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Mr.Benson puts Joey and me to work as both of us are Poz and are very desirable to chasers and stealth condom fairies. At bathhouses, we show up; ass holes are spread open for our toxic loads. We got to colleges Gay frat parties, which are safe only, so we have to hide our Poz tattoos, but we bring our condom that always fails. Sometimes we hear someone came down with the flu. One college newspaper posted that the school has a high number of men who have tested POZ. We get a call from Mr.Benson to come home ASAP, so we both know something is up. When we get back home, he hands us chastity devices and says that he is going to lock us up for the next 30 days. He tells us that we are going to the Bio Hazard Ball; it's going to be a fun time. We see the rules: Tops can not be on meds, and must be Poz then will be tested before entering. Poz Tops can only use these drugs. Caverject Viagra Poppers Tops will ware either wrist band on their left wrist white with red crosses or a Glod wrist band that lets people know they have full-blown AIDS. Bottoms will be negative lockup in chastity will be tested 30 days then two weeks before the event to make sure they are negative. They must go on a liquid diet two weeks before arriving, the only drugs they can use. GHB Meth Poppers Ketamine They can not refuse any Top advances or their load. If you have a condom, you will be removed out from the party. The party is to convert as many bottoms as possible. I ask Mr.Benson how does this party goes, so there are enough bottoms as he is laughing then says there is no limit on the number of tops as they keep the ratio of neg.chaseres to POZ Tops at 4 to 1. There are so many bottoms who want to become Poz; they put a limit on them. They have taken over the whole hotel, and it's so crowded at the check-in line, then Mr. Benson says, let's go this way. They have a separate line for the Poz Tops as we have to get tested. When it's my turn, they ask me my age, and I say 19 he is laughing, and 20 minutes later, I get my POZ wrist band. I see a few with the gold band, as they are like royalty, I see one with the gold band who is about my age and I can see the bulge in his pants. Walking down the hall to our room, I see the doors with this symbol + or - so it's too let you know what you are. Tops can lock their door as bottoms, can not lock their door, must be open all the time. Tops can wear whatever clothes they want; bottoms can only have PINK jockstraps on. There is also a grand ballroom that is for public breeding. The chasers are in a pen like you have cattle, and the Tops pull them out, take them to one of the benches, beds, slings and breed them put a butt plug in their ass then back the to pen.

To start, it might help to tell a little about me. I am basically a somewhat regular person that most people wouldn't really notice while walking past on the street or in the mall. I lead a standard life with nothing really spectacular on outside appearances but out of sight of most folk I have a distinct affection for many alternative and kink realms, and oftentimes the more outside the norm something is, the more I feel attracted to it. This adventure starts on Grindr where I had been chatting with someone (Mark) for a while but had yet to ever meet. His profile originally caught my attention because of his attractive picture, as well as several of the things in his bio including his interest in kink and other activities. An additional aspect that caught my eye was his status which was listed as poz / undetectable. I was negative and we had chatted somewhat in depth about his status, when and how he contracted it, his treatment and so forth and his openness with everything made me feel quite comfortable. While I have played around some (both protected and unprotected), I have tried to be relatively careful while doing so and I have managed to remain disease free in all ways - through having caution in who I meet with as well in the activities we engage in and the level of protection. Mark and I had talked about getting together with some of our conversations becoming very steamy, but I live with family so my place is only available at certain times and his living situation made his place unavailable for meeting there. Between that and our differing availability (he sometimes travels for work) our getting together never happened. It had been a while since I had seen him online then one morning I logged in to find him there which immediately sent a tinge of arousal through my body. I had woke up particularly horny and hadn't played for quite some time so was thinking of masturbating to start the day but really wanted something much more and I sent him a message saying that I was horny and asked if he'd like to meet. I embellished the message to be intentionally enticing and pointed out that it was safe to meet and play at my place right now if he was available. His reply was every bit as enticing as my invite and he essentially told me I better be careful what I asked for because I just might get 'it' because he hadn't gotten off for a long while and was horny. He then added that he had been out of town for a while with work and it would probably be best if we didn't meet right now which sort of burst my bubble. I was turned on by the first part of his reply, but disappointed with the last part so responded with a picture of my bare ass and replied "Do you want to cum - here?" in an attempt to encourage him. He didn't respond for several minutes then a picture of his bare, glistening wet and fully erect cock popped up on my screen and he replied "My cock says yes, but we would need to talk first." His cock picture sent a bolt of electricity throughout me and I replied: "We can chat here *I gave him my address* and would love to meet you. I am free right now." It was another several minutes before his reply. "I will be there in 20 minutes." I replied "Awesome!" then immediately headed to the bathroom to do a quick pre-play cleansing (inside and out) with my heart beating deep and fast. Clean-up went pretty quickly and I was in my sweats and a t-shirt by the time his car pulled in front of the house. My heart continued its rapid beat and in addition I could feel wetness seeping from my loins as he came toward the house. I met him at the door and could sense that there was passion flowing in both directions as soon as our eyes connected. Once inside, I closed and locked the door and led him to the bedroom where the lighting was dim and I had porn playing on the screen at just the right volume to set an atmosphere. He said it was great to finally meet me which I replied much the same, and since he wasn't making any moves I got on the bed and moved to the other side and he sat down beside me. His pictures hadn't really done true justice and his body was even hotter than I anticipated, particularly with his loose fitting gym shorts and t-shirt doing little to hide his physique. It left little to the imagination but I couldn't keep my hand from reaching over to rest on his upper thigh where it slowly moved toward a covered but quite pronounced bulge. Mark's hand came to rest gently on my forearm and as he looked straight into my eyes he said: "We need to have a little talk." "Can it wait for a little bit?" I asked as my eyes looked back into his and my palm came to rest on top of his thinly covered but very evident erect manhood and balls with my fingers tenderly moving upon him. As his eyes closed, his head leaned back into the pillow and it became clear that the talking could wait. His relaxed and awaiting posture increased my desire and I moved around to face him while on my knees and kneeled there with one hand continuing to explore his loins with my second beginning to caress his upper body. His hand remained in place on my forearm but began to slowly stroke as an encouragement for me to continue. As I continued to touch and softly squeeze, his cock grew ever harder and his body relaxed as if in a further invitation. My hand slid downward on his leg and then up once again, only this time it entered between his flesh and his shorts where I cradled his bare balls and engorged manhood. Talking became the last thing on our minds and when his lips parted, it was not to say words but for his tongue to emerge and wet his two lips. I haven't been big into kissing but in the atmosphere of the moment, I found the urge and leaned forward where our lips locked and our tongues intertwined. He appeared to like the kissing too and within moments the head of his cock was covered with wetness as his pre-cum began flowing forth. We both moaned in unison and continued our kiss but as I removed my now wet and slick hand from inside his shorts and attempted to remove his shorts, he pulled his head slightly back and murmured "We really need to talk first." I somewhat sarcastically said a soft "Yeah?" before my lips again enjoined his while I maintaining a downward pull on his waistband. His body seemed to give in and with his eyes fully closed and his tongue softly swirling, his bottom raised upward and soon he was bare from the waist down. I raised up to see his exposed cock and balls and with the rapidly increasing temperatures between us, I removed my shirt and began removing my pants. He leaned up to shed his shirt too and we were then naked together. In seeing his bare body, I was in full and complete in lust. The feeling was likely mutual because as I leaned down to lick his soaked loins, his palm rested atop my head as a sign of encouragement. The taste was truly alluring and just when I thought I had cleaned up every droplet into my mouth, another would appear and his flow never stopped. My mouth then opened and took him inside, starting at the head and working downward until I began to choke. His arousal seemed to increase as I did so and in addition to the hand on my head, he placed a second on my ass cheeks where it began rubbing and squeezing. As his fingertips probed further, he discovered that I was slippery with lube that I had applied earlier after I had cleansed myself. My lips began moving up and down on his engorged cock and I did my best to take it all the way, but I'd softly gag each time it reached the deeper depths. He didn't seem to mind though and perhaps it was a turn on because I soon found his fingers entering in and out of my ass in tune with the movement of my mouth on his cock. With my hands free and not occupied by his cock, I reached for a bottle of poppers and took several deep hits, with only a momentary pause in my sucking. The feeling of euphoria soon overtook my body and evidently my throat as well because I found myself now taking his entire hard cock fully with only an occasional small gag, and from his reaction, he was enjoying it as much as I was. I rose once again and took a huge hit, held it for a short bit then followed with another. I then replaced the cap and moved to straddle his body with my bare ass coming to rest atop his hot and wet cock and I looked deep into his eyes. He began to mouth the word "no", somewhat softly at first but increasingly stronger as I slowly gyrated on top of him. When his cock nuzzled up to the entrance of my hole and my opening began to part, he reached up to take hold of me and said "We have to talk." I looked at him and stopped, my body hungering to go downward, but I waited to hear as he began talking and said that he had been off of his meds during his work trip because he had forgotten them at home. I was conflicted and admittedly a bit scared too, but at the same time my arousal was through the roof - the feeling of exposure and the vulnerability of a poz and possibly no longer undetectable cock probing inside my body had my heartbeat and breathing going spastic. With the length of time he was off of his meds, neither one of us really thought it would be safe to go on, and things had come together and happened in a way that there wasn't an opportunity to research it before we got to this point. In honesty, didn't want to become infected and he didn't want to infect me, but at the same time our arousal had taken us to this all-time high point for both of us. As we were talking about it, I became aware that I was now sitting fully impaled on his rock hard cock - and I could now feel both the soreness of my fully stretched ass and the stress his knob was creating as it was pushing the lining of my inner rectum further within my body. He realized how deeply he was inside too and shyly said that it felt like his cock was leaking and that things were becoming wet inside - but at the same time, was admittedly feeling so very gawd awful hot. As I remained motionless and uncertain, Mark reached down and came back with the bottle of poppers that had worked its way beneath his bottom and was now quite hot from it's confined position against his hot flesh. Almost by instinct, I reached forward, took the bottle in my hands, exhaled completely, removed the top and took multiple inhalations of the warmed and deeply potent scent. Upon completion, Mark took the bottle from my hand and took a strong hit before closing the bottle, his palms coming to rest on my hips where he took a somewhat assuring grip - looking into my eyes with a renewed sense of arousal. I began to raise up, causing his cock to slide alongside my stretched and open hole which gave a wonderful feeling. My lifting also removed some of the pressure on my painfully stretched inner membrane, but interestingly the feeling of being deeply impaled on his cock felt far better than the sense of not being there - particularly after the last dose of poppers I just had. While I think I was intending to get up and to stop - because we could always wait and play another day when we knew it was safer - but my body, the moment, the poppers, and the amazing feeling of his cock being inside my ass caused me to sink back down and to become fully impaled again. "What are you thinking?" Mark said as he looked into my eyes, his palms holding me tight but not forcing me either way. I looked deeply back while moving slowly back and forth on his potentially potent cum pole, pondering for a few moments, then without a further thought, I raised upward, his cock pulling free and watching it wetly slap against his stomach. I then took a position with my bare body beside his, my exposed ass raised slightly in the air and clearly said: "Fuck me, gawd, fuck me hard." As his body rose, I planted my face deep into the bed and it was probably a good thing that I did because when his cock plunged roughly inside me, I gave out a strong audible gasp and the fucking began. I am not sure if the tears that began to flow were from the pain that his hard fucking was giving me, or from the magic (or the fear) of what was happening, but at this point I was beyond any reasonable thinking - things were just happening and I didn't want to make it stop. I really didn't know if things were going to be okay but at this point I really didn't care, I just wanted it to happen - no matter what 'it' was. Mark was fucking me ever more intensely and I took each and every stroke, including the variety of slaps and punches that he began giving me while asking if this is what I wanted (he knew well of my masochistic interests), only to have my body twist and writhe to his motions, not trying to escape but to try to remain in place as it all happened. This went on for quite some time. My body can only take so much though and it reached the point I couldn't take anything more, but before I could say a word, he plunged deep inside and further than any stroke before, his teeth making a hard bite into my shoulder that I knew would leave an eternal mark and as I gave a full throated scream, his body began convulsing and pulsating with his unleashed cum flowing into and coating my worn rectum. His fucking had stopped and I think he was just as exhausted as I was, but he didn't get up and continued to lay on me, his cock firmly lodged and with the bulk of his cum contained inside me but with an ooze of the overflow working its way out too. It was quite a while before he finally pulled his body free and for me to be able to start recovering. I remember how precious it was though in hearing his words about how amazing of a fuck it was, and if nothing else, I felt great satisfaction in knowing that I pleased him that way (which turned me on and only made me want him to fuck me again - soon). I lay on the bed a bit longer with the growing stark realization of the seriousness of what just occurred, which was really sinking in with a multitude of thoughts flowing through my head, some absolutely scary. When we met, the last thing that I wanted was to become poz, but now that we had fucked like that, some of the scary stuff began dissipating and was being replaced with some type of wanton desire. The fuck was like nothing I had ever experienced in my life. If nothing more I am filled with a cherished (and in some ways physically painful) feeling, and having the uncertainty involved is making it even more intense. While time will tell what the ultimate outcome of this play will be, I found that my play with Mark was very much on the edge compared to anything I have done before and visiting the edge is something that I find myself wanting to happen again - particularly if it carries an euphoric and true degree of risk.

I am in an open, loving and supportive relationship for 28 years now. We are married. Our relationship has always been open. I have a lot of sex with other guys. I host sex parties several times a month. And it works. I think the reason is because we are both secure in ourselves. There is no jealousy. We have a wonderful relationship. And living in Palm Springs, I have a lot of friends in the same situation. The idea that you cannot have a successful long term open relationship is bullshit. While there are many factors that go into it, communication is the key. We both understand that life is too short to keep each other from having fun and exploring ourselves. I think too many guys place their insecurities on the other guy instead of dealing with it themselves. I am not saying an open relationship is for everyone. If you and your partner are into monogamy, great. However, there are a lot of us who like and enjoy an open relationship. And it works.

I left the toilet clothes in hand and butt naked. My cock still hard and dripping. I was a little torn between wanting to watch him knock up some 18-year-old and getting cock up my ass myself. But my quivering ass made up my mind for me. My ass still felt the assault from that AIDS daddy in the restroom. Having his cock up my ass for just a few minutes pounding away coating my guts with his toxic precum for just a few strokes made me uncontrollably horny to get fucked by anyone. I wanted to cock up my ass. Any cum, lots of cum, from anyone who would do it to me. I was really hoping the rumors I had heard about this place in Evening were true. The sun had set but the night was clear and the moon was pretty close to full. I walked to the edge of the woods and stood there gently stroking my cock before I walked in. Giving my eyes a chance to adjust to the change in light. I looked back toward the toilets. I saw the shape of a young guy moving towards the toilet. He was stripping off his clothes as he approached. When he got to the door he tossed his clothes in some shrubs next to the door. I heard the squeak of the door as he entered. I don’t know what possessed me to do what I did next, but I walked back over to the toilets and pulledthe kid’s clothes from the bushes. In the light I could tell that his clothes would fit me OK. There was a pair of basketball shorts that would be a little snug but not bad. There was an oversized T-shirt, perfect. And a jockstrap. I held the pouch to my face and sniffed deeply. Unmistakable scent of teenage boy underwear. I had smelled it enough time with my own two boys. I knew what teen boy cock smells like. I slipped on the jock. Tossed my clothes into the bush where his he been. And took his clothes with me. I stepped onto the trail at the edge of the woods. I walked down the path able to discern shapes and movement in the half light. There were other guys in the park. I don’t know where they had come from because there were no cars. There must be another access to the park. I walked along quietly gingerly until I got to a spot I recognized. It was a spot where almost 3 years ago I had been pozfucked by a hot young guy. The spot where my quest for AIDS started. I stepped off the trail and took a few steps towards the figure out the dark. He started moving closer to me. As he got within a few feet we recognized each other. It was the kid who passed me almost 3 years ago. And he recognized me. ” hey there,” he said “ Haven’t seen you around here in a while. Back for more?” He reached up and grabbed my cock. Pulled me in for deep kiss. I wrapped my arms around his body and he felt smooth but kind of bone. He pulled away and I looked him up and down. Above his right that was a biohazard symbol. He had a slightly wasted look. He reached up and grabbed my cock. Pulled me in for a deep kiss. I wrapped my arms around his body and he felt smooth but kind of bony. He pulled away and I looked him up and down. Above his right path was a biohazard symbol. He had a slightly wasted look. We started talking and making out. I dropped to my knees and took his cock into my mouth sliding in deep as I could into my throat. While I was sucking him he confessed to me that the guy in the toilets had converted him a month before he fucked me. He told me I was his first breeding after he was positive. He also told that he had full-blown AIDS at this point. That turned me on more than I could say. I slid his cock deep in my throat as I could. Milked it with my throat muscles. He moaned grab the back of my head and started face fucking me. Slamming his cock deep into my throat. After a few minutes he pushed me away. ”Fuck dude” he said,”you’re an amazing cocksucker.but I want that ass. I want to give you my virus.” He pulled me up and pushed me back around up against a tree. He squatted down behind me and spread my ass cheeks. He buried his face in my ass, tonguing my hole, working it in an out.I was moaning like the slut bitch that I am. Begging him to pause my ass up. Begging him to slide his aides babies up into my guts. ”Oh fuck dude. I want that ass so bad.” he muttered. He stood and unceremoniously plunged his cock deep into my ass all the way to the hilt. I screamed and moaned at the same time. He rested his cock in me as he slipped a poppers bottle under my nose. He held my nostril shut and I breathe deep. Reached up and held his hand in place. I breathed in three or four times in that one nostril and then switched. I breathed then three or four more hits in the other nostril. I was flying high as his cock started pistoning in and out of my hole, Tearing up my guts and banging my prostate hard. I was moaning and begging for a seed. Begging for his aids babies. Begging for his virus in my bloodstream. Then I started begging him for demon seed. Begging him to bring me over to the Darkside. In my mind all I could think was that I was sacrificing my ass to pure evil. My cock was hard and rubbing up against the material of the jockstrap. As the kid fucked me I shot a big load into the pouch of the jockstrap. And as my ass clamped hard for my orgasm his cock began to spasm in my whole. He grabbed my hips hard and pulled me as close up against him as he could get. Pushing his cock as deep in my body as it would go. Past my second sphincter. Deep into my guts he poured his aids. I can’t explain it but ass his semen filled my body a kind of shadow fell over my soul, fell over my vision. Not only was there no going back at this point, there was no desire to. There was only desire for cum. There was only desire for pleasure. There is only desire to please anyone with a cock. Deep in my soul I knew that I had given myself over completely to cock, cum., and pleasure. He stroked his cock in and out of my ass a few more strokes. He rested against my back. His cock gently slid out and he stepped away from me. I never saw him leave because as soon as he stepped away someone else stepped up and another cock slid into my hole. After three more cocks and three loads in my ass I finally left the woods. Cum was running down my legs but I didn’t care. I felt so complete so satisfied. As I walked by the toilets I checked the bushes. The clothes were gone. Some random kid who just got an ass load of aids was walking around in my clothes. It was then I realized all I was wearing was the jockstrap. As I approach the road I slipped on the shorts. And jogged my way back to my car. I never bothered to change clothes or to put on the shirt. I just threw myself in the car and went directly to the porno store And spent the rest of the night worshiping cock and accepting seed from anyone.

*Cums inside* ... I asked you to pull out ... Oooops, forgot to turn my hearing aid on! 😈 Goodness, if my Dick is inside a boys cunt, that is it, it is then a done deed that I WILL be ejaculating inside of him. If he is not prepared to be inseminated, then he should play with tops who use condoms. Would you place a delicious looking slice of cake in front of me and tell me I was not allowed to eat it?

A bit of background on me and my situation, For alittle less than a year now I have been seeing (servicing) a very dom older black man. Ive become completely submissive to him, and he has used me several days a week since we first met. He also has me service some of his buddies on a fairly regular basis. I spend nights at his place sometimes, being used by 5 to 8 other black men throughout the night. Since the lock down about a month ago, he had to stop doing things with multiple men and weekend parties. He said to make up for it that me and him would be spending the lockdown together. I am working from home, on call, but not many hours of the day have to go into my work. He has been staying at my place almost every night for a month, I have not worn clothes in a month, except for a collar. I service him all day, while he kicks back, watches tv or plays video games, I will be sucking and licking him. He has also always been into me drinking his piss, which I have always submitted and done. But I admit, the first week or so of him staying here was rough, I drink ALL his piss now. It was a bit much to get used to. At times I think to myself how fucked up that is, but I cant help it also turning me on. Then theres the thought of how I have swallowed on average at least two of his loads, every single day for a month. Over the last year I have come to realize his submissive I am, and he has certainly driven that home, but being nothing but a sex slave and naked for a month now, its a mind trip. When all this crazy covid stuff is over, he said I should find a job where I can perminately work from home like this, and that if I do, he will take all this even further, and make me more of a sub that I ever could imagine.

Perspective, eh? In a D/s dynamic, as a sub if I have a Dom controlling and organizing who breeds me, it strengthens my connection to Him because i think of any other guy as an extension of Him, kind of like He is using them like living dildos to fuck and gape me. Though I know everyone isn’t wired that way

Older, Not Wiser The show on the TV ended and the next episode looked pretty lame, so I turned off the TV and picked up the laptop to do a little surfing. I hit most of my usual hookup sites and had a couple emails at a few of them. There was one from the older guy and I opened it first. "sorry for not replying sooner, been busy. Yes, I'm sure. You up for meeting?" the message read. I wasn't sure I wanted to deal with an older vanilla guy, but I figured it was worth getting a little more info. "maybe. u on prep?" I sent back. The little green dot next to his profile told me he was online and I wondered if I would get a reply back. It was only a couple minutes and I heard the "ding." "What's that?" he had replied. I chuckled to myself wondering just how experienced this guy was. "a drug" I replied, being intentionally vague. Less than a minute later I had his reply. "I don't do any drugs other than pot on rare occasions. Do you?" he asked. I shook my head and laughed. I responded "pot 4 me 2." I knew this guy was in way over his head and yet my cock got hard thinking about dumping a toxic load or two inside him and letting fate decide what happens. Once he was poz he could become the sex pig he's always wanted to be. I hadn't gotten another message, so I sent one "when u want to meet?" A few other sites didn't generate any interest and I was about to give up when I got a message back from the older guy (phnx469). "Sorry, wife interrupted. meet @ 6pm?" he said. This was getting more interesting. Was this guy yet another married bi guy craving poz dick? I sent back "ok. where?" and he answered right away "20th floor by elevators." Chuckling to myself I wondered if he was college boy's dad. Yeah, there were over a dozen other condo's on the floor, but it was really hot to think I might have a chance at knocking up a real father and son. Coming back to reality, I replied back "u going 2b alone?" "Yes. Wife n kid will be shopping" he replied. I licked my lips and typed out "ok." With a few hours to kill I watched some porn and then showered. While he wanted to meet at the elevators, I took the stairs instead. I felt a little more winded than normal for climbing nine flights, but put it down to my more sedentary life locked up at home and with fucking my only real exercise. "Gonna have to come up with a workout schedule I can do at home" I thought as I opened the door. Looking down the hallway, I spotted someone near the elevators and walked calmly towards them. As I approached he seem startled that I didn't come via the elevator. I wasn't really sure that it was him since the pictures were of a smooth guy and I could see chest hair popping out of his tank top. His legs showed a decent amount of hair on them below his jogging shorts and he had several days growth on his face. "Phoenix?" I said quietly and he nodded. One thing I don't like is guys sending out pictures that are either old or different on how they look. A new piercing or tattoo is fine, but 30 pounds heavier or like in this case, much hairier, is deceptive advertising. He said "Follow me" and started walking down the hall. He wasn't walking towards college boy's condo, so another fantasy was gone and I tried to figure out what I was going to do. One option was to turn and go back the way I came but that seemed like a cowardly way to end this. I followed him down the hall and was surprised when he opened the door to the other stairwell. As soon as we got inside, I put my hand on his shoulder and said "Stop." Phnx469 seemed to be surprised. In a hushed tone I said "What's the deal? Your pictures don't really look like what I see right now and you aren't even naked yet." He stared back at me a moment, looking confused. I flicked my finger over the tufts of hair poking over the neckline of his tank top. "Oh that. Yeah, my wife wanted me to shave my body hair and that's when the pictures were taken that I used on the site" Phnx469 said. Pushing him against the wall, moving about six inches nose to nose and no where near a good social distance, I looked him in the eyes telling him "Dude, that's not cool. I don't mind hairy guys but you clearly are showing a smooth guy on your profile. What else is totally wrong?" He was nervously shaking and I saw him try to speak, but nothing was coming out. On the third try he mumbled "Nnnnnothing. That's the only thing that changed. I... I... I hated shaving it all the time." I realized that I may have given him that "try kinkier stuff" goal accidentally by getting a little dominant with him. That wasn't my intent, but it helped get my point across and I told him firmly "OK, that's your one and only fuck-up. If anything else doesn't check out, I'm gonna be outta there and you're never getting another chance. Understand?" He nodded and I backed up, letting him get by and head down the stairs. We only went down one floor and ended up going into apartment 19J. I looked around and chuckled to myself, thinking I was suddenly in some grandmother's apartment. Lace was everywhere - on tables, on the curtains and on the 'art' on the wall. All of the furniture looked like it had been stolen out of Queen Victoria's castle. I hoped it was his wife's style choice but at least one of these pieces was probably going to have a cum stain or two on it soon. I gently guided him towards the sofa and told him to strip. "Bed?" he asked and I said "Nah, this looks like a better place. I can watch the door in case anyone comes home." "Let me get a towel" he then said. I chuckled and told him "Just don't make a mess and you'll be ok" before I put my hand on the back of the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down. I raised my foot and pushed them the rest of the way to the floor as I said "Suck me quick before I see how that cheating ass of yours is." It wasn't a bad blowjob but nothing that was going to make me shoot right away. He knew how to do it, unlike a lot of straight or bi guys, he was just nervous sucking cock in his living room in full sight of the door. I rested my hand on the back of his head, which got him to take more of my stiffening cock into his mouth. He was struggling with the thickness but was doing a good job of keeping his teeth off my shaft. Wrapping both hands around the back of his head, I eased my cock deeper until it hit the back of his throat. He began gagging right away but I held it there a few moments before letting up and allowing him to breathe. "Oh fuck! I don't know if I can take that" he gasped out. "Oh, you will. If not down your throat then up your neg ass" I replied, pushing back in. It went deeper this time and I gave a little shove just before I pulled my cock out. He stood there staring at my spit covered cock and then looked up at my eyes. I knew he was having second thoughts but at this point I was committed. Unless he was a really bad fuck, he was going to get fucked and loaded up with my special DNA. Rubbing my cock over his lips as he looked up at me, I wanted to feel his tight pussy stretching around my cock. Letting go of his head, I grasped his arm and pulled him to his feet, turning him around and giving a gentle push to the corner of the sofa. He kneeled on the floral fabric cushion, bracing one hand on the arm and one on the back of the sofa. I knelt down and pried his hairy ass cheeks apart, pressing my face in between and rimming his hole. He was clean but there was the faint taste of lube so I didn't dig my tongue in any deeper. I forced some spit in though and based on the quivering of his sphincter he was relaxing a bit. "Perfect" I thought to myself and stood up, dragging my cock along the spread crevice until it found it's next target. Pulling the rest of my foreskin back, I pushed the dripping tip inward until I felt it give. Phnx469 started to groan loudly so I leaned forward and put my hand over his mouth. "Fuck, you're tight. Relax or this is really gonna hurt" I whispered in his ear. Adding more pressure, the further in I went the louder he yelled. My hand muffled some of it but I was glad we were not in the bedroom near the neighbor's apartment. I gave the side of his head a whack with my other hand and said "Relax, damnit!" His grip on my shaft loosened a little and I got another few inches in. "Is this the first bare poz cock you've taken?" I asked. "Mmhmm" he groaned out. "Good, then let's make this a memorable fuck" I replied, rocking my hips back and forth. I plowed a minute or two and then pulled almost out and dripped some more spit on my cock. He probably had everything setup in the bedroom, lube and maybe even condoms on the night stand, towel on the bed and maybe even a hidden camera to record the deed. But I was going to do this my way. Thrusting my hips, I went back to slowly plowing his tight hole and opening him up. He stayed still and while tense, he wasn't fighting my dick. I don't know if he got tired or relaxed more but after a couple more minutes his hole loosened its grip slightly so I could drive in easier and faster. The groans and grunts from him also had a less strained tone to them so I uncovered his mouth and moved both hands to his shoulders. It gave me a good stance to fuck him harder. I still hadn't given him all of my cock, it kept bumping into his inner ring and making him grunt but I hadn't broken through yet. Moving back a few inches, I changed my angle of attack and started digging the head of my cock in different directions. I knew the second I hit his prostate from his loud moan and the quivering of his sphincter around my cock. Surely he was leaving a nice wet patch of precum all over his wife's flowered couch. His cock wasn't the only one that was flowing precum. His hole was getting juicy and giving off those sloppy pussy sounds I love to hear. Part of me wanted to keep fucking him until his family came home and found him getting fucked by a stranger but I didn't want to deal with the drama. I drilled him harder for a few more minutes and then slowed down. I looked over his shoulder and on the table next to the couch was a picture of him, a woman and a teenage boy. "That your family?" I asked, grinding my hips on his ass. "Yeah" he said with a worried tone. I just chuckled and began thrusting again, turned on by him looking at his wife and kid while some stranger barebacked his cheating cunt. My balls started to tingle and I knew it was time to fill him up with my tainted seed. Shoving in hard, I broke past the inner ring and phnx469 let out a loud yelp. I dragged my cock slowly back and rammed in again garnering a painful "Oh fuck!" One more shove and I couldn't hold it in any more. The first few spurts fired off as I was shoving in and the next few were planted deep inside him. He moaned out another "Oh fuck!" while I growled breathlessly "Take that fuckin' poz load!" Each throb of my cock pumped more virus filled semen into his ass and it felt damn good. Rolling my hips a few times as the last few shots of cum pumped out made sure that his guts were painted with a thick coating of my cum. We stayed connected for a couple minutes until we were both breathing normally and my cock had started to soften. Slowly, I pulled out and saw a glob of dark pink cream run out of his stretched out hole, off his balls and on to the cushion of the couch below. As I backed away, he slowly stood up, his cock still hard and dripping the last remnants of his neg load. The back corner of the sofa cushion was wet and creamy as well as the seat cushion where he dripped while I fucked him. The scent of cum permeated the air and I knew he was going to have a hell of a cleanup job before his family got home. I picked up my shorts and put them on, grabbing his shorts and mopping the sweat off my face. Tossing his shorts at him, I started walking to his front door. "Thanks, man. You got a good ass and I'm sure that won't be the last poz dick you take" I said over my shoulder. Opening the door, I began walking down the hallway to the stairs at the other end. Just after I passed the elevators, the car arrived and out walked a woman and her son. They both headed in the other direction and I almost burst out laughing. Phnx469 wasn't going to have time to clean up the mess on the couch and he might not even have any clothes on. He really was going to have an interesting evening.

#8 Half Swedish & Half Mexican switch. 5ft 7 120LBS. black hair brown skin I have a 4 GA. P.A and other body piercing.

Me too, bloody hell. The bigger he is gaping the better. And I'd be inside of him like a whippet, enjoying fucking my man's loose warm cunt with all that other cum sloshing about. 💦👅💦

A while back i commented on here how i knew a hot guy for about 2 years that i had met on grindr. And for those 2 years he always fucked me with a condom . His dick is amazing a good nine inches or more , thick and big ballz . Think Rocco Steeles dick exactly like that no lie! But he always used condom i hated that and he never kissed or made out . With him it was always a quick one nite stand . He would come to my place and out the door in 10 mins . It got to the point i wasnt even enjoying it anymore so i stopped replying to his texts . Then yesterday he texted me out of nowhere after knowing nothing about him for probably more than 2 months. He said he was really horny and hadnt had sex in 2 months. I tought eh what the heck i also been really horny and havent had sex since all this quarantine shit started . I live in los angeles California were they been really strict with the lockdown . So i was really horny and needed something up my ass BAD!!! So even tho i knew he used condoms i was so desperate i told him fuck it come over. Ive got deep cleaned enema and all and called him over. When he showed up to my door my jaw dropped . I mean he was already good looking now he was even better. Hes tall about 6'4 nice worked out body he cuban/Mexican and has a nice full beard . Just how i like them . Im short 5'6 skinny twinkish ,smooth bubble butt so latin men like him are my favorite. Once we were in my roon we both instantly got naked and laid down on my bed. And for the first time ever in 2 years he pinned me down against the bed and started kissing me passionately he stuck his tongue down my throat and made out real good . He then started kissing my neck and going down and sucking on my pink nipples and bitting them again first time he ever did those things. What took me by surprise was that he also ate my pink smooth hole for the first time ever. Then i sucked him off he got rock hard then we 69ed for a while he ate my ass out while i sucked his dick . So he then put me doggy style and i tought UgH he gonna put on the condon now. But nope he for the first time ever sticked it in raw and with no lube only spit. Fuuuuck it Fucking hurt but felt so good cuz like i said his dick is huge and thick . He fucked me 4 times in that day every way and position imaginable and shot all his loads real deep inside me . It got to a point he was actually making love to me. It wasnt like before were it was a quick 10 minute one nite stand and no kissing. This time it was very different we made out while he was fucking me and he kissed all my body and made me hickies all over my neck and on nips . He was telling me how he always wanted to fuck me raw but never asked me because he always tought i was gonna tell him no. So after we were done i told him in available every day at what ever time. Since i live alone and working from home. He told me im also available every day 24/7 . He now gonna come over every day. Yum cant wait ! I guess something good did come out of this quarantine

I have had a few boyfriends whore me out and I loved it every time. if your boyfriend is a cumdump that loves taking anonymous loads from strangers then thats what he was born to have done to him. the first boyfriend started taking me to the bathhouse to watch men fuck me. first one or two then more and more. soon he started whoring me out online and taking me to guys places to watch them fuck me. sometimes he couldn't watch so he would wait outside for the guy to finish using me then take me to the next man. the second boyfriend who whored me out did the same but would also take me to the porntheatre, strip me naked and offer me to EVERY SINGLE man that came in. trust me, if your boyfriend is even half as slutty as me he will love you for whoring him out. the more men the better. the dirtier the better. thats what pussyboys are for. have fun getting him used

If I will have a relationship again, it must be open. Being a bareback whore is the point of my life. I hope, my future boyfriend will force me to have sex with others.

“Stop fucking flinching. Take it like the worthless faggot I always knew you’d become.” I could barely see straight through the fog of my high. It wasn’t anything hardcore yet that night, but the alcohol and edibles, paired with some fresh poppers and 8 loads earned deep in my cunt had me lost in pleasure and submission. There I was: ass up in a motel, taking anonymous loads… and it was him forcing my hole open. I knew his voice. It was the man who started it all. It was David. Again. 10 years ago I was a condoms-only college kid with a fantasy to submit. And then he showed me what it meant to really get used. What it meant to give myself to a real man. What it meant to regret it. And here he was - 8.5 thick inches pulsing deep inside me while he wrapped his hands around my neck and choked. 10 years ago I wouldn’t have recognized the shell of a faggot whore on that motel bed. Hell, I barely recognized him that night. As this beast of a man tore my hole open yet again, I realized just how far I had fallen. I was leaking in my cock cage, begging, and crying. But to him? I was just an object. No different than the object he’d raped 10 years earlier. And we both knew it. “Cmon, faggot. Put your mouth around the barrel of the gun. I want to play a game.” — 10 years earlier, and I was 20. It was the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college in Los Angeles, and I’d grown more and more comfortable with my sexuality. I was a good looking guy: nearly 6’0, Italian blood, dark features, hairy and tight body. I could fuck any college kid on that campus, but it just didn’t quite scratch that itch. I needed to get used. Or at least thats what I fantasized about when I jerked off. And “getting used” seemed to be getting darker. Rough fucking had become verbal fucking. Light bondage. Slapping. Pain. I needed it to be kinkier and kinkier to get me off. I found myself falling down the rabbit hole, searching for boys crying, having forced orgasms, and — and it made me hard to even type it into search engines - getting raped. I wanted it. Or I thought I wanted it. It all sort of blurred together as I busted orgasm after orgasm to the kinkiest and roughest porn I could find. But I also knew that it wasn’t realistic. Real rape wouldn’t be ‘fun’. Real rape couldn’t be planned. Real rape was just a fantasy. But that didn’t stop me from being a tease. And thats when David first came into the picture. I’d met David online. He was clear from the outset: he didn’t want my name, he liked to fuck holes as objects, it would hurt. I did not matter to him. And I busted a load that first night we chatted - a huge, thick load. And then I quickly signed off. I did to David what I did to all these guys: I teased. I played out my fantasy to earn my own orgasm. Days and days. Countless orgasms. He took me deeper in those conversations, deeper than I knew I could go. He told me he whored boys out. I came. He told me he came from seeing fags cry. I came. He told me he beat a man nearly to death. I came. He told me he wanted to do it again. I came. This went on and on. Until the night that I let my 20 year old sex drive get the best of me. I agreed to go to his place. He told me it would be rough, but that I’d be fine — that he knew so many of my desires were just fantasy. He told me he got it. He told me I’d enjoy myself - that we’d have some fun. And I trusted him. My dick was leaking, my hole was pulsing, and I was speeding down the 405… until I was there. Heart racing, dick hard, skin moist from nerves, adrenaline and sweat. I was there, knocking on his door. That knock would play out in my head for years to come. That knock was the start of a slippery slope — a slope that would ultimately lead me 10 years later, blackout in a trashy motel, throating a 9mm pistol, effectively destroyed no matter the rules of his game. But that night 10 years ago? I just thought it was going to be some quick, rough fun.

I wonder if guys are trained by their (normal, straight) peers to be monogamous, at least EXPECTING the OTHER to be so? That would then make us 'conditioned' to feel 'weird' about having our significant other 'violated', fucked, and inseminated for erotic purposes. Our gloomy afterglow regrets may be about LOSING CONTROL and allowing in 'competition' and trouble. All seems hot in the moment of passion but when the nut is gone, the seedy reality hits them like a nagging hangover. I wonder! I recall feeling AWFUL and violated in my amateur beginner phase, still obsessing about 'love' and monogamy with 'Mister Right'! It was hell when I saw my estranged BF take off with other guys, knowing full well that as he disappeared into his place, the hotel or whatever with him, a hostile contender, the nemesis, he was getting fucked: raw and reckless! Getting inseminated by 'that jerk', that total stranger, that smooth-talking hustler who somehow 'outbid' me in the mating game. Jealousy and anger consumed me and me thinking 'it can NEVER be the same again after this'. Knowing that the stranger's DNA was marking 'my man' as 'no-longer-mine'! Weird trips our minds play on us! Talking about kinks and tolerated behavior: One badass 'stealther' from this site whom I talked to on the phone disagreed with my 'open whore' policy my man and I developed. "IF I HAD A BF... he would NEVER be allowed to let somebody else fuck him!" Hinting that extramarital sex means that we have 'marital problems'! His one-sided cheating on a conned sub, yes! St@#lthing yes, but mutually agreed on whoring no! Go figure! Well guess what buddy; you don't have a BF and I'm going strong after ten years and even better since we agreed on 'whoring each other out'. I recall the first time I let a stranger fuck my man in front of me: me intimidated and in awe all at the same time. He was partial to my man and probably could have done without me there. He wanted to know if poz-talk was ok. I didn't even know what he meant. I took pictures of the stranger's cock slipping in and out of my man's hole, eventually nutting and delivering a cream-pie inside and on his hole. Unlike others (in the regret phase) , I felt in incredible sensation of arousal, one that had me crave for more: more cock, more sex, more promiscuity and lewd talk. I even took pictures of the raw insemination and licked the dude's cock as his throbbing cock-shaft eventually pulsed a load into my man. The picture on top of my profile is from that day featuring a stranger's cock on my man's DNA-juiced hole. The pictures and every event like that since turn me on enough that I can jerk off to it on the long COVID nights. Sometimes as my hubby and I have sex we tell each other about our exploits THAT DAY, or the intimate details of fucking with other dudes and call each other 'slut' and 'whore' as we fuck and jack off. So fucking hot once you both have completely embraced total promiscuity with your bro!

Voted with #7. I would love to have voted #9, but of course I am blessed with hands and forearm(s) to stretch a hole to my greedy satisfaction. I will add to the size that my Dick happens to have a strong curve when fully erect, and have been given feedback on how it glides over and into the prostate causing the pig I am fucking intense pleasure. I feel very blessed to have that curve! 🍆

See, if my BF was like this, I’d be so proud.

just got fucked by a guy with an actual 12 inch cock. thick and meaty. how do I know it was really 12 inches? he has a ruler tattooed on his cock. told me he had to take some viagra and an injection of something to keep it rock hard during the inkwork. pretty meaty too but it slid in fairly easily so he said "damn you really are a slut. it usually takes me awhile to get into a fuckhole. it helped that he got my ass after a fairly busy night. took him so long to cum but damn when he did his cock got rock hard and I could feel it pulsing inside me

I love to sit on cocks like this. Until they can’t hold back and shoot deep inside.

My exact same sentiment. Just that I am a top

I have never had a condom in me. I went from a long term relationship with my step dad to the man that would ultimately poz me. My situation was that I knew he was poz and he said he didn’t want a relationship with anyone that wasn’t poz. I convinced him to breed me and three months later I tested poz.

I think he was just looking to suck, but I went from jerking his cock as he blew me to rubbing his ass and fingering it and pushing some spit snot in to moisten him up. I grabbed his balls so he couldn't stand up, and went around back and shoved my cock in fast before he could say no. He let out a moan, but I was balls deep and fucking him before he told me he didn't like to get fucked. "It's ok buddy just relax" I said as I STILL was fucking. He stepped forward a bit but I had his waist gripped tightly so I moved with him, and kept fucking. He was clamping my cock really hard, and by the time he yelled at me to stop I was nutting inside him, so I stopped. 'You want me to pull out?" I asked him, and he said yeah. I took a step back and my cock plopped out. He stood up and quickly got his underwear and pants back in place, and just left without saying a word.

Part 15 - Apricots and Americans Mark woke with a thick head in the morning and rolled over to face Luca, cuddling and kissing for a while before they both showered and went down to breakfast. Oliver's flight from Rome was scheduled to arrive at midday and they were on the road just after 10am for the drive to Pisa airport. Luca watched Mark who sat there with a smile on his face the entire trip to the airport constantly chatting about how much fun he had yesterday and how he needs to speed up his language skills. Luca on the other hand was more worried about Mark's reaction when he finally met Oliver, it had been made clear that Luca now had a boyfriend but would Oliver heed this and still try his hand at getting him. The flight had just landed when they walked in to arrivals and checked the board. Luca busy on his phone and Mark was playing shag, marry, kill with all the men walking past. Mark's eyes acted like radars picking up the each sexy Italian that walked in view and some foreigners. "What have I got involved with" Luca laughed returning to his phone. Mark chuckled "Now that one I would definitely shag and marry" he suddenly said urging Luca to look. Luca raised his head "You can do, that is Oliver" he chuckled and waved waiting for Oliver to come over. "Blond?" Mark exclaimed looking at Luca "never had you down as liking blond guys". Luca glanced at Mark "I don't" he said smiling at Mark "anyway it is mousey blond". "Luca" Oliver called out a few meters with a big smile on his face. Luca stepped forward and hugged Oliver "Olly so nice to see you" he said warmly "This is Mark". Oliver looked at Mark who stood slightly taller "Pleasure to meet you Mark" he said drawing his words out. Mark nodded without realising his guard went up seeing him as a threat "Likewise" he replied. "I was disappointed when I found out about you" Oliver said to Mark "I can see why he likes you". Mark looked cautiously at him "As long as you remember Luca is mine" he said clearly firing a warning shot. Oliver made no show of the hiding the fact he found Mark very sexually attractive just like Luca. They grabbed coffees and headed to the car for the drive up to the Tuscan hills. It was a torturing drive for Mark, unsure if he liked Oliver, after all he knew that this guy was a threat to Luca and him. It annoyed him how Luca would chat aimlessly with him with the occasional prodding of Mark to join in. Gio was coming back from his run when the car pulled in to the villa courtyard. Oliver greeted him with a hug like long lost friends whilst Mark stood and watched for a moment then walked in to the villa bumping in to Sarah 'is he here?' she said excitedly walking past. Luca opened the boot of the car and pulled Oliver's case out, closing the boot he noticed Mark was missing. "Come on boys lunch is ready then Luca can show you to your room" Sarah said taking Oliver's arm. Gio took the suitcase from Luca "Where has Mark gone?" Luca asked his father with a concerned voice. "He went inside" Sarah replied hearing Luca ask his father. Gio stopped Luca "Is everything alright?" he asked "with you and Mark?". "Yes" Luca replied looking at the villa "at least I think so" he said "he was quiet in the car". Gio put his arm around Luca's shoulder "Go find him Luca, think Oliver being here may upset him". Luca walked through the villa on to the terrace where he spotted Mark wandering deeper through the apricot orchard. He called out to Mark and stepped down tracing where he saw him last. It took a few minutes but he found the legs sticking out from behind their favourite tree. Luca grabbed two apricots and sat down handing Mark an apricot. "Tell me what is bothering you?" Luca asked glancing at Mark. Mark looked at the apricot "Do you love him?" he asked surprising Luca with his question. "Hell no" Luca replied "why would you think that?" he asked trying to urge Mark to be honest. Mark glanced at Luca "The way you both reacted seeing each other and your parents" he said trailing off. Luca smiled "He is charming and yes he is sexy" he said stroking Mark's leg "but I love you Marco". Mark sighed "I'm sorry for being stupid. My instinct was warning me" he said leaning back against the tree. Luca sat forward and took a look around then kneeled between Mark's legs, his hand running up along Mark's thigh and firmly grabbing his cock 'your hard' Luca said to Mark as he bowed down. His hands freeing Mark's cock and quickly his lips rubbed the head and his mouth slipped around and down the shaft. Mark rubbed Luca's head 'Luca not here' he tried protesting but Mark was already too far in to an orgasm building up. Just the sight of Luca was enough to turn him on wildly, he was whimpering in sexual pleasure trying to stop himself crying out. Hips jerked up and Mark groaned feeling the release from his balls. His head scratching against the bark of the tree as he tried to control himself from crying out and ended up giggling holding Luca's head down on his cock. Luca raised his head and took a bite off his apricot and chewed it mixing the cum with the flesh of fruit he then kissed Mark deep. Passing the apricot flesh between one another Mark slipped his hand in Luca's shorts, swallowing the fruit he pulled Luca up to a kneeling position and ran his tongue over Luca's cock. Luca raised a hand holding on to the tree 'oh fuck' he sweetly whispered closing his eyes feeling the warmth and moistness of Mark's mouth around his cock working him. Mark took his time hearing the moans from Luca, he could feel the cock swelling slightly and knew Luca was going to blow his load. Luca took his hand off the tree and held Mark's head feeling the contractions pulsing in his cock, so oblivious he didn't even notice Mark moving his hand around Luca's ass inside his shorts until he felt the finger pushing in to his hole. Luca gasped and released a girly shriek his orgasm heightened from the simultaneous assaults on his cock and ass. Mark pulled his mouth off Luca's cock and looked up at him taking a bite from his apricot he chewed then pulled Luca down and kissed him passing his cum loaded apricot flesh to Luca. He rolled on to his back laughing and took another bite of his apricot. "Now do you believe me when I say I love you?" Luca asked starring up the dabbled sunlight. Mark laid on top of Luca "Yes" he said looking in to his eyes as Luca's mother called out for them. Luca leaned up and kissed him "We should go before they come looking" he said hugging Mark. Walking back to the villa hand in hand Mark purposefully kept hold of Luca's arriving at the table, mostly for show so that Oliver would see it as a defiant display of their love. Oliver looked over and saw the defensive way Mark behaved carefully looking in the eye defiantly, to Oliver it was a challenge he was going to take up. He might show a defiant stance now but Oliver loved nothing more than breaking guys that thought they were tough enough to stand up to him. Little by little he would wear Mark down until he was nothing but his bitch, then he would move in seducing Luca away. He knew Mark's inexperience would pale in to insignificance and show how pathetic he was being unable to hold on to Luca, stealing him for his own gratification and watch Mark disappear in to the shadows. Indeed he switched on the charm with Mark doing to his best to win him over pretending he was no threat. Mark sat there acting his part, aware that Oliver seemed to be playing him. One thing this American didn't know was never to come between a guy from Manchester and his lover, Mark could tell that Oliver had underestimated him and decided to see how far he would really go and show his true colours. At least the rest of Sunday passed peacefully and dinner was generally good natured. Luca seemed happy that at least Oliver and Mark were getting along, on the outside he was sure Mark didn't see him as a threat to their relationship but he had no idea what was brewing between them. Luca returned from the bathroom naked and kissed Mark getting in to bed. "You seem to hit it off with Oliver" Luca said snuggling down in to Mark's arms. Mark looked at Luca "He is playing me Luca" he replied with his finger rubbing Luca's nipple gently. "Don't be silly" Luca replied "what makes you think he is up to something?" he asked stroking Mark's thigh. Mark kissed him gently on the mouth "He looks at me like I am naïve maybe even stupid". Luca smiled "Johan" he said looking at a confused Mark "Johan is a psychologist, we will invite them over". Mark chuckled "Oliver doesn't scare me" he said wrapping his arms around Luca "do you trust him?". "Not in the slightest" Luca replied pulling Mark closer locking their lips together. Embraced in their loving kiss it wasn't long before Luca felt his body being pulled under Mark, their bodies already glistening from the humid air his cock slipped into Luca. Raising his head Luca kissed him hard his hand holding Mark's head close keeping their lips attached, he moaned feeling the sensual strokes penetrating his ass. Mark slipped his free hand under Luca's neck holding his head up, the closeness enabling them to share the experience of their love making as one. His moans softly echoing around the room from the increased intensity of Mark's hips producing loving and delicate thrusts. Luca aroused purely from the feeling of Mark's body lying on top of him, he continued the tender love making feeling every pleasure rising from Luca's body. His love and desire for Luca building in his groin rapidly, his breathing heavy and short gasps feeling the sensations tingling through his body to his balls. Luca moaned 'oh Marco' he whispered feeling the hips pushing down and locking tight to his ass. Luca's hand grabbed Mark's head firmly keeping him as close as possible together they orgasmed, Luca ejaculating under him and Mark sealed their love freeing his seed in to Luca's body. Breathing deep in to each others mouths, clasping their lips together kissing and riding their orgasms together. The moment of simply, pure and very real intimacy between two lovers. Their bodies drenched in sweat as Mark slowly extracted his cock and rolled on to his back catching his breath. His hand stroking Luca's back and ass who now moved closer and laid his hand across Mark's chest. Luca got up and fetched some tissue and cleaned the sheet as best he could, leaning over he kissed Mark and grabbed his hand 'time to cool down' he said taking Mark downstairs and out to the pool terrace. Mark chuckled getting in to the cool water but instantly refreshed, they swam around and kissed as quietly as possible. From his window Oliver watched, the darkness of the bedroom hiding him from view to the outside world. Admitting to himself that they looked good together, for now. When Luca woke he wanted to act quickly and tried to get his uncle and Johan over on today but they were not free until 5pm, agreeing to come over Nico had briefed Johan what Luca had asked him to do. Johan showed a lot more concern, he liked Mark from their initial meeting at the family BBQ and only too happy to help. Sarah and Gio had left at 9am to visit friends in Pisa and would not be returning until Tuesday. By the time Luca and Mark went down for breakfast Oliver was sat there at the table in just his shorts drinking coffee. Mark couldn't take his eyes off Oliver's body seeing in properly for the first time, Marzi appeared with breakfast and more coffee. Luca reached over and saw only one apricot in the bowl, he stood up and said he would go and fetch some more leaving Oliver and Mark alone at the table. Oliver reached over and took the last apricot and placed it on the table, Mark was sat opposite him and fixing his gaze he smirked placing one finger on the apricot rolling it around. Mark sat there with both his arms on the table playing with the spoon watching Oliver. "Did you sleep well last night?" Mark asked his eyes still firmly on Oliver. Oliver looked at the apricot then back to Mark "Yes" he replied "how was your swim?". Mark raised and eyebrow "You saw us?" he asked watching Oliver nod "we were hot and sweaty from love making". Oliver smirked at him again "There is only one apricot, what do you do?" he asked cryptically. Mark looked slightly confused "Share it" he replied watching Oliver roll it around with his finger. "What if this one apricot was worth half a million dollars?" Oliver asked looking up at Mark. Mark said nothing "Selfishly take the apricot and it's value then leave?" Oliver now asked. Mark sat there quietly aware of what Oliver was doing "It is a small price for such a priceless thing". Oliver smiled "What if it's value soared to one million?" he now asked seeing Mark's eyebrows raise. "Take the apricot and leave" Mark replied his eyes focused on the apricot. Oliver nodded "You take the apricot and disappear for good" he now said watching Mark carefully. Mark rolled the apricot around with his finger "Such an expensive apricot" he replied lifting his finger off. "Worth every dollar" Oliver said testing Mark's resolve and sensing he was close to taking it. Mark smiled and put his palm over the apricot "Apricots don't last forever, but I can crush your dreams". Oliver watched Mark crush the apricot "Crushed like your offer" Mark said "you can't buy me off". Oliver grabbed Mark's hands, his foot began working up Mark's leg "Waste of a perfect fruit". Mark moaned feeling his toes slip inside his shorts rubbing his balls under the table "Stop that" he said. "You should have taken the offer" Oliver said pushing his foot hard against balls gripping his hands tighter. Mark grimaced "You will not win Oliver" he managed to say "we love each other". Oliver released the pressure slowly massaging Mark's cock with his foot "Getting hard Mark?". Mark smirked and saw Luca walking back with a handful of apricots "Looser" he said looking at Oliver. Oliver tapped harder watching the grimace on Mark's face then removed his foot "We will see" he said releasing Mark's arms. Oliver smirked at him again and realised that Mark was not going to be as easy to remove like Andre was. Here was a person that was not intimidated so easily and could not be brought off. Mark sat with a steely determination, his eyes clearly warning Mark not to mess with him over Luca. Mark turned to watch Luca approach with a smile on his face until he sat down and placed the apricots in the bowl, he noticed the crushed fruit on the table between Oliver and Mark. "What happened to the apricot?" Luca asked looking at them both. Oliver chuckled "We fought over it and it got crushed in the process" he replied looking at Mark. Mark smiled at Oliver "Like the million dollars he offered me to leave you" he said seeing Oliver's shocked face. Oliver never expected Mark to say anything "Is that true" Luca asked looking at Oliver. "Million dollars of crushed apricot" Mark interjected quickly. Oliver looked at Mark then Luca "I had to try one more time Luca, but he won't budge". Luca shook his head "Value what friendship we have Olly, just don't come between Mark and I". He wasn't sure if he was angry with Oliver or not but it did seem to clear the air a little, he kissed Mark lovingly and more so for being honest about what had happened. Oliver knew it as a very stark warning from Luca and eased off, over breakfast he engaged Mark in conversation making it rather more pleasant. The day was spent enjoying the best of the summer weather by the pool, Mark was constantly on his guard watching Oliver's every move. By late afternoon Oliver was beginning to concede that Luca did only have eyes for Mark. Desperately he wanted to find love, he loved the fucking around and it had been a good few years. Seeing them together and how in love they looked was striking home that he had no one to share his life with. Mark had made it clear to Luca that as sexy as Oliver was he did not want to risk giving him the opportunity so sex with him was out of the question. laying by the pool Luca stretched and said he was going to get from fruit, Mark walked with him then dived in to the pool to cool off. Behind him a tremendous splash showered him with water, he turned to see the body surfacing out of the water. Laughing Mark felt the strong arms of Johan lifting him up in the air like a ballet dancer before dropping him back in the water. Oliver looked on shocked at the stranger who had arrived. Mark managed to swim away and called back 'toy boy' he shouted clambering out of the pool watching Johan give chase. Johan looked at Oliver 'Don't just sit there grab him' he shouted. Suddenly Mark felt Oliver grab him and pin him down to the floor smiling, Johan arrived and picked Mark up throwing him back in the pool then jumping in back after him. Oliver still confused by what was happening sat on the edge of the pool dangling his feet in watching them. "I see you met my husband" Nico said sitting besides Oliver who turned with a surprised look on his face. Oliver looked around for Luca "Who are you?" he asked beginning to see similarities to Gio in his face. Nico chuckled and held out his hand "Luca's uncle, Nico and that is Johan my husband". Nico smiled "Ciao Luca" he said feeling Luca's arms going around his neck. "Ciao zio" Luca said kissing Nico on the mouth "Sorry Oliver I forget to tell you they were coming over". Oliver though was completely fascinated and in awe of Johan and his build, definitely more muscular than Oliver and with his height he carried it off to perfection. He was oblivious to what Johan was up to and before he knew it he had warmed to him and opened up personally over a dinner of antipasti, bread and wine. After dinner they sat by the pool taking the occasional dip. Oliver found himself in the pool alone with Johan, unable to keep his hands from feeling Johan's body telling him how amazing it was. Johan kept his gaze fixed on Mark then briefly kissed him and held him in his arms a little to tightly for Oliver's liking. "They make a very nice couple Luca and Mark" Johan said quietly in Oliver's ear. Oliver nodded "Yes" he replied agreeing getting aroused held in Johan's arms. "Be bad if anything came between them" Johan said "nothing could protect the person who broke them apart". Oliver remained quiet for a moment "You mean me" he eventually said feeling the arms tighten sharply around him. Johan kissed Oliver's neck "Glad to see you are not stupid Oliver" he whispered kissing his neck again. Oliver leaned his head back like a powerful force had overtaken his body arousing him even further. Johan kissed his neck nibbling upwards then suddenly he let go pushing Oliver away and got out of the pool leaving him there alone. He was so aroused by the brute force of this man and leaned against the side of pool knowing full well he had been given a very clear warning this time. His body feeling like electricity, no man had ever made him get in to such a state without actual sex. Luca and Mark sat there watching Johan seducing Oliver into a horned up mess, he was smiling when he sat down at the table joining them. Nico looked up "Well?" he simply asked quietly "what is your analysis?". "He wants to break you two up" Johan replied looking at Luca and Mark who nodded. "How do we stop it?" Luca asked desperately. Joahn smiled "Don't worry, he got the message" Johan replied "dam sexy guy" he said picking up his juice. Luca leaned over and gave Johan a kiss "Thank you" he said feeling a hand on his waist. "What is this?" Nico asked spotting Luca's tattoo, Johan pulled the shorts down and looked at him. Luca felt embarrassed "Oh I forgot about that" he said shyly afraid to look at them. Nico was looking at him "Luca!" he exclaimed waiting for him to answer. Johan smiled standing up pulling his shorts down revealing a small biohazard tattoo "You?" Luca asked. Johan nodded "Yes, and you?" he asked watching Luca slowly nod his head he turned to Mark who nodded as well. "Why didn't you tell me Luca?" Nico asked holding Luca's face. Luca lowered his eyes "I didn't want to it splashed around the family" he replied. Luca looked in to his uncles eyes "And you?" he asked seeing him smile and nod. Luca and Mark both laughed then Nico spoke "You want to take Oliver home for the night?" he asked Johan. Johan looked at the Oliver in the pool "Depends if these two have any plans for him". "No" Luca and Mark replied in unison looking at Nico and Johan then laughing to each other. Nico went over to the pool and pulled Oliver out "Your coming home with us tonight" he said. Oliver grinned "Don't I get any say in the matter?" he asked knowing full well he was going. Nico chuckled "No" he replied. Luca and Mark said good night to Nico and Johan after being invited over Saturday afternoon and evening after they have dropped Oliver off at the airport.

How ironic the prequel to my next chapter as set out above is titled *Waiting*. For those who are wanting more to this story, and have been patiently *waiting* for more, all my stories have taken to the back burner as I have got a LOT going on in my personal life. I do realise a lot of time has elapsed so maybe interest has waned. However, if you are still eager for more, give this a like so I know to continue. I do have the next chapter almost ready to go to print, ha, and have concrete plans on how I want to develop the central character Stevie boy, and most definitely have plans for his boyfriend Lew, and the next door neighbour Ramon. ☣️ I sincerely hope everyone is keeping well in light of global events that have unfolded during the last few months, and continue to evolve on a daily basis.

Did he really just say what I thought he said….”Oh fuck that’s good”….he…er…he said he knew my son…”Fuck me harder”…..he knew the kid in the photo next to my bed….”AHHH FUCCKK YEAH HARDER..”…he’d fucked him a few weeks ago…”Oh god, go deeper”…he’d fucked my son…HE’D FUCKED MY SON!! “Wait, wait” I said pushing him up..he was fucking hot and was doing a great job of stretching my cunt…”You fucked him” I said pointing to the picture. He stopped, ripped, sweaty and panting, pushing up and looked at the photograph, “Yeah, hot kid, fucked him and some other lad.” He suddenly looked at me as puzzled as I was, “He a friend?” He asked as I leaned up to grab the photo. “He’s my son” I replied. The hot stud who’d been ploughing me missionary, suddenly grinned at me. “Sweet, I’ve fucked the Father and Son” I have to admit it sounded hot too, “Did he know you were poz?” I asked with a sudden sinking feeling. “Yeah, first thing they asked. Wanted to know if I was toxic, they wanted breeding” He grinned back, “Concerned for your son?” he said gently thrusting back into me. I breathed in as he entered me, “A little, but I think he’s on Prep.” I said suddenly full of mixed emotions for the well being of my only son and the thought of this hot stud breeding him. “Well they said they weren’t and wanted pozzing. They begged me for my poison load” He smirked and began to fuck me hard again. The thought of fucking the father and the son had clearly excited him. If truth be told, it did me too. We fucked hard for another hour before he finally shot his poz load down my throat. He ate mine and we kissed for a while longer. “I’m undetectable anyway, so no chanced of infecting your boy” He smirked as I led him to the door of my apartment. It was 3am and this Grindr fuck stud had been just what I needed. Hung, muscular and total top who just happened to be HIV+. “I never asked what status you were?” He said as I stood naked with my front door wide open. “I’m HIV+ too and high viral load at the moment” I grinned. The stud smiled back, “Sweet” as I closed the door on him. I had a lot to absorb besides the Grindr studs cum in my stomach. My teenage son was chasing. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. It would be hard to criticize him since I’d been incredibly promiscuous all my life and finally succumbed to the bug when I was 32 after riding any toxic cock I could find. Now at the ripe old age of 38, I was toned, with a shaved head and short, trimmed beard. I still had a six pack, defined arms and muscular pecs with pert little nipples. I also kept my upper body smooth showing off my hairless balls and 8.5” uncut cock. I was an above average DILF and Grindr was my haunt. Unsuspecting and naïve slutty bottoms my prey. Speaking of which, my phone let out a Grindr growl. I walked back into my living room and grabbed the phone. It was a notification from the stud who’d just left. 'Forgot. I met your son and his bf on Twitter. They have a JustForFans account. You may want to check it out', he wrote. I clicked the link and sure enough my naked son Ben and his other half, Jeremy popped up. Both were grinning with cum covered faces. For the rest of the night I sat naked on the couch watching my beautiful boy being used by so many different men. I’d been so proud of him as he grew to manhood. I’d fathered him when I was 20, during my bisexual phase. I’d been so happy when he came out as gay at the age of 14, although he was overtly effeminate so it wasn’t exactly a shock. Nor was finding him sucking the dick of an older brother of one of his school friends in his bedroom one Christmas I’d come to visit. Now he was grown, with short dark hair and a beautifully proportioned tight body. Defined six pack, pert little nipples, smooth, unblemished skin. A fabulous ass and his fathers big dick, which like mine, remained hard and leaked copious amounts of precum all the time he was being fucked. I hadn’t actually seen him top once, so he was obviously a bottom who loved being stretched wide, either by one or two cocks, or a fist. There were plenty of clips of him taking massive dildos and some monster manhood's too. His boyfriend Jeremy was also a stunning boy. 19 years of age and was at the same dance school as Ben. He was a few inches taller and skinnier, but his fat dick was inside Ben as often as he could be, it would seem. I’d met him a few times and liked him because he made my boy happy. Now I could see why and their depraved love life was equal to my own. The two of them were utter sluts. Watching my boy felch cum out of his bf’s freshly seeded cunt and then share it with him. He was equally adept with being pissed on and drank much of what he was given. Perhaps his best videos were of older men using him in every position. Clearly like me, Ben loved older guys and would whimper and moan as he was abused. He loved being tied up and slapped around. Verbal and physical humiliation made him very happy with his erect cock bouncing up and down in every scene. It was strange, but I realised I’d been wanking my fat dick for ages as I watched my boy being fucked by countless men. Knowing that he was chasing was also making me horny as fuck.

It has all seemed so normal. Todd hadn't known anyone at State. The 19 year old had left his small town home where his only fuck buddy was a football star on his high school team. When Todd was assigned Dan as a roomie, he was happy to have a football player. After all Todd's major was athletic training. What a break to have an in with the football team. Dan was a Soph who knew the ropes. He took Todd under his wing; helped him learn which profs to avoid, how to get free cable tv, got him a fake ID, and introduced him to homebrew. The last was Todd's downfall. Dan said that it was an acquired taste. Todd discovered that it was. After the first month, Todd could hardly hide his hardon from Dan. Dan was 6'5" with shoulders like a bull elephant. His body had a covering of dark hair and his beard, well let's say he had 5 o'clock shadow by 9 am. His strong dark eyes showed strength of purpose. It was too much for Todd who was blond, lean, and virually hairless. His blue eyes sparkled in an attractive way. It was Todd's cock that made him different. It was almost nine inches. He was always embarassed by the size in comparison to his 5'8" stance. He had manage to catch a glimpse of Dan from time to time. He was large, Todd knew, but buried in public hair. It was a free weekend for football and Dan asked Todd if he wanted to go to some friends. It was byob so Dan and Todd were filling the cork topped bottles with the homebrew. They loaded them in an old wooden soda case and started for the party. It was mostly guys that Todd didn't know in a townie's house. The house was run down and a good distance from the city. When they entered, Todd thought warm beer, no good. Dan had a co2 fire extinguisher from the rec center to cool them as needed. After the 3rd beer, the guys put pornos in to watch. They were home made and Todd could see Dan pumping pussies. It made him uncomfortable as his dick began to rise. When Dan handed Todd the 4th beer, he had already opened it. Todd thought nothing of it. Good old Dan. After a few minutes the room began to be unclear and soon Todd was out cold. Dan picked him up and was led by the 7 other guys to the basement. It wasn't that he didn't know the way, Dan had been here many times before. In fact, the porn scenes from the vid were filmed here. The guys pulled out their blue pills and swallowed. It would be about 10 minutes before Todd came to. While they waited they pulled out the blunts, smoking and passing them around. When Todd began to stir, they all moved over to him. Dan slapped him to wake him. Todd found himself strapped in the sling, naked, surrounded by naked jocks with amazingly hard cocks. He wondered if it was a dream. He saw the glass pipe that Dan was using, he saw the torch, he saw Dan inhale the cloud. When Dan blew the cloud into Todd's mouth, Todd wanted to cough. Dan held the boy's nose and mouth tightly shut. He repeated the action 3 times. As the drug began to work on the strung up boy, Dan said, " I know what you want. You will get my cock tonight and at least 7 others. Do you want it?" Todd could only nod in disbelief. The redheaded guy brought Dan a baggie filled with crystals. Dan licked his middle finger and pushed it deep in Todd's waiting ass. Todd like the fell of the finger but there was a burning sensation. Dan repeated the action three times. Todd felt hornier than he had ever felt. He begged someone to touch his cock which must be huge by now. They laughed. Dan said, "Boy, that cock has done shrivelled up into your body, and he rubbed across to prove it to the amazed boy." Todd's ass needed it. He craved it. He begged someone to fuck him. All deferred making him plead. Dan finally said, "Okay, boy. I go first. You will never be the same." Todd begged, "I need it!" Dan wet the head of his purple cock and stuck it in the bag of crystals, then into the waiting boycunt. He loved fucking and it showed. Todd urged him on every thrust answered with a pleasured moan. It took Dan almost ten minutes of hard fucking to leave a huge load in the boy. He pulled out and had Todd lick his still purple cock. Meanwhile the redhead stepped up. He teased Todd with just the head of his cock. Todd yelling fuck me, man. Please fuck this ass! Slowly but surely the other six left loads in Todd's pulsing cunt. Then, they went for another round. After the redhead's second turn, he left the circle of guys long enough to return with 2 syringes. Todd felt the rubber around his arm, he watched as the needle entered his vein and a little red blood want drawn then the syringe was emptied into his arm. When the rubber was pulled away, Todd coughed violently. He was a cum whore. All he wanted or needed in life was cock. He couldn't get enough. Dan had posted a craigslist ad and the guys began arriving. Some repulsed Todd but he didn't care as long as his ass was filled. Todd lost track after the 10th load. He knew each had given Dan $20.00. They left him to sleep in that sling. They didn't clean him up. They put a wash pan under him to catch the cum as it dripped out. On Sunday, Dan dressed a still groggy Todd and carried him back to their room. That is where they watched the video!

So, this is going to take some explaining. I have a FWB, closer to boyfriend, but neither of us is great with labels. He works as an installer for home theater systems, installing these immense actual theaters in client’s homes. Not always an actual theater, but more often than not, yeah, full fledge theaters. What I am trying to say is that my Friend works for some pretty rich people. He has also been whoring me out to some of these clients since we got together. It’s a fetish he and I both have. But that bit is a different story. So one of my Friend’s clients contacts him and tells him that he is gonna have a stay-cation for a couple of weeks and that he was wondering if he could provide some entertainment. Meaning he wanted my Friend to whore me out to him for his two-week vacation. But this time it would be no clothes, full bondage, my hole would be open season for whomever was in the house. And I had to be okay with that. Little different then us meeting up and him fucking me for a few hours, having a beer, and then me going home. And while it was a hot idea, I wasn’t really sold because two-weeks is a long time and that kind of sex means I get to eat jell-o and drink water so my hole stays as ready as possible. But my Friend knows how to convince me to say yes and after fucking me to the tune of four cum loads in my hole he got me to agree. SO the day that he is suppose to take me over there comes but we are waiting for a text from the client. By the time it comes its super late and it had a fun instruction for the drop off. The client wanted me to be naked and hooded in the trunk of my Friend’s car. Hot, but again no go for me cause weird. I have been fucked by this particular guy before, but this was some new territory for us. And I was a little nervous. Again my friend got my clothes off and fucked me, but then wouldn’t let me cum. I make bad decisions when I’m horny and recently fucked without release. Which meant on went the hood, off all my clothes, and me in the trunk of a car. I was never so thankful for a garage as I was in that moment. So we went on a drive to the client’s house, which was still not the weirdest way I have ever been transported naked. We arrived and after being let in to the gate the car was parked and I was let out of the trunk and led to the house naked. I could hear people around, more than just the client and my boyfriend. After we were in the house the hood still was taken off and I was led to an area where my hands were cuffed and secured above my head to something that was hanging from the ceiling. I waited then for the hood to come off, but it didn’t. Instead I heard the client that I had been whored out to announce that some more entertainment had arrived and to “enjoy.” For a minute nothing happened and then I started to feel hands. A lot of hands. Everywhere. Now I know I had agreed to this. It was my fetish, but I couldn’t see anything. I didn’t know where my Friend was. I didn’t know anything so I was obviously nervous. And that made some of them even more interested. Maybe a little more forceful. What started out a simple groping turned quickly into pinching, pulling, and greased up fingers stretching my hole. They weren’t quick about prepping me. They took their time. Multiple hands spending time finger fucking me until my nervous squirming turned into writhing like a slut. I may have been nervous but this was still getting me hot. Once my hole was loosened up I felt the first cock slide in me. I was fucked by the first cock for what seemed like forever but was probably more like ten minutes before he left my hole empty and a little gaped. And thus began a parade of cocks that fucked me and filled me. Every now and then one of them would cum in me and when they slid out of me they cum would leak out of my hole and down my leg until the next cock came and used the cum as lube to fuck me some more. Mind you the hood still had not been taken off. In the end if everyone that came in me wasn’t a repeat I took twenty different loads in my hole. By this time my arms were sore and my legs were starting to give out. And that’s when I felt myself being let down and led up some stairs. I was put in a room and the door closed behind me and finally the hood was taken off. It was the client. I asked where my Friend was and he told me that he had left an hour ago. He then petted my head and asked how I was doing. I told him I was a little tired and he made a sympathetic face at me. He then asked if I was going to hold up my end of the deal, he said this while playing with my cock. I was still hard. I hadn’t cum yet. So of course I said yes, because good decisions. He told me he was happy and that I could relax in the room, but he needed to get me in position first. That’s when he led me over to a fuck bench and laid me down on it, strapping my legs and arms down. He told me to go ahead and get some rest, but not to be surprised if one of his guests came in to use my hole some more. With that he left and I was strapped to a fuck bench hard as a rock, but nothing going on. I must have fallen asleep, but was woken up to a massive cock thrusting into me all at once and another cock being shoved in my mouth. And so continued my first night as rented out sex toy.

So I get an e-mail from this so called dom guy with a Nice size dick. saying he wants to use my boy while I use him. Say's he is willing to travel to us for a weekend. I think this guy is 100% down for a rough hard weekend and Honestly want to see my boy take what he has. He said he is Neg and wants to convert. What are your thought"s?

It's like you were in my head. Knowing exactly how I feel about wanting to be poz.

I've had it happen to me only a couple of times, and only because me & one of my fuck buddies sleep with him on top of me with me on my stomach (I enjoy having weight pressing down on me when I sleep, and he likes the warmth and cushion of my body), it also helps that he has a pretty big dick too. But it's only happened maybe 3 times, and only stayed comfortable because we use silicon lube.

Damn I love how you capture the hunger of the pastor- willingly sucking off trolls with short stubby cocks - but NEEDING their cum and then in the hospice - hot And then in this last installment - willingly stripping naked in the bathroom his deep seated need again to be used like a faggot loved when he was naked on the bathroom floor getting pissed on - eagerly- hungrily drinking as much as he could and then being punished for having been on prep So we know he needs cock - but does he stick around to see who the college kid is? Maybe his son the swimmer? (We know he has the hots for him is the son going to get pozzed before his dad? In case you can’t tell I love this story Really- Really want to read the next installment- but take your time you are a great writer take the time you need thanks

I have always envied men that were vers. As a true gold star bottom I have never and will never top. I am glad there are verse guys out there that will breed me though.

Intent. That is the relevant word here. These absurd false moral equivalencies some of you are holding up hare, where the idea that someone will ‘probably’ end up infected anyway actually justifies intentional stealthing, or absolves the perpetrator after the fact, are irrational. The enduring customs, traditions, rules, laws and taboos that regulate human societies at the base level can pretty much all be distilled down to necessary actions to ensure the survival of the species and individuals within it. While we might question whether it is “moral” or “ethical” or “good” or “right” for an infected person to stealth another, the actual underlying question is, is it consistent with the survival of the species and the individuals that comprise it for diseased individuals to intentionally make others diseased? The answer, by every possible measure, is NO. Some argue that bottoms who leave themselves more vulnerable to infection “deserve” to be infected, are “asking” to be infected, or are In some way destined to be accidentally infected, so in each case a stealther feels that any normal constraint should not apply. But the bottom, regardless of his carelessness, naïveté, or trusting or promiscuous nature, in this scenario is an undiseased member of the population. Remember the base question? Is it consistent with the survival of the species and the individuals that comprise it for diseased individuals to intentionally make others diseased? The answer, again, is NO. No, just because he’s a cumdump doesn’t make him fair game. No, the fact that you’re in a bathhouse doesn’t give you a special privilege to hurt people so you can have your fun. NO. Even if, in some inexplicable way, it could be logical to argue that as long as someone has become infected it doesn’t matter how they got that way (?) (!??) the matters of disease, morbidity and mortality are too grave for the society to accept the idea without challenge. The question must be asked: Could the transmission of the disease have been prevented? In the case of the stealther, who has positive knowledge of his condition, the answer is Yes. Yet we know that by base principal the answer to whether one diseased person may knowingly infect another is NO. So if the action that caused the forbidden infection could have been prevented, why wasn’t it? Here we come to Intent. In this situation, something has gone wrong with the social order necessary for species an individual survival. It must therefore be considered a threat and a present danger. The society must respond in such a way as to eliminate the threat. Earlier cultures might have gathered all the individuals with disease an either culled them outright or segregated them in colonies. With the advent of modern medicine, the onus of upholding the bedrock societal imperative falls upon the legal system. And so we see that in many jurisdictions, knowingly and surreptitiously infecting another person with a disease through sexual contact is considered a form of sexual assault. That is to say, stealthing is a criminal act. But what separates an accidental infection from a willful one? What makes one an accident and the other a crime? It is the Intent of the stealther. Regardless of whether a bottom might or might not eventually end up infected, it can be absolutely said that that bottom would not get infected by that stealther except that the stealther made a positive decision to cause it. Any argument that places the responsibility on the bottom for not preventing the transmission from happening fails on causality because had the stealther had not acted on his intent, there would have been nothing for the bottom to prevent. No, there is no defense for stealthing. No, it is not a matter of personal opinion or lifestyle. No, it is not a question of religious dogma. No, just because you person don’t see a problem with it does not make it okay for you to do it. No, the fact that somebody did it to you (sorry) does not give you any right of retaliation. No, just because you’re in a bathhouse make it suddenly acceptable when it isn’t anywhere else. Is it consistent with the survival of the species and the individuals in it for one diseased person to knowingly infect another? NO. It’s fucking wrong, and you know it.

For those who are wanting more to this story, and have been patiently waiting for more, all my stories have taken to the back burner as I have got a LOT going on in my personal life. I do realise a lot of time has elapsed so maybe interest has waned!? However, if you are still eager for more, give this a like so I know to continue. I do happen to have the next several chapters almost ready to go to print, and have even jumped forward past the end of this story to develop the sequel which is already looking to be much more p☣️sitively nasty 💉 with many elements/ideas already developing very nicely; I even have plans of a central character to another one of my stories for the sequel to this story, joining Thomas in his journey as a pig. As always I sincerely hope everyone is keeping well in light of global events that have unfolded during the last few months, and continue to evolve on a daily basis. Keep well.

I'm sure the both of you are more than a few members' fantasy pairings for a video to watch.

The next couple of months went by in a blur. It was interesting how quickly I adjusted to a new life. Once a week I would make the trip over to Sams place. This usually involved dinner and some heavy fucking afterwards. Sometimes it was just sex, but often times it was as heavy as the first time we fucked, if not more. He pushed my limits In all kinds of ways: stringing my hands above my head and flogging my body. Forcing me to eat his sweaty ass after he'd been working outside (I almost passed out one time because he likes to put his full weight on me and almost literally smother me). Edging me for hours on end. One time after fucking me the first time, he recovered and fucked me again, only this time after giving me his second load he started pissing in my hole. I quickly learned that he didn't care if I got to cum or not, but he always came in my ass multiple times. I had even told him I'd thought of getting my nipples pierced. And by this point he had tortured them enough and used all sorts of clamps that they had become the size of quarters and constantly tender. One evening, after giving me my first load and thirty minutes with the poppers mask, he went to the bathroom and came back. I didn't pay too much attention to what he was doing (he had put a vibrator in my ass) but I suddenly felt a sharp quick pain at both of my nipples. When I looked at them, they had two brand new piercings. "There, nothing to think about now", he said as he pulled the vibrator out and started fucking me again. But that's how it was with him: he was my dominant bear daddy, and I was his little sub. But everything he said or did made it clear he only wanted the best for me, even when he was paddling my ass and filling me with piss. One weekend around the holidays he invited me to one of his boyfriends house. Now I had never met the one he lived with; that one just let him fuck around but wasn't about it. And that night I was going to meet his other one. There would be a mix or straight and gay guys, so naturally I said yes. I got there a little early, but he was excited to see me, and introduced me to his other significant other, Nolan. He looked to be about early 40's, same as Sam, but with less of a belly. He was about my height and definitely had the rugged look as well. Same came up and whispered "he has a big gift for you when everyone leaves". The evening wore on, and I got increasingly more buzzed (I get nervous around crowds and with people I don't know well). Eventually I started looking for Sam. I asked one of his friends if he had seen him. "No, but I like what I see in front of me", he replied with a wink. He leaned in and started kissing me. I realized this was probably not a good idea, as I was a guest and didn't want to do anything embarrassing, so I excused myself for the bathroom. When I came out, more people had left but the guy was waiting outside the door. "Come on, it will be fun", he said trying to force himself on me. Now I had no problem being a sub with a guy, but after getting roofied and messed up pretty bad by a guy in college, when I said no I meant it. I moved around him, and suddenly ran into Sam. "Hey what's wrong?" I told him and he said he'd have a chat with the guy. By this point there were just the gays left: Sam, his pushy friend, Nolan, myself, their friend John, and Will. John and Will were both about mid-thirties, bear types but cute and very friendly. They came over and we went outside to pass a joint. They got a little handsy but were very respectful, John going just far enough to kiss me on the cheek before making out with Will. "Come on, we want to show you something". We went back inside, by this point everyone had left, except I noticed a door was open. John took my hand and led me to it. It went to the basement, and I definitely wasn't prepared for what I saw. The music was loud and the light strung along the walls kept changing color. There was a bed with couple pillows and rubber sheets against one wall. In another corner was a huge sex swing. Hoods and toys lined a couple shelves, and some drawers where I could see poppers and some types of lube. On a metal chair Sam had stripped and with just a harness on was getting a blow job from his creepy friend. "That looks pretty good, you want some?" said Will. I nodded yes and he started kissing me as John undid my pants. He sucked me for a few minutes before moving off. Will ordered me to strip and put a spare red harness over me with a leather red jock. He stripped to reveal his own harness and jock. Instead of pulling out his meat, he turned around and forced my head into his hole. I spent a couple minutes lapping at it, when I felt a finger at my hole. I turned around and there was the creepy dude. He leaned in and started whispering all kinds of obscenities, like how I would pay for shutting him down earlier. At this point Jake had returned wearing a singlet with no ass, and could see I was starting to feel really uncomfortable. "Come on, we need a talk", he said pulling the guy up and going up the stairs with him. "Sorry, he always gets like this with new guys. He's actually pretty cool but comes off way too strong." He pulled me towards the mattress, making out as we went. He laid down on it and pulled me on top, forcing my mouth on his 8in cock and eating my ass. A couple minutes later I was feeling much more relaxed, when I heard a voice. "Get him in the sling, we want some fun". I looked up and felt my mouth watering. Sam had changed into boots with a leather jockstrap, harness, gloves, and hat. Nolan stood there in a red latex suite. Black boots went almost all the way up his calves, and he wore red and black gloves that went up his forearms. "I want to see this cunt I've been missing out on", Nolan growled. ............................................

I’ve gone off PrEP also but it’s because I scared of the long term damage it does to your body. I have been on PrEP since I turned 15 I’m 19 now.

I do like fucking younger guys, twinkies, young asians, blacks &c But what really matters is a dirty mind and a bottom who knows it's his job to keep me hard so I can keep fucking simple, really

I’m going off PrEP to give my body a break from it. Since every public place is closed down I won’t be playing much except for at home.

Part 2 I’d watched my son, Ben and his boyfriend Jeremy, all night and I’d stayed rock hard. Ben couldn’t get enough cock and it looked like his boyfriend didn’t satisfy him because there were so many videos of him with strangers of all ages. I particularly liked a regular muscle couple in their mid-thirties who, besides being ripped and pierced, had bio-hazard tattoos and big fat dicks. They were very adept at ravaging my young sons’ cunt and mouth in equal measure. Ben couldn’t get enough and enjoyed swallowing load after load from them, felchin it from one bf’s cunt or having it licked out of his so he could have it fed back to him. Piss chasers, fists and arms invaded him and all the time his cock remained hard, begging them to breed him. I knew what that meant, I’d said it myself many times, right up until I got knocked up. Finally, having blown yet another river of cum, I decided I had to help my son and his bf convert, if they hadn’t already. My mind was buzzing from the revelations about my son. My balls ached from ejaculating so much but my mind was made up, I intended to get my slut son and his boyfriend pozzed. Luckily for me, it wasn’t long before a window of opportunity presented itself. Just a week later, it was early evening and my apartment door bell buzzed. I opened the door to find Ben standing there with tear stained face. He took one look at me and burst into tears again and flung himself towards me. I grabbed him and hugged him, shutting the door. “What’s wrong?” I asked, genuinely concerned. “Jez and I had a big fight and I walked out” He managed to say between sobs. I took him through to the lounge and sat him down and fetched a bottle of Brandy. Pouring him and myself a glass, I sat down next to him while he relayed the whole story of his and Jeremy’s falling out. I smiled to myself because it was over something petty and yet all I could do was picture my boy ecstatically riding his boyfriend’s cock. Finally, after our fourth glass I told him he could stay here for as long as he needed while they sort things out. He hugged and thanked me with the effects of the Brandy already evident. At that moment the door bell buzzed again. “Fuck” I said, suddenly seeing the time. “What is it Dad?” Ben slurred. “It’s Thursday night, I have a regular weekly massage booked” I said. Ben grinned, “I could do with one of those” I looked at my boy then a dark thought occurred, the masseur I used was not only fit as fuck and hung, he was poz too. Thinking quickly, “I tell you what, you need it more than me so why not go shower and I’ll get him to do you”. The last part of that statement made me hard knowing that Ben would be getting nailed with toxic cum. Ben’s face lit up and he hugged me again then got up to go shower. I answered the door and there stood Mike, my black 28 year old masseuse stud. We hugged and kissed, and I let him past me. He always looked so hot in the sports kit he wore and I was so looking forward to a good hard massage and even harder fuck, but once inside I told him of Ben and the plan. Mike grinned, “Seriously, you want me to fuck your son raw?” he asked in his deep, gravely voice. “I do.” I grinned back. “breed him good, make him yours” I said placing my hand on Mike’s obviously swelling monster cock. I rubbed it through his sweatpants and felt it harden to my touch. I’d ridden Mike’s nine inches plenty of times and it never failed to make me howl with intense pleasure. Mike smiled and just as I withdrew my hand, my handsome and totally effeminate son walked in. Towel wrapped round his head and wearing a dressing gown. He still looked achingly fuckable. He took one look at Mike and his face lit up. Mike was 6ft 6” and towered over Ben. “Mike, this is my son Ben.” I said introducing him. Mike lifted his strong muscular arm and offered his hand to Ben, who took it and shook it. His hand looked dainty against Mike’s. “Mike, use the guest room. It’s all set up” I said. Mike knew what that meant and winked at me, although Ben had no idea. It was an ordinary bedroom with a good firm king size bed, but it also had the addition of hidden cameras covering the bed from multiple angles. I’d be sat in the lounge with the 65” flat screen and watch all the action as it unfolded. Mike led Ben off and I sat down infront of the TV and tuned to the home made porn channel! Ben and Mike entered the guest bedroom with the bed centered on screen. I had multiple angles I could switch between and watched Mike instruct Ben to get comfortable on the bed. I could hear everything clearly and watched as my beautiful boy disrobed and removed the towel around his head. He was already rock hard and Mike commented on his nice cock as Ben grinned and got on the bed, laying down on his front. Ben watched as Mike got undressed and audibly moaned loudly as he caught sight of Mike’s placid megacock. Mike has an awesome body and it wasn’t long before he was knelt besides my naked boy, oiling his bare flesh and using great pressure to arouse my son as he worked his young body. Mike’s arms and stomach muscles looked amazing as they flexed while he performed the massage. I had my cock out and in hand while I sipped brandy, watching as Mike got quite rough with him before finally fingering his cunt. Ben moaned loudly while Mike used one hand to play with his hole and the other to slowly wank his now rock hard monster. It didn’t take long for Ben to ask to be fucked, and slowly I watched Mike move to straddle Ben, aiming his rigid rod towards my boys hole. Ben cried out as Mike gripped him and began to invade his cunt, moaning more loudly as Mike pushed deep inside my boy. Finally, with his massive cock buried in Ben fully, and holding his massive frame over the boy with two huge arms, Mike began fucking. Slowly at first but rapidly speeding up, Ben began to cry out from both the pleasure and pain. I watched Mike fuck my son for nearly half an hour, throwing him around the bed like a rag doll. He’d grip him by the throat and throttle him while he fucked him missionary, then with Mike underneath he'd slap his face while he plowed his hole. Sometimes he’d pull out and force as much of his cock into Ben’s throat as he could take; and he could take a lot, then continued to face fuck him. He’d grip his hair and pull tight while slapping his face, ass and cock. He was physically abusing my boy and raping his cunt with such force, and yet all the time, my boy begged for more. Finally, as Mike grew close to climaxing while pounding Ben from behind, and facing one camera perfectly, Mike pushed him flat on the bed, gripped Ben round the throat with one of his massive arms and went into overdrive. My boys expression was shear pleasure, but I’ve been in that same position and know Mike’s cock was ripping my boys cunt like a bastard while all the time Mike was cutting off my oxygen supply. Mike was close, and as I watched their faces, he whispered something in Ben’s ear who then momentarily faltered, before Mike roared loudly as his cock exploded into Ben’s guts. They were both sweating like pigs and breathing heavily, but Ben was in ecstasy. Mike looked like he’d just finished a particularly heavy workout and after a few more minutes of making sure he’d pumped all his poison sploodge deep inside my boys cunt, he pulled out. I’d watched all the action unfold and as they climaxed, I came too. I gently stroked the last few spurts as I watched Mike present his cum covered cock to Ben and made him lick it clean. After Mike withdrew his cock, he slapped Ben hard in the face, who just lay there, exhausted and satisfied while Mike turned, picked up his clothes and left the room. I got up and licked my cum covered hand just as Mike entered the room. He grinned at me and began to dress. “He’s hot” Mike said as he zipped up his hooded top. “Reminds me of you” He continued grinning. I smiled and we kissed again. I led him to the front door and opened it. As he went to leave I remembered something. “What did you whisper to him?” I asked. Mike turned back, grinning at me, “I told him I’d scratched him to make him bleed because you’d asked me to poz him” I smiled back at him and he left.

There's no greater way to show your love for your family than pleasing them and offering your body to them

I have been looking other videos that he has don't but I can't find it... He is so hot he is here in a scene with David Grassia from the video "Cream of the Top" I would marry him, this is my PERFECT guy!

I’ve thought the very same thing ever since I saw this scene. I looked for other scenes with and could find none. The bottom looked to be high and possibly Gunner as well.

Thanks @Fistcumslut but you can always hit me up anytime. So how does this sound?

1:30 a.m. As they made their way to Crusher’s cabana, the garden was even busier than before. Chris was amazed by the cornucopia of men, their sizes, shapes, their varied form. He also saw that the entire grounds was dancing with yellow and green lightning bugs. They stood out against the dark forest, blinked and buzzed in the night air, appeared and disappeared like phantom particles of light. The men were in various stages of copulating. Pairs were making noisy use of the metal slings. A group of three men they passed—wait, these were the first guests to arrive, the bulky Latin, the distinguished Creole, and the large bear—were all pissing on a very happy host. Tobias was wallowing in a sand bed rubbing himself in their salty piss. It reminded Manetti that he needed to pee. Chris exchanged a smile with Tobias when Manetti smacked his leg. "Leg up on the chair." Chris did as he was told and Manetti, pushed his large flaccid cock up Chris' open hole. "Stay still," Manetti said. Chris felt a warmth flow into his body. His colon, having been expanded all day and night, was accepting quite a lot. Manetti really did have to pee like a race horse, and was inside Chris for a long time. Chris felt his chem piss working immediately, most likely because of the volume and its potent concentration. As he ended, Manetti squirted three final times and pulled out. "Keep it in," Manetti simply said and they continued their journey. Chris lost track of where they were going or why, only how pretty the dancing lights were and how happy Tobias looked gulping down three hot men’s urine. Manetti didn’t bother knocking on the cabana door but went right in, Chris following. Crusher had just done a line of coke and waved his hand over four remaining lines he’d laid out for them. Chris went first and while he wiped his nose told Crusher about all the fireflies in the garden. Crusher was pacing. He was in quite a state of agitation. He’d been doing blow for some time obviously. “Well, first of all, technically, they should be called ‘fire-beetles.” Crusher’s backlog of knowledge had hit a watershed moment. Though he held an M.S. and B.S. in Athletic Training with certifications from the National Strength and Conditioning Association and American College of Sports Medicine, he had a passionate hobby that occupied all his free time: bugs. His walls were framed with them. Mounted on pins, displayed all over his Soho loft. All their metallic colors, sizes that ranged from tiny to frighteningly big. The study of insects, entomology, was an undergraduate requirement, but that interest had stuck with him through the years. You’d think his home would be filled with Muscle & Fitness or Iron Man magazines, but you’d be wrong. Instead there were neat OCD stacks on the coffee table of American Entomologist and Entomologist’s Monthly. “Fireflies, lighting bugs—they’re interchangeable—are part of the Lampryridae family of insects in the beetle order Coleoptera,” he pronounced, pinching his nostrils, waiting for Manetti to do his line so they could get started. But he was on a roll and couldn’t stop if he wanted to: “The green and yellow light they produce—which lacks both infrared and ultraviolet frequencies, wavelength that range from 510 to 670 nanometers, that is, green and yellow—is in their butts, a chemical call luciferin. Yes, Manetti, from the Latin ‘Lucifer’ in case you’re wonder.” “I’m not,” said Manetti, squeezing his nostrils. Crusher went up to Chris and admired his dog collar. “How was Implant Andy?” Crusher asked them. Manetti asked how he knew the young man had implants. “Duh, man. Just look at the twink’s neck. Never lifted a weight in his life.” “Sweet piece of tail though,” Manetti volunteered. ‘Scooter, here, helped me tag him when Brunswick wasn’t looking.” Manetti patted Chris cheek. Chris was happy, had dropped his towel and started pulling unconsciously on his cock. “Anyway, when the luciferin combines with oxygen, calcium and adenosine, it produces their bioluminescence.” “Shut the fuck up, man,” complained Manetti. He’d heard Crusher go off on these coke jags before. “Wow,” Chris said. “I thought they just were just wiggling their butts, like I seen in cartoons.” He found the idea funny, wiggled his own butt in illustration, and giggled. Crusher paced to the bathroom and ran the faucet. He wet his fingers and sniffed some drops into his nose, snorting deep. “Wiggling their butts is exactly what they’re doing. They have two weeks in summer to attract a mate and lay eggs before they croak.” He brought from the bathroom two c-notes and gave them to Manetti. “This Towel Party is just another ritual like theirs, everyone wiggling their butts, only we only got one night. So, get over here, Scooter, and start wiggling your butt. One hundred to fuck him, two for a fist. What about if I want him to eat my shit?" It was hard for Crusher to stand in one place. He went to the window and opened the drapes, then decided against that, and closed them again. "No scat. No animals," Manetti stated, all business. "What about if I want to eat his shit?" "On the house." Crusher placed a rim chair next to the bed. "Okay, kid. Take a seat." Chris sat on the rim chair and stroked his dick, while Crusher squirmed under him and started twirling his tongue around the boy's hole. Manetti again raised his finger at the kid and he stopped playing with himself. "Ah, dude, you're a sloppy mess. That Brunswick's cum around your hole or Manetti's?" Chris’ eyes were spinning, feeling Crusher playing with his hole like he was, so Manetti answered for him it was Brunswick’s. Crusher tongued a variety of flavors, piss, lube, cum, digging his tip between Chris' ass lips. Chris' involuntarily relaxed his hole from the erotic twirling Crusher’s tongue was providing. A flush of Manetti's piss suddenly spurted into Crusher's open mouth. He gulped down as much as he could, the remaining simply flooded the bamboo floor. "Well, pig, I hope you enjoy fresh chem piss," Manetti said. “Free of charge.” "Okay, off," Crusher said, nudging Chris off the rim seat. "On the bed. Let's see how much of Uncle Crusher you can take." "Yes, Sir," Chris replied. Manetti had already positioned himself at the headboard and motioned Chris to lie between his legs. He had a row of poppers lined up next to him. Chris put his towel under his ass and laid back in Manetti's lap lifting up his legs. Manetti grabbed his ankles, exposed his hole, and kept his leg suspended. "Manetti, lemme see your arm." Manetti held one his out. Crusher compared the length of his arm to Manetti's. "How far up the kid's ass have you gone?" he asked. Manetti pointed to the crook of his arm, which corresponded to the start of Crusher's bulging bicep. "Let's see if I can take him to long head. Think I can stretch your pussy that far, boy?" Crusher asked, pointing a good two inches beyond his elbow. "Dunno. I hope so, Sir." He wiggled his butt excitedly. Manetti held out an open popper bottle and he took in several hits. "Oh, baby, look at this sloppy pussy," Crusher said, sending a greased hand into Chris hole up to his knuckles. "Somebody's been a busy little cunt. Look at your hole. So tight." He began trading hands without going in but pressing them harder each time. Chris pushed against his alternating hands, wanting one of them inside him. "Whoa! Look at the hungry cunt, sucked me right in. Good pussy. Gotta be a record." Chris looked up at Manetti, who tweaked his nipples. That made him hornier so he spread his legs wider for Crusher to pull out and push in another hand. So far Crusher was using open hands, not a fist. Chris was receptive, pushing a bit to get over Crushers big knuckles and accepting the girth of his wrists. Crusher was a twister and, once inside Chris' hole, like to give a half twirl stimulating the colon walls, preparing Chris to take some major forceful punches. Crusher's technique didn't hurt as much as cause an overload of stimulation every time he entered and spun his hand, every knuckle gliding roughly around Chris rectum. Manetti made him take another hit so Crusher could advance further into him. Poppers made his want abuse, which, as he got used to it, turned to desire, wanting Crusher to push in deeper no matter if it hurt. Crusher quickly got to a place where Chris’ colon was locking up, forcing him to turn to a slower continuous approach. Crusher himself let Manetti give him a hit of poppers and got into Chris' headspace, eyeing him closely for signals he could penetrate his hole more deeply. It was a silent affair, visible only by seeing tendons move on Crusher's forearms that connected to fingers, testing, twisting, prodding, retreating, advancing, finding an advantage and moving the whole hand at once, like an army conquering, disarming, taking over an inch more of new turf. An inch is mile in a body, a chamber that is conquered is slid into, a hand suddenly making itself at home. A conquered territory gives up any previous rights and accommodates the intruder: twenty-seven bones of the hand cram into a tight new space. The longer it remains the more at home it feels in the conquered chamber, both to the hand and chamber itself. The connection is as astonishing as a conquered people learning the habits of an invading army. A common language is born, a mutual cooperation. The desire for stretching, for working out cramps, for sensual explorations, what happens when I do this? An infinitesimally small movement shoots out tectonic disruptions within the body. Or nothing is disturbed, and the hand feels free to continue its journey. Crusher's hand played inside Chris like a maestro plays every instrument on stage. He'd obvious had a lot of practice, but because of the enormity of his musculature not many could take him in very far. That's why he was fascinated by how much of Chris he was able to take in such a short about of time. After the initial warm up of punching his ass then changing over to easy pistoning, Crusher laid on the bed at a right angle to Chris’ opened butt and proceeded to steadily climb inside him. Inch by inch he was soon up to his elbow, with Chris squirming and surrendering in delight. Even though Crusher wasn't yet as deep as Manetti had been, Crusher was stretching him out width-wise much farther than Manetti had. Crusher occasionally pulled out, and using his second hand, a finger, two fingers, three, eventually four, to supply an additional stretch that Chris not only enjoyed, but after a hit of poppers, participated in actively. With a determined, lasciviously expression on his face, he impaled himself on the proffered forearm and digits. Once stretched he could accommodate the incredible girth of Crusher's herculean forearm and concentrate solely on breathing into and loosening the next chamber, release any obstacle for the hand’s journey to continue. In this way, the pair, or if you considered Manetti as part of the package—tweaking Chris' nipple, holding his legs occasionally, urging him to lose himself with another hit of poppers, generally playing coach on the sidelines—this triumvirate collectively took Chris past Crushers elbow in just under an hour. As soon as Crusher passed his elbow through Chris hole, Crusher let out a whistle. "Thar she goes," he said. Chris who had been huffing and puffing through the last few centimeters, threw his head back in Manetti lap. A milestone achieved. Manetti rewarded the boy by releasing a long drool of spit that ran from his lips to the boy’s open mouth. “Who's a hole whore now?” Manetti asked. “I am, Sir,” Chris replied, with a face that alternated between anguish and joy. Manetti pinched his nips hard, a sort of congratulations. This had, however, a domino effect and made Chris squeeze his ass lips tightly around Crusher's arm. The upper arm, the humerus, before all the muscles and tendons are attached, is slightly thinner than the bones at the elbow. Manetti pinching, and in turn Chris squeezing Crusher’s arm, clamped down on this narrower area before the bicep begins, and the aforementioned long head of the bicep along with a lot more Crusher, two inches to be exact, went into Chris in a very short amount of time. An inch of Crusher's mass was a lot for Chris to take in two seconds, two inches was overwhelming, and everyone instantly felt an on-coming crisis in the making. Even coach Manetti on the sidelines looked worried. Everyone froze to see if this would be an anatomic emergency. In fact—huzzah!—the opposite was true. It opened up in Chris the new world of realizing he was far Past the Elbow! Actually, quite a bit more. With Manetti holding Chris head in suspended alarm, stroking his face in case he had to talk the boy out of panicking, Chris relished both the relief of being stretched less than a moment ago, combined with the depth of Crusher now stuffed deep and expanding further inside his colon. There was the added tender concern he saw in Manetti face. In gratitude that Manetti was watching out for him, he turned his head and started licking Manetti dark skinned cock. Happiness reined in Pleasure Island, as Chris imagined himself Pinocchio being led astray by a beautiful fox and a clever cat. Pleasure Island is where he wanted to stay with the two of them. The final seduction came when Crusher flexed his enormous bicep. Ripples of euphoria spread through Chris’ body. A new intimacy was uncovered between Crusher and Chris, hidden from Manetti. Crusher communicated through his bicep stretching Chris in the most intimate of ways. Chris communicated back by clamping down on Crusher's bicep. They both looked at each other in amazement. They exchanged communiques, a Morse code, if that's what you want to call it, telegraphed between them again and again. In communicating this way, a secondary manifestation occurred: the expansion and relaxation of Chris' hole additionally allowed Crusher to fist him deeper. Crusher saw what Chris was gearing up to do. He said one word to him: "Careful." Chris considered this only for a second before deciding to take the risk. He pushed himself away from Manetti, physically pushed against Manetti’s body, and bared down onto Crusher's entire arm. For his part, Crusher relaxed his bicep and triceps, as much as he could, and allowed Chris, who was beyond reasoning with at this point, to swallow his arm all the way to his pit. The final moment came when Chris felt the slight tickle sensation of Crusher’s bushy armpit hair brushing his hairless hole. The two of them laid there completely relaxed, somewhat exhausted, careful not to move. But Crusher was Crusher, and he ever so slightly made a muscle inside Chris. Chris gasped in astonishment. Manetti looked at him confused since there seemed to be no movement on the surface once he had taken in Crusher’s arm, but the tectonic plates inside Chris' body was enough to cause an earthquake. He tried to keep his body from shaking since he knew he was in an extremely vulnerable position. Crusher pumped his arm again. It was obscenely pleasurable, like his bowels were speaking, that the greatest shit of his life was about to occur. And, in truth, it was about to occur. With nowhere to go, Crusher started to evacuate from Chris’ body, and with it Chris’ entrails were dragged along Crusher’s arm with him. And as he had tortured Manetti earlier, Crusher continually crept back in an inch for every two given up. This lasted a long and confusing time. Chris lost track of where Crusher was in his body, couldn't tell if he was coming in or going out. Every time he realized less of Crusher's arm was in him he too had to fight against not fully impaling himself back onto Crusher's entire arm, all the way back up to the armpit. Another quarter hour flew by, then another, but Manetti wasn't looking at the time any more. You couldn't put a price tag on how far the boy had advanced or how hard it made him to see this muscleman buried in this skinny blond boy. When Crusher finally release Chris, Chris saw his arm was covered in butt slime. Bits of yellow, brown and pink spotted his arm. Chris laid there extinguish once Crusher released him, but Manetti immediately admonished him, saying, "Always thank your Top, boy." Chris slowly sat sideways on his legs unsteadily, propped up on his arm. Still he got close enough to Crusher to reach up and give him a deep and appreciative kiss. Crusher reciprocated holding his arm high in the air, covered as it was with the biological graffiti he'd pulled out of Chris’s body. Manetti grabbed the back of his neck, reprimanding him, "Not like that, fist pig." He pushed the kid’s face into the bodybuilder's raised arm. Chris made his way to his knees, placed his hand behind he back, and began licking Crusher's arm. Crusher twisted it one way then the other so Chris could find all the bit and pieces of himself traced along Crusher's indomitable arm. Satisfied, Crusher's sprinkled the remains of white powder on this dresser top and cut it into six lines. Each of them inhaled two, then Manetti and Chris went to find the final tricks of the night. *** 4 a.m. Abashed the devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely—saw, and pined His loss Ben Prior stood with six other men stroking his cock watching the tableaux on the black lacquered table. The other men along the bamboo wall recognized Big Ben, if by nothing else the multiple adornments of his cock, and were probably as aroused by his presence as by the dining room table’s tableaux. Tall, still handsome even with his shaved tattooed head, bushy chestnut beard, and his back’s terrain of welts that had become his signature. The welts from lashes he’d taken over the last few years were now permanent scars. A back as rough as a topographic map of the Alps. His scarification, brandings, and other body modification were a far cry from when he first blew onto the sex industry scene ten years ago: the cocky, brash, beautiful long-haired surfer boy, slim, sleek as a gazelle, gorgeous—the envied hunk next door. Over the years his taste in S&M grew to the exclusivity of whipping, giving and receiving, a niche of an already niche market. It was a shame the industry lost such a golden boy, unless your tastes were aligned. Riding crops, bullwhips, floggers, paddles, canes, cat o’ nine tails—he wielded them all with mastery, and knew with great familiarity both ends of the lash. In dungeons, palaces, monasteries, seedy motel rooms, basically anywhere in the world that partook in ceremonies where these instruments were employed, he was a well-known practitioner. Men paid dearly, and not just in coin, to abuse or be abused by him. How does it go? Some of them want to abuse you, some of them want to be abused by you. Indeed. Saudi princes, South American cartel chiefs, Fascists in exile, Monsignors banished to cloisters of low esteem—there were legions of men who were drawn to the persona Ben had burnished, first in Drax’s films but then by means of independent entrepreneurship. No mere Wall Street titan, Washington insider, or European monarch stood up to Big Ben and his whip. They bowed and scraped for his lash, or, when he felt a need to indulge a masochistic whim and the price was right, purchased his hide for a night, a week, a fortnight, or a month. A middle-aged club owner with slicked-back hair and mob ties presently employed him at his beach house in The Pines. A towel had been left at the club owner’s door the night before. Foregoing attending since he was a mass of bruises, scars from flogging, a broken lip, sporting two black eyes, and had been up for the past four days on meth, he’d given the towel, mask and address to Ben as a gratuity for the excellent work he performed over the last two weeks. Ben had also been up for the past ninety-six hours, but he’d endured far longer sessions and wasn’t the one needing to heal. The tableaux on the table wasn’t unique save the boy wearing a popper gas mask covering his head at the center of it all. He looked awfully young, maybe not even legal. Ben knew Tobias wouldn’t invite a minor, but hell, the kid looked like they could all get arrested for just being in the same room as the kid. Small, extremely skinny, hairless, the boy was being fucked by the wrestling world’s Santiago “The Skull” Gutierrez, a handsome man with rippling muscles, high cheekbones, almond eyes, smooth copper skin, a single tattoo draped across his chest that read I am what I am, and a big, black uncut dick that he was putting to good use. The kid was taking it like a pro, his legs spread wide for The Skull to pummel. The boy was simultaneously satisfying two others: the sculptor Baptiste Germain, whom Ben had partied with several times at the baths, a stately sixty-year-old Creole with long grey dreadlocks; and a big bear that had to weigh over two-fifty, maybe even three, who looked as if his could snap the kid’s arm like a twig. Both men were riding the boy’s forearm practically down to the table. Santiago’s gyrations were getting quicker. It was apparent he was about to nut. His pelvis thrusts became harder, pulling the boy’s hips to him faster. All at once he heaved forward, his neck arched back as he shot into the boy. He held the position for a pure moment of enjoyment, then performed a series of thrusts accompanied by embellished roars of might while he pounded his chest in an over-the-top theatrical ring-worthy performance. He unceremoniously pulled out of the kid, flung residual cum and butt juice at the boy with his dick, and walked out of the limelight. The sculptor and the bear climbed off as well and the kid flipped around on his knees, ass high, taking off his popper mask, awaiting the next comer. Ben felt the assembled men wordlessly acquiesced to him. For a moment he contemplated the small bubble butt, then noticed a mounted katana blade on a side table. He took it out of its sheath, feeling its cold, silver blade and smacked the kid’s ass with it hard. The kid didn’t move or make a sound, even though the blade left a bright red outline across his cheeks. Ben was impressed. Not many men he dealt with would have been able to keep quiet. He raised the blade higher and with a whoosh that cut through the air, the blade landed again on the kid’s ass with a tremendous crack that even Manetti heard far off in his cabana while dicking Andy. Still the kid remained still, his ass defiantly in the air. The red mark left from the previous lash was joined by a crimson bruise that made a red X on his butt. He order the kid to count to ten. The boy obeyed, and with each count he received an additional wallop on his ass. He made no protest, no extraneous whimper, simply took what was coming to him. After the ten lashes Ben sheathed the blade and set it on its mount, and approached the boy ass. He rubbed his hand appreciative over the velvety smooth cheeks, feeling the heat of the crimson bruises. He knew passing his hand over the fresh bruises stung, and yet the boy remained stoic. Only his little brother Chris could rival the silence of this kid during a beating like he had given him. He felt the boy’s asshole and pushed two fingers into it. The boy was extremely open and tempting. Ben pushed in three fingers, then quickly followed up with a fourth. The hole was drawing him in, there was no doubt. He pulled his hand out and made a fist between the kid’s cheeks. He pressed and with very little effort pushed his giant knuckled mitt inside. The kid grunted but otherwise accepted him without fanfare. He was curious about how much this boy could take. He pulled out and punched in with his other fist. He hadn’t applied lube but the kid was slick from a night of men fucking and fisting him, he didn’t need to. He crouched in a boxer’s pose, bracing himself before the sloppy gape, and pounded the hole relentlessly. The boy registered only occasional fucks and moans, farting out extraneous air along with copious fluids. Ben slowed down and exchange rapid punching with alternating deep arm fisting. The kid could not only take it, but purred deep groans of pleasure. He pulled up along his side, and wrapped an arm around the boy’s torso. With his other arm, he pistoned his forearm from shallow to deep, a depth nearly to his elbow. The kid continued burbling obscenities, begging Ben to wreck his hole. This was the youngest pig he’d ever met and it induced a long-dormant excitement. He was surprised to see he was growing his first “Big Ben” boner in over a year. This boy’s ass wasn’t going to waste. The men who hung back in the gloom started yanking faster as Ben turned the boy over and spread his legs. Chris looked up at the bearded bald guy who was about to fuck him. There was a spider web inked onto his skull, both arms were sleeves of dark ink that had fishes like in the coy pond, swimming in blue swirls of water from his wrists to his shoulders. And what shoulders! Crusher was the most muscular man he’d met but, maybe because of his height, this guy looked bigger. Lats rose from his back like insect wings, his neck had muscles that went from ears straight to shoulders, and the only thing more veiny than his mountainous arms were the veins that stood out on his cock. And what a cock. He was awestruck by he beast that was about to enter and destroyed his hole. Rings and rods sprouted in all directions. The man slammed inside of him without warning. A ripple of metal bars spaced evenly under the man’s shaft stuttered sensations he’d never before felt. Any one of them would have cause him to jump, but in rapid succession he became overwhelmed, stopped processing thought and became only aware of the sensations deep within his hole. The last thought he clung to before the onslaught of anal annihilation was where had he seen the shoulder and rib dragon tattoo before? (It was that bit of meat stuck in your tooth that your tongue keeps poking at.) Ben enjoyed watching the twink struggle with all the new feelings he was triggering in his hole. Like a xylophone, the six barbells of the Jacob’s Ladder along his shaft was playing the back of his colon and lower lip of his sphincter. The apadravya going from the top of his head to the bottom of his piss slit was driving the bottom and top of the kid’s hole wild, especially when the upward curve of his cock pushed the top metal bead against the kid’s prostate. He knew jabbing the kid forcefully scraped his prostate mercilessly. He could see the confusion and the titillation it was causing through the boy’s mask. (It was that scratch in the middle of your back that, over your shoulder or under your wing, you can’t get to.) The five dydoe piercing over the top ridge of Ben’s cock making up his king’s crown, raked across the top walls of the boy’s hole, so with each thrust by an already monstrously large cock mauling his hole, there was an extra eighth-inch of metal jewelry that added sensations from tingling to clawing in an already over-stimulated anus. Ben watched the boy’s struggling to make sense of what he was feeling, driving out thought leaving only fleeting gasps of consciousness. (It was that apprehension of greeting someone you know but whose name eludes you because the context is all wrong.) “Oh,” Chris said. Somewhere back inside his lizard brain, the dragon tattoo appeared in that photo with Manetti. On the refrigerator. Barely able to speak, over-wrought with carnal feelings off the charts, his motor functions quite in tatters, the realization was about to make him cum. He fumbled with his mask, fumbled with words, cumming as he spoke even without touching himself. “Ben,” he stated. Men along the bamboo wall shot over both of them. Time slowed down. Rain of semen, drop by drop, hit Chris and Ben. Ben looked down, and not having ejaculated in over a year, not having slept in ninety-six hours, was certain he was hallucinating. He was fucking his baby brother. The thought itself made him spew relentlessly without pause. He couldn’t stop fucking the hole he was in or break out of the feedback loop of how this couldn’t be his little brother, not here, not at a Fire Island orgy. But the squealing inside the feedback loop pieced together why the kid could take the beating he did, the same beatings he took regularly from Chris’ biological father, how thin and small he knew his brother to be, and in that feedback loop how good his hole felt. He couldn’t stop fucking while the screeching of the feedback continued, while the world made no sense. How had he gotten here? How could his hole have gotten so loose that he could punch and piston him so effortlessly? He pumped the remains of his orgasm as he removed his mask. Though Chris recognized immediately that it was Ben, at the same time, struggled with the thought that though he knew with complete certainty who he was, he couldn’t see an iota of his brother in the steroid, scarred body before him. Random pieces of Ben’s face started to come to him: the eyes, the brow, the lips, even the size of his cock. His cock. Slowly Ben pulled out of Chris, each millimeter causing a thrill mixed with madness. When Ben finally was out, the man who had real Lords and drug lords scrape before him, the man who princes and scum bags bowed before, the man who clerics begged, and middle-aged congressmen weep, fled himself in abject terror, hiding his face, stumbling for the garden gate, pining for a line he couldn’t uncross. Ever. Chris felt his hole ooze Ben’s ejaculate. With a finger he tasted it. Then tasted some more. *** Brunch Early morning fog had burned away, but left the island overcast and humid. The compound’s residence were stirring. Brunswick and Andy had caught an early seaplane back to La Guardia, to enjoy a day in the city, and then back to Los Angeles. Crusher was showering. Manetti was trying to rouse Chris with not much luck. There was a knock at the gate, and two men entered the garden with a large tan Great Dane. “Yoo-hoo,” the older of the two men said. He was in his late sixties, wearing an ill-fitting black toupee and a yellow ascot. He scanned around the compound looking for Tobias or Mitchel. “Are you decent?” “Never!” Tobias exclaimed, coming out of the main house to greet them in grey khakis and a red hibiscus Hawaiian shirt. “Boris, you old she-devil, you never age.” Boris, the man in the ascot, waved him away. The two men kissed each other on the cheek. “If you flatter him this early, his ego is never going to fit back on the boat,” said the other man, Roger, holding back the big dog. He was in his early sixties, had thin white hair grown long in back and a prominent receding hairline. Except for the flair of the yellow ascot, a jaunty accessory to celebrate the beginning of their week on the island—most likely, as a couple, their last—both men wore black. Matching black short-sleeved shirts with black cuffed Bermuda shorts. Afraid of the dog, Tobias air-kissed Roger. Mitchel came out in an untied blue terrycloth bathrobe over a lime green bathing suit, looking worn out from the night before. “Ladies, so nice to see you. Hello Wallace.” The dog wagged its tail. “Coffee’s ready. Indoors or out?” Roger brushed the air. “Indoors. Too many bugs out here,” he said leading the way with Wallace ahead of him. Tobias and Mitchel exchanged glances, then forced smiles. While the four men settled in the living room drinking their coffee, Manetti came out naked and threw himself in the pool. The events of the party were cobwebs in his brain. He’d been hard all night on Chris, but in spite of the discipline he imposed and some of the torments he put the kid through, he thought the kid had enjoyed all the attention he’d received. He also thought, if the kid every got up, he’d have a changed boy on his hands. He certainly was worshipped and adored by the men, reported Santiago Gutierrez, especially by the exalted embrace Ben showered on him, whose sudden appearance, rhapsodic climax, and then abrupt departure capped the evening for everyone. When Santiago delivered Chris finally back to Manetti around daybreak, Chris was incoherent and literally speaking in tongues. The four men drinking coffee and chit-chatting in the living room observed Manetti pushing himself off the pools gray slates, and strutting over, with his hefty meat swaying, to a stack of towels. “Surely, you’re familiar with Master Drax Productions?” Tobias asked his guests. They nodded with surely smiles. “Then you must know our adult entertainer friend, Mike Manetti?” he ventured to his guests, as Manetti, mostly dry, slid open the screen door and entered shaking his wet mane. Wallace the dog barked. Manetti eyed him with suspicion. Tobias couldn’t be more pleased to intimate his friendship with such a studly presence in his home. “Oh, don’t worry,” Roger said, admiring the broad mat of curly black hair. “He’s tougher than he looks.” “Just like Manetti,” quipped Mitchel. The men laughed as Manetti raise one of his dark eyebrows. “There’s coffee?” he asked, reminding himself to smile at the house guests. “Help yourself, in the kitchen,” Tobias said. He began filling the morticians in on what Manetti had told him Mister Drax was proposing regarding a boat purchase. He embellished the pirate and sailor story, adding some lurid details from his imagination. Mitchel nudged him halfway through a very detailed gangbang scene, to get back to the proposal. Just then they heard a splash in the pool, and saw Chris blond head bobbing up and down in the water. Boris was in an outright trance gazing after the boy. Roger looked at him nervously. Mitchel got up nonchalantly, excused himself, saying all the coffee mugs he’d forgotten to tell Mike were still in the dishwasher. He entered the kitchen with Manetti looking in several cabinets. Mitchel opened the steaming dishwasher and took out a mug and handed it to Manetti. While Manetti was pouring, he said, “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Manetti looked at him blankly. “This story of Chris’ last night. Some crooks. A dirty cop. This was a story on the local news yesterday. Some family was killed in Queens along with two escaped convicts. Is this part of that?” “No,” Manetti insisted. “The kid was high and trying to impress Brunswick with a far-fetched story.” “Tobias would believe that,” Mitchel said, handing Manetti a carton of milk out of the refrigerator. Manetti pour some in his coffee and gave it back. “Tobias would, I don’t. You don’t teach law for twenty years and don’t immediately see links in stories, far-fetched or otherwise. And I know you. I’ve known your family since you were a little kid. I was the first man you came out to. Don’t you know how much I’ve hated seeing you associate with someone like Drax? And this story the boys jabbers on about, I’m afraid for you, Michael.” “Don’t be. Everything’s on the up and up. Drax sent me out with cash, being he’s more comfortable without a paper trail, the IRS and everything.” “See, sweetie, this is where the hair on my arm stands up.” Theirs was a very complicated history. Tobias, to Manetti, was a client, a client he liked, but Mitchel was someone that went way back, someone he respected and trusted. Someone, time and again, whose advice he refused to heed, and whose eyes he always found it hard to meet. But that morning in the kitchen, he forced himself to, putting on his most captivating smile. “Don’t worry, Uncle Mitch. I got this all worked out. Believe me.” He put a hand on Mitchel’s shoulder and pulled him in. Hugged him and kissed his cheek. Manetti returned with his coffee and took up residence in an Eames lounge chair next to a display case of Japanese objects d’art, his towel wrapped around his washboard waist. Roger gave him a hungry look, which Manetti returned with a crocodile smile. Mitchel followed back from the kitchen and sat next to Tobias on their black leather couch. “So,” Mitchel said brightly. “Master Drax Productions is looking for a property for a sea-faring adventure and we thought of you.” “Sweetie, we’re passed that,” Tobias scolded. “We’re talking price now. Two hundred thousand, our guests have offered.” Manetti sipped his coffee, then while watching Roger, ran his tongue over his full bottom lip. “I can give you one fifty today, cash, if you give me title and bill of sale and the keys.” Boris scoffed. “Cash? You carry that much with you?” Just then Chris opened the screen door with his towel wrapped around him. The water had woken him up, but he still seemed dazed and looked at the two men dressed in black in a fog but also with a bit of suspicion. “The production company prefers cash transactions. I won’t go into detail but records, paper trails, sometimes get in the way.” Chris came and sat on the ottoman in front of Manetti. “Boy, where do you belong and why are you hiding in that towel?” Chris rose from his seat, folded his towel and sat on it cross-legged naked. Boris’ eyes almost fell out of his head. He had to shift so that his stirring cock wouldn’t tent in his shorts. “It sound shady, this no paper trail,” he said uncomfortably. “Well,” Manetti said. “Take Chris driver’s license. Sure it says he’s eighteen. It would have to if he were to be in an adult film, wouldn’t it?” Chris turned around and looked at Manetti confused. Manetti raised his brows, and Chris turned back around taking his cue. Boris and Roger examine the skinny, hairless boy. They could only imagine how old he really was. “One eighty,” offered Boris, staring as the boy as Chris touched himself for his benefit. “Sixty,” Manetti countered, leaning forward as his towel parted, displaying his round hairy balls cushioning his famously monstrous thick cock. “And we’ll throw in a free fuck for both of you—both me and the kid. Deal?” “Deal!” cried Boris and Roger simultaneously. The screen door opened and Master Drax entered, followed by his servant Jamal who clasped a large case. “Deal?” he asked scanning the faces in the room. He smiled at the boy who, while he played with himself, sat on the floor with a full erection. “Hello, Christian. What a pleasure to see you.” He inspected Manetti’s stoic face. “What sort of deal would that be?” He then shut the heavy sliding glass door, and locked it. “Hello, doggy.”

4. 249 Station Street, Flushing, Queens Every breath you take Every move you make Every bond you break, every step you take I’ll be watching you After the massive amount of chem piss Manetti shot into him, there wasn't much more of the night he remembered. He didn't think there was any more filming. Although he was excited thinking he was a star in his first porn video, the actual act of getting fisted and spunked by Manetti was the thing he relished as he woke up. Somehow he'd gotten back to Manetti's apartment. He awoke naked but collarless, a little spaced out about the rest of the evening's events. He rested for a long time on Manetti's futon. A sheet was covering him, but it looked like he had kicked off a blanket. It was already hot in the apartment and it seemed only to be early morning. The VCR clock said seven-oh-three. He felt his butt and found it very wet and greasy. His head felt like shit and he was pretty disoriented, but got up and went to the bathroom. Sitting there, he tried to gather his thoughts. He's pretty sure he got put on a fuckbench and had been ridden by Master Drax and Jamal. His memory was fuzzy. Manetti had opened him up sufficiently for Master Drax to ram his mammoth cock into him, but funny enough he couldn't really remember it. He remembered that Jamal went at him for a long time. He was rough at first but he'd put up little resistance and they soon fell into a hypnotic rhythm that lasted for hours, literally, till the first light of day came into the air shaft. He seemed to remember Jamal pissed in him too. They were like dogs marking their territory, he thought. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, but after that things got sketchy. He thought his memory of Master Drax would come back to him, but right now, sitting on the toilet, he couldn't recall anything after Jamal’s pissing. It hurt, that's as much as he could remember of Master Drax. That, and he distinctly remembered Manetti wasn't there. He released a huge volume of piss from his ass, then followed that up with a slew of shit, grease and blood. When he wiped he was alarmed by the multi-colored streaks: red, brown, yellow, pink. But he knew what he'd been in for, so why actually be surprised? His hole felt it was at least twice the size it had been. Actually it felt amazing. He squeeze a couple of times and realized he couldn't completely squeeze it shut. Overall, the lingering thoughts he had from last night was that it was an adventure he was glad he had, especially what he and Manetti shared, but goddamn did he feel like crap now. He staggered out of the bedroom, saw the back of Manetti's head in the kitchen tub, and crawled back in bed. "Hey, Mike," he managed to eke out, talking into his pillow. "Are you coming to bed?" But he was back asleep before he heard any answer. *** The front door erupted with a tremendous pounding. Chris opened one eye and determined, by airshaft light, it was late afternoon. He looked at the VCR: four-ten. The banging began again. "Mike?" he said. "You there?" The third thumping this time was the loudest, longest, and most determined. He pushed himself up and trotted to the front door. He cracked it opened as far as the chain lock would allow to discover two police officers standing there. "Your neighbor called in a complaint about water leaking from your apartment," the older of the two officer said. He was a big, red-headed guy with a flushed face and greying temples. The other officer in back of him had buzz cut and cold green eyes. “He thought the water looked bloody," the officer added. He peered over Chris head and looked alarmed. “What the hell is that?" He pointed his night stick at something behind Chris’ head. Chris turned around and was dumbstruck. Manetti was naked in the bathtub, wrist slashed, lying in a pool of bloody water. "You need to let us in, young man. Unlatch the door," the officer instructed. The buzz cut officer got on his walkie-talkie and called the incident in. They waited as Chris slipped off the security chain. When he opened the door the younger officer said wryly, "You might want to put on some clothes." It took Chris only a second to realize he was standing in front of them naked. His wasn't thinking, obviously. How could he think? He was just now only fully waking up to the horror of the scene. He looked at Manetti, colorless, his eyelids closed. He focused past him and he saw his clothes hanging on the window grate, now dry. He walked woozily over to the window through a puddle of blood-drenched water. No underwear on the grate, he couldn't remember where that was, so he just slipped on his jeans and his t-shirt. He turned around. The two officers had come into the kitchen and the younger one, the buzz cut guy, put two fingers to Manetti’s neck. He shook his head at the other officer. The red-headed officer introduced himself as Officer Bailey. Chris heard words but they were muffled. Mostly he heard he heard his own blood pulsing through his head. He tried to anchor himself by looking intently at what was in front of him. A police officer in his late forties who looked like a little league coach or Scout Master. Open face, a little flabby maybe, but still solid for his age. There was a bit of tomato sauce on his chin. He wondered what the tomato sauce was from. Officer Bailey nodded at the other officer, said his name was Officer Polanski, then he quizzed him, "Mind telling us your name, son, and who this is and what happened?" His question was nothing more than dampened words under a blanket. Officer Bailey saw the blank look on Chris’ face so he slowly repeated the question: "Your name, son, his name, what happened?" It took Chris a second to shake the cobwebs out of his head before he could pull any kind of answer together. "I don't know. My name’s Chris Prior.” He looked back horrified at Manetti. “I just came in from Los Angeles. Last night. This is Mike, Mike Manetti." He stopped in his tracks after saying Manetti's name. He couldn't continue. Didn’t allow himself to think beyond the officer’s question. "You saying you just now seeing this?" Polanski, the second officer, asked skeptically standing by Manetti’s body. Chris put his hands on his forehead trying to process the scene, then said, a half-step behind each word he spoke, "Yeah, I woke up when you knocked.” It was almost as if he was testing the ground with each word to see if they still held up to reality: "I just flew in from LAX last night. I came here to find my brother. This is his boyfriend, roommate. Was his…" He trailed off. Bailey went in the other room to search the apartment putting on latex gloves. Chris heard him responding to his walkie-talkie. Officer Polanski looked around the room. "You here alone 'cept for him?" Chris nodded. "He leave a note?" "I don't know. You know as much as I know. Is there?" They both scanned the room from where they stood. Chris' eyes kept coming back to Manetti. He had no idea what to do, had no clue why this was happening. The wall phone suddenly began ringing loudly making him jump. Chris looked at it as if it was an alien object. He picked it up. “Hello?” he said in a daze. Master Drax spoke to him in a quiet voice, "Are the police with you?" "Yes," Chris said, staring at the ground. "Do whatever they say. Cooperate with them fully. Now say, 'I haven't seen him today.'" Chris repeated, "I haven't seen him today." He gave a sideways glance out the window and saw an outline of a dark figure on the other side of the air shaft. "Don't say anything to anyone. Just keep saying you don’t know anything.” Chris got out tentatively, “O-kay.” “I'll be in touch again." There was a click, then a loud dial tone. Polanski said, "Who was that?" "I think his boss. Wanted to know why he wasn't in." "Why'd you say you hadn't seen him?" Polanski pressed. There was something dark yet familiar about this officer. Chris didn't have many run-ins with cops in Long Beach but Ben had. The area of Long Beach he grew up in was called Dogpatch. It was close to the refineries and the sprawling Los Angeles harbor. It was also an area where convicts were released. The Burger King close to his house was off limits to him growing up. It was a place crawling with ex-cons and their wives and girlfriends, to cops and fights and arrests. Polanski reminded him of the kind of cop that used to harass Ben. Ben had been busted for being underage at a local gay bar when he was sixteen. He was on the cops' radar ever since. Bailey came back in to the kitchen holding Manetti's box of drugs. He had it open, displaying the contents to Chris. He asked if Chris knew anything about it. He said he didn't. He'd just met the guy last night. He just let him crash here but that was all. Polanski scrutinized him. "What are you, kid, fourteen, fifteen…thirteen?" Bailey gave him a back-off look. "What?" he whined to Bailey, "The kid don't have hair down there. So what am I supposed to think? Maybe we need to take him in for a statement then hand him over to Protective Services?" "I'm eighteen," Chris said, trying not to sound indignant, though he was a little embarrassed they saw he was hairless when they caught him naked. "Eighteen, huh," Officer Bailey said, with a raised eyebrow. "And three month, Sir," Chris added, riffling through his wallet to find his driver’s license. He knew officers like the 'Sir' thing, at least that’s what his brother had told him. When Ben was still at home, his brother was always telling him stuff like that. Like always look for an exit, or always have a plan B, which meant nothing to an eight-year-old. Or like always have two answer for any question you’re asked, if you shoot a gun keep firing till it’s empty, don’t ever mix G with alcohol, stay in your room when mom and Carl are high—useless or obvious stuff like that. Hell, for ten years he didn’t even know what G was until last night. "Here's my driver's license. And I don't know anything about this guy’s drugs habits. Maybe he was a dealer. I don’t know." He was emphatic. "I came in late and we went to sleep, and...." "And that’s why," Polanski interjected, "you're just getting up now, at four o’clock. That don't make no sense." "Jet lag," said Chris defensively. Then quickly added, “I guess it’s jet lag. Sir.” "So you come here looking for your brother and you meet this guy..." "We wrote a couple of letters and he said I could stay with them, with him. He told me he was his roommate, boyfriend, whatever." "And he let you stay the night." Polanski had that real prosecutor's attitude he'd seen Ben subjected to in court. "And the next day you wake up, late in the afternoon, answer the door naked as the day you was born, and this guy’s lying in the bathtub with slashed wrist, and you don't know nothin' about nothin'? Come on. You gotta do better than that." Chris looked crestfallen. Things were happening too fast. Last night was a crazy sex party, some of which he couldn’t even remember, and right on the heels of that craziness, this. Officer Bailey saw Chris' consternation. He sympathetically asked how long his brother had been missing. Chris didn't know exactly. Mike, he thought, said something like two weeks. Polanski chimed in, wanted to know if a missing person’s report was filed. Chris didn't know that either. Maybe he should have, he didn't know why he hadn't. He was in California. He looked down dejected, determined not to cry. Officer Bailey watched him carefully. There was something street wise but also pitiful about the kid. "So this guy's boss calls just now," Polanski continued prosecuting his case, "and you tell him you didn't see him today, even though he's sitting in a bathtub dripping blood two feet away. You covering up for something, aren’t ya kid?" "Nick, enough with the third degree. Can't you see the kid's about to lose it? Son,” Officer Bailey squatted down and squeezed Chris’ thin shoulders. “How much money you bring with you?" Chris took out his wallet again, counted out three singles. "When was the last time you ate something. I couldn't help seeing you're skinny as a rail." "Last night Mike made me some soup. Before that I had a cheese sandwich and crackers on the plane. I don't have a plan B. I know that's stupid. I'm a big, stupid moron, but honest, officer, I don't know about any of this.” Chris pointed at Manetti. “It's the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen. And I really didn’t even know the guy." Chris felt a crippling heartbreak hiding his true feelings about Manetti, how he so callously pushed aside how he really felt about him so quickly. Like he was talking trash like this, with him in the bathtub, right there. He prayed Manetti couldn’t hear him. What a fake and a jerk he was, how right his dad was about how worthless he was. Tears welled up and ran down his face, but he refused to acknowledge them and simply let them roll off his cheeks. He wanted Ben. He needed him now more than ever. He also wanted to go and throw his arms around Mike, wake him up, shake him, hit him, but instead he felt frozen in place, a sniveling little coward. "Listen," Officer Bailey said, sitting Chris at the kitchen table. Chris stared at the back of Manetti's head. "No, look at me, son." He turned the chair away from the tub. "You're not in trouble, but you are a witness. And there’s at least this stash of drugs in this apartment. Detectives will be here soon and take over the case. They'll do a full sweep, turn everything upside down. The coroner’s also coming and will take out the body. So you can't stay here, see? Do you have anywhere you can go? A relative? Maybe one of your brother's other friends?" Chris looked out the air shaft debating whether to talk about Master Drax. He noticed Polanski wasn't in the room. He decided that bringing up Master Drax or the place across the air shaft would be a bad avenue to go down with someone like Polanski. "Hey, Don, come take a look," Polanski called from the other room. Chris heard his own voice on tape rambling energetically, "And I want to get fucked in the gas station toilet. I want that fat turd, Duke, the owner, to fuck me from behind while I'm licking the urinal. You think I stink, man? You should smell that toilet some time. It's righteous foul." Chris came into the bedroom to see Polanski looking through the camera's viewfinder. Polanski rewound the tape a bit and hit play, and Manetti's and Chris' raunchy sex played out of the tinny speaker, no visuals needed. Polanski shut it off. "Doesn't look like you went to sleep right after you got here, pal," Polanski said. "Care to revise your story?" *** Chris totally bailed on Manetti. Said he tricked him to take drugs he didn't want. It wasn't entirely untrue, and he pressed how he was tied up and not at all into it until the drugs kicked in, and then he kind of went crazy. Bailey and Polanski could see that if they looked at the whole tape, which would be really humiliating, but at least it would show he wasn't a willing participant. Polanski wasn't buying it, but with Bailey, there at least was a strand of sympathy. "That why you don't have any hair? He did that to you in the sling when you were tied up?" Chris nodded. "Shitty pervert. So Nick," he said to Polanski, "look what the kid went through. He's out here by himself, don't know where the hell his brother is, run's into this dealer who tricks him, gets him high, ties him up, does God knows what else to him besides shaving him, and wakes up to find the guy who tied him up dead. The perv probably knocks himself off in some last act of conscience for what he done, and you're ready to lock the kid up for trusting this low-life scum. Anyway, look, it’ll be the detectives’ problem in a couple of in a half hour. All’s I'm saying is the kid's been through enough without us piling on him." Polanski frowned. "Yeah,” he looked the kid up and down, “well, maybe there's something to his story." He seemed a little ashamed. "But where does that leave the kid?" Bailey thought for a long moment before he said, "Well, I'm helping you out while you and Molly work things out.” Polanski looked embarrassed. “You're camping out in Tony’s room while my spoiled kid’s off in Europe. He could stay with us for at least a day or two since Kitty and Eddie are at the shore with her ma. He can have Eddie's room. Boy,” he said to Chris, who looked back at him with a spark of hope, “hate to say it, but you look like could use a bath and a couple of hot meals. I don't see how that puts us out any, Nick." Chris looked at the two men expecting Polanski to reject the idea flat out. He looked the type who’d be a real douche bag. "What about the tape?” Polanski asked. “It's pretty incriminating.” "What tape? I didn't see no tape," Bailey said innocently. He looked at Chris, who finally cracked a smile, "Did you see any tape, son?" Polanski pursed his lips, then gave in, shrugging his shoulders. He definitely let Bailey do the thinking. That suited Chris just fine. Bailey seemed like the first nice guy he met in New York since he got here. "We're square then. So, Chris," Officer Bailey said bringing out his wallet, "Here's ten bucks. Go to get some pizza down on Saint Marks or whatever.” He added conspiratorially, “But I'm telling you, Saint Mark’s pizza is the best pizza in New York. Then you catch the seven train out to Flushing. Here's my address." Bailey wrote out the address on his notepad and handed it to Chris. "I’m right across from where the train lets you off. Me and Nick, that is, Officer Polanski, we get off duty in an hour. We should be wrapped up here and back at my house by seven. Think you can get to us around then?" Chris nodded, he definitely could. He thanked Bailey, gratefully pumped his fleshy hand. He even shook Polanski's hand. He found his shoes and began putting them on. He still felt like a fuckhead betraying Manetti, but what was he supposed to do? He certainly didn't have a plan once Manetti offed himself. As he was tying his shoelaces, he wondered why Manetti did it, wondered if something happened after he blacked out. The drugs really fucked him good. As he picked up his gym bag, he flashed on the fact that even the small amount Manetti first slammed him with, he couldn't recollect when Manetti putting a dog collar on him. That was fucked up shit. He swore that was last time he’d ever slam. He saw keys on a hook next to the door, pocketed them, and then left the officers to do whatever they do in these types of incidences. He look back one last time at Manetti who, lying there in the tub, looked almost peaceful. *** Saint Mark's pizza was probably the best pizza he'd ever eaten. He ate two slices and drank a soda, then ordered a third slice. He downed it all while sitting on a stool looking out the window at all the people go by. In one corner of the pizzeria, a TV blared a local news station running a clip of President Reagan giving a speech at the U.N., followed by a traffic report about all the gridlock the president was causing, then ran a local news item about a manhunt in progress upstate. It was just noise that he easily ignored, and instead watched the spectacle out the window. What a bunch of freaks! Punk rockers were all over the place with their spikey Mohawks and safety pins in their noses. Tourist would come up and take pictures of them, then they’d chase the tourist and demand money. Most of the time the tourist paid except one guy in a cowboy hat refused and a fight broke out. A cop came over and broke things up. On the subway, the New York circus continued. An old man in an ascot held onto a subway strap in one hand and clutched a blind Chihuahua in the other; several ladies were touching up their heavy makeup in compacts; grannies in scarves with full shopping carts jabbered away in a foreign language; a group of drunk sailors in white sailor suits piled in and got off when he did at Forty Second Street. He transferred to the train to Flushing. There was graffiti all over everything, the connecting tunnels, the trains, even every single support beam had initials or a little drawing on it. The sailors reminded him of the graffiti in the abandoned building, then he thought of Manetti and started feeling low. After two stops on the Flushing train, a group of homeboys boarded the subway car with their boombox playing earsplitting rap music and started break dancing. They were really good. Spinning on their heads, using the poles in the middle of the cars to swing around, doing complete flips in the moving car. Before they got off they passed around a cap and he put a dollar in it. The boy who passed around the cap said thanks, bro, and held out his hand for a high-five. He high-fived him and that made him feel good. A couple of stations later four older black men got on and started harmonizing a familiar Motown song. Their harmonies and phrasing were perfect. The man he gave a dollar to blessed him and put his hand on his shoulder. Boy, New Yorkers, at least the brothers he saw, were really talented and super nice. As the train went on, fewer people got on. He followed the stops on the sign over the windows, counting down to the last stop. There was only maybe a dozen people when the train finally pulled in. One older Spanish lady was talking to herself vacantly looking out the window. She didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Chris guessed she was probably homeless, clutching her paper bag of valuable. He slipped two of his last dollars into her hand. She stopped talking for a second, looked up at him and said, Dios te bendiga, then went back to talking to herself. Or maybe she was praying. The platform clock pointed to a little after nine. He knew he dawdled coming here, and the train ride was much longer than he expected, but he was still surprised how late it was. The quiet street was dark, but finding the house was easy, especially because there was a hand-carved sign on the corner of the garage that said “The Bailey’s.” The big two-story house with little basement windows he guessed was a typical house for the neighbor, but he wasn't used to staying in anything so nice. To Chris it seemed like he was walking up to a mansion. He rang the bell and Officer Bailey answered. It was strange to see him in yellow boxer shorts and no shirt, but of course it was a warm night and he wouldn't always be walking around in his uniform. “Really nice house, Officer Bailey,” said Chris, as the older man ushered him in. Chris tried to keep his eyes up, but there was definitely a big packages swinging in those boxers. Bailey was a big bear of a man, not really muscly, but very solid. He had a large pillowy chest covered in reddish-brown fur, a tattoo of a lion on his shoulder, a cobweb sketched on his elbow, and a barbwire band around his left bicep. Chris tried to steer his mind away from how sexy his thought this daddy-type cop was. They entered the living room where a Yankees-Red Sox game was playing on a huge TV. He thanked the officer again for letting him stay, but Bailey interrupted him saying to call him Don, and pointed at Polanski sprawled on the sectional sofa in his boxer shorts too, saying “and that cocksucker is Nick.” "Yo," Polanski said curtly, and went back to watching the game. Polanski shirtless was a real piece of work. Both of his arms were covered in full sleeves, and there was very little that wasn’t inked on his chest and legs. His neck too was covered. What bothered Chris was that almost all of the ink, beside a few motorcycle-riding skeletons and smoking devils, was about white power and swastikas. He had to acknowledge, though, Polanski’s body was hot. He was built like a boxer, not huge, not particularly tall, but also not an ounce of body fat on him. His head was dark from short-cropped black hair. He lounged with one arm cradled behind his head showing off a sprawling pit of black hair. He smoked a cigar and scratched his shorts a lot revealing, Chris thought purposefully though he never looked at Chris, his big pecker. Several empty beer cans litter the coffee table. Both the men look well on their way to getting pretty sloshed. Don and Chris stood behind the sectional and followed the game for a couple of minutes. A warm night breeze came in from sliding glass door and the vertical blinds slapped together noisily under the din of the game. Don asked him if he wanted a beer, and Chris cheerfully accepted. Don said there was Popeye’s Chicken on the counter and plenty of beer in the fridge, that he should just help himself, that they were very informal here which was pretty obvious as he pointed to himself and Nick. Chris put down his bag and strolled into the kitchen. He’d never seen a kitchen as nice as this. Expensive looking pink marble was everywhere, rich redwood cabinets lined all the walls, and recessed lighting lit the room dramatically like it was a movie set. There were fluorescent lights but they weren’t turned on, just the spot lights over the marble counter and little lights under the cabinets. Big copper refrigerator and stove matched each other, as did the copper dishwasher. Even the sink was copper. It didn’t seem to fit Don, but maybe his wife was in charge of decorating. He piled his plate with chicken and a big heap of warm fries. He came back with his plate and beer, happily sitting crossed-legged at the coffee table, watching the game with the two men. Through a couple of innings, his opinion of Polanski didn’t improved, because as the game went on Polanski kept swearing racial names at the black players. Chris was too familiar with these kinds of asshole that grew up around him and did his best to only pay attention to the game, the food, and how nice Don was. At the end of the fifth, Don picked up Chris' finished plate. When he bent down he noticed Chris’ stink, and suggested he should probably wash up before bed. Bailey said his room—Eddie's room—was in the middle of the hall. Nick was in Tony's room at the far end, and the master bedroom was at the top of the stairs. The guest bathroom was right across from his room. Chris chugged that last of his beer, got up and thanked Don again for letting him stay, and also for the ten bucks. He said he had a couple bucks left but Bailey waved him off. He thanked him also for the beer and also for the chicken. Don interrupted, said enough with the thanks. Thanks enough, he kidded him, would be not to have a stinky bum in the house. Chris was a little embarrassed, but scurried excitedly upstairs with his gym bag to find Eddie’s room. His jaw literally dropped open when he entered the room. He looked around, thinking, what a life Eddie must lead! Soccer, swim, and baseball trophies were everywhere; posters of race cars and football players lined the wall; and a big Madonna poster was taped to his closet. The kid even had his own cassette stereo system with huge speakers and tons of neatly filed tapes. He didn't think cops made so much money. Eddie was so lucky! This rich kid even had his own color TV, a VCR, and Atari console, with Super Pac Man and Donkey Kong boxes stacked on the TV. He hoped he'd have some time to play them. On Eddie’s dresser, a framed Little League picture showed him holding a bat over his shoulder. He looked a little shorter than Chris and a whole lot younger, twelve maybe. He had blond hair like he did, and striking blue eyes, but what stood out the most to Chris was that he had a smile so confident and winning it literally beamed out of the frame. There were other pictures of him along the walls: him on the pitcher’s mound, mid-kick in the air making a soccer goal, him and his older brother with their ski masks up at a ski lodge, him and his family at the castle at Disney world. This guy had it all. The only thing that was weird was that the man in the Disney photo sort of looked like Don, but not really, but the photo was taken from far away so the family was really small. Mainly the picture was of the castle. Chris set his faded green gym bag on the dresser next to the photo. Looking around the spotless room, with its royal blue shag carpeting, and purple high gloss walls, and white wooden shudders, he felt his gym bag was probably the dirtiest, dingiest thing in here, well, except for maybe himself. Chris crossed the hall, dropped his jeans and t-shirt on the bathroom floor. The shower was all glass and polished metal. He got the temperature to where it was nice and hot, then relished the multiple jets washing over him. It was probably the best shower he was ever in. Jets sprayed him not only from the top, but also at his sides. He was sure he stank and was grateful Don made a joke out of it. He took up the soap and really scrubbed himself down. There was some shampoo in the stall and he used that too. When he rinsed his hair he saw the soapy water turn yellow, and that made him think of Manetti. He put his back to the jets and just hung there for a while as the water flowed over him. There was a knock on the door. He called out, “Yes?” He climbed out the shower feeling not only had he washed his last month of California off his skin, but also the last twenty-four hours as well. Don rapped again and came in. He looked Chris over while Chris grabbed a bath towel off a hook. Don closed the door behind him, and said he was going to start a load of wash before the game ended. The crystal glass he held showed he had switched over to drinking whiskey, and as the man swayed, Chris smirked to himself thinking the cop would never be able to pass a sobriety test. Chris ran the towel over his legs, feeling a little self-conscious being stared at naked, but the man already had seen him that way, and besides he was a dad and policeman, so he just continued wiping himself off with his towel. The cop said he couldn't help notice Chris' clothes could use a wash, hoped he didn't mind, but he'd already thrown the clothes from his gym bag in the washer and thought he'd just pick up these and toss them in too. "What'll I wear," Chris protested as he towel dried his hair. He saw Don looking at his pits and crotch. "Boy that perv shaved you within an inch of your life,” he said. He ran a hand over Chris’ shaved pit. “Truth is, without the wife and kids here, me and Nicky walk around naked most of the time.” He winked, and wobbled unsteady out the door with the last of Chris’ clothes. Chris quickly scoured Eddie's room and realized, even though he was small, he wasn't going to fit in some twelve-year-old’s clothes. He didn’t relish the idea of being naked. Maybe around Don he would, but Polanski was a turn off. He didn’t have many options though. He slinked down the hallway to see if there was something to wear in Nick/Tony's room but it was locked. He creeped to the staircase and saw the lights were off, and the sliding glass door was shut. Don’s bedroom door was ajar with blue TV light seeping through the crack. “Hey, kiddo,” Don called out, “we’re finishing the game in here.” Chris went in and found Don and Nick lying completely naked on the king size bed. They both sat up against the headboard, each with a glass of whiskey in their hands. Don certainly had a massive package. His reddish-brown fur extended to a dark brown swath of pubic hair, with a large semi-erect boner pointing straight out. "Bottom of the ninth, New York’s up by two," Don summarized, as if it were perfectly natural two grown men to always watch a Yankee game naked together on a king size bed. "C’mere, tiger, sit by your ol’ man.” “Yeah. C’mon, sport,” said Polanski, padding the space between them. His Polish sausage hung over two large smooth balls. The cock had a distinctive bend to it, like a large banana. His body was smooth but his crotch was covered, hip bone to pronounced hip bone, by the most substantial amount of the long, black public hair he’d ever seen. “Uncle Nick’s not going to bite.” He paused a beat. “Unless you want him to. Rarrr.” The two men laughed, then as a full count was announced, their attention drifted back to the game. “Swear to God, if that spade lets him walk I’m throwing my fuckin' drink at the fucker.” The umpire called a final ball, and the batter tossed his bat, trotting to first. Polanski, true to his word, flung the glass at the TV. The shattered glass broke violently with whiskey running down the screen. It made Chris flinch, but Don didn’t seem to care. The man again gestured to Chris to come sit next to him. Chris climbed over Polanski’s tattooed legs, and Polanski put a hand on his smooth young ass and gave him a sharp slap. “Woo-ee, who’s not stinky boy anymore? Swear to God boy, you were as smelly as a sewer pipe, and we’re pretty familiar with sewer pipes, ain’t we Donny?” “There he is,” said Don, as Chris settled next to him. The man draped his arm over his bony shoulders. “Fresh as new born baby. Boy, you do clean up nicely, doesn’t he Nicky?” He ran his hand through Chris’ wet hair. “Sure does. Fresh as a daisy.” Nick leaned to get close to his skin and inhaled deeply. “Fresh as a sweet Sunday morning.” "Give your old man a hug like you do when your ma's not home." Chris looked briefly from man to man, deciding whether to play along. He decided. "That's it, kiddo," Don said wrapping his thick arms around the boy. "You're too skinny, except in some new places." He reached down and grabbed Chris' cock. Chris jumped a little, was weirded out but still kind of getting excited. The man was a big furry bear, and his fleshy chest had surprisingly hard muscle underneath. He felt Polanski creep up behind him. His hand went between Chris' butt cheeks and started pressing against his hole. Polanski said, "Eddie sure feels like he's growing up, don't he Daddy Don? Feels like he might even turn out to be a man someday." Polanski stopped as his finger slipped easily into Chris’ anus. "Ah, man, you gotta feel this pussy, Don. That don't feel like virgin pussy, does it to you Officer Bailey?" They both put a finger in Chris' hole. "That most definitely does not feel like virgin pussy." Both men laughed. Chris was actually getting hard, but then there was the sharp crack of a ball being hit. Both men looked over at the game, completely abandoned Chris' sphincter, and leaned forward in bed, crying, No-no-no-no. The batter sent the ball to center-right and it went over the wall. Three men came charging around the bases and the game was over. Don exasperated, got up and went to a fancy bar cart next to the TV and refilled his drink. "You're cleaning that up in the morning," he said to Polanski pointing at the broken glass on the carpet. "Nother one?" Polanski asked if there was another glass. Don went in the master bath and came back with one. He poured Polanski his drink, and said to Chris, "I'd give you one, Edward, but I have a bone to pick with you, young man.” He looked at Chris with mock seriousness. Chris couldn't tell if Don was just drunk or if he was into some serious role play. He guessed role play but wasn't one hundred percent sure. "Eddie, Eddie. Eddie Spaghetti," he said in mock consternation. "I want you to tell me and Uncle Nick about this". He picked up Chris' gym bag that had been sitting on the carpet next to the bar cart. He reached inside and brought out Manetti box of drugs and set it delicately on the cart next to the whiskey and vodka bottles. "Edward Hunter Bailey, I want the truth now. Where did you get these?" he asked, flipping the lid and pulling out three loaded needles. Chris was taken aback. He'd taken that from Manetti's? Was he serious? What kind of cop was he? And was he supposed to be Eddie responding to this, or himself, Chris? He ad-libbed innocence, "Wh-what is that, dad?" "You tell me, son. It's in your bag." "I've never seen them before. What is it?" "Good question, Eddie. Let's see. Officer, please restrain my son." With that, Polanski grabbed Chris' arms and pinned him face down, ass up, in the bed. "Now, boy, don't struggle or Uncle Nick is going to seriously send you into a world of pain." Chris felt his right arm being forced agonizingly up his back. He stopped moving and let Bailey pull out his free arm. The man flipped over his forearm, and he felt the needle go. In less than a minute he felt his body become flush again with heat. Polanski let him go and he rolled to his side, letting the drug roll over him. Fuck, it wasn't fair, was his last fully conscious thought, but then he was horny all over again, and he knew he was totally going to give into these men. As the drug took him over, he wanted them to. More and more he wanted daddy bear and the nazi to corrupt him. While the crystal coursed through his body, igniting his groin, he ran his hands over his cock and inserted fingers in ass. There was a wash of background noise, but he was solely focused on his hole and how empty if felt. He heard Don ask Polanski if he want it in the arm or neck? "Neck," said Polanski, "it's been a long time." Chris was feeling really energized. He popped got up and paced a little holding his arm in the air, then sat against the headboard to watch Don shoot Polanski up. A new, bent fascination had been born in him. Rather than shying away from needles, he became riveted by them. He’d never seen or even imagined someone shooting up in their neck. He couldn't even conceive of how that must feel, but he wanted to see Polanski do it. Polanski laid on his side at the edge of bed and Bailey knelt beside him. Between two zigzag SS's on Polanski’s neck, Bailey found a thick vein, stuck him, registered some blood, then slowly sent the liquid directly into Polanski's brain. When Don pulled out, Polanski pressed his neck with his finger and rolled onto his back. The man said nothing but his eyes popped open and rolled back in his head, his bent cock drool a shitload of pre-cum. Only the whites showed in his eyes and his lids fluttered. He was spasming slightly. Chris ran his hand through the man’s field of black pubes. It was like silk, yards and yards of fine silk. Polanski breathing was rapid and he responding to Chris’ touch with deep moans. He guided Chris’ head to his cock and Chris started working on it, adjusting his angle so he could deep throat the man’s massively curved cock. While Chris sucked the incapacitated man, Don prepped himself with a tourniquet around his thick bicep, found a suitable vein on the front of his forearm, rocked the needle till blood flooded the chamber, then slammed. He fell back on Chris’ hip and, through heaving breath, pulled Chris off of Polanski and crushed him beneath his weight. Chris was pinned but the heavy body actually felt erotic. Pinned, he squirmed obscenely, all skin, no hair, against all hair and rolling flesh. With enormous effort, Bailey rolled to his side bringing Chris along with him. They faced each other running their hands along chests and cocks, a study in opposites, Bailey pressing his fur against the boy, Chris rubbing his smooth skin across the man. Polanski rolled himself to the side was again sticking a finger, then two into Chris' hole. Chris pushed back against his hand and wiggled his ass till he had three fingers in him. "Baby boy, go down on daddy," Bailey said pushing Chris' head down to his crotch. Bailey was a big bear in every way. His fleshy dick was half hard and as Chris went down to suck it, Polanski had his mouth all over Chris' hole, getting it wet and ready to be fucked. The scent of wet cock sent Chris into a frenzy. It was difficult to differentiate what he wanted more, to give head to Bailey or get fucked by Polanski. Bailey decided for him. He rolled on his back and said he wanted baby bear to ride daddy bear's Big Bad Cock. Chris straddled the large man and fed his cock into his wet hole. Polanski was quick to follow the hole he desperately wanted. After Bailey had penetrated Chris, with Chris making obscene noises of pleasure, Polanski set his cock against Bailey's and with every stroke Bailey took, he got his cock in to double dick Chris. Chris' noises of pleasure turned to distressing pain, but again, somehow he enjoyed the distress. He quickly learned to stay stationary as the two men simultaneous pushed in and pulled out. By staying still they could go deeper, and did. At one point with too much motion, Polanski fell out. He immediately pushed himself back in and punished Chris by smacking ass. Chris cried out but pushed his ass deeper onto the men’s cocks. It felt precarious, that they had to work so hard to sustain the position, but it was a position that pleased everyone. Bailey and Polanski were sexually aroused rubbing their cocks against one another, and Chris relished the feeling of being torn apart by the girth of two men at the same time inside him. Their passion built on one another, as the drugs wiped their minds, they became feral animals clawing at each other, rutting in pleasure, nails going into backs, pelts of brown and black fur pressed into a smooth, hairless hole. Bailey and Chris made out while they fucked, and Polanski slapped Chris’ ass with increasing violence. Polanski rambled in Chris’ ear how he was going to take is night stick and rape his with it, ram it up the kid’s ass, how he’d take his gun and make Chris give it head. He started fingering Chris’ the tip of Chris hard dick, trying to get a finger down his piss slit. He said he was going to arrange to have Chris sent to prison to be gang raped. “Would you like that, would you like that, boy?” he breathed into Chris’ ear. Chris readily agreed. Whatever Polanski wanted he’d submit to him. The flow from Polanski’s imagination was unceasing. Somewhere during his description of being his prison bitch, it triggered something in Bailey and he nutted. Polanski was on another level entirely, rutting and heaving, not anywhere on this planet, just a mass of sensations and vile thought, desperately wanting to tear Chris apart. After Bailey emptied the last of his spooge, he started going flaccid and with Polanski pile driving into Chris, his dick soon fell out. Chris also settled down and let Polanski fuck him with ever increasing intensity. He laid on Bailey's chest while the big man stroked his hair. It was an intense combination. Bailey running soothing fingers over his head while Polanski tore angrily into his ass. Polanski had kept up smacking the shit out of the kid's ass, and as the beating became harder, the cracks louder, the more Bailey cooed and shushed Chris' stifled grunts and cries. Still, through it all Chris remained hard. Welts were forming on his ass as Bailey pulled his face down into his neck. Chris felt the bristles on Bailey's neck, and heard Bailey telling him he was alright, that it would soon be over. Chris let himself go limp falling onto Bailey, and in the background the white noise of the post-game wrap up morphed into the local Eyewitness News. The manhunt continued, said the anchor, for two convicts who had escaped from upstate New York four days ago. Bailey kept stroking the boy's hair. The men had escaped through the facility's sewage treatment center dressed as workers. Polanski slipped his arm around Chris' neck. Bailey’s mind drifted off, he repeated his cooing words to Chris. The two men were believed to have crossed into Canada. Canadian officials had cordoned off an area near the border where the two men were believed to be. Polanski wrapped his arm tighter against Chris’ throat, cutting off his airway. Chris started struggling on top Bailey and bucking against Polanski's body. Polanski mindlessly fucked the kid's hole edging closer to cumming the harder Chris struggled. It was a nasty cycle: the more Chris struggled, the harder Polanski increased his hold around his neck. Chris' hole was clenching like crazy trying to spit out Polanski, but instead is was making Polanski cock engorge larger every time it was squeezed. Chris flew into a frenzy to try to get him off and to break his hold. He rasped audibly, and in one long final lunge, Polanski was set free. He spewed ropes of cum deep into the quaking boy. He pulled Chris' head as far back as it would go. The boy's tongue lolled out, his eyes bulged, and he involuntarily released an enormous orgasm spilling buckets of cum onto Bailey pubes. His eyes rolled back in his head, his eyelids fluttered, then all movement ceased. Everything went black, his body went limp, and Chris no longer struggled. Weather with Frank Fields, announced the TV anchor, was up next.

3. Hole Fuck. Fuck. A triangle Fuck. A triangle of pleasure Fuck. A triangle of pleasure spreads Fuck. A triangle of pleasure spreads from his cock, balls, asshole, erupting outward, unrelenting, uncontrollable, to his entire body like an volcano exploding. Nothing could ever top this feeling sending him ablaze in molten heat and light. Fuck. The only thing that could ever top this feeling had to be death. Snuffed. Blackness. Oblivion. Because right now, mother fucker, at this single moment, he felt everything. Every fucking thing. He was Colossus. A Titan. God. The world channeled through him. Fuck yes. He was the eye of the needle; the eye of the beholder; the fuckin' cat five swirling eye of the hurricane. Nothing existed before this moment, nothing would after. He embodied the chord alpha and omega struck together throughout eternity jammed into one single note. Bam! Fuckin’ right here. Right now. Shit, man, it's a tsunami in here and he's riding this skinny little surfboard called Chris—it’s a thrill of a lifetime—and he's hanging on for dear fucking life! Fuck. He's overboard! He lost where he was, who he was. He's swimming up for air. All he feels is a tongue in his hole and a gummy mouth sucking his shriveled dick. Hairy arms hold him and run their hands over mounds of flesh, his burning flesh. He grinds his ass over someone’s furry pubes. Fuck, dude, tell how good is that? He'll never be able to sustain how aroused he is, every synapse of ecstasy is firing simultaneously. He's sure someone’s saying something to him but he can’t comprehend, even less respond. All he can react to is touch, those that touch him, those he can touch. Other senses abandoned him. Hard flesh, leathery muscle, sagging flesh, sinewy muscle, all attached to him in some area of his body, but he can’t differentiate the sum of these sensations. Fuck. There’s an argument, then a suggestion. Slowly he’s regaining sight. The pictures he saw stuttered like a reel of film falling off its track, still he made out bits of a room that could be hell. Red flakes falling off walls. Metallic roof reflecting flames all around him. An orange object dangled in front of him. What the fuck was that? A tentacle? He thought of a carrot, albeit one that was extraordinarily long and extremely pliable. Fuck. It was going in his anus and going in deep. Fuck. Voices emerged in the hellscape. Take it in—let it penetrate you. I've still got you. Long Beach Carl, his mother’s boyfriend was there. He's pushing the carrot into him. Oliver North was there as are a million cameras firing off strobe after strobe in his brain. Pop! Pop pop pop. He felt the object, initially so slender you hardly knew it was there until its mass grows with every inch it's inserted. The object passed through his rectum and entered his large intestine. It jus' pass through his second ring, said a Caribbean sounding voice. He's in a James Bond movie. He closes his eyes, he's tripping heavy, he knows he's not in a James Bond movie. Yet in his mind he imagines there's a race car that's tearing through a winding road in the Alps. He sees Sean Connery driving the winding road. His colon is a road, the object a vehicle that’s opening up his insides; every twist, tunnel and turn. Boom. Fuck. Chris is back in his body trying to come to terms with an object he feels somewhere on the right side of his abdomen. He ran his hand down to the spot and definitely felt an object inside him. Someone, Manetti it must be, pulled his hand back over his head. There are two men, Jamal and Master Drax he recognized, conferring at his hole, pushing something, a malleable orange sex toy through his anal canal. "The last mile is always the most difficult," Master Drax said to Jamal. Jamal goes back to sucking Chris' peanut. It not only distracted, but felt indescribably soothing. "Are you still with us, child?" Master Drax asked Chris. Chris wanted to communicate that he was still with them, raise a thumb or something, but he can't. He's immobile. He blinked instead hoping that said something. Words won't come back for quite a while, except for one. "Fu-u-u-u-ck," he yowls, forcefully arching his back. "I told you, Christian. New worlds. Hold him down. It doesn't give you pain. It's simple something you've never experienced." There is nothing to compare this to. He's hornier than fuck. He imagined his colon is being invaded by the tentacle of an octopus. He vividly hallucinates Master Drax is holding an octopus and guiding it to slither deep and deeper into him. But the tentacle had hit an impasse. It refused to penetrate into the next chamber. It had a life of its own, the tentacle; it poked and prodded against an impenetrable wall, won't proceed no matter how much Chris or Master Drax want it to. "The last foot is always the most revealing," Master Drax said to Chris, who could do nothing but look at him, and feel what was happening inside. "Jamal, get the amyl from the drawer." Jamal left the boy's dick and returned with a handful of capsules. He broke one and put it up to Chris nostrils. "Inhale it deeply, child." The effect it had on him was to immediately knock his head off his body. More than freeing his gut to allow the sex toy to penetrate, was the attitude it instilled: lust overpowers everything. He wanted that orange tentacle further up his ass. Jesus Fucking Christ he did! And his lust made it so. "F-u-u-u-u-ck." He feels it so intensely slip deeper inside. Two inches, three? It's a tickle that grows to a finger, which grows two feet in length to the size of a fist. The final girth is a medium size clenched fist. Master Drax has gotten the entire sex toy to press up against Chris' sphincter, but he's not satisfied. He bares down with his own fist to get his fist inside the boy too. "Another one," he instructed Jamal, who already had another hit of amyl under Chris's nose. Chris doesn't say, ‘fuck.’ Instead out rasped a throaty animal sound, a squall of air reacting to muscles going beyond what they're meant for: to hold shit in. There was pain, undeniably, but there was a definite element of pleasure in the animal cry, too. A sound an animal might shriek when it was dying but more like when it gave birth. To Chris, it was a sound emanating from his guts, and the large object within him and the large fist, that even after it entered his hole still plunged deeper into his bowels. He started stammering mindlessly, "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," throwing his pelvis in the air, trying to get whatever's inside him outside him. This was where Manetti came in, holding him down, calming his colt. "Shhh. You did it, Chief.” He brought the kid down to him. “Good boy, good job." And though Manetti was as high as he's been in quite a while, he knew how to ride these twenty foot waves to shore. "Breathe. Get used to it. Accept it.” Manetti ran his hand over Chris’ chest, tweaked his nipple lightly. “Breathe, buddy. Relax your hole around it. Now squeeze! Now relax. Do it again." He's more a disembodied voice to Chris, but it was a familiar, disembodied voice, and it seemed to work. Though his hole was ready to explode again at any moment, and though the strain was more intense than anything he'd ever felt, he was over the agony of a few seconds ago. As he squeezed, then released, he was letting go of the panic and accepting the new sensation. Master Drax's pulled his fist out. This set off on another round of spasms, this time dispelling, like a two foot long shit—which pretty accurately described how it felt—the orange two-foot long object inside him. What would usually take his body hours of wave-like contractions to expel, happened in two seconds, which left him with an amazing feeling. Besides having the relief of not having the object ripping and pulling every which way, he was left with a sense of profound emptiness, and one other feeling he didn’t expect: he wanted it back in again. *** "Jamal, we need to capture this. Put two lights there and the camera there." Jamal went about setting up the shot. "Pig, let Christian up and bring over some grease. And take off that cage. I want you fluffed up when we shoot." Manetti helped Chris out of the sling. "I don’t think he’s ready to take my paw. Let Jamal fist him. He can probably take that,” he said to Master Drax. "Nonsense. Are to telling me how to conduct his affairs?" Master Drax handed Chris a bottle of poppers. "Use this right before we shoot." "No, Master,” Manetti replied. “You always know best. I just think the kid should..." "Enough. I determine what he 'should.' Jamal, are we ready?" Jamal nodded, and then helped Chris get into the sling. "Chief, how you feelin'?" Manetti asked Chris, who was adjusting the leg straps. "I feel great! That was mind-blowing. I am so fucking high." Manetti acknowledged he was too. Chris hadn't really considered that. Nothing seemed to exist beyond the skin of his body. "Places." Master Drax was in his element. "Jamal, take the boom, I'll operate the hand held. Pig, I want you coming into the shot. Christian, you just stay where you are. Enjoy it and encourage Manetti however you'd like. Use the seduction you know you have—you have the hole everyone wants, own that—but make sure you don't fake it, make sure you really want it from Manetti. No BS. Let's see how you do." "Yes, Master. Thank you for all of this." Master Drax nodded his approval, and called, "Action:" FADE IN: ABANDONED BUILDING - NIGHT There's a close-up of Chris' little puckered butthole. Its lips pout out like it's waiting for a kiss. It's not virginal anymore, but it's hardly gaped either. It lusts for something, someone. Manetti's broad back and hairy shoulders enter the frame and, yes, he's hard, very hard. You can tell there's chemistry, pun intended, between him and the boy. Let's not hide the fact they both look heavily drugged. He sits on a stool facing the boy's vulnerable hole. He puts a finger on its lip and pulls it down, testing its elasticity. The boy starts only slightly. He's excited yet there is an edge of fear in his face. We zoom in. His eyes are more than a little crazed with desire. The world weighs heavily on him, but he's young and resilient. It will take a lot to wear him down completely, and Manetti is more than capable of doing it. The man brings up two greased fingers and inserts them in the boy's velvet hole. They slide in easily. He coats the canal and bends down and brings up three fingers and more lube. The man's other hand is stroking his own rigid pole. He could nut at any point but he’ll hold off, at least for now. Three fingers easily slide into the boy's opening. The man shoves his three fingers up to where his pinky stops him from going further. He twists around the boy's hole, causing the boy to stir in pleasure. It's a very new sensation to him, and there's an exhilaration in his eyes that this man is going to penetrate his rectum with those enormous paws. He anticipates what it will feel like, how much it will hurt, but still grants there’s a deeper lust in him, a hedonistic impulse he's knows he's always had, that wants this man, wants this man in the most carnal of ways. Four greased fingers come up to the boy's butt and slide in, this time not as easily. Manetti has to go slow, gathering his fingers together, twisting slowly, applying pressure ever so slowly, prying the kid's sphincter apart, easing it open. He still has the large ridge of his thumb to go and he doesn't want to rush Chris. "Pick up the pace, pig. Let's get to it," says the director. Manetti sees Chris is taking a hit of poppers. That should help. He greases his whole hand and swathes the boy's entire butt. He prods the hole with four fingers, then adds his thumb. It's all funneling down into this tight hole. He's fighting with Chris' sphincter, it's resisting the circumference of his palm. Manetti twists slowly one way then the other. "Take three hits in a row, boy," he instructs Chris. Chris has only had single hits up to now, and each one has left him spinning, but he listens to Manetti and takes three consecutive hits. He barely manages to replace the cap but his eyes signal he's ready. Manetti holds his hand out in place. Not only is the kid's hole relaxing, he’s pushing out his butt and on his own, starts swallowing Manetti hairy paw. He keeps jutting his ass out so it swallows Manetti’s thumb, clutching the entire appendage down to his wrist. He’s instinctively squeezing Manetti’s huge mitt into him, as the hand tapers to a wrist. The vice-like clamp slides Manetti fingers into the boy's soft internal flesh. He howls at his accomplishment. He's in ecstatic agony as his rectum comes to accept the large foreign object. A huge invader, the likes his internal organs have never known. Master Drax was large, but Manetti's huge. Manetti rests his hand just where it is. He tells Chris to take another hit, which he does, and then starts slowly turning his hand inside the boy. They look into each other's eyes, and you can see the intensity of their communication transcends words. There is a microsecond of pain registering on Chris' face, and Manetti stops twisting, but begins again as soon as he sees Chris has accepted the sensation and now enjoys it. The tip of Manetti's middle finger is the first to touch a deeper area. He feels the rapid pulse of the boy in what feels like strings guarding a new chamber. He gently swirls the finger clockwise, then slowly traces the finger counterclockwise. Chris initiates a release of internal muscles that allow Manetti to add his index and ring finger deeper into Chris' canal. Manetti rotates slightly to allow his pinky and thumb to follow into the chamber. Chris inhales deeply as he senses where Manetti is in his body. It’s both an open invitation to go further, and a dawning realization of how far he ultimately wants Manetti to penetrate him. It’s just the two of them, eye to eye. Again he's in an enclosed confessional with Manetti. “You owned me," he admits, "ever since I met you. I can't resist you." He proves it, too, by sliding down deeper and impaling himself further onto Manetti's hand. You only have to look at the earnestness in his expression, his utter submission to the will of the man inside him, to see Manetti can do to him whatever he wants. Manetti knows that and will exploit it. The splayed out fingers start balling into a fist. The fingertips scrape against the raw colon sending nerve cells into an explosion of sensation, firing round after round of alarm to Chris' brain. Chris trusts Manetti with his body. He breaths and quells the panic. There is a joy about him knowing Manetti now actually has his fist, his balled up fist, in his ass. The noun, fist, he sees, is why it's also a verb. Yes, he signals to Manetti. Yeah, do it, fist me, say his eyes. And Manetti starts, ever so slowly, pulling out then pushing in. It's building. You can see it in the boy's face. It's revving up to become a piston fuck, which is animating Chris' face: joy, pleasure, excitement, apprehension, and at last at a building rhythmic pace, lust; demonic lust for Manetti to do it harder. Manetti knows this. This isn't his first rodeo. He's a great Top and is proving again. When you say 'handpuppet' this is what it means. Manetti twists Chris on his wrist. He's testing the boy constantly, seeing what he can take, seeing where he has to push him to accept his, Manetti's, will. Manetti knows the kid's body will reveal the course his hand will take and guide him along the way, but it's Manetti's confidence in his power that allows Chris to relinquish his. When the kid says he owns him, Manetti takes him at his word. He unfurls his fist, stretches his fingers deep into the kid's rectum, finds a new ring, swirls, charms, and enters his intestine. He straightens out the curve he finds, using his hand to reshape the boy under his care. He then almost pulls out, sphincter puckered to the extreme, then goes back in and rests just momentarily. He's traveled a great distance in those inches. Chris is undulating with libidinous hunger, but calms down when Manetti rests. He syncs to Manetti’s mastery. The man's palm is holding his prostate, holding it like it's resting in a hammock. As he rocks it gently, Chris is in ecstasy as if Manetti is rocking his soul. But Manetti doesn’t simply the boy's soul. He’s looking for the point where Chris will give up everything. That’s the ultimate power he seeks. He's probing the boy again feeling all his organs till he finds the pressure point he's looking for. Manetti's other hand grabs the boy's erect cock and a spray of piss erupts out of him. "Beautiful," says the director. Manetti first directs it toward himself, lets it splash in his mouth, noisily slurping down a few gulps and spits some out, then he points the stream back at Chris. Chris is out of his mind with sensation he's perceiving inside his body with the awareness that his pissing uncontrollably in front of a group of strangers, and being recorded doing it, and he's finding pleasure in the lewd act of primal degradation. He doesn't care, and that is incredibly erotic. He lets out a spontaneous, "Oh, fuck, Sir," as the stream hits his face and he greets it open mouthed. Manetti has pulled his hand back into a fist and is tugging at the inside of the kid's sphincter. He lets it sit at the extreme point of the stretch, pushes back in as far as he can, then yanks the fist completely out. Chris' hole flairs out with the camera capturing the red pedals of the freshly opened boyhole, the newly revealed flesh the world has never seen before. It's the first promise that a rosebud will bloom. Chris is convulsing wildly. Manetti stands, puts a hand on the kid's heaving chest, and with his other hand he's diddling, strumming his fingers against the boy's excited hole, doesn't want to lose the gape he fought for. Before Chris has a chance to come to his senses, Manetti's inserting three, and then four fingers back inside him. It tells Chris he's still open enough to keep fisting. Chris eyes him. Manetti has broken through something, for Chris says with clear intent, "Sir, destroy my pussy." "You want me to destroy your pussy, boy?" "Yes, Sir. I want you to give me a sloppy cunt." "You got a nasty mouth, boy." He sits back down on the stool, and there's a new lasciviousness that wasn't in Manetti before. He applies grease, a lot more grease, to his hand and some to his large hairy cock; black hair spotted with chunks of white Crisco. He also spreads some lube over his massive balls. He's back at the boy's hole with four fingers twisting around. His second hand joins the first with another swath of grease. They're sliding over each other and the rapid stimulation shows on the boy's face. He grabs for the poppers and takes a hit. His head releases back and he's now solely focused on his hole. He feels fingers sliding in and out. Pulling at his hole. Two fingers on each side pry him open, then three fingers on each side, then four. The hands pry his hole apart so hard they’re shaking. The inside of his hole feels like pudding, malleable flesh that submits to each stroke of Manetti's churning hands. One hand slips easily inside, then comes right out. The other hand disappears inside the kid's hole then reappears. Manetti's hand crunches into a fist and strains at Chris’ sphincter, trying to punch through. Chris leans his head forward and takes a couple more hits, and the fist punches in. The kid utters a loud moan. Manetti leans in, asks, "You okay, boy?" Chris answers, "Punch my fuckin' pighole." Manetti does, let's loose his fury. At first, one first in and out, then the other in and out. He's building up momentum until Chris is wailing in delirium. He pulls out a fist violently to watch the hole again flair open, this time much larger, almost the size of his palm. Chris' body shakes until Manetti puts a single finger on Chris gaping hole. He is in charge of that hole; he will tell it when it is allowed to have an orgasm. "Take more hits, boy." Chris does, and with a head clouded with poppers, Manetti resumes his repetitive punching, but now, Chris grabs his legs and pulls them to his chest, pulling his ass cheeks apart, begging to be Manetti's hole. Manetti obliges, inserting a fist and goes deep, pulling out quickly, then inserting a second fist in as far as it will go. It's not as rapid, but it’s a much deeper punch. Chris is not only taking it but continuing to pull his legs apart farther. In fact, he's taking his right leg with both arms and falling to his left side in the sling, moaning like a whore pushing his boy pussy obscenely out of the sling for Manetti to pummel. It's too much for Manetti seeing the boy in such a lewd pose. He needs to fuck this cunt right now, while he's in this state of abnormal delirium. He’s turned the kid into a whore and he’s the stud who gets the reward of fucking a possessed cunt! He grabs both of Chris' legs and pulls him forward in the sling. He stuffs his gaping hole with his cock, then pops one wiry ball in, then the other. He fucks him in short, staccato strokes. Chris is in rapture and eggs Manetti on, squeezing as much of his loosened sphincter as he can. What he lacks in strength he makes up in how extended his pussy has become. With his entire rectum he surrounds Manetti's genitals in a gelatinous, gluey grip. He knows—he feels!—Manetti's hairy balls are scraping against his bowels. He experiences Manetti gyrating inside him, perceives a iron erection stirring his entrails. Wanting him to cum in him, spread his dirty cum in his raw hole, he begs and pleads aloud for Manetti to breed him, to knock him up. Manetti pulls out completely. His balls swing freely dripping lube and other viscous droppings. His engorged cock plops out and slaps Chris’ balls. The kid jumps. Manetti likes what he sees, so he slaps his balls again with a greasy hand. Instead of retreating, the kid pushes his balls up toward Manetti's chest. The man grabs the kid’s balls and twists them till the kid cries in agony. With his other greasy hand Manetti smacks his ass, then plays with the boy’s hole, lowering him down. He takes the hand that smacked the kid's ass and penetrates him with it. The kid gasps, but accepts the hand immediately, starts squirming on it, becomes ravished by it. Manetti is in heat. He takes his dick and inserts it into the palm of the hand that’s inside Chris. It's far more girth then Chris has so far endured. You can see that in his strained face. But he's not rejecting it. His desire for Manetti overwhelms everything. He wants Manetti's to jerk off inside him, he encourages it with a slight rocking movement. When Manetti stops he realizes that Manetti wants to control his own hand job, so Chris completely submits, holds his legs apart so Manetti can do what he wants to him. Manetti observes the complete, utter subservience as does the camera. There's not much movement for you to see for a moment except in close-up of the hole. There's a rapid vibration only showing in the tendons of Manetti's wrist. He’s jerking his hand inside the hole. Manetti contorts his face as Chris watches in awe. He's getting close. Chris relaxes some muscles to encourage Manetti to use more of his insides to beat off. He's fisting his cock just as violently as he's fisting Chris' hole. The more Chris submits to Manetti's violet masturbation, the harder Chris realizes he's getting fisted. It's win-win. They're in perfect sync. Manetti is using long strokes to pleasure himself and Chris is writhing in pleasure. Manetti releases as Chris' eyes roll back in his head. Manetti's trained to show the money shot but he's locked into this moment of seeding this hole. He explodes, shoots deep into the bowels, sending his fist into the innermost depths. He pulls out very briefly to show cum leaking from his dick, but he's quick to get back inside, still jetting, smearing his dickhead around and around Chris' entrails. He squeezes every last drop out of his balls. He pinches his foreskin to not leave any semen behind. There both stare at each other. Manetti drips sweat onto Chris, who's also shining in heat. Manetti has a look of relief of a man who has given everything and held nothing back; Chris looks beatific, fulfilled—a bride inseminated. Manetti looks in his wide blue eyes, raises an eyebrow, and floods his hole with piss. Chris looks surprised, and states astonished, "You’re whizzing in me." Manetti pulls out for a second, pisses all over him, then reinserts himself. He flashes his famous shark tooth smile. Chris sends an identical shark tooth grin right back. "Cut," the director says.

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.

The party was in full swing. The brothers were too drunk to know who was there and who wasn't. Slowly Dan worked the crowd dragging Todd with him. Finally, he found a brother who took notice. While Todd chatted him up, Dan slipped the potion in his drink, cialis. It wouldn't take long. The brother, Mike, was a typical Jock. He was thick necked, thick shouldered, narrow waist, full ass, and from the looks of things, full ball sack. Slowly, Mike felt warm. He gulped his beer and Dan offered to get him another one. Dan didn't mess around, he slipped another dose of tina in the beer. Mike drank it like a man lost in the desert. Soon, the cialis and the Tina had poor Mike in their grasp. He said that he had to go to his room a minute. Dan gave Todd a nod and Todd asked if he could see the room. When they entered, the thing that struck Todd was all the pictures of the same girl, with and without Mike. Dan had followed them with more beer. As soon as Mike had pissed, he took off his shirt. The view knocked the two guys off their feet. What a chest, chiseled, like a Greek God. Mike kept commenting that it was so hot in there. Ed was just out in the hall. Losing all inhibitions, Mike grabbed his rock hard dick and started to stroke. Meanwhile Dan gave Todd the word. Todd moved in and started working his own hands on Mike's equipement. The Jock was totally out of control. Dan slipped the blindfolf on him. Ed entered with the camera as soon as Todd and Mike were naked. Todd mounted that big Jock cock. He had a hard time taking it. He got up off the cock long enough for Dan to rub some rock on Mike's cock. The feeling made Todd excited as he maneuvered that huge cock into his hungry hole. It made him wild with desire. All the while he rode that cock, Ed filmed. Mike came and wanted more. Wild with desire, he pulled off the blindfold, bleary-eyed as he was, and showed Todd down. He fucked him over and over. All the while, Ed filmed. When they left Mike's room, he had crashed. The guys had used Mike's cell to call Todd. The would send him a few stills, with orders in the morning. It seemed that although Mike did the fucking, he was fucked.