for the final act. Tucker unmoors himself from time and wallows adrift in the coolness of the turned down sheets, in the aquatic light of this unusual room. He's breathing underwater. His legs float up to his Master's shoulders. Something cold, wet and covered in mucous is being pressed against his small, tight anus. It pops in and he feels it slither into his rectum. He's waiting for it to start to hurt since this is all new to him, the territory virginal, but it doesn't hurt. He likes it, the viscosity’s soothing, his muscles contract and expand, inviting it to flow inside him as deep as it wants. He senses one hand being tied above him, then the other. He wants to be tied, he wants whatever his Master wants. He's being plowed deep and it's invading the most intimate parts of him, where no one touches, where no one knows, places even he never felt existed. So deep he feels his organs rearrange. His intestines are realigning, straightening, his body dictated by some outside force. His body is overtaken with pleasure; it’s no longer him but a primordial version of him. A cloth is tied over his mouth and knotted behind his head. He moans in ecstasy into the rag as the invasion transcends him to his core. He feels one leg lowering off a rock-hard shoulder, then the other, each tied to the bottom of the bed. He feels warm liquid spray across his faces. He sucks on the wet rag tasting salty remnants of warm spooge. He looks up to see Master Eli standing next to his head, flicking the last of his pale seed across his face. Strangely he still feels his entrails being invaded, wonders how that can be with Master hovering beside him. Master reaches between his legs and grabs the end of the eel and squeezes the tail to encourage its ultimate journey through his sphincter. The eel in entirely inside him. It moves forward generating a body wave that slithers up in one direction, and eases out reversing the undulation in another. Back and forth it drills within him. The body orgasms he releases over the next several hours while Master is away, are like none he's ever known or will ever know again. The door closes and he's left breathing underwater, internally erupting in breaking waves, over and over within the blue light.

Finding out you are poz is often hard. Starting daily meds can be hard. But once the doctor says your viral load is undetectable, you suddenly become one of the safest (if not the safest) sexual partner out here. That's cause for celebration. That first load you take (or give) as an undetectable poz dude is fucking sweet.

I met up with some friends tonight at a gay bar, not looking to hookup, I was just out for some drinks. At one point I saw a guy who was cruising me a bit - he sent me over a drink. I went over to say thanks. He was a very hot guy, a nice build, and at about 6'1", he was a little taller am I. We chatted a bit and after we realized we were a match he asked me if I would like to play. Naturally I accepted his invitation, and as he lived only a few minutes down the road, the game was on. We had not talked about playing BB or safe. As most all the guys I have ever played with from that particular club played safe, I expected the same. I am an ex-boyscout so I had cleaned-up well - just in case I did hookup. Always be prepared! We arrived at his place and went right to business. He had mentioned at the bar that he was packing seven uncut inches, but hadn't mentioned he was about six inches 'round: his fuckin' dick looked like a beer can. It was a welcome surprise but made sucking him pretty stressful on my jaw. We made out a bit, got naked, and he had me service his cock for several minutes. I was thinking we were not going to fuck, that I would just suck him off, and that such was why he had me work his cock for a long time. Then he stopped me saying "Relax, I don't want to cum yet" adding "I wanna fuck you." I was more than happy to hear that. He told me to bend over he wanted to eat my ass a bit. He was a great ass muncher - he really worked my hole. At one point he remarked that he became good at eating ass and getting it ready for fucking, because so many guys had a hard time accommodating his cock because of its girth. I understood what he was talking about. He teased my ass with his cock. I could feel the head of his dick rubbing my hole. All I could think was 'Please, fuck me RAW!' I moaned, signaling how good it felt and he noticed it. He stuck the head of his dick in just a little and then pulled it back out, doing this a few times. Then stopped, and grabbed poppers, lube and a condom from his night stand. Although I thought the use of a condom sucked nut, at least I would get fucked, which was better than not getting fucked. Little did I know what was to transpire. He took a long hit of the poppers and then handed them to me. I heard him playing with the condom wrapper, and as he donned the condom he said "Let's see how this works." He lubed my hole and his cock and started to push in. I don't know why but getting fucked by a guy wearing a condom has always been a problem for me. Maybe it's the increased friction of the latex against the flesh of my tight ass. He put on more lube but still his beer can dick could not really get in. He lubed up his finger and started to work the lube into my hole. After a few tries his dick started to slide in, but the pain was too much. I told him to stop I could not take it. He responded saying "I'll take my time, but one way or another I'm gonna fuck you" adding "There's no way I'm gonna let your tight ass get away without opening it up." I agreed saying "I"ll do what ever I can to take it" and with that I took another huge hit from the poppers and he started to slide in again. He got about half way in and we heard it: the snap of the condom as it broke. He quickly pulled out and muttered "FUCK!" His dick have been slowly sliding in, but the friction on the condom was to much. Inwardly I was hoping he would simply abandon the condom and fuck me raw, reasoning he would certainly be able to slide more readily, and I would certainly love it. He grabbed another condom, put it on, saying "If this one breaks I'm gonna have to fuck you raw!" My ass started to twitch. I was hoped the damn condom would break and that he would follow through on his threat. I took another hit on the poppers and again he started to push in. The pain was unreal. I moaned loudly, doing all the tricks bottoms usually do to take big cock, but I also wanted to stress the condom. It didn't matter. After about five deep thrusts there was another snap - the second condom also broke. His cock lodged in my ass, the broken condom still up there as well, he said, "Fuck man. That was the last condom. You neg or poz?" I said I didn't know. He responded "What do you mean you don't know. Do you let poz guys fuck you raw?" I was unsure how to respond, thinking that if I told him the truth, that I had let poz guys fuck me raw, he might be turned-off and terminate our session. I decided to evade his question and answered "I haven't been tested in several months and I had played bareback with several guys since my last test." Recognizing my evasion, he responded "You didn't answer my question. Do you take loads from poz guys? Do you let them fuck you raw?" He had painted me into a corner. If I responded "Yes" I might not get fucked. If I responded "No" I still might not get fucked. I chose a middle ground saying "I don't know for sure if any of the guys who fucked me raw were poz. I didn't ask." "So, as long as you get fucked, you don't care if the guy is neg or poz?" I replied saying only "I don't ask." During this whole exchange he keep slowly fucking me with his exposed raw cock in my hole. He looked at me and said, "To be honest, the condom was for you not for me. I'm poz." I was laying on my back his beer can size cock deep in my hole. He continued saying "I don't give a fuck. I'm gonna breed you now. I'm poz, but I'm on meds, so the risk is low - but it's there." He held me tightly and keep pumping me as he said this. "To be honest, I was gonna stealth you anyway. All my condoms break, although usually they last a bit longer. I go to that bar anytime I feel like spreading my seed. I always find a bitch like you willing to come here and get fucked. I don't know exactly what's going on, but your super-tight ass fucked up my game." The pace of his fucking increased. He was getting close. "So now I'm just gonna tell you, I'm gonna breed you." As he finished his statement he started to cum. As soon as he was done, he pointed me to the bathroom to clean up and when I was ready he sent me on my way, his phone number in my pocket and a huge load in my gut.

Joining the Gang-Part 4-The Next Week Every day over the next week seemed to go about the same. I would wake up and jump in the shower. I would then get dressed in baggy short and t-shirt with no underwear. I grab a nice breakfast and head over to the skate park where we would hang out. Right after I arrived at the skate park I’d go into the bath room with one of the guys and he’d slam me up for the day. Then we would skate around and I would be pulled into the bushes to suck dick or get fucked. Around dinner time we would grab a couple pizzas and head over to the gang house where we’d play video games and I would suck some more dick and get fucked a few more times before I would head home and crash for the night. This went on every day of the week until the day I got really sick. I thought I was going to die. I was sore all over and couldn’t keep anything down. I was lying in bed thinking I was going to die when my phone rang. It was our gang leader wanting to know “Why ain’t your skinny ass here at the skate park boy?” I let him know “I am so damn sick bro, I think I’m gona die!” I just heard him laugh on the other end and then he told me “We’ll be right over bro.” About half and hour later I hear the front door open and a lot of footsteps coming up the stairs when my bedroom door opened up and the entire gang walked through my bedroom door. “What are all you guys doing here?” “We are here to take care of you bro, you’re our brother. We take care of our own and one of us is sick we all are there to help him.” Two of them shucked off their shorts, shirts & shoes and helped me out of bed and into the shower. I’ve showered in gym with other guys before but never like this. They held me up and washed me down. It felt pretty good to get all cleaned up. Once I was out of the shower and feeling a little better I was given a slam and then each guy took a turn fucking my ass. I didn’t really feel up for this but after I was given the slam I was more than ready. I took a load from each member before I was but back in bed and allowed to sleep. When I woke up they were still there watching over me. When my parents got home from the church they told them that it looked like I had the flu bug that a few of them had recently. Nothing to worry about and that I should be better in a few days. Every day I was sick the guys came over and spent the day with me. Each day started the same; right after my parents left they would get me up and in the shower, then I was given a slam and each would fuck me. And they were so right after being sick for 3 days I felt like my old self. That first morning I felt better the guys came over and I was already showered, dressed and ready to go skate. Things changed some for me. We’d get to the park and I get my slam but I was never pulled into the pushes to suck dick or even get fucked. I was starting to miss the action. Even that night at the house was different for me.