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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.

I’m an uncut guy myself but have never turned down a decent circumcised cock because here in the US most guys are circumcised. So basically any European foreigners and Latin and Asian guys are usually circumcise. The rare uncircumcised American dude has crossed my radar. Latex warped cock is indistinguishable and brutal on the sensitive anal walls. So, do you bareback loving bottoms crave uncut juicy wet cock or dry rough circumcised cock. Obviously there is line to be added to the mix but I’ve noticed that even when an uncut dude is lubed up his cock head is also already super moist soft and throbbing purple ready to breed at any moment. Which is a trade off not all uncircumcised guy cum fast but most do. Uncircumcised guys last slightly longer pressed up against my sensitive prostate. As if uncut cock needs to be soaked first in a cumdump absorbing all his cum into his cock head gland and after hours of fucking is silky smooth. Don’t get me wrong I’ve had some amazing impregnating sessions with large cut American guys that made my nipples and ears tingle. All caveats aside the smells and foreplay associated with an uncut cock is sexually Arousing. Especially when their glorious foreskin is super wet and stretchy and knocking at my boipussy’s door. The feeling of the folds of skin stretching open and Trojan Horsing a super warm, wet and silky moth cock head immediately after unzipping and flopping out his cock, screams ready to fuck. my last hookup an extremely large cock head, larger than average scraped the shit out of my ass for the first 30 mins and I was super sensitive the whole fuck. He came buckets but compared to the last Latino Papí at the mall restroom. Oops guilty. He was leaking and ready to fuck. He slide His large uncut cock inside my tight hole, no, he snuck his large uncut cock inside my hole immediately after presenting my pussy under the stall and pounded his babies deep inside my happy hole. It happened so quick and intensely that I was left craving seconds. uncircumcised natural cock is my preference when barebacking. What do you BB bottom sluts prefer?

This is my first story on here Bald Man Stealths Young Stud Daniel was sitting at the bar. He was from a small town in Oklahoma and recently transferred to a college in Miami. His hometown was extremely conservative, and he always had to hide the fact he was gay and always participated in masculine activities to hide it. He was on the football and baseball teams, and even had girlfriends to add to the illusion, but deep down, he knew that all he wanted was to get fucked hard by men. The only time he had ever had any gay experience was a time he jerked off in a bathroom with another guy while in Tulsa. But that was going to change tonight- and he would remember it forever. Daniel participates in intra-mural sports because he still likes athletics, keeping his body fit. He was around 5'10", trimmed his body hair very short, and has thick black hair and slightly tanned skin. His dick isn't huge (around 6.5") but he didn't intend on topping tonight. The bar that he was in was not too lively. It was a place to pick up guys and go fuck. He saw it on a website- it was far from his campus and was quite low-key. Even in Miami, he still didn't feel ready to come out. But what he didn't know was that this bar was frequented by HIV Postitive men, which he would soon come to know very well. A man approached him at the bar, he was older, had a swimmer's body, and he was around 45 and had a shaved head and a thick beard to match. Daniel always had an affinity men that looked like him. He was around 6'3", so he was substantially taller than him. The man looked at him and asked with a deep voice, "Can I buy you a drink?" Daniel looked at him, smiled, and said, "Sure. Just a beer is fine." "Well you heard him, a beer for the him please," he said to the bartender. The bartender quickly filled up a glass from the tap, placed a napkin on the bar, followed by the beer. "You don't look like you're from around here," the man said, noting Daniel's mannerisms and conservative way of dress. "I'm not. I'm actually from Bumfuck, USA," Daniel said while the man laughed. "You remind me of when I was your age. In college in a new city, looking to fuck the nearest man I could find," he said. "I moved here when I was around 19, and it has been a wild time. I'm Sean, by the way." "Daniel." They did the usual small talk about sports, the weather, etc, and drank a few beers until Sean looked at him and said, "Do you want to go back to my place?" Daniel responded with a shaky, "Yeah, sure!" Sean paid for both of their tabs, ordered an Uber, and they headed back to his apartment. When they walked in, Daniel was taken aback. It was on a higher floor of a pretty nice building, overlooking the Miami River with a huge window which took up the entire wall opposite of the entrance. It was night, so you could see the lights of the other buildings, but not much else. Inside the apartment was more interesting. It was a bit cold, and the furniture was quite modern with sharp edges that contrasted the grain of the black hardwood floors. To the right was a modern kitchen with stainless steel appliances and black cabinets. The room was entirely black and white, with only a few blood red accent pieces to break the contrast. To the left, he could see an unlit hallway which he somehow knew would lead down a dark path. Sean dropped his keys into a blood red dish sitting on a black table next to the door, snapping Daniel out of the almost hypnotic fugue the apartment gave him. "Wow this place is... nice," Daniel said in a wavering voice. It truly was nice compared to his shitty dorm room. "Do you want a drink?" Sean said as he made his way into the Kitchen area. "Sure," Daniel responded. Sean opened the freezer pulling out a bottle of vodka, and said, "Is vodka soda alright?" "Yeah," Daniel said. Sean poured two drinks and walked over and handed on to him. He looked at Daniel and commented, "You look nervous." "Yeah its just that... I've never really... done this before." "What, hook up with a random guy you just met in a bar before?" Sean said with a laugh. "Among other things," Daniel said, feeling a bit more relaxed. "It's alright. I used to be nervous doing this sort of thing too. It takes practice," he said slyly as he took the empty glass from Daniels hand and placing both glasses on the table. Daniel looked at him for a second and felt his face flush as Sean looked him in the eye. Sean then embraced and kissed him. Daniels legs felt wobbly. Daniel wondered whether it was the booze or how good it felt to finally touch a man like this. The kissing became more intense as Sean began unbuttoning his shirt. Daniel immediately went for his chest and began his descent. He took a pause at his belly button and noticed a biohazard tattoo and wondered what that meant. He didn't wonder for very long as he began to unbuckle Sean's belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, and pulling them down. Underneath was a pair of white boxer briefs which struggled to keep what looked like a huge package contained. He pulled them down too, exposing what was an 8 inch dick and about as round as a beer can. He began sucking and jerking it, struggling with its size. Sean tilted his head back and let out a moan of pleasure. After a few minutes, Sean nudged him up and said, "Let's go to the bedroom." He took of his shoes, socks, and pants from around his ankles and headed for the hallway. Daniel followed, undressing himself completely on the way. The bedroom was similarly designed like the rest of the apartment. Black woods floors, white walls, and a black bed with blood red bedding atop of it. Sean turned around, embraced Daniel and kissed him once again. He reached down and stroked Daniel's hard cock for a few seconds. Immediately after, Sean took Daniel and pushed him on the bed and started sucking his dick. Daniel started moaning, looking down at Sean as he expertly pleasured him. He placed a hand on his completely smooth head and closed his eyes enjoying the moment. He started to tense up and said, "I think I'm gonna cum." Sean pulled up and said, "I'm not near finished with you yet." He flipped him over and started licking his asshole. Daniel moaned harder, never feeling any sensation like this before. After about 30 seconds of this, Sean pushed his index finger at his hole. "Damn you've got a tight ass," as he began sliding his finger into Daniel's virgin hole. Daniel let out a moan as Sean began fingering his with no lube. He immediately added another finger and pushed them deep into his hole. He twisted them around, and Daniel could feel his fingernails dig into the wall of his hole. Daniel thought that this must just be how it is as he moaned into the blood red pillow, writhing in ecstatic pleasure. Sean pulled his fingers out and said, "Turn over. I want to look at you while I do this." Daniel obliged, turn over and putting his legs around Sean as he got between them. Sean spit on his hand, rubbed it on his dick, and started pushing at Daniel's hole. A thought crossed Daniel's mind to ask him to put on a condom, but it felt so good right now he didn't even care. As Sean managed to get his rock hard dick inside his tight hole, Daniel's eyes shot wide open as he let out a pained moan and gripped the blood red fabric of the bed spread. Sean leaned over him, kissing him as he started fucking him. Daniel felt Sean's dick picking up the pace, feeling the friction of the skin on skin struggling to be lubricated with only a bit of spit. Daniel was in a state of utter pleasure looking at Sean in the eye while he was getting fucked. After a few minutes Sean's fucking was getting more desperate. He was feeling his own pleasure peaking. Sean said, "I'm gonna cum." Daniel thought about asking him to pull out, but before the thought could come out of his mouth, Sean kissed him again. Daniel came right then, without touching his dick, feeling himself being pumped full of Sean's cum. Sean slowed down, moaning through the painful pleasure of fucking after you've cum. He pulled out and collapsed beside Daniel as they both panted, both of them staring at the ceiling while they lay on the blood red bed. Daniel did not know at that moment that Sean would be a part of him forever.

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!

Prior to this happening I thought I was 1000% straight but my roommate completely changed that. I've gone into painstaking detail because this is all I've been able to think about lately. It's completely true. This is what happened ... I live in a two bedroom condo with a roommate, Greg. He posted an ad almost a year ago looking for a roommate, I needed a place to live, and he seemed like a cool guy so it was an easy match. Greg has lots of gorgeous female friends and has been an awesome wingman so it has been a really good year haha. Anyway, in my city, they are taking serious measures during lockdown and so for the most part everyone is staying home. Being a single guy not able to go out and meet women this means I've been jerking off way more often. About a week ago Greg caught me jerking off, which honeslty wasn't the first time but its never not embarrassing. I thought I had some alone time because he had gone to the grocery store. Greg jokingly said that he could help me out if I wanted and walked out of my room. Over the next day or so we pretended like nothing happened. We were sitting on the couch in the living room one night smoking a joint, talking about how we couldn't wait for quarentine to be over so we could get back to normalcy. We both complained about how long it's been since we've had any type of sexual interaction and Greg mentioned he was serious about what he said the other day. Mentioning "not trying to make anything weird or whatever ... I like sucking dick, you like getting your dick sucked ... I'm just so horny, you know? Plus, you wouldn't be the first straight I've hooked up with". I stared at him for a bit in silence. My dick starting to swell in my jeans. I took another hit and started to unbuckle my belt. Greg laugh, "you don't need much convincing haha" licked his lips on got on his knees. I laughed too. "You ruined my jerk session the other day, I haven't cum in weeks so you owe me". He pulled me jeans completely off. My dick was semi-hard already and streching my boxer-briefs. He pulled my boxers down next just enough that my package was out. He started by jerking me slowly while he licked my balls. My toes instantly curlled and my cock immediately hit full mast. Greg worked my balls for a bit until I was dripping precum and then took my entire shaft down his throat. Honestly one of the best blowjobs I've ever had. He edged me for what felt like forever. I told him I was going to cum if he touched me again. Greg asked if I liked getting my ass licked. I told him it's never happened before. He pulled my boxers completely off, pulled my hips to the edge of the couch and slowly licked my clenched hole. It felt so good and with each lick I could feel my ass relax. As I started to moan and my cock pulsed, Greg knew I was going to shoot my load. He licked from my asshole, up my balls, to my shaft and started to deepthroat me again. I don't know what came over me but I wanted him to keep playing with my ass so I told him to finger my ass while he sucked me. He slide one finger into my ass and I shot the biggest load of my life into his warm mouth. He swallowed every drop. I was speechless. I stood up, thanked him and told him how amazing that was. "We should definitely do that again". For the next couple of days, this continued. He would blow me once or twice a day, eat my ass, and finger my hole. I started to give him handjobs to return the favour, and since he is hairless, I also would lick his ass. Yesterday, we were hooking up again in his room. It started with him sitting on my face while he sucked my dick. Greg sat back spreading his cheeks and helping my tongue push deep into his ass. He commanded me to bend over so he could fuck my ass with his tongue. I got on all fours, dripping precum onto his sheets. He grabbed my ass very firmly and pressed his tongue as deep as he could into me. I let out a loud moan and reached back to help push his face into my ass. Greg pulled back to get some air. "You like getting your ass tongue fucked?" he said, more a statement than a question really. "Yeah, so fucking much" I faintly responded. Greg grabbed my cock much more forcefully than he ever had and began to stroke me quickly. He licked and sucked my balls agressively for a moment, spit onto my asshole and then slide a finger, all the way to his knuckle, into me. I let out a loud gasp. "Holy fuck!" I moaned. I couldn't finish my thought but it felt so fucking good. Greg was not gentle with me now. He fingered my ass hard and spanked me hard with his other hand. I was panting like I had just run a marathon at this point and encouraging him, "harder .... faster ... don't stop". Greg put another finger in my ass. "Oh god, fuck ... fuck ... yes" I moaned. "Do you want me to fuck your tight ass baby?" Greg asked. I still wasn't able to form sentences or really process what was going on. Yes! Was the answer but I couldn't get the words out. Instead, I just reached back and spread my cheeks for him. Greg reached around to make me suck his fingers that were just in me. I latched on without a second thought. Then, he licked my ass for a minute before slowly pressing his cock into me. It was much, much bigger than his fingers. I clenched up at first, but quickly relaxed and pressed back against him. "Fuck, you're so tight" he said. Once his cock was all the way inside of me, he held it there for a moment. I could feel it flexing inside of me, it was so much more intense than him fingering me over the last week. Greg started with slow, shallow thrusts, responding to every gasp, moan, and whimper coming from me. As I relaxed more he went faster and faster, each stroke longer and longer. I was face down on his bed, with my ass in the air egarly taking his cock. It was a little bigger than average but felt enormous inside of me. I starred into his closet mirror so I could watch him pounding me while he spanked me hard, leaving hot hand prints on my cheek. "What the fuck am I doing?" I thought, and "why does this feel so fucking good?". "Get on your back" was his next command. I obeyed. I laid on my back with my legs hanging off the side of his bed. He stood at the end, grabbed my hips and put my legs over his shoulders. This is my favorite position to fuck girls in and now I was on the receiving end of what I knew was going to be a hard, fast fucking. I was nervous. It somehow seemed more intimate now that we were going to be looking at each others faces. I was also hoping I didn't cum to quick. My dick got soft when we switched positions but as soon as Greg was balls deep inside me, I was rock hard again. It was just as rough of a fucking as I expected. Within a minute or two I started to uncontrollably shoot my load all over my chest. Greg quickly grabbed my cock and pointed it at my mouth. I felt my thick, hot cum hit my face, and slowly opened my eyes and opened my mouth, sticking my tongue out as far as I could to catch my load. I don't know what I expected cum to taste like but I was surprised. It wasn't good or bad, it didn't really taste like anything and I kind of like the texture. Honestly I don't get why some people don't swallow ... anyway ... Greg pumped me for another couple of minutes. The entire time, my dick stayed hard and was leaking cum. I knew watching me taste my load turned him on so I wiped my cum off my chest and licked my fingers clean. "I'm going to cum" Greg panted. "Cum in my ass!" I begged. I felt each huge pulse of cum shoot inside of me. His load felt good but I really liked how his cock felt swelling each time he shot his load into me. Greg slowly slid his cock of out my ass and I could feel his load dripping out of me as well. Without breaking eye-contact, I moved towards him and took his cock into my mouth for the first time, cleaning him up. He fingered my cum filled ass while I suck his dick and then let me suck his fingers clean too. We laid in bed together, naked, sweaty, and me still drenched in both of our loads. We were silent aside of our heavy breathing. I asked how often "straight" guys let him fuck them, he laughed and just said "you would be surprised". I asked how often he gets fucked by "straight" guys and just replied "not enough". We showered separately (getting cum out of my ass for the first time is something I needed to do alone haha) but Greg said I could sleep in his room tonight if I wanted. I did. We slept naked. This morning, I woke Greg up by sucking his cock. Before letting him cum it was my turn to pound his ass. Up until recently I've never considered myself bi, but I guess I am. I don't find guys attractive oddly enough but I enjoy cock quite a lot. Greg's a slut haha so I don't think things are going to get weird between us, we're just fuck buddies now. I'm still ready for quarantine to be over but am looking forward to more nights like last night while we wait.

as long as I am well lubed in an intimate situation I like it to go long. My best friend could stay erect after cumming and could continue for a very long time 30-45 minutes. I haven't been taken my several at a time but I think there I would like shorter times like cum in 3 to 4 minutes then another go in me and on and on.

Hot-damn, your description turns me on so much! Reminds me of what COULD HAVE BEEN... had I allowed myself to go with the flow... much earlier! Going back about 15 years, I had a 'newbie' (BF-to-be) take me to his happy cruising grounds in Houston to introduce me to a 'new world', HIS WORLD I think he might have said. Let's call him Tommy, who was my benevolently-mischievous, prospective 'slut-mentor'. Maybe he said 'new world' or 'a surprise', or 'meeting some fun friends'. Not sure as I wasn't very verbal about all the kinky shit roiling in my head. It stewed silently and confusingly! Me back then still being on the fence about 'unsafe sex' and spooked about the prospect of getting the 'bug'. As a rule, I only topped him and bareback every time and with a huge Prince Albert in. We never talked about status or 'dangers' so I guess I sub-consciously was one of those hypocrites who figured as a topped you couldn't get 'the bug' that easily... weeks later when T. gave me a vd the health department let me know he was also positive but hadn't pozzed me... But he had a plan in mind for me. CONVERT me into a party boy I guess. He did take me to a few places where some of the 'dudes he knew' had their way with me as he watched... he was very turned on by 'whoring me out' as a BOTTOM!!! And everybody in Houston was very friendly and forward and not at all like the pissy queens in Dallas I experienced on another 'escapade'. Some big-dicked dude who Tommy still recounts by first and last name was the first total stranger who had his thick cock up my ass... this LEWD BREEDING initiated by a third party was the beginning of something CLICKING inside of me. Accepting sex as a sport, and have my 'slut-mentor' BF wholeheartedly endorse, encourage and facilitate it... But I had too much on my plate that year: another hot but super-jealous toy-boy who hated Tommy, and a sexy ex kept coming around time and time again from his promiscuous sexapades with strippers, hookers and flight-attendants in Atlanta, pretending as though he was only looking for 'true love' and monogamy, what a crock of shit. Long story short, Tommy and I parted ways but recently reconnected. Fucked around as he and his BF had a spat. The BF is a total bb bottom-whore (but sadly HIGHLY POSSESSIVE of his top, while being lazy and he doesn't work) . Tommy enables him to live a frivolous life-style and they together, or the BF by himself go on multi-day-long binge orgies at cheap motels and on every app available. It's a life-style that has become TOTALLY HOT to me. All except the one-sided hypocrisy and possessiveness. I have a BF/husband now who is on the same level with me. However both of us are very career-driven and although we mostly have a mutual 'licence-to-be-sluts' we don't use it as much as Tommy and his cumdumpster do... The sluttier, more promiscuous, more anon, more random the sex is (with strangers) , the more BOTH of us get turned on by our exploits and get hornier for each other! More on the subject in another reply on here!

It isn’t too late to let him know your lie, what made you uncomfortable and formulate a pathway forward. If he’s a good guy and someone you can see being with long term, it would be worthwhile. I’m a proponent of open relationships, with one caveat: The relationship needs a certain level of stability and a lot of communication. My experiences and those of some of my friends is they opened up the relationship before everyone was secure with the core relationship. As for the gaping, you know that’ll be okay, and I would have been hard pressed not to rim that gash for hours afterwards.

I’d had a similar opportunity when I was younger, and I’m wishing I had taken it! At least I can jerk off to what might have been lol

Loved this story!!! Wish u would carry it on so we can hear the adventures of the new boy too hehe

This one? I loved it. Beautiful dick with a beautiful hole. “It's interesting what being broke will get a guy to do. A local "porn-newbie" let me know he was behind on his rent and willing to do "whatever it takes" to make a buck. After a lengthy parlay and the promise of a big amount of cash, he agreed to take knock-out pills a doctor buddy had given me. Serious knock-out pills. He said we could do what we wanted so long as he didn't have to know about it. He'd never been rawfucked, so I brought horse-hung daddy-stud JAY TAYLOR in. JAY deepfucked the slumbering tattoo'd beauty, dumping a big ol' juicy load up that baby-smooth blonde-boy ass. He called me the next day and said I was a son-of-a-bitch for not wiping the semen off his hole. Starring Jay Taylor and Jim” [think before following links] [think before following links] https://timstore.treasureislandmedia.com/what-i-cant-see-2-scene-04-sleeping-beauty/

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

the event has been rescheduled to... Sept. 24-27, 2020 Chicago, IL

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.

Please don’t feel bad as my BF whored me out a few times and I whored out my own blood brother.

Mike hit send and then went back to looking at some more post. After about 30 minutes his phone dinged with a text message, he picked it up and looked. He didn’t recognize the number but it was in his area code. Opening the message it read. “Hi Mike, thanks for the interest in my service, I like your state of mind and look forward to furthering this process. My assistant will be in touch with you soon. Thanks again. Dr. X” Mike was in shock reading the text, he had to re-read is several times. He actually got a reply. Was this guy actually in his area? Or was he using an app to use local numbers for clients? Either way, Mike was both nervous and extremely excited with this. He honestly thought he would never hear anything. His mind raced with thoughts about what was going to happen. He was very excited with the thought of possibility being selected, but how was this going to happen? How would the actually work. Mike didn’t have to wait long before he would get his answers. About ten minutes passed and his phone started ringing. Another unknown number but in the same area code. Mike answered “Hello”. From the other end, a soft spoken male voice replied. “Hello, is this Mike?” “Yes it is” Mike replied. ”Hi, this is Jason with Dr. X’s Office. I was calling in regards to your message about the service. Do you have a few minutes to discuss it?” ”Yes I do, and thank you for getting back with me.” ”No problem, I’m glad you are interested in the service, and it looks like you are in the area so that will make travel arrangements much easier. So basically today, I would like to go over a short questionnaire to see if this will be a good fit for you and the Dr. we find this helps to weed out the guys looking for a thrill or guys who are not looking for the right reasons. Does this sound okay to you Mike?” ”Yeah, I’m okay with that and I honestly appreciate it. “ ”Great, well let’s get started and once we have the answers and if you seem to be a good fit, we can talk about the appointment and process involved.” “Sounds good” ”What do you consider to be your orientation?” ”I would say Bi-Sexual ”Are you currently active with both sexes? ”With men more than women” ”Would you still engage in sexual intercourse with women if you are insemnitated?” ”Only with consent and would use condoms if we did. I Have had a vasectomy, but still wouldn’t want to inseminate a woman unnecessarily.” ”Good to know. Are you married?” ”No” ”Have you been married?” ”Yes, I was married for ten years to a woman” ”Children?” ”Yes, two” ”Do they know that you are Bi?” ”No” ”If selected for insemination, will you tell them?” ”Only if medically necessary” ”Okay, now for sex with other men. Are strictly a bottom, or are you a top also?” ”Mostly a bottom, I have topped before, but I prefer bottoming” ”Do you like oral? Give or Receive?” ”I like to give and receive oral” “Swallow?” ”Yes” ”Do you like to be intimate with men, or is it more about the physical act of sex?” ”I’m more into the physical act, I’m not really into kissing and other things with men” ”What’s your favorite way to have sex with men?” “My favorite would be more of an anon scene. Prepped and ready for the top to mount me and use my hole for his pleasure until he cums” ”Do you let them ejaculate inside of you?” ”Yes, I only have sex bareback and always let the top ejaculate inside of me. It brings me pleasure to feel his cum inside of me” ”Do you ever ejaculate while bottoming? Hands free or manually?” ”I don’t usually masturbate while bottoming, I have ejaculated while bottoming though” ”When was your first experience with a man?” ”I was 14, my best friend and I started giving each other blow jobs” “Did you perform oral to completion then?” ”Yes, that was the first time I ever tasted cum” ”Did you like it?” ”Not at first, but after a couple times, I started to enjoy it” “When was your first experience with anal sex?” ”That was also with my best friend, we both tried it with each other” ”Did you penetrate him?” ”Yes, but he said it hurt, so I pull out. I tried to bottom for him then and it was the same. It hurt too much so he also pulled out” “Did you use condoms?” ”No” ”Do you still have sex with your best friend?” ”No, we do not live near each other anymore. We stopped when we were around 16” “Okay, when was your next sexual experience with a man?” ”That would be years later, while I was married, I always desired it, but never acted on it until the Internet became a way to find other guys online. I got together with an older gentleman and we would perform oral on each other, after a few times, he asked if he could top me. That would be my first true bottoming experience. We used condoms.” ”How many times did you bottom for him?” ”Six times” ”When did you start barebacking?” ”That would be my next encounter. The guy I had been getting together with moved out of state, so I started looking online for another guy to have some fun with. I found him on Manhunt. His name is Bill. I contacted him after reading his profile and seeing he was a total top. When he replied he told me he only tops bare. I was scared, but something about him made me feel okay to try it. He is the one who really trained me to be a good bottom and he was the first to ever ejaculate in me.” ”Very nice! It’s always good to have a good teacher to show you the ropes. Are you still active with him?” ”When we can, our schedules are out of sync now. He works nights.” “Besides Bill, do you have any other ongoing active partners?” ”No, all others are just one time or anonymous hook ups “ ”You said you’ve never had an STD?” ”Shockingly, No” ”Okay that’s enough background. If you’re selected for insemination will you continue bottoming?” “I plan to, but will always let the top know my status” ”Condoms?” ”No” ”Will you top?” ”Honestly, I’m not sure. I’m not looking to infect anyone, so that will be something that will have to be determined with time and deep reflection. I can honestly say right now the answer is no, this is about my own path and life. But who knows what the future will hold” ”I like that answer! I think the Dr. will too. Would you ever stealth someone?” ”No. for one thing, I will always disclose my status and let the person know I do not use condoms. The other would be the legal side” ”Good! Okay, I think we’re good with the questioning.” So next step, will be for me to share this with the Dr. He will make the final decision. If selected, I will contact you again and we will go over to whole process, expectations, and any questions you have. Sound good?” ”Yeah that sounds great! Thank you so much and I look forward to hearing from you hopefully” ”I can honestly say that the Dr. will like what he sees, but I can’t guarantee it. Thank you for your time Mike and hopefull will be contacting you soon. Bye Mike” ”Goodbye”’

Part 4 Dirk moved his cock back to the sluts hole, he was going to destroy the dumb sluts ass to make sure that his toxic cum takes hold of the slut blood vessels. He loves to breed dumb whores like Mike. He was trying to go as deep as possible in Mikes ass, soon he was feeling the entrance of Mike second ring. The slut could only moan in full pleasure. How does it feel babes are you feeling good, Mike was nodding yes like crazy. Baby did you take prep before you came to me????? Mike could only move with his face, just saying no. Hmmm you naughty boy, you know it is dangerous playing unprotected and let strangers fuck you; i guess you are a slut loving to live dangerous and on the edge. Daddy will take good care of you, no need to chase around anymore to find toxic loads, daddy has everything you need deep in my balls here, and it will go all up to your ass baby. The guys where edging Dirk on to poz the slut on, to breed the whore, make him a member of the poz brotherhood. Mike was listening to Dirks words, but could not make anything of it, he was just enjoying the ride, he needed to be fucked, he hopes Dirk would never stop fucking him. He was falling in love witht this guy, he had never a feeling like this, he never experienced such kind of sex. Dirk was pushing deeper in the whores ass making sure his dick was touching all sides of the cunts asswalls, and hopefully cause a bit of damage. The caverject was working well on his dick, the stuff did do wonders, better then this lame fuckpills. With the caverject he was able to cum up to 7 times per night, and the amounts where always very royal, enough to breed some unwilling whores. The bitch was in heat, he could feel his asswalls milking his dick for the precious carg, but Dirk was not ready to shoot just yet. He had to do a bit more damage to the cunts ass. He was pulling his dick back from the cunt, and getting out of bed. Mike was moaning and shaking his head in dispair, he wanted the dick back in his ass, he was making crazy noises to beg for the dick plugging his ass but without any result. No worry whore, your ass will be filled again real quick, just a bit patience i have to call some mates first, they might like your cunt aswell. Dirk was taking a large black dildo and was aiming for the cunts ass, he smacked some crisco on the cunts ass, and on the dildo, and did start to insert the dildo in the winking pucker. The slut was moaning hard, Dirk knew that it must be painfull, because the dildo is oversized but that was the general idea. Slowly he was turning the dildo in opposite directions nd in the meantime going deeper in the cunts hole. When the dildo was lodged deep, he cleaned his hands and did take his mobile phone. Dirk was making some pictures of the whore bounded, face down, cuffed, blindfolded and high as a kite with a large dildo sticking out of his cunt for his buddies. He ckecked the pictures he made, and they where first class hard porn, he was moving to the front of Mike and did move his phone from foto modus to film modus. He grabbed the hair of Mike and tugged on his hair while filming the face of the whore, he filmed the painfull grimass of Mike and started talking to him. "You like daddies dick babes? You like to get fucked by my bare dick baby, you want daddy shoot up your neg cunt babes. Although it was painfull to move his face due to the grip of hair by Dirk, the cunt was nodding like crazy and moaning like a pig. You want daddy to invite some friends to play? Some more dicks to play and breeding your cunt? Dirk moved back to the back of the cunt, loosening the cuffs and removing the gagg from the whores face, but keeping him blindfolded. The slut was smacking and licking his lipps, obvious very thristy. Dirk did take a bottle of water and handed it to the whore so he could take a drink, and he kept filmi,g the whole time. The bitch was so high he could tell, his face was flushed and his hair did stick to his face. Tell me Mike do you want me to invite some friends to play with you? Mike was unsure what to say, was Dirk testing him? When he would say yes, he might think that he had not enough by one partner, and maybe when he would say no, Dirk could be insulted not letting him inviting his friends. Suddenly he was slapped hard in the face, his cheek was stinging like crazy after the slap, Mike was schocked by the sheer violence. Dirk was making sure that he filmed the shock on the face of Mike, and to the pleasure of the internet viewers. Tell me what you want whore, my friends are awaiting your answer Mike, speak to me!!!!!! Mike did follow his heart, he needed to be fucked, he was desperate for cock so he did reply. Please Sir fuck me, please invite your friends, but please do not hurt me, i do whatever you want, but please do not hit me. Bang, another slap followed, what do you want bitch, tell me. Mike was close to tears, but did feel excitement to, please Sir invite your friends to fuck me Sir, i need your cocks deep inside me. Slap, another one in the face, beg for it whore i want to hear if you want our loads up your neg cunt, beg me bitch. Please Sir can i have your cum please, can i be fucked and filled by your friends? That was all Dirk needed to persuade his friends, not that they needed any persuasion, they where good gifters to neg cunts, and they where heavily pierced and tattooed. Dirk was going to the back of Mike and was pushing him into the doggy position, yanking out very rough the dildo which brought out a scream of Mike and he was pushing his dick into the gaping hole of the whore. He watched the guys on the net who where watching, and there where some guys severe wanking their pozdicks. Time to bring out the big guns to get the party starting. He was calling Hugo, his best friend, Hugo was partnered with James they where so long together that they almost did look identical to each other. Hugo and James where 2 big bears heavily tattooed and pierced and proud to be poz. They where both tops, and into heavy scenes and did like making porn where they would convert stupid cunts into the poz world. They had a close relationship to Dirk, and they often did share their prey with Dirk, and vice versa. The phone was ringing, and James did answer the phone on speaker while Hugo was sitting next to him. Whats up buddy, how is it hanging????? Dirk smirked and said, hihihi not hanging boys, just parked my hard dick in a destroyed ass of a neg cunt, he is high as a kite and begging for Dick, are you interested???? Hmmm sounds good, answered James and Hugo together. Will send you a vid in a sec, so you can make up your mind, the whore is begging to be pozzed, so bring your heavy dicks, and but in your best PA so we can give him what he wants. The boy likes it rough so do not hold back. I am deepdicking him now, and he will get his first poz load right know, 2 weeks of toxic cum ready to fill his neg cunt. Hmmmm Dirk poz the cunt Hugo was shouting out.

So I had decided to be a bugchaser. I craved it. All the time. Fantasized about poz cock and toxic cum. I started spending time at the Hospice my congregation served. Anytime a man with AIDS came in to live his last few days, I spent time with him. Talked with him. Lusted after his wasted body. Offered comfort. More than once I held a hand while the virus took its final toll. More than once I helped a wasted AIDS patient shower. I even went so far as to strip down with him and stand in the shower with him. More than once someone on the verge of death grew hard with desire as I gently washed his body. More than once I used my hand to bring him to pleasure at least once more before he passed. More than once as I stood behind a wasted man, supporting him in the shower and let him grind his ass against my hard cock. A couple of times I let my cock slip into his body, giving him on last moment of intimacy. Allowing him once more to give himself over to desire and lust. No one knew what I was doing, sexually, with the patients. They knew I helped with bathing and personal care. But the staff trusted me and left me alone with the patients any time I came in. Two gay male nurses suspected. More than once they ran interference when another staff member was about to enter the room. They thought I was a good guy for being intimate with these men who had little time left. One of the nurses, Greg, a 23 yr old hot-as-fuck jock with a smooth torso and electric blue eyes even went so far as to whisper a quick "thanks for what you do" wink. wink as I left the hospice one night. I asked him to walk me to my car. I was overwhelmed by his raw sexuality. His beautiful form and masculine energy. He had a nice bulge in his scrubs. I guessed he had about 8". We got to my car having had a more frank discussion on the way there. I said,"Look Greg, I am not entirely altruistic in what I'm doing. I have some ... well ...ulterior motives. I just don't like people thinking I'm some kind of saint or something. I do care about them but I also am....." "Pastor," he interrupted me, "it's pretty clear to me and Kevin (the other gay nurse) that you are really a fag and that you're probably looking to get infected. You're a bugchaser right?" "ummm..." I hesitated. "Or at least a serious wannabe," he said quickly. It was dark out but I think he could tell I was blushing and half-terrified. "Nobody has a clue, except me and Kevin. We've been keeping you safe from prying eyes. Hell, we've both wanked a patient or two in our time here." he spoke softly and quickly, "the thing is we've never met a religious person like you. These guys are getting the best of both worlds from you. Keep up the good work." He turned and walked quickly back to the entrance. "See you next Wednesday, Pastor." he yelled back before he went inside. I opened the car and practically fell into the seat. Good thing I didn't have to fumble with any keys because my hands were shaking so bad I couldn't have held onto them. I realized I was playing with fire. Not the bugchasing but living this double life. It had been two years since the kid in the park had shot a toxic load up my hole. Two years of playing in porno stores and parks and mall restrooms. Two years of more cocks than I could count, more cum than I could remember. I had started PREP until I figured out how to do this. It was time to get serious. I had to get my shit together. I may have become a depraved faggot but I still loved my family and my work. I needed to get some things in order so when the shit hit the fan they'd be ok. I slumped back in the seat of the car. My cock was hard as a rock and bound up in my briefs. I reached down to adjust it, still thinking about my family. My wife who, because of physical issues, was no longer sexual. My younger son. Jason, 16 and so like me. Furry at 16. But a wrestler and built. He was also hung. My older son, Kyle, 18, collegiate swimmer - definitely his mother's child. I loved seeing him naked at the gym. He was smooth. Hung, I instinctively reached for my cock and started rubbing against the fabric of my chinos. A wet spot was already forming. My lips parted slightly, I moaned lightly and dropped my head back. Kyle is so smooth and beautiful. I remembered last time we were in the gym shower at the same time. I was looking at his body as he showered across the room, my cock chubbing up. He was so attentive to his washing. Soaping his broad chest and supple abs. He bent over away from me and his beautiful bubble butt parted slightly as he washed his legs. His hole, pink and perfect, winking at me. I turned quickly away as he stood. My cock was at full mast. I was [banned word] on my own son. In the car my hand rubbed harder and faster on my crotch. My cock twitched in my pants. So close to cumming. I could see him reflected in the shower hardware. He had turned full frontal and was absently wash/stroking his cock, getting harder and harder. I was seeing my own son getting aroused. He looked up and suddenly realized what he was doing. I swear he kept looking for a long moment. I swear that I saw in his reflection a look of pure lust as his eyes ran up and down my body. I shifted as though I was going to turn around and he quickly turned his back to me and started rinsing again. I grabbed my towel and practically ran out of the shower. My breathing was ragged and I was moaning so loudly in the car that had someone passed by they'd have known exactly what I was doing. My thoughts returned to that day in the gym. I had calmed down, had my boxer briefs on and was sitting on the bench rubbing out my head when Kyle came over the his locker next to mine. He opened the upper locker door. I couldn't see his face but he turned facing me and dropped his towel. There just inches from my lips was my son's beautiful, plumped up cut cock, twitching and just begging for me to.... In the car I groaned loud enough to be heard across the parking lot and started shooting load after load of jizz into my pants. In my perverted mind, I gave into my base desires and took that beautiful cock into my mouth. I had the most evil thought flicker through my brain as my orgasm began to subside, "Soon I'll be toxic. Soon I'll be filled with AIDS babies. Maybe I should share my gift with my son." As I came down. I was so turned on. So appalled at my own thoughts. I needed more cock...now. I put the car in gear and headed off into the night, headed to the park where it all started to have more random anonymous cock and cum.

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.

We woke saturday morning curled up next to each other, the damp morning air chilling our near naked bodies. I looked around the tent and our jeans and boots were sitting in the corner. I pulled off my harness and rubbed the crusty pouch of my jock, wondering how much was my cum and how much was the guys that fucked me the night before. The cum had glued my jock to my pubes so I just left it on and pulled my jeans on. I fished around for my tee and pulled that on too. The rustling was enough to wake Louis and soon we both were dressed. "You want some breakfast?" I asked and got a groggy "mmhmm" in response. We climbed out of the tent and headed back to the bar. We took a pair of seats at the bar and Joey brought us some coffee. A minute later, two shots of bourbon were set next to our coffee cups. "You boys look like you had a rough night" Joey said with a smirk. "Like you didn't know what the fuck happened to us" Louis grunted out. "What happens in the campground after hours is up to the campers" he replied. I lifted my hand and pointed at the padlocked cuff on my hand. "So which camper do we see to get these off?" I asked. "Ah... Well, those stay on for the weekend. The rules say that the designated pigs get carte blanche the rest of the weekend. No one can say 'no' to you as long as you have the cuffs on. You can ask for more or you can return the favor to them" Joey explained. I scowled back at him and lowered my hand to the bar, downing the shot. "Why didn't you tell me what was going on this weekend when I made the reservation?" I asked. "I thought you knew. You sounded interested when you were here last year and we talked about some of the events we hold" Joey replied almost apologetically. Almost. "How about some breakfast?" he added. As we ate breakfast, guys would come up to us and pat us on the back or ass, some thanking us for the good time. "Much better than last year, Joey. I think that's a new record... three and a half hours. Maybe more. They wore everyone out" a towering muscle bear said from across the bar. Louis just dropped his head and shook it before taking another bite of breakfast. I finished eating and looked over at Louis who was only half way done. "Eat up. You need lots of energy so we can take advantage of the cuffs. I'm already thinking about who's first" I said quietly to Louis. A smile started to grow on his face. When Louis finished, I asked Joey for two cups of coffee to go and we headed back to the campground. It had already gotten warmer and when we got to our tent I pulled my tee off and threw it in the tent. "Harness, please" Louis said. I handed it back to him and watched him put it back on, tugging a bit to get it to sit right before grabbing his coffee and taking a sip. "Ready?" he asked. I whispered to him my game plan and he nodded back in agreement. We walked over to the playground first and found the tree that was our fuck spot from the night before. We looked over the steel rod that was bored through the tree that we had braced ourselves on for hours. There were still two wet spots on the ground where cum had pooled below our asses. "It's time" I said and we started our tour of the campground in daylight. Eyes were glued on us from each campsite that we walked by. We gave friendly camper greetings to everyone we met, but made mental notes. A few guys hid inside their tents when we got near, making us chuckle. We passed by the place that we got ambushed and I stopped. Looking at Louis I asked "Any idea how many guys you took last night?" "No fuckin' clue. I was drunk when it started and someone kept blowing smoke in my face and stuffing poppers up my nose. I lost count after 11." We started walking and came up on a campsite where two guys were sitting at their picnic table drinking some cheap beer. One was in his mid 40's with a trimmed beard, pony tail and loose t-shirt on. The younger one looked like a college age version of him with scruff and a few small tats on his arms. "Morning guys. How's it going?" I asked. "Fuck" the younger one said under his breath. "Doin' OK. Just trying to get the edge off last night's drinkin'. How 'bout you?" the older one replied. "Good. Doin' the same. Need some fresh air to clear my head. Uh... I'm curious... You guys related? You look pretty similar" I asked. The older guy chuckled and said "Yeah, he's my real son. I'm Larry and he's Trey. This is his first time here since he is finally old enough." I looked at the son and he was blushing and looking down at his beer. I patted him on the back and said "Welcome to the Pig Poke. Hope you have a good time." I could feel him shaking under my hand and laughed to myself. I started walking down the path and said "See ya later." I could hear a huge sigh from Trey. Louis was following me and I could hear him grumble. "We haven't made it all the way through the campground yet, then we choose who" I reminded Louis. We got to the end of the row and followed the path over to the next one. We passed a site with two guys about our age laying out on a blanket face up and naked. They looked good and didn't flinch as we walked by, though I could see that at least one was looking at us. They were a contrast to most of the guys in the campground since they were light skinned black guys and mostly hairless except for their pits and pubes. One had a goatee and the other a chin patch. The next site had a nice looking 50's bear sitting at the table. A thin otter who was probably 10 years younger was cleaning up the campsite naked. He had a cage on his cock and his ass was still red from a paddling he had gotten earlier. The bear barked out an order to the otter and Louis and I immediately recognized the voice. "Mornin'" I said with a grin and kept walking. The next site was empty but the last one in the row had a large tent with four guys sitting at the picnic table playing cards. I could see the outline of two more guys in the tent, one sucking the other off. "Mornin'" I said as the four turned to look at us. "Mmmm, thats what you guys look like in the daylight. Nice. Thanks for giving it up for the rest of us last night. You both were great fucks" the taller of the four guys said. The other three smiled and nodded. "Not like we had a choice but you're welcome. We didn't even know there was an event here this weekend" I replied. I could tell Louis was checking them out, but so was I. They all were cubs in their mid to late 30's, just wearing cargo shorts and sported a tattoo of three greek letters on either their chest or upper arm. They were all muscled to some extent and easy on the eyes. "See ya around" I said as I continued walking. I could tell Louis was getting impatient and wanted to fuck someone now, but I wanted to see what all the options were. We couldn't fuck them all so I wanted to know I was going to leave my loads in the best ones. We walked over to the last row of sites. These all had a view of the river and from past experience I knew there was to be no outdoor sex in them, at least in the daytime. An older couple was at the first one, sitting in two camp chairs, holding hands and talking. They were probably in their late 60's or maybe early 70's and in decent shape. Their full white beards hung down low to their belly with a smile peeking through. "That was quite a show you boys put on last night. All of us really enjoyed it" the shorter one said. "I didn't realize we were the entertainment" Louis said sarcastically. "I had hoped that you enjoyed it as much as we did" he replied. "It wasn't what we were expecting, but sometimes you just deal with it, right? Enjoy your day" I said and continued on our walk. The last campsite on our rounds we saw a sexy muscled cub leaning back in his chair. He was in his mid 30's, his body was well defined and had perfectly manscaped hair on his chest with a trail that disappeared into his tight shorts. His strong jawline was accented by a thin chinstrap beard and moustache. I chuckled to myself thinking "this guy spent more time grooming today than the rest of the campground combined." "Well if it isn't the cumdump faggots from last night. Looking for more dick to fuck those pussies?" the guy said. I laughed and said "You must be the token straight guy. You chose the wrong weekend to be here or maybe you're just a closet case that needs some homo sex." I could tell that the guy was surprised at my reply and decided to dig a bit more. "So, were you just watching and jacking your little dick or did you get the nerve up and actually fuck?" "You guys didn't complain about my size when I fucked you last night" the guy answered back. I laughed again adding "We really didn't have much choice and definitely didn't get to pick who fucked us. Some of 'em I could barely feel and there were some hung ones too. Some threw a good fuck and others were pretty sad. Anyway, we gotta go figure out who gets to be our bitch today." I watched his jaw drop, the thought that we weren't just a pair of horny bottoms never crossing his mind until now. Louis and I wandered back to our bikes and I leaned against mine looking at Louis who seemed to be getting angrier by the moment. "Relax. Guys like that think they're hot shit tops and most of the time it's just a bluff. One day he'll get his due" I said quietly to Louis. "Now... I'd like to double up on a couple and then we can go off and do another pair solo. We got until tomorrow morning so that should give us plenty of time. If we got time we might squeeze in a few more. Who are your top three?"

12. Veracruz Para bailar la bamba, Para bailar la bamba, Se necesita una poca de gracia One week after the townhouse fire, they were anchored off the coast of Virginia, and Mike was done, had had it. The End. Flash disclaimers: no animals were harmed in the making of this film; all actors were eighteen or older at the time of production. Roll credits. He swam out to sea, far enough so he couldn’t make it back. Not a great plan, but he didn’t need a plan that was great, just one that would do the job. He swam away from the yacht as far as he could till he couldn’t see it anymore, then swam some more. This wasn’t the way he wanted the rest of his life to be. He wouldn’t let anyone touch him. Not Ben. Not Chris. He didn’t even want to be seen. The one thing the orderly Barkley got right, he was a freak. He swam for miles. The yacht had long vanished, the coastline gone hours ago, his arms were finally growing tired. Still he swam. He’d go till he hit England or France or whatever the fuck was on the other side of the Atlantic. He was getting more than tired. He was getting delirious. Desperate, he wanted to rid himself of life, wanted to shit it out of his body like diarrhea, vomit it out like bad Little Neck clams. He managed seroconverting years ago, it was sketchy time but became manageable, something he sealed a bargain with and could live alongside. But this wasn’t something manageable, something he could live with. This made him not him. He swam harder. Furiously faster. Further out. Not a chance of returning. How much longer could he keep it up? If nothing else it was becoming tedious. He was bored killing himself. He could feel himself shiver, and yet it was July, after the Fourth for god sakes, but he was cold nonetheless. Maybe the cold would kill him first before he drowned. He wished he could stop thinking. The time for thinking was over. Thinking was overrated. Still he swam, one arm in front of the other, one kick and then another. Exhaustion kept at bay, but he could feel it creeping up on him like sleep. It was in the corner of his eye. He could never spot it, for when he moved to catch a glimpse, it moved, lingering just at the edge. He rubbed his eyes. They stung from the salt water. He hated the taste of the brine, hated almost everything right now. Except for Ben. Except for Chris. They let him be. He wished they hadn’t, wished they’d pressed him, made him talk about it, but anytime they did, he’d storm out of the room. So once they’d bought Boris and Roger’s boat and drove into the Great South Bay and points south, no one brought it up, no one talked about anything. Talking was overrated. Swimming was everything now. A goal in and of itself. Dying was everything. Dying consumed him. Dying. It’s an active verb, isn’t it? Means: Not Dead Yet. Because he wasn’t, and because this thing had been on his mind for weeks, he knew he wasn’t dead yet—he pictured Ben and Chris as he put one arm in front of the other. He wished inside he were dead, but he wasn’t—he was very alive. He was conflicted, confused. He hoped in death he would escape confusion. There wasn’t an easy answer. Either he cared for one or the other. He pictured he was with one or the other. It was a binary choice. And yet either choice was null as he felt himself to be null, he’d never satisfy either one. So, the coward that he was, he search for a third option: he swam. Thinking about any of this pissed him off and he swam faster, tried to outpace his thoughts. He doubled down on his strokes, kicked faster, harder, frantically wanting to die before these feelings killed him. He began to weep as he swam. Real body sobs. And why not? He was alone. He was in the middle of the fucking ocean. Who’d see him weep? Fish? Mermaids? If one caught him boo-hooing with his face in the water, he could always say it was the salty ocean not salty tears in his face. He breathed in water accidentally as he sobbed and he choked. He was going to Davy Jones’ Locker soon, so did he care if he choked? He’d be meeting Davy Jones soon. Davy Jones. Wasn’t he one of the Monkees? He laugh. He stopped swimming. He tread water. He was laughing and crying. He was tired, really tired, hadn’t slept for days, tossing and turning, wrapped in his desires and utter pointlessness of feeling anything at all. He’d swum for hours and hours, far, far away, and if not physically swimming away, then for days and days he’d been mentally, emotionally swimming away. Closing off; shutting down. Away from everything. Away from anyone who cared. Treading water as an excuse for living. Suddenly cramps. He folded in half, exploded bubbles underwater. Saw his toes. Coming up for air, he threw his head back, wailing to the sky, crying, Fuck you! for meeting Ben who introduced Drax, and the path his life took. But how could he ever really curse meeting Ben? And with Ben came Chris. He heaved and bobbed, sputtered profanities into the sky, shouted blasphemies into the water, thrashed violently against the waves, but there was nothing to make contact with, nothing to hit to make him feel better, only worse, more hollow, empty. Yelling at God, at the sky, was as fruitless as tossing matches at the sun. The sun didn’t care. It laughed. And at last he was growing weak. It couldn’t be much longer. Small whitecaps broke around his ears. Soon. Soon. He’d wait right here. Death knew where he was. He didn’t have to search any farther for it. Soon it would find him. But like an obligation he couldn’t get out of, like a promised he couldn’t keep, his tangled love followed him, came in sight—Chris at the bow with binoculars trained on him, Ben at the helm navigating to where Chris pointed. They sped up their approached with Chris waving his arms. They didn’t press, didn’t ask, didn’t tell, but they also never gave up. But just as they pulled alongside him, Manetti’s body gave out. He slid down into the depths, went to meet Davy Jones. The Jolly Roger pulled up beside where they’d last seen him. Ben cut the engines. Manetti was finally let go, threading down to the bottomless sea. Chris jumped in the water. Turbulently he dove kicking down, searching desperately for Mike, saw nothing but fingertips disappearing into the grey expanse below. He kicked frantically till whole fingers then a hand came into view. He grabbed it, pulled on it till he grasped the whole hand, Mike’s still warm hand, then the arm, and pulled and stroked and kicked stubbornly trying to rise to the surface. He made no progress with the heavy body. He hadn’t taken in enough air and it was running out. His lungs burned but still he kicked doggedly, didn’t matter he wasn’t rising to the surface. He’d let Mike pull him under before he’d give him up to the sea. There was another splash. Ben dove beneath him, found Mike’s other arm. Together they pulled till the surface came into view. The sun glistened like an orb rippling far above. They sliced water with their free arms, kicking stubbornly with their feet, chasing their breath in the form of bubbles racing to the surface. They broke through the ocean’s skin and gasped for air. Ben had left a life vest waiting close to the boat. Chris grabbed it and tucked it under Mike’s chin. Mike coughed salt water out of his lungs, barfed water back into the ocean. Dazed and half conscious, his chin rested on the orange life preserver. He eyed Chris. He eyed Ben. For a second he thought he’d fallen into heaven looking at the brothers. But then he remembered who he was, where he was, what he was, felt the whitecaps break around his ears. Maybe death hadn’t found him today. But if he had any say, he’d let it find him. One day. Soon. *** he yacht they bought from the morticians, Boris and Roger, called—what else—The Jolly Roger, skull and crossbones painted on the stern, bobbed gently in the harbor. Tucked in their rented slip, the vessel swayed slightly as Chris woke from a nap. He felt the movement so knew they were still on the sea. There was something reassuring about living on the ocean over the last several months. Maybe it was growing up so close to the beach, it was the one place of refuge he knew he could always turn to. She was always there, constant, unchanging from one season to the next. Each year he grew older, she didn’t. Veracruz was a port town similar to Long Beach in a lot of ways. The smell for one. Brackish water mixed with heavy industry. Massive freighters carrying millions of tons of crude oil sat next to cargo ships with thousands of stacked containers. Millions of transaction daily. The port covered over five hundred acres of water, nine hundred acres on land. Veracruz was one of Mexico’s busiest port, its open hand to the world. The volume of exchange was hard to fathom, but it had been this gateway for centuries. Its open hand brought with it Caribbean and African influences. You could hear it in its music, see it in the people. The pleasure boats docked closer to the city hotels and to the city’s center; the massive ships stayed out by the barrier reefs with a nearly thousand foot quay connecting it to land. It was an extremely active port, a lively scene in the daytime, with huge cranes loading and unloading cargo till late afternoon. Then activity ebbed, trucks loaded with containers drove off, and the harbor took on a more serene and festive mood. He got up from his small bunks, and climbed to the top deck bar where he knew Mike and Ben would be. Yep, they were there in flowery Hawaiian shirts bought in Miami, sipping vodka cranberries, watching the lights of the city start to flutter awake. The deep azure sky was quickly fading to night. The first stars of the night were unveiling. “How you feeling, Chief,” Manetti asked him. “Better,” Chris replied. “Can I have one too?” Ben looked him over. “If you’re not gonna get sick, I guess you can.” Manetti, the ship’s official bartender, asked if he wanted a cherry in his Shirley Temple. Chris glared at him. Manetti mixed his vodka cranberry grinning his goofy grin, throwing in a lime. “Arrrrg,” he said in a pirate voice, handing over the drink, “Yer wants to prevent scurvy, matey.” They settled on their barstools. “Perty, ain’t it?” Manetti said to no one in particular, watching the rippling lights coming toward them across the water. He’d come a long way, Chris thought, since the incident in Virginia months back. They all had, healed some or scarred over. Still no one talked about what they all kept quiet about. What was there to say? If you come to an understanding, an unspoken compromise, why talk? So they all slept in the boat’s many separate bunks in different parts of the ship, the master cabin at the bow left empty. Each alone in his bunk with his solitary thoughts, they sailed the Caribbean, hiding from each other as much as from Drax. After a long silence Ben said Veracruz reminded him of Miami. Long Beach, Chris replied. The radio softly played a local folk station—guitars, plaintive Spanish songs, son jarocho. A tune came on that pricked up Ben’s and Mike’s ears. Ben said, “Isn’t that…” “La Bamba,” Mike finished the thought. “Yeah, a lot different from—what’s his name?” “Richie Valens,” Ben said. “Who’s Richie Valens,” asked Chris. Ben explained, “He was someone who died in a plane crash with the The Big Bopper and Buddy Holly back in the fifties.” “Who,” Chris asked again. “Shut up,” said Mike. After a few moments listening to the familiar song overlaid by the original folk melody, not as brash as the early rock n roll rendition, but with complex guitar work still rhythmically inviting, Ben asked Mike what they were saying. Mike listened intently. He’d grown up speaking broken Italian in his house, so over the last months, as they sailed around Mexico and the Caribbean, he’d managed to pick up and got pretty good at Spanish. “The guy’s singing: To dance the bamba, to the dance the bamba, you need a little grace.” “What the bamba?” Chris asked. “I don’t know,” said Mike, “It’s the name of the dance, I guess, like the twist or something.” “What’s the twist,” Chris asked again. “Please let me throw him overboard,” Manetti begged Ben. “Kidding,” Chris laughed. Then something stopped Manetti. A light went off in his face as he cocked an ear to the radio. “Aw, this is good. Listen.” Manetti sang, not very well, but passionately, a refrain, “Yo no soy marinero, yo no soy marinero, soy capitan. He says, I’m not a sailor, I’m not a sailor, I’m captain, I’m captain.” His smile blossomed, the first true smile Ben and Chris had seen since they left New York. Not sardonic or ironic either. Saying something for the first time he believed. “I’m captain,” he sang in his raspy off-key baritone. The three of them sipped drinks and gazed over the port town, felt shrouded in the approaching night. The rocking of the boat brought them together. They didn’t need to talk. Maybe wounds weren’t healing so much as scabbing over. During their months at sea, they’d developed their own silent language, speaking only when something had to be said. Something like they needed a refill of meds, or they needed a new fuel filter. Their exchange over La Bamba had been the most they’d spoken to each other in months, particularly Manetti. Maybe they were ready to talk. Or maybe it wasn’t words they needed to express. A little buzzed, Chris swayed on his barstool to the song’s refrain. As the song went on he got up and swayed to the music in front of Manetti. He’d grown tall in the last few months, still skinny as a rail but now eye height to Manetti. So with Manetti perched on his barstool, Chris looked him straight in the eye. He got in close and was dancing closer. “Bamba la bamba,” he sang in his reedy voice, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. *** A brief history of the internet would likely begin with the Advanced Research Projects Administration network, or ARPANET, a U.S. Department of Defense project, based on the idea that if nuclear war took out parts of the country, decentralized yet connected computer operation would allow data to continue to flow in the un-nuked parts of the United States. Comforting thought. ARPANET was a pioneering network for sharing digital resources among geographically separated computers. You can trace a direct line from its initial demonstration in 1969 to the development and adoption of what we now know as the Internet. Chris was two that year, making his first stack of building blocks—four high. He clapped his fat little hands sitting on the living room rug, while his mother, dad, and twelve-year-old brother watched a shoot-out on Bonanza. In 1976, Queen Elizabeth II sent her first email. As she pushed the send button, she placed her white gloves against her lips. She was very excitedly. The royal family, surrounding her, shared in her delight. When Ben and Mike fucked for the first time at the St. Marks Bath in 1983, the Domain Name System, or DNS, was established giving us the familiar website suffixes .com, .net, .gov, etc., which was a heck of a lot easier to remember than the series of numbers websites previous used, like, say, 176.191.49.254. Two years later, when bath houses and sex clubs were shut down by the health department, in 1985, the internet was well on its merry way. So were Chris, Ben and Mike having dug up Chris’ buried treasure, bought The Jolly Roger, and set sail for a four years voyage hiding on the open seas. Miami, Freeport, Key West, Veracruz, Belize, Jamaica, Puerto Rico, Martinique, Aruba, through the Panama Canal, up to Acapulco, Puerto Vallarta, Cabo San Lucas, with a brief stop in Long Beach to pick up Ben’s record collection and check in on mom. She was better than fine, had a new boyfriend named Burt, who actually was decent to her. She was disappointed they had to leave so soon, but packed the three sea voyagers a lunch, kissed their cheeks including Manetti’s scruffy beard, and with records tucked under their arms, they were back sputtering up the California coast by noon, chomping on Mrs. Prior’s peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and homemade Rice Crispy treats. Mike, Ben and Chris sailed under the astonishing Golden Gate Bridge revealing the magnificent San Francisco skyline, August of ’89. Within a week they dry docked The Jolly Roger, and set up house in the Castro. Chris was twenty-two. One year later, 1990, Tim Berners-Lee develop the HyperText Markup Language, or HTML, which is still the basis of how we navigate and view the internet today. (Where you going with this, Chief? Bear with me, I’ll get to it.) Chris got his first computer the same year. It’s not really a part of internet history, but it’s important to the story because it was important to Chris: his first computer was a Macintosh IIfx. Mike and Ben chipped in together to celebrate both Chris getting his GED and an acceptance letter to Stanford just down the peninsula. That was back when Stanford wasn’t next to impossible to get into. Chris discovered that besides having a knack with car and boat engines, he had a natural aptitude for figuring out how things fit together—physical or otherwise. The very first thing he did when he got his Mac was to take it apart and reassemble it. So combine aptitude with physical objects to a newly discovered affinity for reading and writing code, Stanford was a logical place to park his butt for the next four years. Reading and writing code was intuitive for him. He tried to explain it to Ben and Mike, passing around some ganja they’d brought with them from Long Beach; it’s simply another form of language, he said. Ben and Mike tried to follow as he prattled on. It reflects the same rules as any language: the mechanics of verbs, whether motor engines, electrical systems, or logical functions and methods; the structure and solidity of nouns, whether you’re talking car parts or object-oriented programming’s classes and instances; the skin of adjectives, colors, attributes, the aggregate of forms that determine design; finally the assembled thought, the purpose, the reasoning, the expression, the i/o of flowing data, the brain giving orders—what is it you want this thing to accomplish, man?—it all interlocked in his mind, he’d just never had a way to express it before nor much inkling he even wanted to. But now all that changed: Hello world! Mike took the joint out of Chris’ hand. It didn’t hurt that he graduated from Stanford in ’94. Two guys in the class before his had a startup called Yahoo! They brought Chris onboard first as an intern in his senior year, and then fulltime by summer. There wasn’t a whole lot of money in those lean, early days—the two founders were working with venture capitalists who weren’t immediately forthcoming with cash—so Chris got paid, against Ben and Mike’s advice, in options. Since he was a workaholic, staying up writing code throughout the night wired on caffeine and an occasional jolt of amphetamines, he piled up a shitload of options. He kept them in a shoebox under the bed. When the company incorporated the following year, Chris converted options each time the stock hit a new high. He made a killing in just the first year alone, and still had an almost-full shoebox under the bed. In 1996, Match.com was launched, and other dating sites sprang up soon after. One night, after Mike had brought home some kickass Peyote buttons, and during some powerful, transformative sex—i.e., the first night Chris took his first double fist—he realized he should create a new kind of dating site. He bought a domain the next day, and built the site, still amped from the Peyote and fuckin’ awesome sex, over the course of one weekend. Chris’ life, informed by Mike and Ben, showed him that the rainbow flag not only transcended a spectrum of races and cultures, it also, and more in line with his experiences, encompassed a spectrum of sexual universes. Where dating sites that competed for survival in the burgeoning, Darwinian world of online hookups viewed the model from top down as straight white vanilla, tossing out a net to capture the broadest swath possible, his take on sex was completely opposite, bottom up, a banquet of chocolatey rocky road. He started with all the categories and sub-categories of life he knew viscerally, starting with Master Drax and continuing over the last few years in San Francisco: leather, master & slaves, fisters, S&M, bondage, grunge& raunch, hoods & masks, pups & trainers, military, medical, uniforms, watersports, smokers, skinheads, punks, tats, piercings, feet, chastity, bareback, bikers, bears, rubber, and friendship—you name it, there was a place, or maybe several places, for you somewhere on his site. San Francisco was the perfect beta test city to incubate his idea. His site was free with limited search capability—proof of concept, man, search is gonna be the key, he claimed—but for a few dollars more, a monthly Premium membership gave you unlimited search capabilities. This bottom up approach, this one-size-does-not-fit-all model, this choose-your-own-adventure paradigm—plus, add-on messaging, chat rooms, picture sharing, winks, scorekeeping, leaderboards: the whole gamification of getting laid—it caught fire. First city-wide, then nationally, and within a year, internationally. We’re talking beaucoup bucks here, sailors. It, his website, and he, its sole founder, made scads of money from the get go and attracted attention. But, perhaps, attention might not be what he was looking for. But then you have to figure, hey, he—they—could only keep out of site forever. *** The old guy at the end of the bar lit a Camel cigarette. Bobo, a large, very attractive middle-aged drag queen who helped Manetti run the place weeknights (and who had an obvious, though unrequited crush on him—but that’s another story) served Duke, a young, wiry, opinionated hustler who liked to badger Mike incessantly. They were at the center of the long saloon bar staring at the smoking man. It was a slow Tuesday night—only four of them in the place. The big green neon clock showed it was almost one-thirty in the morning, a half hour from closing. “Not cool,” said Duke to Manetti. Bobo checked her nails studiously. “Hey, mister,” Manetti said, walking over to the man. “You can’t smoke here.” He stopped short recognizing Drax. Under his black leather cap, what used to be grey beard had gone completely white and was now pointed and quite long. His bald head had had a buzzed crown around the sides, but he’d let that grow long, too, so the wispiest of white hair hung over his shoulders. Black circles sagged under his eyes. He’d once worn glasses but now they were absent. Instead his dark eyes were ghostly pale with thick cataracts. He hacked a loud, phlegmatic cough as Manetti approached. “Bourbon neat, barkeep,” he said. “We got a backyard bar for smoking,” Manetti said under his breath cautiously. Though Drax looked infirmed, he knew a wounded snake was a more dangerous one. He gave Drax a once over, checked what he could to ascertain if anything were holstered under his leather coat. It didn’t look like he was packing, but you never knew with Drax. He’d surprised many a wary adversary. He shot a glance to Duke and Bobo, a little afraid for them if things suddenly went south. “We’re getting close to last call. How ‘bout I get us a bottle and we talk out back?” he offered Drax. The old man luxuriated in his cigarette, picking off a shred of tobacco from the left side of his split reptilian tongue. Manetti had forgotten that tongue. Drax took a long drag and blew a large plume into the stale barroom air. “Not cool, man,” Duke pronounced from the center of the bar, waving his hand in front of his face as if from that distance he was bothered by the smoke. Manetti raised a scolding finger at Duke. Don’t! the finger and Manetti’s scowl warned him. Duke usually would take that up as challenge and start arguing with Manetti, but something told him to stand down. He clamped his pie hole and instead blinked at Bobo. Bobo took out a nail file and glanced a disconcerting look at Mike. “These San Francisco street whores—little pansy ass lung fairies, aren’t they,” Drax said to Manetti. He turned his head only slightly, not bothering to look at Duke but making sure he knew he was talking to him. “Fuck you, cunt,” he said in his gnarly voice. “Hey, now!” said Bobo alarmed and angry, pointing her nail file at the old man. “No C-word in my joint.” Manetti sauntered back to Bobo and Duke. “Hey kids. This is an old acquaintance of mine,” Manetti said. “Sweetie, would you mind watching the door till closing? I’m going out back so he can finish his smoke. If anyone else comes tell ‘em I’m out back,” he said and kissed Bobo’s rouged cheek. “Night, Chief,” he said to Duke. “You be good, ya hear me.” He held up that warning finger again, and gave them both his reassuring shark-tooth smile. He knocked Duke’s chin, friendly-like, with his knuckles. Duke sheepishly grinned. Who didn’t have a crush on Manetti? *** The back patio had a little straw tiki bar with two bar stools. Mike set Drax’s glass and his on the bamboo surface and poured generous amounts of Four Roses in each. He set down the bottle, picked up his glass and waited. Off in the harbor a plaintiff foghorn wailed. Drax came out hobbling with a cane. He limped along favoring his right hip. The patio bar was perched on the side of a hill. Several picnic tables were scattered about, barstools lined the railings overlooking a deserted alley far below. Manetti positioned himself in back of the tiki bar and Drax slid onto one of the stools. Drax flicked his ash on the floor, hooked his cane on the bar ledge, and set down his lighter and pack of Camels next to his bourbon. “You grow a beard?” he asked squinting. Manetti nodded yes, running his fingers over it. “This your place then, huh,” he said to Manetti with an undercurrent of disbelief and maybe a little envy. Drax’s eyes were fixed on the bartender, his former stable boy, now spouting a few grey hairs in his unruly auburn mop. Drax’s near-blind eyes shined luminous in the gloom. “Ben and mine,” Manetti answered. He picked up Drax’s Camels, took one out. He plucked Drax’s smoke from his fingers and lit his from it. He handed him back his cigarette. “Long time, MD. How’d you know we were here?” “It's an odd thing,” Drax began in an effete manner, flicking his wrist exaggerated by his cigarette. It was completely discordant with his nature, so against his butch, hard guy character, yet a very spot on mimicry. “But anyone who disappears is said to be seen in San Francisco.” He brought his fingers to his lips and puffed. Manetti gave a smile in recognition. “Master Drax quotes Oscar Wilde. A sign of the apocalypse,” Manetti snorted, taking a hit off his own smoke. Drax curled his lips displaying a gummy smile. Manetti exhaled into the overhead fog. “And then Wilde exclaimed,” speaking in his own mincing voice, “It must be a delightful city and possess all the attractions of the next world.” Drax took a sip of bourbon. “I haven’t seen any evidence of that yet,” he said, “but give me a day. I only arrived tonight.” He approved of the bourbon and took a bigger swig. “When’d you get so fucking literary?” Manetti took a long drag. He’d quit smoking when they were at sea, but tonight was a special occasion. The cool air and the warm smoke had a familiar sensation. It provoked some relished, decadent, post sex memories. He took another hit, felt the nicotine work its magic, salving the undercurrent of nervousness being back in Drax’s presence. He’d always been charmed and at the same time repulsed by the man; tonight was no different. “Taking a couple of night classes at City College, finishing my degree.” “Hm,” grunted Drax. He paused thinking back. “You were on scholarship at NYU ages ago, weren’t you?” Drax asked. “Afore you became just another burnout.” “I was on a wrestling scholarship back then, yeah.” Manetti drew deeply from his glass. “I was working out some issues. But I’m back now. It’s cheap. I’m getting a degree in English literature next year. Lot of good it’ll do me working here,” he laughed. “Hm,” Drax grunted again. “You trying to impress me?” He fidgeted on his stool. “It’s cold for fucking July,” he groused. “Welcome to San Francisco,” Manetti responded. “Drink up, it’ll warm you. Might even thaw you a bit.” Smoking brought out a sense of security. He went on, “I’m working on something that might interest you. Working with Bobo on it. Besides being one of the best bartenders around, she’s a great lyricist. You met her inside.” The bourbon was loosening him up, warming his gut. “Maybe you knew him when he bartended at The Mineshaft. He was Carlos back then. Big dockworker type. Large black horseshoe mustache?” Drax looked at him blankly. “Well, I remembered him.” Drax downed the rest of his drink, then plunked down the glass. “Too hard to tell,” his said, pointing to his head. “All that big hair.” “We’re collaborating, she and I,” Manetti said. He raised his hand eliciting a marque. “Mineshaft, the Musical,” he said with a flourish. Drax crowed hard once, while Manetti refilled his glass. Drax crushed out his cigarette, drifted in reflection, studying the dying smoke. “Hm.” He rolled thoughts over. Manetti watched the old man’s pale eyes flutter. It was dark out here. Fog lowering. Getting dank, too. Drax looked up and tried to scan Manetti’s face in the dingy light. Mike saw his former director, confessor and pimp, shiver. Manetti, too, was cold, wearing his usual bar uniform: white t-shirt, jeans, leather vest. He flipped on an overhead heater. It cast both of them in a devilish orange light. The heat lamp sizzled, chewing on the fog as it warmed them both. The foghorn softly moaned again. “I remember,” Drax finally began after taking a sip, “taking Benjamin to the Mineshaft for the first time.” He lit another cigarette. It triggered a bout of hacking and a prolonged, phlegmatic rumbling. It ended with him spitting phlegm onto the ground. He paused for a second, then took another hit off his cigarette, and ruminated for quite a while lost in thought. “Hm,” he said, looking off in a middle distance. “He only had been in the city a year. He was still so cherry. Hadn’t taken a fist, hadn’t done scat or been whipped, he’d only been pissed on once but hadn’t drank from the tap yet. You don’t want to rush a boy. Good pornography, it’s best when it records discoveries. We’re born like a rock with all these rough edges,” he said swirling around the contents of his glass. “Life wears you down. But you don’t want to smooth a boy down all at once. One step at a time down that long descending staircase. If you can, you capture that moment when a synapse fires off, that shows he actually likes it, whatever kink it is, that’s what make your viewer shoot his load. Yeah, sure, it’s also that big throbbing dick, but it’s also that spark of recognition. That identification. And sometimes to get it, you need to go off script. Plant some seeds. See what’s in the boy’s true nature.” Drax flicked his ash, stared at his ember. Took a long draw sucking in his hollow cheeks. “So this night, it’s the night of the blackout of ’77, July. It’s sweltering hot in his apartment, we’re naked and dripping in sweat. I wanted him to learn to take a fist. I just slammed him for a second time, but we were getting nowhere. Been shoving big dildos and plugs up his ass, he was begging for them, shoving ones bigger than my hand, but when my fingers touched his hole?” Drax demonstrated for Manetti Ben’s tightly clenched butthole with his closed fist. “My experience, a good slam fixes that, but not Ben, not that night. Then the blackout happens, power goes out in the apartment and you might as well call it quits. Except we’re both higher than fuck, and I tell him, put on your jock and those chaps, I’m taking you somewhere. We usually didn’t go out in public. Some men recognized him, mostly from vanilla stuff that first year. Spreads in the soft core rags, beach boy, long hair surfer, jacking. Pics of him playing with his hole. Some with other pretty boys. He preferred boys his own age he could dominate. He was still skinny, tall though, aggressive with my other twink bottoms. Slapped them around some, nothing too violent, more bossy, really. Naturally verbal I was discovering. Bit of a nasty streak if you wanna know the truth. Had a real foul mouth when he got started. Loved when he got his bottom confessing to being his fucktard bitch,” Drax chuckled. “Said he got it from his stepdad.” “Chris’ real dad,” Manetti injected. “Ben’s stepdad. He used to beat Chris mercilessly.” “Yeah?” Drax paused interested, curious, mulled it over. “I could see that.” He gave Manetti a harsh once over, then pulled on his cigarette, letting the smoke drift out his teeth as he spoke. “So we ride in the cab seeing there this blackout going on all over the city, wasn’t just the fuses in the building. We pass a Walgreens being looted, I don’t know, old men carrying out cartons of cigarettes, six-packs, old ladies with shopping carts full of boxes of clothespin and plastic tablecloths, the strange things people do. Plastic flowers piled in their shopping carts. We pass a couple of cars on fire on Broadway and Eighth, both of us high as shit. We’re in this real-life Hieronymous Bosch painting. Are we really seeing these things? Maybe we are. Guys breaking into the Crazy Eddies store, a dog running up the Six Avenue by itself, no street lights of course, so the driver takes it easy. We get to Washington Street, there’s cops lined up. Ben’s afraid ‘cause of the cops. I have to convince him they’re just dress-up cops, club customers waiting to get in. We get out, climb the stairs past leather men, policemen, denim cowboys, we push up the line ‘cause Wally’s at the ropes and he sees me and takes one look at this beautiful boy I have in chaps and a jock, and opens the rope right up. We’re walking around the bar and I’m holding his leash. I got him to cut his hair that week. Made him get a Mohawk, I thought it’d be fun.” Manetti almost snorted his bourbon through his nose. “You’re shittin’ me. Ben let you give him a Mohawk?” he said. “Of course he didn’t. You think he’d ever go for that, the little priss. But I did get him to cut it shorter. Much better. He twern’t at the beach no more, were he? Dorothy ain’t in Kansas.” “Guess not,” said Manetti. He poured himself another glass and stole another of Drax’s smokes. Drax didn’t seem to care, but he did notice. “So of course there’s no lights or music in the club ‘cause it’s the fuckin’ blackout of nineteen seventy-seven! We’re in the middle of this sweltering heatwave, Son of Sam’s on the loose knocking couples off, and Ben’s making his debut at The Mineshaft on my leash, struttin’ around in his jockstrap and chaps, and I got everyone salivating. Boy don’t yet know his worth, but the men do. The bar’s all lit up by a thousand candles. Men all murmuring. It’s like a fucking church, which is exactly what The Mineshaft is actually. Am I right? It’s hotter than shit so I have Ben strip, which he’s high but a little reluctant to do right out in public, but I strip and others are walking around naked, so what the fuck. He asks sort of innocently, what kind of bar is this? Not a bar, son, I say. Let’s go down those stairs, I tell him. We leave the second floor bar, go down naked to the first floor and he’s like a kid in a candy store. His eyes are wide, his pupils like black saucers, and I see he’s hungry for what the store has to offer. There’s glory holes, rim seats, slings, but what does that sick pup pick up on first? There a spotlight and a bunch of men surrounding the spotlight. Of course he’s drawn to it. We go over, and the light’s focused on a bathtub. Two guys are in it getting pissed on by all the men standing around it. He begs me to let him get in. I unleash him, and he runs over naked wearing just his dog collar, making his way through a sea of naked or semi-naked men in harnesses, all their cocks waving, and he climbs in and gets on his knees. More men come over to get a load of this new dirty blond hunk, this gorgeous piece of fresh meat, and of course they want to piss all over him, mark him. He opens his mouth and consumes shit loads of their piss. One short Asian guy nuzzles up to him with his big black bush, and Ben learns to drink from dick, then he takes this black guy’s Johnson and sucks out his piss till the guy’s empty. He can’t get enough drinking piss, piss, piss, piss, piss, and wallowing under the spotlight doing it. No telling what bonus chems are in those streams, but he’s certainly changed after that. He’s a wild man the rest of the night. Hyped and wired.” Drax’s eyes are glowing, the orange reflecting off the white, like a red-eye photograph. He, too, looks to Manetti like a wild man, not really here, but in the past, a blind seer, watching Ben decades before soaking in piss, riding the limelight in that tub. Drax takes a sip to fortify the memory. “And then this big muscled cop, or a guy in a jockstrap wearing a cop’s shirt, pulls him out. I think he’s going to fuck the shit out of the kid, this big stud cop, but the cop finds an empty sling, pulls Ben with him, and then flops back in the sling himself, and slides his big jackboots through the sling’s leg straps. I pull up next to him to see what Ben’s gonna do. He’s wet, smells acrid from the piss, short hair slicked back—never looked better—asks the guy if he’s a real cop. The guy, in a low voice, admits he is—he’s the real deal! The fucker should have been out protecting the city but he’s here, looks high, waiting for Ben to bone him. Seeing he’s a real cop, Ben pops an instant stiffy. It’s saluting at full attention, with veins so hard around his thick shaft they look like crawling worms, for fuck sake. Men around him notice. I notice. He sticks his engorged meat in the guy in one balls-deep thrust, buries himself right up to his brown curlies. The guy yells to let him get use to his big fuckstick, and more guys come over hearing that. It’s all shadows and flickering candles, and what your eyes can’t see, your brain fills in. Fuck, man, the sounds they make. Not human sounds. Animalistic. Some ritual not even I understand is going on between cop and his former prey, between victim and abuser—rolls reversed. He’s fucking someone in his past, or a group of someones, I can tell, ‘cause whatever motivates him out of his past he’s taking it out on this cop in the sling, right here, right now—and it’s something fuckin’ brutally beautifully. It has all the sounds of a rape but let me tell you the cop is absolutely into it. His ass ain’t never had a Big Ben in it before and he’s enjoying the shit out of it. It ain’t a bottom and a top going at it. It’s a top being fucked by an über-top. That’s what The Mineshift spawned, the original anti-Eden: not butches doing fems, but the homomasculine submitting to the Über-masculine. We’re in Tom of Finland territory. Ben rips the cop’s shirt open, fucking him blindly, pinching the shit out of his big cop tits. They’re exchanging snarls, gorilla grunts, and Fuck Yous, and he’s releasing on the cop’s ass a lifetime of stored up rage. He climaxes shooting all over the guy’s uniform and in his face, but isn’t done with him yet. No sir. He’s got the whole corner of the room captivated. He shouts, Crisco, putting his hand out like he’s waiting for a stagehand. He’s in command. He truly is. He’s sweating profusely from the meth, and whatever chem piss is running through his system, and someone puts a wad of grease in his hand. Ben lubes his fist and doesn’t go gently into that good night. No sir. He pulls up next to the cop’s face, pushes his still hard, shit-crusted cock in the cop’s mouth, and pushes his clutched fist into the guy’s ass. Not a gooseneck hand to start, but the full magilla, his big clutched fist plunges into the guy’s gut. You can almost hear it go pop. There’s this loud fart of air as Ben pulls all the way out afore he pushes back in. The cop’s gagging on his cock from its girth as he’s struggling with the force of Ben’s arm pumping straight into his chute.” “Jesus,” Manetti said. “That’s what the cop is crying. Jesus Chris, slow down, man! he’s shouting, but Ben’s not listening to any of that shit. Not that he’s punch fucking the guy violently. No. He’s standing next to him, making him suck his shitty cock, pistoning him slowly but deep into this big cop’s ass like he’s kneading a big vat of dough. In, out. Stroke after stroke, sending the guy into both heaven and hell at the same time. Then they’re not even talking anymore, just Ben silently watching the cop’s anguished-exhilarated face, watching what he’s doing to the man, what effect he’s having on this cop he’s turned into a meat puppet. All the while the cop’s nursing Big Ben like an infant suckin’ on his mama’s teet. It gets quieter the deeper Ben pushes in his arm. Swear to God, it got as solemn as a church service. Wasn’t a cop and a top anymore. More biblical, priest administering to a penitent, more like it. Like the agony he’d put the man through came out the other side and he was now tending to him, fist going in deeper and pulling out. A part of the cop’s colon comes with it, big ol’ prolapse, probably the first one Ben ever saw. Didn’t bother him, got him hard again, he just pushes it back in and goes deeper. Wants to see how much gut he can pull out of the guy. Men gathered around, some stroking, some just watching in wonder, trying to fathom what the story is between this naked holy man and the supplicant. When Ben forced the man to cum, and forced him he did if you saw his face…” Drax said. “I’ve seen that face,” Manetti confirmed. “Well, then, you know how Ben is when he’s in charge. The cop cums all over his uniform, his chest, over his face, shoots over his head. Rope after rope of cum. Men fall to their knees to worship this new priest among them, some fell to the cop’s ass and chewed on his spent prolapse, all wanted Ben to do to them what he’d just done to the cop. They lick Ben’s feet, like he’s fuckin’ Jesus coming out the desert, kiss his thighs, lick his ass, stick their tongues inside his anus, suck on his armpit, whatever Ben offered raising up his arms to his new flock. Three at a time are under him worshiping his cock, balls, and taint. The cop slowly gets out of the sling, shaking his head, pushing his prolapse back in, trying to figure out where the fuck he’s been for the last hour, and I come with a can of grease and lay Ben back down in the sling, in front of this group of envious men. I lock his arms over his head and hand the cop a bottle of strong poppers to administer to him, then I buckle the strap holding Ben’s feet high in the air. He’s spread eagle with men groping his body like a holy relic. I lube my hand and take a good scoop of Crisco and start pushing it into the boy’s ass. I do this a couple of times so there’s a lot inside him when I start pushing two fingers in his slippery chute. He’s as tight as he’s ever been but he’s also rock hard. You want this, I tell him. Tell me how much you want this, I say. Please, Master, he begs, put your arm inside me. I slide in three, then four fingers. Stop fighting me I say at him. Give him a hit, I tell the cop. I’m getting pissed if he don’t let me fist him this time, with this audience. The cop bends the kid’s head over the bottle and lets him huff all he wants. He breathing in the bottle for a while afore he lets his head fall back against the leather. I can feel now not only has his ass relaxed, he’s trying, as much as he can tied up, to slide down the sling on my hand. I don’t even have to push in. His hole is opening and his weight is falling over the edge of the sling onto my hand on its own accord. And then I’m in and still sliding deeper without me having to do anything. He’s yelling Oh Fucks the deeper I go. But I gotta tell you: too much is made over the trust a bottom must have from his top. Bullshit I say. Fisting comes out of the school of S&M, and giving the bottom control of the scene ruins it. Fisting was created as a form of punishment as much as it was a form of control. I tell the cop to give him another hit. He does and I’m taking the boy for a ride he won’t forget. My hand comes out and goes back in a second time in the form of a fist. He’s struggling to accept the width but I won’t budge until he lets me in. From sheer pressure he pops open but not without a cry of distress. Good, I tell him, that feeling is what you can expect for the next hour. And that’s exactly what I give him, no merciful, sensual assplay, but forced punching of his anus until its lips hang loose and sloppy. The red of his colon starts to show after a while. His first night fisting and I’m developing this beautiful small rose. Push out, I yell at him. It’s a pretty pink flower for all to see. I clear some of the Crisco so the men around can see it better. Someone goes down and licks it, giving the kid the first taste of what getting his rosebud eaten feel like. He’s loving it. I go for depth after the first hour. Each time he takes a hit from the cop I’m pushing in deeper before the chemicals have an impact so that when they do I can push him even further. The cop asks if he can take over for a while, Ben becomes afraid, begs me no. Did I ask you? I say to him. Sure. Have at it. And the cop, with his big hairy paws, is plunging into him. I make the boy suck my dick while the cop is exacting revenge on the boy’s sphincter. The cop’s even slipping in a couple of additional fingers while he’s alternating hands in the kid’s ass. He’s almost got two hands in but I see pink in the grease on the cop’s forearms so I have him pullout. I don’t want him damaged. He relinquishes him, but not without one last deep punch, sending Ben’s head flinging back in agony. His suffering is my aphrodisiac. I’m dripping, so I slowly and savagely fuck him. Hours—you been at my receiving end afore, so you know—hours reaming him in chem-filled lust. No need for a bathroom break ‘cause I got my toilet attached to my cock. Besides the chem-piss makes him even more of a whore. Around daybreak, as most all the candles have burnt out, it’s now almost pitch black inside, you can see some outside daylight in the cracks, the last two or three flickering candles are fading, so Ben can’t really see but only feel my cock inside him. I slide my hand in next to my cock, which has been tenderizing him in the last of the wee hours. I wrap my fingers in a fist and piston my cock. He don’t know what he’s getting but the whore likes it. In the cavernous dark as the last candles go out, men are kissing him, nursing his nipples, sucking his cock. And he’s moaning, speaking in tongues, is tweaking on another plane, sucking on other cocks being fed to him, asses bent over for him to eat, and I jack my spooge inside my fist inside him. He’s blathering invites to anyone around him to fist his hole. He’s where I want him. He turns me on so hard, so broken, so open, and I let other guys fist and fuck him, watching along the wall, drinking my beer. “Drax, you fuck,” Manetti said. “He’s struggling under a brutal Neanderthal, fucking his insides out. Ben the boy is suddenly gone, surrendered, arms hanging off the sides of the sling. Taking it, accepting it, a martyr to sex. I bend over and ask him why he’s suddenly surrendered. He whimpers, Hunters got me trapped, Daddy, I can’t escape. I’m lost. Cops got me in a back alley. He’s lost in his past or his fantasy, it’s taken him over. He’s biting his lip. Four more men fuck him and four more fist him. I’m kissing him while they do, telling him accept what he is, just a hole for men to use as their cumrag. Then I see his hole drooling a steady, cloudy white stream of men’s seed, all pooling on the floor under his ass. I know I want back inside that warm, wet cave. I fuck my baby well into the day. Daddy’s got you, I tell him, won’t ever let you go. Then around noon the harsh club lights flickers back on. The blackout’s over. I don’t know how many times I shot into him. I know he shot wads more. Did he remember? Probably half of it. We go out into the daylight, blinded, looking to hail a cab. Butchers right next door to The Mineshaft, in their bloody white aprons, haul in large stabs of meat. Ben looks like just another one of their carcasses. I fold him into the backseat of a gypsy cab. Like one of the many hanging carcasses we ride away from, I look at him, his head’s back, he’s staring at the cab’s cloth ceiling talking to himself. This big human carcass of meat, flecked with viscera across his chest, his and many others—he’s a rock now as smooth as I want him.” Silence falls between Drax and Manetti. Fog veils the alley from sight. They both sip bourbon. Drax’s cigarette was a stub, had long ago gone out. Drax looks at the cigarette butt in his hand with his white eyes, and sets it in the ashtray. “Best fuck of my life,” he says, downing his second drink. *** He’s fumbling with his cigarettes and lighter. He knocked one out of the pack. His lighter shook in an unsteady hand. He’s unable to aim the flame under his cigarette, so Manetti reached over and steadied his hand, and Drax managed to get it lit. Manetti considered the man on the other side of the tiki bar. Sure, it’s the orange heat light and the backlit fog that created the illusion, but Drax wears the expression of a weary demon or maybe a withered angel; some hybrid of bliss and torment. He, Manetti’s, had witnessed that ecstatic tortured look, that rapture, firsthand whenever Drax was cumming inside him over the year he spent in his stable. This suspension between extremes, this balance between worlds; no wonder Ben stuck around more than a decade. Moth to a flame, night after night. It had its draw. “So,” said Manetti, rolling his ember in the ashtray. The glass ashtray’s imprinted with The Plan B Bar, the name he and Ben chose. He’s pretty sloshed by now, as is Drax, who’s smoking with exaggerated control. “How’d you really find us?” Manetti asked a second time, refilling his glass. Drax covered his emotions with each cloud of smoke he exhaled. “Read this article in Wired back when I could read,” Drax said. “Don’t look shocked. I read sometimes.” Drax took up his drink, swirled it, and gave it a small sip. “There was this article, a profile of a kid, called himself Alistair Enge. Didn’t want to give out his real name to the magazine. ‘Fraid his mama’d find out, I suppose. He started a porn site, the article said, e-commerce, premium subscriptions, whatnot. It claimed it was changing the face of porn. No photo of this new face of porn, but I said to myself, Drax, you old fuck,” he flicked his ash, “where you hear that name afore?” He paused long enough to take a drag. “Then I remembered your pirate story from back in the day. When was that, Michael? Eleven, twelve years ago?” Manetti thought for a second, stoking his beard, a few strands of grey now blending in. “Twelve years,” he says. “Well, I thought to go ask my friends Boris and Roger—they’re still together, if you’re wondering. Wallace died though. Pity, nice pooch. I asked my old friends Boris and Roger, I said, hey Boris, hey Roger, what you’d ever do with that boat. What was its name?” “We bought it. The Jolly Roger.” “The Jolly Roger, yes.” He swirled his drink again and sipped a little more urgently. “So this is yours and Ben’s establishment. What about Chris, or is it Alistair now?” Drax held his cigarette to his mouth, sucked hard on the tip, smoke curling around his tattooed knuckles, H-A-T-E. “Yeah, we own it. Chris has his own thing going, has a crew of programmers and managers, sales, regulatory, things like that. But Ben and I run this.” He hit his cigarette and blew smoke out forcefully threw his nose. “What made you think of the boat?” he asked. “Alistair—the new face of porn—said he’d spent several years sailing with his family around the Caribbean before Stanford. Family,” Drax scoffed bitterly. “Three of you, huh? How does that work?” “Works quite well,” Manetti replied, taking a last hit from his cigarette and then stamped it out. “So MD. You came all the way out here to…?” Manetti let the question hang. Drax let it dangle. “Shame about Bichon, but I suppose karma has a way of catching up to even the best of us, wouldn’t you say, Michael?” Drax’s ghostly eyes looked accusingly at him. The patio’s becoming darker each minute by the encroaching fog. “So, how’s tricks, boy-o? Turned any lately?” Manetti returned a cold smile. “No, man. Lifetime ago,” he said, calmly sipping his drink. “Very happily married. Proud owner of The Plan B, which we live above.” He pointed to a lit window over them. “Part-time bartender, full-time husband.” “Not even a nibble?” “Not even a taste.” “I have to say, when you three ran off, a third of my stable initially went with it. That took a big hit on my livelihood. To tell you the God’s honest truth, devastated my livelihood, completely. Put me right out of business.” Manetti considered this. He tipped the glass to his lips, swallowed. “Never had much overhead, MD,” he said a bit confused. “Hard to see how that could’ve impacted you in any meaningful way.” “Meaningful.” Drax tries the word in his mouth. “Meaningful. Full of meaning.” In the feeble light he searched Manetti’s face through his cataracts. “You tell me, Michael, what meaning is there when a usurper comes and steals your favored boy, the only boy you want, and gets away clean? I’ll tell you what that means. It means the rest of the stable sees there’s no repercussion for abandonment, and the whole stable dismantles, the tower crumbles.” “Hold on,” Manetti said, brows tightly knit. “I’m supposed to feel sorry for getting away from you? You cut off my cock, fucker, planted a pussy on me, and I’m the one that should feel guilty about what happens to you?” He barked a mirthless laugh. “The night of the fire you’re lucky Ben and Chris talked me out of tracking you down. I would have been much more medieval on you than I was to the good doctor.” Drax pulled out another cigarette from his pack. He wasn’t done with the first and tried to light the new one from the old, but his hand shook too much to get it lit. Manetti just watched him struggle, feeling no pity, only disgust. Drax finally got his Camel to light and blew out an enormous stream of smoke. “Truth is, you were damaged long before I met you, Michael. I just removed the damaged part I saw that was rotting away.” Manetti grabbed the old man’s shirt across the bar, and pulled him partially over the bamboo top. He cocked back his other arm in a fist but not before Drax pulled out a snub nose pistol from his pocket. Manetti saw the gun, dropped him and took a step back. “Whoa, whoa,” he said, hands where Drax could see them. He’s making no fast moves but his brain is racing. “So,” he ventured, seeing if he could tamp down the situation, “you come cross-country just to kill me because, what, you miss Ben? Mineshaft closed more than ten years ago, Drax. Boys grow up. Birds fly from the nest.” “I came for the one point eight million you stole,” Drax hissed. Manetti’s hands are still in the air. “Okay,” he conceded. “Fair enough. You’re owed that. We can more than cover it.” “And for stealing Ben,” Drax spits. “Can you cover that?” Manetti didn’t have a comeback. Manetti’s heart was racing. “No, you’re right, you’re right.” Drax had him in a corner, emotionally, logically, physically. “I fucked you over. I’m sorry. You have every right.” But then, finding himself cornered, he felt a spark of anger he couldn’t hold back. “So castration isn’t enough,” he said darkly, “you have to off me, is that it?” Drax looked out through his white glowing eyes and slowly, viciously nodded yes. Manetti looked down, thoughtful, then looked at his drink. Looked at Drax. Saw nothing but the cold, dead eyes of a shark. “So I guess, cheers, to my rotten life, then, huh?” He’s pleading, reaching slowly for his drink, hoping Drax will grant him a dead man’s right for a last fortifying drink. Drax gave him a gummy smile. “Go ahead, boy-o. On the house,” he said, pulling back the gun’s hammer. Manetti raised this glass, saluted Drax, and then tossed the alcohol in Drax’s face. Drax fired and hit Manetti, but Manetti snatched his lighter, flicked the wheel, and put the flame to the old man’s long beard. The alcohol ignited his doused beard, face and hair, and Drax’s whole head, right up to his eyebrows, lit into one giant flame. He’s reeling back, a human matchstick. He’s screaming, slapping his head, stumbling, wobbling blindly all over the patio. He’s firing at empty air, senseless of where he was. Manetti smacked the gun out of his hand and kept pushing him back, again and again, toward the railing. Drax was still screaming, clutching his head, consumed in fire. At the railing, Manetti gave him a final tap, not even that hard, and the old man flew downward into the alley, landed head first with a snap. Bobo and Duke ran out soon after the gunshots. Mike was holding his shoulder by the railing, peering over at something. Bobo rushed to Mike to see the extent of his wound, while Duke gazed down, inspecting the singed, smoldering figure, its arms and legs bent out at unnatural angles, sprawled over the asphalt. Duke turned to Mike grimly, “I told you smoking could kill you.” *** Chris danced in front of Manetti, with Ben looking on encouragingly. Manetti tried not to smile. The ocean was calm, the harbor breeze warm. The night sky was a dome of lights, moonless. Chris was feeling good, a bit buzzed. He swayed his hips close to Mike perched on his barstool. Chris reached up to the top button of Mike’s flowered shirt. “Bamba la bamba,” he sang. “No,” said Manetti. Chris unbuttoned it anyway. He reached for the second button. “C’mon, knock it off,” Mike said batting Chris’ hand away. Chris went back and undid the second button and reached in his hand and felt Manetti’s massive, fur-covered chest. He leaned in and lightly brushed his lips, felt his scruffy dark beard. Manetti started breathing unevenly. Chris kissed him slowly, purposefully, sensually. Manetti relaxed, for the first time letting down his guard. Chris pulled away with a spark in his eye, undoing the flowered shirt’s last button revealing the man’s entire black pelt. Ben was behind him and removed the Hawaiian shirt and placed it on the bar. He kissed Manetti’s right shoulder, then his left, then the nape of his neck. He threaded his hands around Manetti’s chest, feeling his warmth and his racing heart. Chris grasped the man’s belt and Manetti stood up quickly and pushed Chris away. “I can’t,” he cried. “No. Don’t,” he pleaded. Chris got on his knees and unlatched the belt, started lowering the zipper. Manetti was never one for underwear, so when the shorts fell, he stood on the deck naked, exposed for all the world see. Chris bent in and kissed Manetti’s regrown bush, his soft black hair, brushed it delicately with his fingertips, drew a line along the soft pink lips. “Stop,” Manetti gasped. “It just a cunt.” “Not just, it’s you,” the young man said. “You is who I want.” He put his face between Manetti’s legs, breathed him in, licked Manetti. The unfamiliar sensation caused the man to heave a monumental breath, brought a sigh of pleasure but also one of confusion. Shaking he stepped back off balanced. Ben was there to catch him. Manetti felt weak, fought against his frailty. Turning his vulnerability to strength, he steeled himself, grabbing Chris and Ben by their hands and pulling them forcefully down to the master cabin. There he ripped off Chris shirt and tore off the boy’s pants, then combatively, ripped the buttons off Ben’s shirt, held his head forcefully, and sucked his face like he’d been wanting to every day for the past six months. Ben, still locked onto Manetti’s lips, slipped off his shorts. Chris came over and stuck his face close to theirs. Manetti pulled back as Chris kissed Ben’s bent forehead, then as Ben looked up at his brother, Chris kissed his cheek. Ben found Chris’ mouth, and slid his tongue over his brother’s tongue. Both men were erect, which Manetti took full advantage of. He suck his lover’s massive member, then his brother’s smaller but still generous meat. He stuck both their cocks in his mouth and tortured them, rubbing their cockheads against each other, sliding his tongue around them, making them leak in arousal. He grabbed some bedside lube and rubbed it on Chris and Ben erections, then on his front lips and between his cheeks. He positioned himself on his side pulling Chris down with him. Ben laid down in back. Manetti eased his butt, like so many times in the past, against Ben protruding erection. Ben’s stiff and metal adorned organ slowly slid inside Manetti, familiar and so welcome. Chris faced Mike and held his cock at Mike’s new lips and looked in his eyes. Mike gave him a smile of permission, and Chris slowly, sensually parted Mike’s virginal lips. Chris rubbed his dick up and down, rhythmically finding he could part Mike’s body. Mike helped by rocking back on Ben’s cock, allowing it to penetrate him deeply, then rocked forward to take a bit, an inch, then two, of Chris’s cock. There was electricity in the dark cabin, palpable breath on a face, on a neck, mouth against mouth, inhalations and exhalations exchanged. A painful tearing of skin, slowly, erotically. Of all the collective torture they’d been through, this was the most protracted and agonizing. Like a band aid slowly being ripped off, one cell at a time. Tension and desire continually traded places, body parts awash in lubricants, smoothly flowing, painfully, exhilaratingly, new sensations every second between three men who found they were heading into unexplored territory. Mike felt the violation of his organ, both past and present, ravishing him, making him loose control. Once past the initial pain, at first the pleasure was too intense, but the allure of submitting to two men stroking inside his body, became intensely satisfying. Then, after accepting the satisfaction, he recognized he could invert it. Suddenly he felt more in control of them than they were of him. Writhing between them, he was in charge of their pleasure. He controlled their body’s rhythm, granting them unending satisfaction through his rhythmic, velvety undulations, granting them the pleasure they sought within his body. Chris whispered almost inaudible, “Oh, fuck Ben. I feel you.” Their faces so close together not a breath escaped detection by any of them. The three shared this discovering. “I feel you, too, brah,” said Ben deep inside Mike. The closer he drew into Mike, the more Ben’s cock pressed against a wall that barely separated him from his brother. Ben withdrew and slid in deep with each stroke, not only thrilling Mike but also erotically rubbed under Chris’ cockhead. Not one of the three of them saw this coming. They gasped at the orchestra of sensation flowing through their bodies, the variety of pitch and crescendos they could produce. Chris was almost in to his balls, when Manetti cried out in pain. They halted abruptly. They caught their collective breath. No one moved. Chris slowly eased all the way out fearing he’d damaged Mike. But the look on Manetti’s face showed how amorous he still felt, how much he wanted Chris back inside. Ben never left Mike’s ass. One of life’s greatest feelings for Manetti was having Ben’s full python buried deeply inside him. He nudged Ben until Ben fell onto his back pulling Manetti along with him. Then Manetti rocked on top of him, rising forward to impale himself in a squatting position. He bobbed in a wave of lust against his lover’s groin, sending waves of pleasure careening through both their bodies. He smiled lewdly at Chris, his hands parting his new lips, inviting the young man to come back in. Mike fingering his twat was an obscene gesture that excited the fuck out of Chris. He knelt like he was in church in front of the holy alter of Mike, as Mike reclined back spreading his legs, fall back onto Ben’s chest. Chris slipped in cautiously, but increasingly giving into his arousal, his desire to fuck Manetti as deeply and as hard as he could. Chris never imagined he could share in such a complicated arrangement, of boomeranging and ricocheting needs and lust-filled desires. He made out with Mike as his cock rocked inside the man, then found his brother’s face alongside Mike and satisfied his forbidden, incestuous appetite, discovering how deep within Mike he could fuck against his brother’s hard, massive cock. How could they know how good this would feel, how tangled their emotions would entwined, how bound together their souls would become? They united in the moment, tonight, tomorrow, for a lifetime. Manetti felt the brothers shudder together, felt how wet he suddenly was, leaking out both sides of his body as the brothers continued to quake. And somewhere within, sliding against his core, against his body’s tectonic plates, a quake overtook him too, pulled him over a vista and he could see how this could all work out. He shuddered in gratification of the corruption and purity of this comingling of brothers cumming within him at this moment. They gasped, all breathing unevenly, laid there motionless except for the rising and falling of their chests. Chris was the first to make a move, cascading them all to the side, all still holding each other for dear life. Had this even a chance of continuing? Just because it hadn’t been done before it still could be done. It’d be messy and complicated. They’d expect no understanding from others. Gee, didn’t that already sound all too familiar? Chris and Mike looked at each other with faces radiating satiation, Ben kissing the swirling hairs, the soft opera of Manetti’s neck. They lay quietly for a long time. Then Mike exploded. “Alright, you fucking perverts,” he roared between them, snapping into drill sergeant mode. He quickly and rudely untangled their cocks from his body. Rising off the bed, he grabbed the grease. “Prior brothers!” he barked. “Edge of bed with your asses in the air! Now!” He greased both his hands greedily. “It’s time you boys ride the Manetti Chariot!” He smacked both their asses hard. They responded, excitedly bounding to their knees, aligning next to each other on all fours, pulling and playing with each other’s floppy cocks like naughty schoolboys, while Mike lined up his fingers against their holes. Ben draped his arm over Chris’ shoulder and Chris draped his arm over his big brother’s. “And don’t expect me to take it easy on either one of you sick fucks,” Manetti growled, plunging deep inside their cavities.

11. Manetti Unleashed Both under influence, we had divine sense, To know what to say: mind is a razor blade In the photo, Mike’s and Ben’s arms drape over each other. Chris took the Polaroid off the refrigerator to examine as he ate leftover soup. Staring at the image for quite a while, and thinking about them over the past several days, Mike and Ben’s loved seemed so casual, almost sloppy. Unafraid of putting love on display—whether quiet love staring at him in a photo like this, or howling on a VHS tape, fists flying up each other’s asses in crazed ecstasy—they remained unfazed if there were someone else in the picture, as long as, at the end of the day, they both came back to this dingy apartment. Hard to wrap his mind around it. He was envious, but not jealous, of their pact. Weighing their casual love in his hand, he ran a thumb across Mike’s face. He knew what he had to do, he just didn’t know how to do it. He needed Ben. It’d been several days since he returned to the apartment with his new nipple rings and small Prince Albert. He’d been soaking the P.A. in a cup of salt water as Dr. Buchon had instructed. It was pretty much heeled. The doctor said the salty urine would make him heal faster so he peed at every opportunity. His cock was tender but didn’t throb anymore. He even wacked off last night watching porn. It gave him this really massive orgasm, tickling him under the hood, as it were. He didn’t know that that came with the territory. He thought about what it’d be like when he got it in his first manhole. He hoped Manetti would let it be his. He remembered vividly the needles that pierced his tits, but the actual memory of receiving the P.A. that was a lot duller. He recalled that pain was nothing compared to the earlier torture the doctor had put him through. If the butterfly and the needles through his cockhead was a ten, the P.A. was about a six. It remained, though, way back in his mind, the dildo machine foregrounded, with a vague but intense slicing pain in his dick sometime in the middle of the night. It was like a gut punch in the blackness, but it quickly faded. Gauze wrapped his peter, but the dildo machine, which persisted unabated, was all he felt for hours and hours until the black hood came off in the morning. The doctor released him to Drax at noon. Drax played with his new nipple adornments, causing Chris to flinch at each touch. The doctor reminded Drax that they needed to heel before he played rough with them. Drax acknowledged this, which was why he figured he’d been left alone in Mike and Ben’s apartment for the past couple of days. Ben was asleep when he got back Monday afternoon. He laid down next to his brother, fell quickly asleep, and didn’t wake up for an entire day. Tuesday Ben was still snoring away. Chris went to the refrigerator, looked inside and found the soup Mike had made days before. It smelled okay, so he heated it up and ate it at the kitchen table taking the Polaroid in hand. While studying the photo, he felt Drax’s presence across the airshaft observing him. He wished Ben and Mike had invested in curtains or something, but he figured that was part of the arrangement. He also wished Ben would wake up. At nightfall, he again climbed into bed with Ben and put on one of their many videotapes. All they owned was porn, some with them in it, some of other guys. He put on one that he thought they weren’t in but, sure enough, three scenes in, Ben and Mike were at it at some cheap motel with a guy Mike was calling Dad, although the guy didn’t look like him. Then the cameraman got involved sticking his dick into the shot, but by that time he’d already jacked off, surprised by his intense orgasm, and wasn’t really paying attention anymore and fell asleep. The next day he got up, put on jeans and his Ramones t-shirt and shuffled into the kitchen. He searched the cupboard looking for food, when he heard rustling coming from the bedroom. He peeked in and saw Ben sitting up. He ran over and threw his arms around him. Ben clutched him back tight, wrestled him to the ground, crushed him, rolling side to side in a tremendous bear hug. He drank in Chris face. “Buddy, you are the absolute best and last thing I expected to see,” Ben said warmly embracing him. “What can I say? I made a tremendous mis…” He didn’t’ want to finish the sentence and instead kissed his cheek, and squeeze him again. An awkward moment of silence passed between them, neither knowing what to say. Chris ended it. “You know what you can say? You can say you’ll help me get Mike out.” “Mike? From where?” Ben asked, clutching his crotch painfully. He got up a bit wobbly. “Where is he? Sorry, bud, but I gotta piss like a race horse. Keep going.” As Ben stumbled crouched over heading for the bathroom, Chris inspected his brother’s scarred back. It was a horrible crisscross of healed over slashes. He looked down, troubled and puzzled. Ben’s eruption in the toilet bowl rang deep and thunderous. “He’s at this Doctor Buchon’s clinic,” Chris called to him. “Buchon? Nasty fucker,” hollered Ben over his pissing. “I know he’s in trouble, Ben,” Chris said. When Ben came back in, Chris began filling him in on his misadventure since he’d come back from Fire Island. He related graphically the fight with the orderlies, Mike getting knocked out, and his own experience with the doctor. Ben sat down next to Chris, lit a cigarette and, with a knitted brow, looked him over. Chris told him about his P.A. and pulled up his t-shirt to show Ben his nipple rings, as if it was proof he wasn’t lying about any of the events. He felt sure Mike was in trouble, he said. “He hasn’t come back for four days now and Master Drax was really pissed off at him for taking me to The Pines. We have to get him out, Ben,” Chris pleaded. “I think they’re going to skin him alive.” Ben glanced across the airshaft, took a drag off his smoke, then looked back at Chris. “He’s been gone since Sunday? And what’s today, Wednesday?” Chris nodded. “I promise you, they won’t kill him. That’s not Drax or Buchon’s style. But I agree with you, we gotta get him out.” Ben put on underwear and pants, dressing and thinking while he talked. “I’ve been to Buchon’s clinic too many times to count and, let me tell you, you got off lucky with only light CBT.” Chris shivered that that was considered light. “I can’t imagine what Mike’s going through for four days. He’s gotta be deranged.” Ben took another hit, rubbed his eyebrow sleepily, and exhaled pensive. “Why’d he take you to Fire Island in the first place?” Chris thought for a moment, and then relayed the whole saga with the crooks, the dead family, and finding the money in the air duct. He skipped over the buried treasure part in case Master Drax had the apartment bugged, and avoided the whole Towel Party because he was afraid where that could lead. He wasn’t ready to talk about any of that with Ben, and Ben never directly brought it up. But even so, Chris saw his brother in a new light, a light he could never have understood before he came to New York. He’d no real experience with so much that he’d experienced since he met Mike, and what Mike and Jamal and Master Drax and so many others had shown and done to him, so much pleasurable and some not so much. He struggled to put this feelings about it into words. It was impossible, he couldn’t really, it was too fresh, unprocessed, but he tried anyway. “So am I weird? Maybe I’m just a freak, Ben,” Chris began shyly, “but when that doctor forced me to cum with his vibrator with all those needles in me, I’ve never had anyone hurt me so bad—‘cept maybe dad, but he never did it down there—but when the doctor make me to shoot, I’ve never shot that hard before.” Chris looked at the floor, embarrassed, then made his way up to his brother’s understanding face. “Is that why you do it, Ben? Like what you did to your back. Because somehow you want to have that feeling again?” Ben took a final drag off his Marlboro, exhaled, and then stubbed it out. He pulled on a rugby shirt and stood up. “Put your shoes on, kiddo. That’s how we’re getting in.” *** Lightly sedated but awake, he kept hearing a series of cracks. He focused his eyes. If it was lightning outside there were no accompanying flashes. They continued. No, they were too methodical, too evenly spaced, sharp and deliberate. He shook his head trying to get rid of cobwebs in his head. Then one last piercing snap! Unmistakably, it was an echoing report of a whip biting flesh down in the garden. There was some indistinguishable murmuring from below, then the murmuring became faint until it was quiet. Eyewitness news was playing softly on the television console. Frank Fields at the weather desk pointed to a fast moving summer storm traveling across central New Jersey. It would hit the city within the next hour, he related, and Long Island an hour after that. Maybe the cracks he’d heard were approaching thunder. His brain had been fried long ago, so putting two and two together was a struggle. Big orderly Barkley was sitting on the blue velvet settee looking as if any second he’d break its delicate legs. The orderly stared at the TV with his lower lip protruding. Manetti expected drool might fall off any second. Barkley looked over at him. “You’re awake,” he said. “You got a keen eye there, pal,” Manetti replied. He flexed his hands bound to the rails. “Hey, wadda ya say. These things are cutting off my circulation. How ‘bout you loosen the straps just a little.” Barkley ignored him. “Really. Feels like my hands are numb.” “Doctor says not to. He says I can play with you however I want, but not to fuck your pussy. Not yet. He says you like to get fuck in your ass. I can fuck your asshole, he said. If I want. Strap your legs up to those hooks.” Manetti looked up and saw the leg straps on the headboard he was talking about. “Oh, he said you could do that, huh?” The big orderly nodded. “Well, how you gonna do that with my legs strapped at the bottom of the bed? How you supposed to get to my hole if everything is pinned down? You gonna break the laws of physics, Einstein?” “He says I can undo your legs and tie them above your head, but under no circumstances am I to loosen your arms. Not even a little bit. You’re a cagy one, he says.” Manetti stared straight ahead out the open French Doors. It was humid and the air was still. At the top of the garden wall light was hitting at an obtuse angle, but fading slowly, he guessed, because of the approaching storm. “You might want to close those doors, Mongo,” Manetti said. “Maybe turn up the A.C. a little.” “I don’t like a be cold. And my names Barkley, not Mongo,” he snapped, annoyed. “I don’t give a fuck what your name is, pal. You’re nothing but shit to me.” Barkley turned up the sound on the remote as the weatherman handed off coverage to sports. “You best watch your mouth, freak. You know, you ain’t in no position to mouth off.” The freak comment struck Manetti deeper than it ought to have, although he didn’t allow it to show, but it did keep him quiet for a few minutes. The sedative was definitely wearing off, and what had kept him calm was now emerging as anger mixed with good dollop of depression. Maybe he could get Barkley to just off him, put a pillow over his face, put him out of his misery. “Hey, Mongo, so why don’t you fuck my ass. I haven’t had my ass diddled for a couple of days, and I could sure use a nice, tiny prick up my butt. Wadda ya say?” “I’m Barkley!” he insisted. “I want to see sports first, and then I gotta see Spin the Wheel. Then maybe I’ll fuck ya. If you’re lucky.” “Oh, I’d be lucky alright. I’d be the luckiest guy in the world, or am I the luckiest girl in the world now?” “Hush,” Barkley warned, making a fist, turning up the sound once more. The sports announcer shouted off highlights from last night’s Yankee’s and Mets’ games. The Mets coverage showed a melee breaking out in the bleachers over a foul ball. Fans were climbing over each other to get to it. “I don’t know, Mongo,” Manetti yelled over the television. “I still feel like a guy. I still sound like a guy. I got a guy’s urges,” said Manetti. “Somehow, I still feel like I want to fuck your mama.” Barkley shot up off the settee and stomped over to Manetti. A cloud of thought passed across his face. He looked at the door, then punched Manetti in the face. “You don’t talk about my mother.” Manetti picked his head off the bed. With his tongue he felt a thin red line where his lip split. He snapped his teeth and growled at Barkley, trying to get a piece of him, but as big as Barkley was, he agilely jumped back. “Anyway, you ain’t got nothin’ to fuck with no more, freak,” he scoffed and tittered. Manetti flexed his hands wanting to get at the orderly. He eyed the man standing still beside him. The orderly had lost focus on him and was watching the television instead. “I don’t know, Barkley,” he confided. “I still got a couple of fists I could stick up your mama’s flabby old twat!” he snarled. Barkley was back at his head again and this time smacked Manetti a few times in the face. Manetti’s head bounced to the side against his pillow leaving it blood stained. He laughed madly at the orderly, coughing out some red spittle. “Yeah,” he taunted, “I still got two good fists. One for her sloppy cunt and one for her shit-stained ass.” The orderly was seething. “You’re a pig, freak,” he shouted, taking off one of Manetti leg straps. “I’ll show you who’s gonna get a fist. Even if I can’t touch your pussy, I can still punch your asshole. Doctor said I could.” “Yeah, Mongo, punch my hole. Punch it, you fuckin’ dumb ass bitch.” Manetti kept working the guy up in a froth. “Yeah, fist me Mongo. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Bet you do this every night you get home, don’t cha? Hey, mama! Time for your sponge bath and fist fuck!” Barkley undid his other leg and pushed Manetti’s legs up in the air, leaning over Manetti, getting a strap ready at the headboard. “Mama likes baby’s big mitts in her smelly butthole, don’t she boy?” Barkley bent over Manetti’s torso, anger overcoming and frustrating him because Manetti’s feet were dodging and uncooperative. He couldn’t get his feet in the overhead straps. Then in one move Manetti got both feet against the orderly’s shoulder and shoved him with all the power of his muscular thighs. Barkley went flying back, airborne for a moment, then hitting the ground stumbling back, arms flailing on both side like a crazy windmill. The orderly passed through the French doors, just about regaining his balance, but took one last step back, hit the low balcony ledge, and flipped over backwards. There was a split second of a high-pitched scream, then a tremendous splat, like three hundred pounds of wet Jell-O slapped the concrete. Manetti felt the sound and winced. Two dim flashes of light lit the garden followed by a low, rolling thunder. Manetti sat there breathing heavily, stunned, flexing his anchored hands uselessly. His eyes flicked around the room. “Great move, genius,” he mumbled to himself. “Now what?” From the TV, a very excited contestant squealed, “Pat, I’d like to buy a vowel.” *** Chris pressed the intercom button below the video lens and waited. “Yes,” came Dr. Bichon’s voice through the speaker. “Um, Dr. Bichon. I wonder if I could come up,” Chris said to the camera. “For what purpose, son?” replied the doctor. Chris looked around him. A lady with her Pekinese passed on the sidewalk in back of him. “Uh, I’d rather not say out here, if you know what I mean.” The door buzzed and Chris slipped in. The plan was to drop a small tree branch so that Ben could come in a few seconds later. Then he and Chris would force the doctor to tell them where Mike was. Pretty solid plan. Chris set the branch down and made sure the door remained ajar, then went inside looking back over his shoulder at Ben waiting across the street. He took the stairs to the second floor and called out for Doctor Bichon. Down the hallway, the orderly with the close-cropped haired, the one that had yanked him out of the Camero, marched toward him. “He’s on three, waiting for you,” he leered, passing Chris as he went down the staircase two steps at a time. At the entrance the orderly came across the tree branch wedged in the door and kicked it out as he left. Ben was forced to wait as the orderly took the stoop’s steps two at a time, and then ambled toward Madison. By the time Ben got to the entrance, the heavy glass and iron door had just click, and their plan derailed. Ben paced frantically scanning the front of the building. Above the roof, clouds were forming, blocking out the sun. It was getting prematurely dark and he didn’t know what to do. To Chris, the hallway seemed darker than the first time he was here. He heard the familiar tic-toc of the grandfather clock and crept down the hallway to its end. The old-fashion examination room was open. Dr. Bichon wrapped the lab coat around his otherwise naked body. Chris went inside and Bichon closed and locked the door. “What a pleasant surprise to see you so soon,” he said. He patted the metal tabletop. “Master Drax said we would have weekly session to acclimatize you to high levels of tolerance. He seems to think, and I would agree, you have strong masochistic tendencies. It appears you’re taking the initiative, which is always a good sign, but, to be honest with you, if you’re anything like your brother, I’m not truly surprised.” Chris climbed cautiously up on the table. “How are you little nipple rings? Sore or tolerable.” “They’re okay, doctor.” Chris wondered where Ben was. He should have been here by now. The plan didn’t include Bichon locking him inside, and certainly didn’t include getting back in that hood and getting slammed with meth again. The doctor raised Chris t-shirt and gently pulled Chris’ rings. He spoke to Chris low and seductively, “Does this feel erotic to you? Does it cause a stir?” Chris nodded. “Your pupils. When was your last medication?” “I guess Master Drax has been letting me alone so my P.A. heels.” “Well that’s no good at all,” said the doctor, going to his cabinet to prepare an injection. “Truth is, Doctor Bichon,” Chris blurted out spontaneously, “the medication makes me forget so much and I really think you’re probably the hottest man I ever met. You did things no one ever has. All night when the machine was fucking me?” Bichon eyed him warily. “Honest, doctor, that’s all I thought about that night, when that machine was inside me, was what it would be like if it was you. It’s what I’ve been thinking about every night since. It’s what I got off thinking about last night, the first time I came with my P.A. No matter what you want to do to me now, no matter what I had to do to earn it, I swear I’d do it, just to have you fuck me once.” Jesus Christ, where was Ben? He didn’t know how much longer he could fake this. He masked his feeling and pleaded with his eyes as much as he could. Bichon considered the offer. “Anything I want, just to fuck you once?” A sly smile curled his thin lips. “You know I don’t use safe words?” Chris nodded. “And my strongest addiction is to the whip.” He waited for Chris’ reaction. None was forthcoming. “Ask your brother. I was the one to first lead him down that path. Perhaps, a gene runs in the family.” Bichon ran a hand inside Chris’ jean. Chris smiled as the doctor groped his cock, playing with his P.A. “You agree to the lash, accompany me to the garden where I can introduce you to the whip?” Chris nodded, keeping his poker face. “Yes, Doctor Bichon. If that’s what I need to do? But then you’ll fuck me?” “I warn you, I won’t be starting off gentle. Spare the rod, spoil the meat, is what I say. Leave your clothes up here and wear this collar and leather jock. I don’t want the whip to damage your genitals. That’ll be my desert.” Chris put on the leather gear. “Good boy. Magnificent.” Bichon removed his lab coat, already in his leather harness and knee-high boots. He curved cock was fully erect. “Proceed,” he said unlocking the door. They went down the stairs to the garden level, and stopped before an oak armoire. Bichon unlocked it. Inside were a series of whips, canes, floggers, and riding crops. He studied Chris for a while. Chris tried to look calm, although his heart raced fearing Ben wasn’t coming. Bichon picked up some nylon rope, then ran his hands over several whips. He landed on one, whose braided handle ended in an amber bead, a small preserved scorpion suspended inside. He traced the handle between Chris’ legs, which made Chris jump. “I want you to be intimate with this instrument for it will be intimate with you. It’s an Australian bullwhip given to me by a Saudi Prince fifteen years ago. It was made at the beginning of the century, nicely broken in by its many owners, all for the same purpose. It is the first whip I used on your brother. I would say it still is his favorite.” Bichon ran the long whip over his palm. “You see the handle connects to the lash, this braided part here? Fifteen feet in length. The lash connects to the fall, a single piece of leather another fifteen feet long. It ends in these strings called a cracker, which produces the pop.” Bichon’s eyes widen, and he exploded his fingers apart like fireworks. “The cracker you should not fear, it only makes a loud noise. The fall, this middle piece between the lash and cracker, it is what strikes and makes the deep cut. It does its damage long before you will hear the snap.” The doctor paused examining his victim. Satisfied with the fear building in Chris’ eyes, he ordered, “Allons!” and pushed him through the garden doors. The small bricked off area had a fountain on the right. Three trellises lined the back wall, each with ivy climbing them. Bichon marched Chris to the left trellis and ran one of the ropes through an eye loop on one side of the trellis anchored in brick. He pulled Chris arm up and put it through the slipknot. “You see, you are not even locked in place.” He took Chris’ other hand and slipped it on the other side of the trellis. Chris faced the ivy biting his lip for fear this was actually going to happen. “You are free at any time to disengage, but then that will be the end of the session, and you will go home and not return. Comprends-tu? Donc, no fuck. Shall we begin?” Chris was frozen, not able to respond. “Uh…” he said hesitantly. “Forgive me. That was not really a question. It was rhetorical.” Bichon pulled both of Chris’ arms down sharply and the slipknots tighten, trapping him to the wall. Bichon pulled each rope a bit and re-knotted so Chris was on tiptoe, dangling. Now there was no escape. “No, no, my son, no chance to disengage now.” Bichon smiled watching Chris trying to balance on his toes with his arm stretched like wings. Whether he wanted it or not, Chris was part of Bichon’s scene. A moment later he heard a whirring in the air behind him, and suddenly he felt something like a red hot poker shred his back, followed on top of it by the whip’s crack. It echoed against the bricks and flew into the gathering clouds. The pain was like a knife of fire slicing his back, cutting deep down to his spine. From the sidewalk, Ben recognized that crack. He knew what it meant. Bichon had pulled out the Australian bullwhip and he feared who was on the receiving end. In the garden the whirring began again. Chris counted three rotations in the air, and then felt his skin flay as a lightening crack reverberated in the garden. A knife ripping flesh from his back in an opposite diagonal. “What? No tears, Christian?” mocked Bichon. “Not even a small cry for doctor to stop?” Chris stared straight ahead, focused on the leaves of ivy, extinguishing everything else in his mind and everything else in his field of vision. He gazed at the darkness between the leaves, the negative space where nothing existed, when the whirr took up again, and once again a blow streaked across his back and exploded skyward. All pain was internalized, screaming inside his core, silent outwardly. Ben leapt up on the wall, began clawing the building, frantically trying to scale the sculpted cement. He made it halfway to the second story windows finding some ridges to scale, but before he made it up, another snap resounded from the building. It distracted him, his hand slipped, and his weight yanked him off the façade. He fell hard to the ground. “Here is a lash for your buttocks to join those of your brother’s.” The whip whooshed in the air. “I was told your brother’s caused those welts but never broke the skin. Not this time, my son. Breaking skin is the point.” The whip slashed the air and cut across his ass cheeks, leaving a horizontal line that seeped a trail of red beads. Chris bit his lip hard. Teeth marks drew blood from his lower lip. “C’est très beau. Look at that. Two more on the ass to make a star.” Two quick slices through the air, two resounding cracks of the whip, and Chris’ butt became a crisscross of slashes. Chris collapsed against his bindings. He didn’t weep or sob, but his face was contorted in pain. His head fell into the trellis leaves. In the hot, humid air, the ivy felt cool against his forehead. He didn’t crying but salt water stained the leaves. His will was indomitable. Pain couldn’t conquer him. Not yet. “I am impressed. Even your brother couldn’t take seven lashes. He begged after only five. The Prince himself could take only six. No other initiate has done as well. Christian, you arouse me. I am very hard. Here feel.” Chris slumped into the ivy and Bichon picked up his hand for him to feel his erection. “Let us break the record with one last strike, and then consummate your victory.” Chris forced himself to stand again, to suffer but not surrender. Bichon stepped back. He heard the whip spin through the air for an eternity. It cracked over Bichon’s head before the doctor brought it down, ripping over Chris’ shoulder, slicing skin along a trail that cut down his breast bone. And again, the whip came down a second time, ripped down to his ribs, whirled in the air, until it fell on him for a third and final time. He looked down and saw the damage of his torn chest. He started to convulse. Suddenly, Bichon was there, holding him in his arms, unstrapped his hands. “Ten times, my son. You shall go down in my journal.” Bichon cradled him like the Pietà, sitting on the iron bench, kissing both his cheeks, feeling him thrash and shudder in his arms. He waited for Chris to come back from where he had sent him, and then carried him back into the clinic. The doctor stood him up at the stairs to see if he could walk. Chris stumble with his arm draped over the doctor’s bare shoulder. “You are in shock, my love,” the doctor said as they climbed the stairs. “Don’t try to speak.” Chris collapsed on the third floor staircase and the doctor carried him the rest of the way. Within the antiquated examination room, Bichon propped Chris on the table ledge. Chris was coming out his fugue state when Bichon tried to make him lay back. The cold metal table against his torn skin made him jump up in pain. He was coming around. He sat on the edge, tasting blood on his lip, seeing lines of flayed skin across his chest. “You remain in shock,” repeated the doctor brushing his hair. Chris reached out and drew the doctor’s face to his, kissing him tenderly, climbed off the table, climbed onto the doctor, delirious, as if Bichon were a tree, a mountain, a tower to climb. The doctor had seen this before. A cascade of gratitude caused by a flood of endorphins, uncontrollable, unstoppable, insatiable. It made for the best kind of fuck. The doctor was hard and ready. “I want to milk you, Sir,” Chris rasped, a manic look in his eyes. “Please let me milk you. I want your seed. I need it in me.” The doctor smiled his joyless smile and climbed on the table as Chris worshipped him, licked his balls, ran his tongue from the bottom of his boots, up his thigh, and sucked on his dick down to his root, down to where the doctor’s trimmed pubes rubbed into his bleeding lips. He threw himself into a frenzy of lust, abandoned reason, enacted pure submission. He hovered over the doctor, running his tongue over the black hair of his armpit, so wet from his recent flagellation, so covered in musk, they both were seduced. Chris found lube on the counter, lathered his mangled ass and the doctor’s cock. He climbed on the table startling Bichon with deranged intensity, found the center of his hole, aligned the erection and impaled himself punishingly. The swiftness of Chris decent was unexpected and Bichon curled his toes in pleasure. Frantic and insane Chris was, hammering onto the doctor in a fervor of madness, again leaning over him, licking his pits, pushing the doctor’s arms to the table’s edge, flattening himself on him like a supplicant, running his tongue along the veins of his arms, gnawing, rutting against the man like a rabid animal, pleasuring the man with his oscillating bruise ass, pleasuring himself at the same time. The doctor closed his eyes in self-satisfaction, completely stretched out on the table, Chris fingering overhead until he found the straps he was seeking at the tables edge, and wrapped them tightly around Bichon’s wrists and knotted them above his head. He jumped down and, before Bichon fully grasped what was happening, he grabbed Bichon’s right legs and pulled it over a stirrup with all his weight. He held onto the man’s legs in a wrestler’s grip, searching for a leg strap, found it and knotted it so the right leg was secure over the stirrup. Bichon, with one leg free, kicked wildly at the kid, who dodged and weaved avoiding being struck. Chris picked up the metal tray of instruments, and tossed the tools to the ground. He raised the heavy tray above his head, and hurdled its sharp edge straight into the doctor’s kneecap. The man shrieked in agony, and Chris took quick advantage to secure the injured leg over the stirrup. In one movement the second leg was captured. Ben came flying into the room drawn to the scream. Chris heaved with labored breath, taking in his accomplishment, then taking in his brother. “Where the fuck have you been?” Chris demanded, panting, bent over with his hands on his knees. “Fuck! Dude,” Ben cried. “Your back!” At that moment there was a splat, like three hundred pounds of wet Jell-O hitting the back patio. “Forget my back. Find Mike,” Chris urged his confused brother. “He can’t get up?” Ben asked with suspicion. Chris shook his head while testing each of the straps. “This guy,” Ben stuttered, “this nurse, he came out after you went in and kick away the branch. I finally got in through the second floor and broke through the window.” Ben displayed his scraped fingers and cut palms. “Find Mike, Ben,” Chris repeated. “Go!” Ben gave him a glance like he was seeing him for the first time, then shot out of the room running to where the splat had come from. Chris stood near, but not too near, Doctor Bichon. “My old man,” Chris began, judging his abuser. “He’s dead. Cancer. Ate his brain from the inside. Didn’t know mom or me at the end. You know what, doctor? I couldn’t have cared less.” Chris circled him, examining him from different angles. “He was about as mean as a fuck as you. But honestly, compared to him, you’re a sadistic featherweight, Doctor Bichon.” Chris ripped off his collar and jock strap and threw it at him. “Costume,” he pronounced. He stood naked in front of Bichon displaying his bloody body. He climbed onto the metal exam table, stood tall between the man’s legs. “You should let me go now. Master Drax inevitably will find out about. If you don’t release me I cannot help you. You, your brother, and your friend Manetti will pay. Truly, you will be skinned alive. I promise this will happen,” Bichon threatened. Chris looked thoughtful for a moment, then began urinating over Bichon. As his stream of piss grew in strength, he aimed for the doctor’s face. Bichon laughed and swallow some of the piss at first, then as the stream was steady and strong, and wasn’t letting up, the force of it started making him choke. “My old man,” continued Chris, pissing hard, now urinating over the man’s whole body, “he used to give me the belt almost every Saturday night, whether I’d done anything to deserve it or not.” He finished pissing and climbed off the table. He put on his pants and shoes. His torso stung, so he gingerly pulled on his Ramones t-shirt. Blood stains seeped through the white cloth. “My favorite shirt,” he observed emotionless. “He wouldn’t, my old man, just give me the belt. No. He like to whip me with the buckle. Your whip hurt like fuck. It sure did.” He slapped his chest, and the pain of his torn chest warped his face but brought no tears. “Do you must know what metal feels like on a skinny body, on a bony body like mine? It rings, doctor. It rings through your bones like a bell. You hear it in your brain. I still hear it. Your whip? Feathers.” Ben stormed into the room. “You should’ve seen it,” he told Chris. “Mike threw this big orderly over the balcony—big bloody mess—and he’s just hanging out watching Wheel of Fortune.” He was trying to make light of what he’d, not just the repulsive scene of the splattered orderly, but the shock of seeing Manetti with his gown above his neck. But he sensed immediately, looking at Bichon and Chris, knew that he’d interrupted something foreboding. Chris’ mood was as dark as he’d ever seen. Manetti’s walked into the room. His mood was darker. The promised storm broke over New York, and with it, thunder, lightning, and the wrath of Manetti. Bichon, splayed helpless on the metal table, tried to remain composed. “As I promised, Christian, only a moment ago, it would be better for you, all of you, to release me. Drax would not stop until he has your skins. And I do mean literally. Michael, you’ve witnessed this.” Manetti spoke so quietly, with rain pouring in the garden and thunder rumbling through the city canyons, he was barely audible. “I told you,” he said to Bichon, “that I would raze you.” He looked around the room, and spied a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “You have matches?” he said to Ben. Ben produced them. “When you skinned Johnson alive? Yeah, I remember. But I have in mind something different, faster, and I gather more painful. You won’t have the chance to skin me alive because I will roast the skin right off of you,” he said, pouring rubbing alcohol over hair, over his chest, his groin, feet and down the table. He then spilt the liquid behind him as he walked out the door. He showered the hallway walls, tossed some on the curtains. Ben backed Chris out of the room. Manetti looked at the doctor. “You took one invaluable thing from me. But now I’m taking everything from you.” Manetti flicked a match and dropped it on the alcohol-soaked carpet. Bichon howled mad laugher from his inner sanctum. The flames crawled the hallway walls, igniting chiffon curtains and oriental rugs. The flame followed the combustible trail back to the exam table. It crawled up and ignited the man entirely. His howls of laughter turned to screams of torment. Black smoke billowed and gathered at the ceiling. Just as Manetti, Ben and Chris made their way through the soot-filled corridor, at the staircase, a torched wraith, his bindings burnt away, ran toward them screaming the wail of the dying. The fiery specter collapsed in a heap of blackened flesh at the top of the stairs, inches from where they stood. They descended to the entrance, as the building around them engulfed into an inferno. They stood in the torrential rain, mesmerized, their faces aglow from the clinic’s blaze. Far across the street, in the shadows, they still felt the heat. Firetrucks' red and blue lights illuminated their faces. The townhouse was gone. It acted like a chimney sucking in air from the base, rising up through the stony structure, erupting flames like a volcano, shooting fires from hell into heaven itself.

5. Trophies “You fuckin’ idiot!” He heard a voice from far away. He coughed, threw his hands up to his throat. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You trying to kill him before he even does the job?” He heard the same far away voice, incredulous, like it was shouted in a long, echoing tunnel. Chris rasped in several breath before he trusted he was breathing again. He sat up in bed naked, still high as fuck, but was alone in the master bedroom. The men had left him, and sounded like they were downstairs arguing. “So I got carried away,” he heard Polanski trying to defend himself. “You get carried away. Look at the way you offed the Bailey family. One by one, Brody. One by one. You ain’t no Saint Sanity when you get worked up. How many pieces’ that Tony kid in now? How many fingers did you cut off, how many ears, and whatever, before you just went and slit their throats? That wasn’t just for the old man’s benefit and you know it. You liked it! You was enjoying yourself.” Chris was trying unsuccessfully to process the evening. How much time had passed since he blacked out? Johnny Carson was on TV doing his opening monologue. It couldn’t have been that long. Still flying, not a lot of things made sense. Then, like someone had flipped a light switch, the pieces of the night fit. The last he’d heard on the television news, the sewer pipe, the two cons, they were right here. Chris crawled off the bed. On hands and knees he crept to the staircase to observe the men. They were in their boxers again. “Listen, you dumb shit. That was to get the dirty cop to squeal where he stashed it. It worked, didn’t it?” Bailey, Don, Brody, whatever his name was, he was no cop. He smacked Polanski in his forehead. “Think, dumb shit. Be smart.” Then he said in a low voice, “If you want to snuff the kid, wait till he brings out the stash, then you can have all the sick motherfuckin’ fun you want. But you almost fucked up what was pretty complicated set up to begin with. Drax would have had both us skinned alive, and I do mean skinned! We seen him do it to that poor fuck Jackson.” Polanski shivered. “So what now?” he said, starting to pace nervously around the room. “So now you go up, and hope the kid recovers. Then you beg him to forgive you, hope he ain’t dead or damaged, and will still do the job for us. You kiss his ass, suck his cock, and do whatever it takes.” “We gonna be straight with him?” “We gotta, but he don’t need to know everything. I’ll do the talking. He’ll trust me more than you, but you gotta make it up to him. Be his pal. You been a mean fuck ever since we busted in on him. Play nice.” They both looked up the staircase. Chris ducked back quickly in the dark hallway. He scurried back to the bedroom, got on the bed, and played possum on his side as the men came back into the room. Polanski got on the bed and shook his shoulder. “Hey, kid,” he said, “kid, you still with us?” Chris faked like he was stirring, throwing his hands to his neck like someone was choking him and sat up in panic. “Nah, nah, you’re okay,” Polanski said nervously. “Things just got a little out of hand, but you’re okay now. Man, I sure am high. How ‘bout you?” “Yeah,” Chris said hoarsely. “You were choking me.” He shoved Polanski away with both hands. “Yeah, nah, I was just playin’, but like Brody knows, I sometimes get carried away. I play too rough.” “Brody?” Chris asked confused. “Ah, geez,” Brody, as Polanski now called him, sighed and put his head in his hand. He sat down on the other side of the bed and put his hand on Chris’ back. “Yeah, we gotta come clean with you kid. We ain’t no cops.” “What?” Chris said in disbelief. “If you’re not the cops, who are you?” Brody laid out it out for Chris. “Nicky and I are ex-cons. We were just released from upstate after doing our time. And the first thing we do is we come pay a visit to the guy who set us up, the crooked cop who lives here. He’d been skimming money off the top for years from the man we work for. A Mister Jones.” “Mr. Jones?” “Well, that ain’t his real name, but better you don’t know.” Brody went on with his story with Chris pretending to hang on every word. “So the dirty cop’s family is away, okay? So we bust in on him. We had to get pretty rough with him, but he finally admitted that he did a bad thing and that he had the money squirreled away in the house, in the duct work. So Mr. Jones instructs us to use Bailey’s uniform and police stuff to get you to come out to Flushing to help us get the stash. Seems like he had his little kid go deep in the ducts and hide the goods where big guys like us can’t get to it, so the only way to get it is for a little guy like you to get it for us. You’re like part of our gang now.” “Did you kill Manetti,” asked Chris, honestly fearing the answer. “Nah,” Brody said. “He hadda done it himself. You seen the place was chained from the inside. Mr. Jones used that as an excuse for us to show up.” “Yeah, and I’m real sorry. I was playing too hard. But it’s ‘cause I like you. I think you’re really sexy and hot for a little skinny guy, and I got a thing for breath control. It’s just a thing I got.” “Yeah,” said Brody, “and it looked like you maybe got a thing for it too now by how much you came all over me.” “Yeah, I don’t think I like it,” Chris said, rubbing his neck. “Nah, nah,” said Polanski. “Not a lot of guys do, and if you, I mean you, me and Brody ever was to, you know, go at it again, and I hope we do, ‘cause the dirty cop ain’t coming back anytime soon,” he said darkly, “so maybe, once we get the stash, maybe we can mess around again, if you want, but only if you want.” “And no choking,” Brody added, running his hand up and down Chris’ back. “Just fun stuff. I like you too. You’ve got a hot little hole like I rarely seen, and a real sexy little bubble butt, which if we didn’t have a job to do, I could right now, cause I’m still horny, right now fuck you again.” It was true. Both men were getting a rise in their shorts. “Yeah,” said Polanski, getting back to business. “But we gotta finish the job, right Brody?” “Nah, you’re right Nicky. So, kiddo, what you say? You part of our gang, help us pull out the money? Then we get back here,” Brody padded the bed, “and we go at it for round two?” “You’d let me be part of your gang?” Chris asked. Both men nodded. “Would I get some of the money?” Polanski raised a brow and looked at Brody. Brody gave him a look back and said to Chris, “Sure, sure. Being in the gang means you get a cut. But we have to give most of it back to Mr. Jones. You understand that, right?” “I guess. I never been in a gang before. And then we can get back here and have more sex? Cause right up till the choking, I really liked it. I never been double fucked before. I guess this’ll be night of firsts.” There was so much untruth dripping all around, as they all looked at each other they all knew they were full of shit, but had to buy it to keep up the ruse.“So let’s do this,” said Chris. They went downstairs and out to the garage. The men’s tools were laid out on the floor near a vent next to the washing machine. The grate was off. Brody gave Chris a small flashlight and a map of the ductwork maze where the cop had his son hide the money. Chris got down on his hands and knees and crawled inside. Even for him it was a tight fit. The two men leered as his ass scuttled away from them. Brody said, shining his flashlight on Chris’ butt admiringly, “Let’s get this done quickly ‘cause I gotta have some of that pretty pussy again.” “Yeah, boy,” Polanski called through the duct, “Taking both our kielbasas means you’re ready for another game I like even better than choking called fisting.” Brody hit Polanski on his forehead again, but Chris had already rounded his first corner and his head was busy sorting through his options. All that stuff his brother had told him came back. Plan B. Look for a way out. They were going to kill him, he was certain of that, so how was he going to make an escape. Here he was, naked crawling through ductwork. If he manage to get out he’d be running down the street naked yelling for help. Well, that was the least of his problems. From the moment both of the men had their hands on him, he felt they were never going to let him out of their site even for one second. Except now. It had to be now or never. Looking at the map there was one tunnel that led to the HVAC system’s main unit in the basement. If he got down to there, he might be able to crawl out one of the basement windows. He scurried the direction he was sure was the route to the basement. It didn’t take him long but once he got down to the basement level he found the only vent into the room was sealed with a grate. He stomped his foot at it. It didn’t budge. He tried again and again, making an awful racket. Brody shouted into the vent what was the matter? He kick against the grate with all his might and it popped off. Nothing, he shouted back. He saw a rat and had to scare it away. He slipped out of the vent and landed on the cold cement. The floor was kind of sticky and slippery. In the dim room he saw the basement windows glowing from the outside streetlights. He went over to one of the windows and unlatched it. It was a lot narrower than he thought, only about six inches high. He was small but not that narrow. Plan B. He walked over to the staircase and again felt the floor was slick and sticky. Once he climbed to the top of the stairs he tried to open the basement door but it was bolted. There wasn’t a latch he could open. A key had to be used to open the door on either side. There must be a key down here somewhere. He felt around for the light switch and flipped it on. The basement was a horror show! Four bodies in various stages of dismemberment were tied to metal folding chairs all facing each other. They were all naked. A blond woman with several knife wounds on various parts of her body was nearest to the stairs. The crooked cop, the one Chris now recognized from the Disney photo, was as big as Brody, was tied up next to her. His neck was sliced ear to ear. Most of the floor’s blood looked to be his, although each family member contributed to the gore. The oldest boy was the one Polanski had talked about. Three of his fingers on his left hand and all the fingers on his right were clipped by garden sheers lying bloodied on the ground. His neck was also sliced. But what was done to the little kid that freaked him out the most, caused him to give up on this particular plan B, of getting out through the basement. As Chris got back into the vent he tried to un-see what he’d seen. The kid he was so envious of? No one deserved a fate like that. In the dark, he follow the map again. He tried to keep his mind on the task at hand, but he kept seeing the kid’s agonized face. Both ears had been clipped, his blond hair matted in red blood. In his mouth, his ears peeked out. As Chris got close to his goal, where there was an X on the map, one glimpse, one flash he tried to push away, but couldn’t: the imprinted image of kid’s bloody crotch. His eyes refused to focus on the particulars of where the blood had come from. He didn’t need to. He knew. Then there, in front of him, was the black briefcase. What kind of psychopaths was he dealing with? What reason could they have to produce such a nightmare? He flipped the clasps and opened it in the narrow vent. Stacks of hundreds neatly lined the case. He was no math wiz, but a quick count of rows times columns times ten stacks deep. The crooks had two million reasons. There was a banging on the metal, and Brody shouted what was taking so long. While he gazed at the money, he shouted he’d gotten to a dead end and got lost. He closed the clasps and turned around in the vent. He added that the map wasn’t accurate but he’d found the briefcase. He was freaked but he knew he couldn’t show it. As he started retracing his steps, he saw there were streaks of blood he’d trailed in from the basement. He had to wipe it off. He re-opening the briefcase and took out a couple of hundreds and cleaned his feet. He had a couple of spots on his knees and hands too, so he took out another couple of bills and wiped himself off with those. It didn’t take long to get back to Brody and Polanski. He pushed the briefcase out and Polanski grab it. Polanski couldn’t help himself and cracked the briefcase. All three of them stared at the contents. Brody was the first to speak. “Holy mother of Christ.” He put his hand on Chris’ butt and started rubbing it. “I think this calls for a celebration fuck. Who’s up for a nightcap?” They flashed glances at one another, and Brody took his finger and felt up Chris’ hole. “Ah, boy. We’re going to have to give you a special reward.” Brody and Polanski shared an evil grin. While they were climbing the stairs back to the bedroom, Brody asked, “So the map was really off?” “Big time,” Chris answered. “The stuff wasn’t where the X was and the layout wasn’t right. That’s what took me so long.” Brody set the briefcase next to the door. “So,” said Brody, “whiskeys on the house.” Chris asked if he could have one. “Sure,” Polanski said. “You earned it, didn’t he Brody?” Brody gave a nod. Chris trotted into the bathroom and brought back a glass. Brody had taken off his boxers and was playing absently with his enormous member. Polanski was around. “Where’s Nick?” he asked starting to pour drinks. “Dunno,” Brody responded, staring at the TV. Johnny Carson was joking around with Joan Rivers. “Hey,” he said lumbering off the bed, “We need a better show. How ‘bout you entertain us while you entertain us?” “Huh?” asked Chris as he poured the final glass. “I want to see how Manetti played with you while we play with you. I got the tape downstairs.” He went to fetch it. He had only a few seconds. Manetti’s drug box was on the cart. He opened it and took out the bottle of G and spit the contents between two of the drinks. He replaced the vial in the box, just when Polanski reappeared. “Crisco!” the man announced. “Promise I’m gonna curl your toes.” Chris gave Polanski his shark smile. “I feel ‘em curling already.” He handed Polanski his whiskey. Brody came in holding the VHS tape and popped it in the VCR and pushed play. Chris handed him his drink, as the familiar grunts of Manetti fucking him played in the background. Brody held up his glass. “We, who are about to die, salute you.” They both looked at Chris and each of them downed their glasses in one gulp. The two men squished their faces. Chris followed suit and stuck out his tongue making a gah sound, which made the men laugh. Polanski grabbed the almost empty bottle. “How about a chaser for a job well done, and to the newest member of our gang.” He divided the remains between them. “Bottoms up!” They raised their glasses again and kicked them back. “Okay, bottom. Up!” he ordered Chris. “On your back, head here,” Polanski barked. “Knees up.” Not used to hard alcohol, the whiskey got to Chris’ head pretty quickly. Combined with the earlier crystal, he was starting to feel spaced and horny. He got on the bed, listening to Manetti fuck him on TV. He forced his mind not to think about Manetti, but focused instead on Polanski. Even though he didn’t like the guy he was a sexy fucker. Brody knelt next to him and pushed his head toward his erection. Polanski greased two fingers and slipped them into Chris’ asshole. It felt good to have Polanski in his chute. Not liking him somehow made him harder. He bore down on Polanski’s fingers and took them right down to the knuckles. Polanski said to Brody, “This kid’s a natural. Look at this.” He greased up four fingers and slipped them with no resistance into Chris. Brody gave out an excited moan. “How ‘bout being a real pig, kid. Eat daddy’s hole.” He raised himself from feeding Chris his dick and lifted one leg over Chris’ head and sat his hairy butt on his face. “Dig in there, pig boy. Clean daddy’s dingleberries.” He complied eagerly, using his hands to spread Brody’s cheeks further apart, using his tongue to untangle each strand of clotted hair. The closer he came to Brody’s asshole, the more hardened fecal matter he found. Polanski added his thumb and Chris felt his whole hand pressing at his entrance. Again, he bore down and his asslips swallowed all of Polanski’s hand. “Woo-ee,” shouted Polanski. He wasn’t patient or caring like Manetti, he didn’t wait for Chris to adjust to his hand, just began pulling his hand out and pushing it back in again. Chris yowled under Brody’s ass each time Polanski yanked out his hand. He raised his hand to tell Polanski to take it easy, but Brody grabbed them both. Brody’s ass was firmly on his face, and the big man started rutting impatiently for Chris to get his tongue deeper his hole. When Chris traced his tongue around his asslips, the man gave out a huge farted. The skin vibrated lewdly on his mouth and Brody grabbed his head so Chris couldn’t get away. The smell was foul but he was stuck smelling it. Polanski was picking up the pace, pulling one of Chris’ legs over his muscular shoulders to get Chris to spread of his legs wider. The violent punching was winning. The helplessness of being pinned up such a big hair butt and his legs force apart while his hole was being wrecked, caused Chris to surrender completely. Polanski took the surrender to increase his attack, pulling out fiercely. He stopped for a second to admire the red pedals of the rosebud he was creating. “That’s it boy, push!” shouted Polanski, tapping on the rectum that was coming out of its hole. “I want some of that,” Brody said woozily, getting off Chris’ face. He scuttled down to Polanski and each man took one of Chris’ legs and pulled him apart. “Look, this little fuck still has a boner.” He looked at Chris who was wiping bits of Brody’s shit off his face. “You gonna let us do whatever we want to you, ain’t ya, boy?” Chris nodded. Brody greased his big paw and stuck four fingers into Chris. His hand was too big to get, but Brody stubbornly kept pushing his paw against Chris’ resisting hole. “Give it up, boy.” “I can’t,” Chris said. “It’s too big.” That only made Brody more determined. He leaned into the boy, and forced his fist in. Chris gave out a cry of extreme pain. His torso shot up trying to expel Brody’s huge mitt, but Brody twisted and prodded his hole enjoying the spasms he was causing Chris to endure. The hand popped out of the boy as he fell back on the bed. “You pussy,” said Brody, with weary eyes. “Let’s try that again. Daddy likes depth. C’mon, open your cunt for daddy.” His hand shot into Chris again, and though it was agonizing, Chris felt his rectum was prepared this time to accommodate the invasion. Brody was even rougher than Polanski, more aggressively tunneling deep into his hole. Polanski watch amused, though his breath was increasingly labored and shallow. Brody laid flat on his side to reach into Chris’ hole, Polanski fell from his knees to one butt cheek. He looked at Chris’ hard on and reached out and smacked the kid’s balls. The kid jumped but Brody’s fist in his ass held his in place. Polanski slapped his balls again, then took a fist and punched him in the nuts. Chris’ ass muscles reacted by baring down hard on Brody’s wrist and that egged Brody on to go in deeper. Chris’ intestines could accept any more of the girth of Brody’s hand, yet Brody’s face showed that a little thing like Chris’ anatomy wasn’t going to stop him. “The goal is the heart of the boy, and you’re going to give it to me,” stated Brody as he pushed in another inch. Polanski didn’t let up punching Chris in the balls. Chris’ head was back on the bed struggling to resist these two psychopaths, his hands flying in the air. There was a bounce on the bed. He looked over to see Polanski laying on his side. Brody looked at Polanski laying there, said, “Lightweight.” He pushed himself up on his side and pulled one of Chris’ legs over his fleshy shoulder. He stop for a second and examined the bottom of Chris’ foot. His face displayed his puzzlement. “Boy,” he said having a hard time put words together, “why have you got a red foot?” His mystified expression suddenly sparked with a dull anger. He pulled up Chris’ other foot. “You been someplace you shouldn’t.” There was such an ominous tone, Chris knew the man figured out where he’d been. “I’m gonna fuckin’...rip your heart...out of your…” The big man went down. Chris laid there for a moment. Brody’s hand was still far up his colon. He felt his fingers slightly twitching. His balls ached painfully, he was sure Polanski had damaged him. He started trying to pull his chute off of Brody’s hand, but at first only managed to pull Brody along with him as he slid across the bed. Without realizing it he found himself on the bed’s edge, his hand gave out under him, and he fell backward landing on his back. The quick, forceful drop pulled Brody’s whole hand out of him in one go, and also pulled out of Chris a gut-wrenching shriek. He now had that empty feeling once again, but this time he was very happy about it. The bedroom phone rang on the nightstand behind his head. The digital clock showed it was just after two o’clock. He knew who it was. He picked up the receiver without saying anything, just listening. “Do you have it?” Master Drax said on the other end of the line. “Yes,” Chris answered. There followed a long pause so long, Chris thought the connection was lost. Then Master Drax continued. “Are they dead?” He leaned over Polanski who hadn’t move since he fell over. He got in close to see if he was breathing. He was, but just barely. His lips were blue and his skin very white. Brody was breathing hard, but Chris had noticed he was always breathing hard. “No, but they don’t look good.” “Bring me what you found in the ventilation system. Leave the briefcase. It will attract undue attention to you. Put the contents in your bag and bring it to me.” Brody started to stir. Chris stepped back in alarm. The large man raised up on one hand, then vomited all over the bed. He looked around the room disoriented, saw Chris, tried to focus, but his eyes closed and he collapsed into his mess. “Leave them. Move quickly, child.” There was a click, and then dial tone. Chris went in the bathroom and splashed water on his face, then all the mess off his ass. What was he going to wear? His clothe in the washer were wet probably. He ran into the large walk-in closet. Half the clothes were the wife’s, and the other half were the dead officer’s, all way too big for him. A bright red jogging suit with white stripes hung next to the door. It was also way too big, but there was a belt rack on the back of the door. He could cinched up the waist with one of them. He grabbed the jogging suit, which uncovered the officer’s holster and police revolver. He wished he’d found that before. Now it seemed after the fact. He put the briefcase and his gym bag on the bed and began transferring the money. He looked over at Polanski. He’d quit breathing. All the money fit with a little room left over. He ran downstairs to the garage and got his damp clothes out of the washer. Sprinting back upstairs he stopped off in Eddie’s bedroom, found his sneakers, and sat on the kid’s bed tying his shoes. He went back into the bedroom to fetch the bag, when Brody rolled over the side of the bed with great effort, but even more determination. He stood teetering, blocking the door. “You little fuck,” he said, looming menacingly, taking one step at a time toward Chris. Chris back up with each step he took, but there wasn’t anywhere he could run. He was cornered. He jumped up on the bed, but the big man grabbed his foot and Chris tumbled off onto the floor, banging his head on the closet door. The man stumbled toward him. Chris scrambled up and backed into the closet, closing the door behind him. He grabbed the holster and moved to the back of the closet, far away the door. The door flew open and Brody charged at him with a monstrous roar intent on tearing him limb from limb. Chris pulled the Glock out of its holster, clicked off the safety, and emptied six bullets in the man’s stomach. Brody was knocked backwards with each strike, but still stood his ground, taller and now madder than ever. “I’m fucking gonna reach inside you and tear out your lungs.” He charge again at Chris, grabbed Chris by the neck and lifted him to the ceiling. Chris unloaded nine more rounds, first hitting his shoulder, his arm, his chest, and, finally feeling his throat about to snap, shot him between the eyes. He kept pulling the trigger long after the gun was empty. Brody fell backward dropping Chris to the floor. His body made a loud thump. As he sprawled, arms wide, on the emerald green shag carpeting, red streams of blood slowly spread in all directions. Chris slowly stood up, still in shock. It wasn’t till the heavy revolver slipped out of his hand that his flight instinct took over. He jumped over the dead man, snatched up his gym bag, and sped out of the house never looking back. A black Camaro sat at the curb. Its engine gunned once as Chris approached it with mounting dread. At curbside he bent down to view the driver and his fate. Inside a large shark-tooth grin spread from ear to ear. “Nice work, Chief,” Manetti said holding the wheel, gunning the engine again. “Love the outfit. Red's definitely suits you. Get in.” Chris did. The car squealed down the street, wheels smoking, laying eight feet of rubber minutes before the cops arrived triggered by several reports of gun fire.

2. Condemned There’s nothing you and I won’t do I’ll stop the world and melt with you The warm night air felt good. No, a shit fuck better than that. The night felt like it was groping him, diddling with his brain as much as booty. It felt outrageous being naked on a rooftop on a hot summer night, his first night in New York, with the breeze drying his matted hair. The city lights were so foreign, many lit windows from high-rises off in the distant, like far off stars, like oil tankers out on a black sea. It made him feel he's in an alien world; he is. In alien skin; he is. Time felt fluid, running backward and forward, never fixed. He smelled piss drying on his skin. He licked it reminding himself it's Manetti's stench he's wearing. It's the only thing he's wearing, except his brother's wet jock around his neck. How fucked up is that?! His tightening skin reminds him of how it used to be when he came out of the ocean back home, the feeling of salt drying under a blazing sun. Tonight, though, a full moon beamed overhead. As they clamored over embankments to the neighboring building, he's still rushing with the vulgarity of his thoughts. He’s not expressing them out loud anymore, but they're still running through his brain. He keeps coming back to a memory that a man just peed on him, that he's going to visit someone, naked, someone Manetti calls his ‘Master.’ He has no reference for what a Master is except for pictures in a magazine. It's part of an imaginary vocabulary. A Zeus figure or Mister Universe. More of a cartoon really. He's not really thinking though. His thoughts are like birds that have escaped their cage and flying lost in the air; freedom they’ve never had before and don’t know what to do with. Manetti leading him is the only thing that grounds him to earth. If he thinks at all it only happens in small bursts. Fragments. He's nervous. He sees his dick has shrunk. His balls feel cold and hide, shriveled up inside him. This moment he's nervous. The next he's more excited than nervous. He regarded Manetti' arms. He's still very horny. Manetti had enormous triceps that flexed under the full moon as he pulled himself over the half wall to the next building. Manetti reached out a hand and helped pull him up. The moon had a glowing ring around it. During the last full moon he was looking at it from the rear window of an Impala, made a decision he wasn’t going back to school the next day. Now here he is naked on a rooftop, being led on a dog leash. Life’s so strange; it is. Wait. There's a collar around his neck? When did that happened? Are there other things he's not remembering? The leash Manetti's holding is attached to his collar. That seems familiar now, part of the plan. Wait. What's the plan exactly? Another thought pops in his head while he's feeling the studs on his collar. He gathers some birds together to string out a sentence. Making sentences is hard and takes enormous effort. "This building,” he said in a hushed voice to Manetti, like someone was going to overhear them. “The one we're on. Sir. Walking on. Tink-tink." He shows him fingers like they're walking, like Manetti wouldn’t know what walking meant. "Yes?" said Manetti. They're at the next building's rooftop hatch. "The front door said 'condemned.' This one." Chris pointed downward. He closed his eyes. A picture formed from a few hours ago. Metal buttons. His brother's name on tape. He steps in a puddle, real time, right now, in his bare feet on the tar roof. He's back in the here and now. It's warm, the puddle. He thinks he’d like to sit down in it. A leash tugs him on. He’s never been on a leash before. He kind of likes it. He could see himself being a dog. Maybe a pet for Manetti and his brother. He’d sleep on the floor, he would. His mind is flying off. Wet shoes that squished. He remembered that. He was cold. When was that? "This building," he said to Manetti absently. "The front door and all the windows were boarded up. Like no one’s home." "That's what Master wants people to think." Manetti popped open the hatch and pointed down the stairs. Chris looked in and descended into the darkness. It's quiet except for the creak of the stairs. Chris' heart raced. He relied heavily on the banister going down, but this feeling of nervous excitement, palpitations, it never leaves him, not since Manetti stuck the needle in his arm. When was that? Wet shoes. He's lost the thread. He's anxious to meet Manetti's Master. He’s curious what Manetti's Master could possibly look like. He gathered birds and released them to Manetti. "What's he like, Sir? Master Drax." Moonlight poured from the skylight over the stairs onto their bare shoulders. He can’t see what’s in the shadows. Formless things. Nameless. It’s the drugs that make him imagine things that aren't there, he told himself, but he’s walking slower. Manetti had to keep nudging him forward so he doesn't bump into him. Manetti sensed Chris was having second thoughts. As they walked the long hall, Manetti told Chris the short version of Master Drax, owner of a stable of boys, all kinds, he and Ben among them. A defrocked priest from Eastern Europe, they all, the stable boys, think. He talked to him in a voice you'd use to corral a young colt you were breaking in, inching him closer to the only door down the corridor. "And he publishes magazines, vanilla ones and hard core ones, too. You said you liked them, the ones under Ben's bed," Manetti suggested. "Do you think he know where my brother is?" Chris asked as they stopped at the door. Manetti put his hand on Chris' shoulder, as much a gesture calm him as well as making sure he wouldn't bolt. With the other hand he knocked. “I wouldn't ask him that tonight.” "I like Magnum." said Chris. They heard someone unlatch the door. “I wonder where he is.” "Maybe you can be in Magnum someday." The door opens and Chris jumps, backing into Manetti. *** A very tall, very lanky black man, a bit older than Manetti, examined the two visitors at the door. The young, very white one, was being propped up by the one he knew as Manetti. The man wore only a harness, naked otherwise, and was shaved from head to toe including his eyebrows. A very long, dangling cock gripped by a metal ring had a leather strap running from his cock to his chest, then split out to each bony shoulder and ran down his back. His cheeks were hollow, and his mouth was agape, and each tooth filed to a sharp point. Manetti pushed Chris away, but Chris quickly took a step back again. "Hello, Jamal," Manetti said. "We're expected." "Yes," the servant said, unfazed by the rudeness of scaredy-boy. "He is waiting in great room. This is the new one?" he asked in his faint island accent. Manetti nodded. Jamal appraised the kid with the wide blue eyes. There was a flicker of lust that brought out a grotesque smile. He then turned and led them down the hall. Manetti stepped in front of Chris, annoyed, yanked him along by his leash. Chris whispered in his ear, “The guy’s teeth.” Manetti quietly answered back, “Too many complaints about bad blow jobs so Master had all his teeth yanked out. Has to wear fake ones or nothing.” Chris scanned the crumbling walls as they walked. Pornographic graffiti filled every inch. Men with large pompadours, sailors, woodsmen, with big tits, big butts, and bigger cocks getting fucked and fisted, and were either pissing or spewing cum. Chris whispered again to Manetti, "Like hieroglyphics. Dirty ones." Manetti yanked his chain. "Stop talking." The hallway ended in a large living room. A fireplace, too hot to be lit, was filled with candles. Standing candelabras were also scattered throughout the room. A few Klieg lights stood dark in corners. The room was covered in peeling red paint. Tin plates on the ceiling were broken in areas where water had seeped in. The floor had rotted out years back. Now warm, stale air seeped up through the cracks of the floorboards. Two old black leather wingback chairs faced each other on both sides of the fireplace, a tattered leather couch between them. Master Drax, sipping a glass goblet of some blood-red liquid, motioned for Manetti to take the opposite chair. Chris stood between them facing the fireplace not knowing where to look after the first shock of seeing Master Drax. Manetti quickly spoke: "Kneel, boy. Eyes down." Chris knelt staring at the candles on the lip of the fireplace. What brief glance he’d gotten of the sitting man, was that he possessed the biggest cock he’d ever seen; it's played in his mind. Even Jamal’s ringed cock paled to the black clad figure. "Michael, where is his cage?" Master Drax asked. "Put it on him." Manetti rose and went down on one knee to hook the chastity cage over Chris' genitals. He took Chris’ arms and placed them behind his back. Once the cage was locked, Manetti rose and handed the key to his Master. It was the first time Chris ever had his penis and balls shackled. The metal was cold and constricted tightly around him like a vice. If he felt helpless before, he now felt hopeless. Chris tried to give the Master a fast sideways glance but only saw Jamal who stood behind him. He smirked his razor grin from the sidelines. "Has he at all been hard since you drugged him with, what, methamphetamine?" Chris looked down to see his cock was indeed shriveled to the size of a peanut inside the cage. "Yes, Master Drax. He actually has a nice piece on him. So scrawny, he looks above average." "Really?" Master Drax said in somewhat disbelief. "Tell me, Michael, exactly have you given him so far? A full account, if you would." "Eight drops of GHB, which I shared a little with him to encourage him. His works had point two meth. And a Valium in case you wanted to fist him, Master. He also drank some chem piss but not much. He's a virgin, well, was as of two hours ago. I have to say he takes a good fuck, opened pretty quick after about an hour. His hole was loose when I shaved him, but probably it’s tight again." Master Drax leaned forward and spoke, with a bit of a smile, conspiratorially to Chris. "Michael would make a good pimp for you, wouldn't he? You would do anything for him." Chris stared into the fireplace, not knowing what was expected of him. His right hand tightly clutched his left wrist behind his back. His unease made him dig his nails into his flesh. "Tell me: of all the enhancements Michael provided, what did you like best? You can speak. Look up at me." Chris looked up. His earlier glimpse of the man registered as a big dicked scary old man, a man with glasses, black vest and crotchless chaps. And though he had sat far back in the chair, his huge uncut cock had hung over the seat of the wingback chair. That anaconda of a cock is what registered most and still does. Now that he was able to truly take him in, his initial fear was not diminished by what he’d seen, but now possibly built on it. Bald, random liver spots covered his head. Behind wire-rim glasses, rheumy eyes darted from his skeletal sockets. The glasses hooked around large ears, where black hairs jutted around the fleshy lobes. His stubbly beard couldn't hide severely sunken, ashy cheeks, and in his open mouth there were multiple missing teeth. His tongue slithered over chapped lips, and his jaw had the junky habit of gnawing from side to side that his mother had when she itched for a fix. He breathed heavily through his nose like Manetti did right after he slammed. That nose was narrow and hooked, hung with green mucus extending as he huffed in and out. He saw Chris was mesmerized, so as he removed his vest and touched himself in a manner that a whore might use to attract a timid client. With his vest removed, he ran his hand over large white breasts that hung down to a pair of engorged nipples, each one pierced with mammoth horseshoes of heavy silver metal. He fondled them noting Chris' reaction. A silver pentagram swung on a chain and rested between his sagging breasts. Tattoos adorned his torso and arms. The first image that caught Chris’ eye was of a large dragon, identical to the one Ben had draped over his shoulder with its accompanying tail covering the old man's pronounced rib cage. Words were inked up and down his arms, all in Latin, some spiraled around his forearm, others in bands around his shriveled biceps. Chris recognized some of them stored in a backlog from catechism: Deus, mortem, cazzo, satanas. Though he didn't know what the phrases said, they couldn't have translated to anything good. Mixed in with the words were inverted crosses, a triangle of sixes on his other shoulder, horned creatures fucking, a goat with an erection, a man hanging by his foot. Most of the ink was old, faded, blended into his shriveling skin. There was one exception. A somewhat newer one etched over his hard, distended belly: the same three-pronged biohazard symbol Manetti had. Below his belly he had a vast field of grey public hair. Beneath the translucent hair, a demon's mask, the long, slender tongue extending along the top of his manhood down to the tip where it hung off with an obscene amount of hanging foreskin. Within the wrinkled foreskin, thick yellow spooge formed and crusted. Master Drax inched closer to get a better look at Chris. He was still awaiting an answer. He propped his elbows on this knees to support himself, his hands folded monk-like before him. Chris glanced at the arms. They were heavily bruised with track marks and scabbed veins; one engorged artery still had a bead of bright red blood shimmering. He saw the boy starting at it. He extended his arm. Before he could stop himself Chris licked the bead. “Very good, child,” the Master beamed. "You have proper instincts." Chris felt himself sitting inside his head, detached somehow. He thought he would have been repelled, but oddly, examining him at such close range, as at the same time he was being inspected, he was strangely drawn to the man. Before this moment, if he'd come across him on the street, he might try to avoid him, cross the street. But being scrutinized so attentively by him in this moment, kneeling naked in front of him, he still had fear, some repulsion, yes, but he couldn't deny an undercurrent of desire. The Master immediately pick up on his thoughts, for as Chris gazed down at the demonic mask etched on his pubis, it was evident that an erection was beginning to form. The serpent tongue stirred within the overflowing foreskin, a monstrous snail emerging from its shell. Chris, too, was starting to become aroused the longer he took in man's strangeness. But for him the feeling of arrested movement reminded him painfully and clearly that his dicklet was going nowhere. He summoned the courage to look pleadingly at Master Drax, but he wasn't ready for the Master’s stare that entrapped him. Like a tiny mouse might freeze all functions when looked down on by a giant cobra, Chris froze. Didn’t move, didn’t blink, barely breathed. Master Drax's presence was formidable, a fact he felt deeper than anything he'd ever sensed inside. A bit of urine dripped from his cage that too quickly turned into a stream that fell through the floorboards, echoing floor after floor below. Master Drax gave out an asthmatic, rumbling laugh, coughed up phlegm, pointed to the boy’s mouth. Chris opened it slowly. Master Drax hurled his green phlegm directly into his mouth. He then pointed to the boy’s stomach. Chris blinked, then swallow nauseously. And still the man held him in a awe. His dark eyebrows raised. There had been a question dangling, Chris at last remembered. Birds settling down on their perches. However far his control might extend, Master Drax was able to make him focus. He thought back to what the man had asked, what he'd like best, responded cautiously, "I guess I like the slam, Sir." "It’s ’Master,’ boy," instructed Master Drax without malice. With slight satisfaction of the boy’s performance thus far, he sat back in the chair. The released tension in the room was a pronouncement of having done and said the right things. Having felt he answered correctly, he sat with a bit straighter spine, and said, "Sorry, Master. I liked the slam best, definitely." He was almost confident, an emotion he rarely felt. "And only a point two slam,” he said to the boy, shaking his head theatrically. “I don't know if I'd even feel that, Michael. We'll double that in a bit, maybe five, we'll see. Your name, child?" Chris became alarmed. There followed an awkward silence, while Chris contemplated what a doubled slam, or possibly more, would do to him. He would be insane, would never survive. He was terrified at the prospect, slumped again a little. "Chris," volunteered Manetti, when it was obvious there wasn't an answer coming from the boy. "Is that short for Christopher, child?" Chris' mouth felt incredibly dry but managed to reply, "Christian, Master." "Christian," he said savoring the word on his lips. "A Christian in our house, Jamal." He looked back at his servant who nodded approvingly. "We shouldn't change that a bit, should we, Michael?" Chris had trouble looking at the Master after he proposed the double slam, one so close on the heels of his first. He worried the man saw his fear, read what he thought. To try to deflect, he darted his eyes around the room. Silhouettes against the walls outlined the shadow of a massive wooden slings, a Saint Andrews cross, a fuck bench—things he’d seen in Magnum but never imagined he’d encounter in real life—an examination table with stirrups raised high, a large wooden throne with a toilet seat cutout, and a three foot high cage with an expansive padded top. He spotted a video camera pointing out the window into an air shaft. Across the air shaft he recognized Manetti's studio. Master Drax, it was obvious, had been their audience. "So besides slamming, Christian, what else did you like to do with Michael?" Master Drax played with the foreskin of his growing erection. Pulling back the skin, its head was pierced by a horseshoe P.A. that ended in two sharp points at either ends. He uncovers it to show Chris, then lets the skin fall back covering the jewelry. His erection was already the size of Chris’ forearm, from elbow to wrist. He couldn’t imagine it getting any bigger or how anyone could take being penetrated by it. Just looking at it wide eyed, obliterating any of his thoughts. He knew once again there’s a question, but words wouldn’t form in its monstrous presence. The two sharp points rose out of the foreskin as the beast begins to stand on its own. "He takes a fuck real good," Manetti chimes in to help Chris out. "He took my..." Before Manetti embellished, Chris spat out, "Eating ass. I like to eat ass." It was as if he were back in the confessional, compelled to empty his soul. Manetti chuckled, adding, "Pretty dirty ass, too, Master. Not many guys like to get in there.” "Yes," Master Drax said in a low voice. "Look, the child’s little bird is struggling in its cage. Confession frees the soul, but will not free your cock. You tiny prick is of no interest to me. Stand and turn around." Chris did as he was ordered. "Bend over. Spread your cheeks." Master Drax let out a groan. "Boy, didn’t you ever play with your hole? Boys come to me with their hole destroyed from massive toys. Yours looks like you've never touch it. How tight is he, Michael?" "Tight as fuck, Master Drax. The booty bump helped, otherwise it would have taken hours." "You were able to get in before the slam?" Manetti nodded. "Okay, kneel, boy. You, too, pig.” Both of them got to their knees. "I don't know how much this greasy pig has told you, but I own him and your brother. Depending on what happens between us tonight, I might own you, too. Do you think that you would like that, boy?" "Yes, Sir…Master. I think so." Master Drax leaned over close. The nipple rings swung reflecting light off multiple candles, entrancing Chris, who had the compulsion to reach up and touch the man's chest. He managed, though, at least for a moment, to instead look the man in his face. But as the seconds ticked by his desires won out, and his gaze fell to the temptation of the distended nipples. "You must always fall into temptation.” The boy looked up with a start. Master Drax went on, “Yes, your thoughts are easy for me to read. Your face is an open book. I will rewrite you. You like these tits? Go ahead, touch them." Chris tentatively reached up with both hands and squeezed the engorged nubs. "Would you like yours to look like these?" Chris found himself nodding. "It'll take work. We’ll start you with small nipple rings later tonight. But you’ll have to earn them. This pig here can tell you, I like grinding boys down with their darkest perversions. I like my boys hard, like I like their holes sloppy. Sit," he said to Manetti, punching him in his breast bone hard enough to make him fall backwards. "I require their holes be loose, extremely loose. Show Christian your pig hole, pig." Manetti lifted his legs, his hairy balls falling over his sizable cock, and spreads his ass cheeks for the boy to view. As he bore down he pulled his asslips apart. Soon Manetti's red rectum started exposing itself. "Push hard." Master Drax didn’t raise his voice, but his tone grew menacing: "Harder." The red rosebud pushed opened even further, protruding just outside the ring of his sphincter. Around the edges Manetti's asslips were lumps of dark red and purple ridges. Chris' bound erection was getting very extremely uncomfortable. At first a pearl of pre-cum appeared on the piss slit, Master Drax observed, but as the boy watched Manetti strain to flair out more of his rectum, puffing out into a full prolapse, more pearls appeared. Finally pre-cum began to drool from the boy's cage to wooden floor. Master Drax watched delighted. "Go on, touch it. We'll get yours like this too, eventually. Being so young, your ring will be smooth. It will be a glorious sight to behold, won't it Jamal?" "Indeed, Master," Jamal responded, running his tongue over his teeth. Chris reached over and felt the flesh. Soft, incredibly soft. He'd never felt anything so soft. As he fingered it, Manetti let out an unconscious wail. "You want to taste it, don’t you? Go ahead. Kiss it. Kiss the inside of a man’s rectum." Chris couldn't believe he wanted to kiss it. He kissed it, and after looking at Master Drax who nodded at him, he licked it and pressed his mouth against the prolapse. He went farther, licking around each red pedals, sucking each fold splayed out before him. He pinched the ring of flesh, which made Manetti flinch, and without quite knowing why pinched it harder. Manetti cried out but had been trained not to resist. Chris searched for the center as he pulled the man’s hole further apart with his fingers. He stuck a finger inside and licked around the hole before sticking his tongue deep down inside the cavern. Manetti moaned ecstatically. Chris felt like he was coming into heat again for Manetti, but their roles felt reverse. He began chewing on the prolapse, and as he did his body temperature rose and a fine sheen of sweat glazed his body, a trickle of sweat ran down his ribs. Master Drax looked enormously pleased with the boy. "Both of you, sit," commanded the Master. He sniffed the air. "Boy, is that you I smell? B.O. and piss?" "Yes, Sir," Chris said proudly, sitting straight. "Sir pissed all over me before we came. I drank his piss too. Some went in my butt." "The boy has been homeless for the last month and hasn't showered,” Manetti explained. He gave Chris a quick look of concern. He grew aware something was changing in Chris, that he was more enthusiastic than fearful. "Excellent," Master Drax said reflexively. "Christian, do you know what limitations are?" Chris nodded. "What limitations do you think you have?" Manetti protectively broke in quickly, "He doesn’t do scat or bestiality or..." Master Drax interrupted softly, slowly, but emphatically, "Did I question you what Christian’s limitations are? Whom did I asked, Michael?" Manetti knew he'd have to pay for his outburst. "You asked Christian, Master,” Manetti said, lowering his head. Chris' felt that he, at least, is in Master's good graces and wants to please him more. "No limits, Master Drax." He'd read that in one of Ben's nastier bondage magazines. Realizing he doesn't exactly know what that means, he added tentatively, "At least that's what I'd like to be." Chris saw this made Master Drax reveal his jagged smile. Jamal nodded to Chris. A split tongue like a lizard swept across Master Drax's lips as he contemplated how to start with this near-virgin boy. "Come here. Play with my nipples, child. Nothing gets me more stimulated quicker." He was in heaven. He reached up and felt the Master's chest. Sparse grey fur swirled around his nipples. The boy's hands glided over his drooping pecs. He then dared to slip a hand into the man’s hairy arm pits. He was energized, doing things unprompted he'd never thought to do. With his other hand he was pulling on his cage. There was something in the Master's gaze that egged on his libido. Almost guided him. He felt the wet body odor emanating from Master Drax's pits. He brought his fingers out and sniffed them, then put them in his mouth. "You have a real pig's tendencies, don't you boy? Manifest much earlier than your brother." He looked down at the boy's cage. "Those tendencies will be quite beneficial and financially rewarding for us both. I cater to a specialized clientele, or has Michael told you this? Some with, uh, exotic tastes. Let's free you for tonight and see where your tendencies might lead. Pig," he said to Manetti. "Get up and take his cage off and put it on you. You don't deserve an erection tonight.” Manetti rose and got the key on the table next to Master’s chair. “You don’t deserve this either, but I’ll permit you hold Christian while I rape him.” Manetti released the lock on Chris cage and his small penis started to quickly fill out. Though his own was still flaccid, he struggled to get the cage to capture his ample meat. Jamal added assistance, pinching and prodding until his balls fit inside. They struggled with metal cap to get it locked over the shaft. “Jamal,” Master Drax said to his servant. "Leave him. He'll attend to himself. Please be so kind as to prepare cocktails for these two." "Very good, Master Drax," he replied, leaving Manetti to struggle getting his pecker in the stocks. “And one for Master?” "Of course. Yes. Make them extra hearty, Jamal. Take it from the Czech inventory, not the Mexican. And mix in a bit of Ketamine with the boy’s dose. His hole will never accommodate otherwise." The Master picked up Chris leash and pointed Manetti to the large wooden sling. "In, pig. I want you to hold him as he struggles. He is too bound to you at this point. You will be an accomplice in his rape." Manetti marched over to the sling, climbed in and put his legs through the straps. Master Drax came up behind Chris, knelt behind him, nudging his legs apart. He began fondled him intensely. His hands ran over the thin chest pulling him into himself. His enormous erect blade sliced up and down Chris’ crack, inched up the small of his back till it rested between his shoulder blades, illustrating how deep he would be penetrated. The wet foreskin left a small trace of slime as it climbed each vertebrae. The man felt all the indentations along the boy’s rib cage, pinched the small nipples, grabbed the boy’s erect dick and gave it a slap. His hand dove under his crotch weighing his dangling balls with one hand and feeling his tight, wet hole with the other. It slowly dawned on Chris, far from molesting him for his own pleasure, Master Drax was more interested in assessing him as you would an animal you were about to purchase. Sure enough, the man turned the boy around, pulled down his eyelids, then pushed up his lips sticking a finger in his mouth to open his teeth. After examining inside his mouth, he slid in a second finger, then a third, finally all four and pushed them down Chris’ throat until the boy gagged and doubled over. “No. You will not gag. Open.” Four fingers again went into his mouth as far back as Master Drax’s fingers would reach. He wanted to retch but fought against it. He'd never felt anyone assess him over so thoroughly or felt so dehumanized. The glasses enlarged Master Drax's watery eyes and continued to drill into him, wordlessly inserting himself into him. He felt the man inside his head, rooting around, rummaging inside him for something; changing something here, reordering something there. Master Drax withdrew his slime-covered fingers and wearily got up. He plucked Chris’ dangling leash from the ground and gave a small tug on the chain. As Master Drax led him toward the sling, he said, "Point two, you said? A child’s portion. Are you ready for your first man-size slam? It'll open up worlds you've never imagined. Worlds that will swallow you whole. Where you'll be mine ever after. Are you willing to succumb completely to me so I can show you those worlds?" Chris was extremely agitated, but he knew better than to contradict Master Drax, much less deny him what he knew he wanted. Instead he searched for a way to temper his fear and possibly backpedal a bit. "I'm pretty high now, Sir," Chris said uncertainly. "The first slam fucked me up good. I was saying things when I was rushing, I don't know if I really wanted to do all those things. Not really." Master Drax stopped short, looked at him with tired disappointment. "My fuckhole never says 'no'." Master Drax wasn't angry but he closely examined Chris’ face. "You want me to give you your first man-size slam? I'll ask it again, this one time only." Chris looked over at Manetti for some assurance. “Don’t look at him. Look at me.” "Yes, Sir." Chris whispered. Then seeing Master Drax was still holding him in his gaze, he added firmly, "Please, yes Master Drax, slam me however much you want." "And I will.” He finished leading his boy by the leash over to the heavy wooden sling. He unclipped the collar and let it drop noisily to the ground. “Climb up on pig. That’s correct, lie with your back on his belly. I want you to feel it while you observe it." Chris awkwardly climbed up on Manetti, with Manetti giving him a little hand to secure himself in the sling. Manetti's large, broad chest easily cradled Chris on top of him. He felt Manetti’s warm fur on his back, his hairy belly tickling his tailbone. He felt him breathing slowly beneath him. Manetti starting caressing him to get him to relax. Chris melted into him with every stroke of his large hand. He, in turn, began stroking Manetti's sides for comfort. While Master Drax was taking off his chaps folding them on a table, Chris whispered to Manetti, “I didn’t mean to hurt you when I was playing with your hole.” His head tilted so he could see Manetti’s reflection in the mirror hanging above him. “I feel your heart pounding away,” Manetti said to Chris in the reflection. “You can do this, Chief. Remember how it hurt at first but then it got better and you came to like it? Am I right or am I right?” Chris nodded with a bit of an embarrassed smile. “The K is going to help relax your hole. This will be more intense but it’s the same. I promise. I'll be here the whole time.” Jamal came back with three prepared needles and a rubber tube on a tarnished silver tray as. Master Drax followed him over and wanted to know how much Jamal had allotted. Jamal held up four fingers. Chris held tightly to Manetti's side and took a deep breath. Master Drax attended to Manetti first. Chris watched in the mirror as the needle emptied into him. Manetti coughed and he realized the man was burning up, from his chest down to his groin. He felt a wet sheen of sweat instantly coat his back. His breathing was insanely rapid. But what suddenly frightened Chris was Manetti saying, barely audible, "I can take it. I'm okay. I can take it." Over and over. If doing .4 was hard on Manetti, how was he going to bear it? Master Drax said to Jamal who stood passively staring straight ahead, "I'll do myself, you do the boy." "Very good, Master," replied Jamal, breaking into a small grin. He indicated the closest syringe on the tray was for Master. He then set the tray down on a side table. Chris looked up into Jamal’s jaundiced eyes. He saw desire smoldering in them, something he would not act on unless invited. His sumptuous black skin glowed in the candlelight. There was sweat along his strong brow. He wondered if the man had tasted any of portions he had prepared. Jamal smiled at him displaying a mouth missing all its teeth. Blackened gums were now all he had in his open maw. Jamal took up the rubber tube and placed it around Chris' bicep. He felt his forearm and decided on a pronounced vein. Removing the orange cap of the last syringe, he held it at an angle to the vein. Chris noticed that the vial wasn't clear but cloudy with a touch of pink. Jamal peered directly into Chris's eyes, saying softly with his island lilt, "I make this special, an extra gift from me to you." He retracted the plunger enough to cause it to spill Chris' blood into the pink liquid, then pushed the swirling content into his vein. "I also up you to five." The servant pulled out the syringe, released the tourniquet, and held Chris’ arm up in the air. As Chris bucked within Manetti's strong grip, the servant turned Chris' arm out to licked the bead of blood where the needle had just been.

Accidentally cut off a section of this. As we walked into the living room, I could see that he was talking to three other guys, all in their early 20s. All of them were sitting watching porn, stroking their hard cocks. One was short and stocky, a hot bear with a beard, the other two were more twink-ish medium height and lean builds. As soon as I reached the sofa where they were sitting, I shucked my tank top and shorts and turned around, pushed the butt plug out with a plop and loads started to ooze out of my well fucked hole.
 
 “Fuck boys,” Dean said, this pig is loaded up already. One of the loads is from his DAD! “How many other loads you have in there, fag?”
 
 “Two,” I said. “Both from randos who fucked me in the bathroom at the mall."
 
 “That’s so fucking hot, piggy,” the bearish guy said, “I”m Eddie,” he said, and then took a huge hit off the glass pipe he was holding in his hand. He held it in his lungs for a long time and then leaned over to kiss me and passed the hit to me. “That's a shotgun. You’re gonna love them.”
 
 “Come on guys, let’s get this faggot FUCKED UP.” They each walked up to me with a glass pipe and made me do a huge hit and then shotgun it back and forth with them. By the time I had met the other guys, Jose and Chris, my head was spinning and my cunt was feeling even more greedy, if that was possible. I had to have their cocks. My cunt was on FIRE.

Mike couldn't remember much of anything from the party. His cock was sore and he was wiped out. He was covered with dried cum. Someone had ridden him hard. He got up slowly and hit the John. If Jenna finds out, he'l be toast. When he came back into the room, he checked his phone. New messages. Pix! Mike almost fell over as he look at the six pictures. It was him all right. But who was this guy. He had fucked a guy. Man, he had never done that before. Even as a pledge he had only had to kiss a cock. Now, he had his dick deep in an ass. He loved Jenna's pussy, but loved her ass too. She'd let him have it on special occasions. He sent the pix to his computer, printed them, and hid them before deleting them. Soon he got the first text. If Mike didn't want the video shared on public sites, he would show up at a given address at 2:00 pm. Mike thought it must be a joke, yet . . . He showered had a protein shake and started to study. It didn't last. Soon, he was on his computer checking out sites. Secretly, Mike had always liked the idea of being told what to do. At 1:40, he pulled on some shorts and a tshirt his nikes and headed out. The address was not far from campus. As he approached the building he realized that the entry was in the rear. He had to go through a covered gated passage. The lock on the gate buzzed at Mike grabbed the handle. He entered and followed the passage. It emerged into a small garden. The only door in sight was to his right. As he walked to the door, he heard the lock buzz. He pushed and the door opened. Inside the dark corridor, he could see very little. Suddenly a door near the back opened and a little light shone thru. Mike headed for the door.

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.