Barratboy

Thanks for the feedback - will be fun to do the next ones... >

(This came from the post where someone asked what the "Stages of Members" meant. I thought it would be fun to make a series out of the titles, which are: Virgin, Curious, Barebacker, Sex Addict, Slut, and Whore. Here's the second part. For Virgin, click: http://breeding.zone/threads/12250-Member-Status-Virgin ). CURIOUS It took Corey until the end of the week to send me a buddy request on the site. I’d gone to look at his profile when I’d gotten home, and had been amused at how much he hadn’t filled in, and how telling that was. He had a profile pic – but he was wearing a ballcap and had his head tilted down enough that you couldn’t make out his face, and in most of the stat categories, there was nothing selected – except he’d put down his preference as “mostly bottom.” I grinned. RunningMan92 wasn’t a very active profile, I thought, but had when the friend request came through, I added him, and sent him a quick message: “Hope you had a good New Years.” His reply came a day later, and was just “Yeah, I did. Thanks.” It wasn’t exactly a promising start. I pondered for a while – I had a whole year, after all – and then noticed that his profile had about fifteen buddies already – and they were all like him. Young, almost entirely listed as bottoms or versatile (which in my experience had mostly been code for “slightly ashamed bottom”). He was chatting with other bottoms, I figured – but not doing much else on the site. I opened up a different window on my computer, and created a new profile with the e-mail I always gave out when I figured I’d end up with spam. I made a profile for the sort of guy RunningMan92 seemed to chat with, called him FitCountryLad, picked a boring town a few hours away, and then hunted the net for a random picture that suited my purposes. I waited a couple of days, and then sent RunningMan92 a message through FitCountryLad’s profile. “Nice view! Too bad you hide your face. ” Then I waited. Over the next couple of weeks, the gregarious FitCountryLad admitted how hard it was to be a bored gay guy living in the middle of nowhere, and how lucky RunningMan92 was to be in the city. My boy from New Year’s Eve chatted amiably with him, as I’d expected him to, and they struck up a daily conversation – sometimes sending more than three or four messages a day if RunningMan92 was at home. Mostly they talked about guys. I let FitCountryLad admit he’d only had sex three times – it was hard to find someone out where he lived – and RunningMan92 admitted he’d “messed around” a little, but hadn’t actually had sex. My dick stirred just thinking about that boy’s butt. FitCountryLad replied with surprise, “Dude! You’re surrounded by guys! Haven’t you ever met anyone from on this site?” I waited, checking compulsively for messages for the entire day, but it took until the morning for RunningMan92 to admit the only guy he’d met from the website was DaddyKnowsBest. I cracked my knuckles, and went to work. “I looked at his profile. Oh man – tell me you messed around with him! He’s got pipes! One of the guys I had sex with was older than me, and holy crap did he know what he was doing! It’s no lie, that thing about age and experience! Did you see the pic of him in the leather harness? Yum.” RunningMan92’s reply came later that night. “He’s hot, yeah. He’s really built in person, too. I kissed him, at New Year’s – we met at a New Year’s Eve party. He seemed nice enough. I hadn’t looked at all the photos before – you’re right, the leather harness is hot. But scary! LOL.” I smiled. I let the conversation between the two of them drift a bit after that – though I did have FitCountryLad ask if RunningMan92 would mind if he asked DaddyKnowsBest to be an online buddy – RunningMan92 didn’t mind, and I connected the two online. FitCountryLad mentioned a few more times how he wouldn’t mind looking up at DaddyKnowsBest from his hands and knees if he was wearing that leather harness, and RunningMan92 agreed. I waited for their conversation to move on for a week or so – this time having FitCountryLad tell RunningMan92 that he was going to try to hook up with a new guy he’d seen on the site that was kinda-sorta close to where he lived (this was a third profile I’d made up just for the occasion). I’d selected a picture and made a profile for someone in his late thirties, and the two agreed he was hot, and when FitCountryLad asked “Do you think I should?” RunningMan92 said, “Go for it!” Three days later, shortly after FitCountryLad sent a “wish me luck! I’m heading out to meet him!” message, I sent RunningMan92 a message from my real profile. “Valentine’s Day next week,” I wrote. “If you’ve got no one to kiss, remember, I’ve got your back.” I waited. In my FitCountryLad in-box, a message appeared from the young man. “Holy crap! DaddyKnowsBest just asked me out for Valentine’s Day! What should I do?” Perfect. Very early the next morning, I had FitCountryLad reply, “Go for it! If he’s got half the cock I got fucked with last night, it’s worth it! I can barely walk! LOL!” RunningMan92’s reply: “Slut! LOL! Seriously, though – you think I should?” FitCountryLad: “Why not? What’s the worst thing that could happen – you don’t click, and you go home alone. Pick a coffee shop or something – you’ve got an easy out if it’s not going well, not like a dinner.” RunningMan92: “I guess. Okay. What the hell.” Then they started to chat about how much FitCountryLad had enjoyed his date (i.e. mostly his date’s cock). His reply to me came through about an hour later. “Still no one to kiss. You want to get a coffee on Valentine’s Day?” I agreed, suggesting a place close to where I lived and where I knew there were a couple of decent restaurants in walking distance. Success. I dressed to be least intimidating, though there wasn’t much I could do about my height or my arms – the feature they both agreed was their favourite. I decided against wearing one of my message shirts (I have a two I like the best, one with “Call me Daddy” and one with “The correct answer is ‘Yes, Sir!’”) and settled on a black shirt and jeans. The shirt wasn’t tight, and the jeans were loose fit. I wanted to set him at ease. We met up on Valentine’s Day, around five in the afternoon, and he was early – he was already there when I showed up about five minutes before we were supposed to meet. He glanced up as I came in the door, and blushed immediately. I’d forgotten how “aw-shucks” cute he was, and was glad of the loose fit jeans. Knowing he had a virgin butt and thought I was hot was definitely making my cock throb. I grabbed a coffee and joined him at the table he’d picked. He sipped at his own. He’d work another tight shirt – this one blue – and I was pretty sure the same jeans from the night at the bar. I kept the conversation light – asked him what he did (he was in college), what he studied (undeclared), and other questions I actually already knew the answers to, given my chats with him online as FitCountryLad. I had to really make sure I wasn’t referring to something he’d told me that way, rather than here in person. I hadn’t realized how much of a challenge it would be to “start over” but we managed, mostly chatting about superficial things. Every now and then, his phone would buzz – but he’d just glance at it and keep talking. Apparently he was one of those young fellas who liked to see who was sending him messages, but didn’t feel the need to reply. “You’re a busy guy,” I said, nodding to the phone. He blushed. “No, just my friends like to text and e-mail and facebook a lot.” He put the phone in his pocket. “So I gotta admit,” I said, “I’m surprised you’re still without a kiss.” He laughed, and put his hand over his face. “Oh God, that makes me sound so lame.” I shook my head. “Nah, just choosy.” I smiled. “That’s not a bad thing.” “Yeah, well.” He blushed again. “I’ve got you as back-up.” I raised my eyebrow. “Ouch.” “I didn’t mean it like that!” he shook his head. I smiled. It was so easy to get him going. “Don’t worry,” I said. “There’s worse things than being your back-up plan.” By this point, our cups were empty. I looked at him. He seemed relaxed. He was laughing. I took a gamble. “You want to go grab some dinner?” I asked. “Uh,” he said. I smiled. “Seems to me this is going well enough. Won’t be any nice places that have room ‘cause it’s Valentine’s Day, but there’s the diner around the corner. Grab some food, have a beer.” I shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “Okay.” When he got up to go to the bathroom, after we ordered, I pulled out my phone and opened the browser to the window I’d left at the ready. As FitCounryLad, already logged in, I quickly hit “send” on a message I’d cut-and-pasted into my phone’s memory. “How’s it going? You should have been home already! Let me guess – he’s got the harness on and you’re on your hands and knees! JEALOUS! And if you’re not – why aren’t you? LOL.” When he came back to the table, he seemed a little flushed. I wondered if he’d seen the message while he was in the bathroom. We had dinner, and a beer each, and he relaxed over the course of the evening. After we’d eaten, and the waitress took our plates, I said I’d be right back, and went to the bathroom. I went in a stall, and pulled out my phone, waiting. Sure enough, a few seconds after I’d left the table, he must have pulled out his phone and replied to FitCountryLad. “We went to dinner, you pervert! No sign of the harness. We’re still at the diner. He’s in the bathroom. LOL. Will probably see him again, if he asks.” I frowned, and replied. “Dude, you should totally take him home and rock his V-Day! It can be your V-Day present to yourself! LOL!” I hit send, counted to thirty, and then went back to our table. He slid his phone back into his pocket as I approached, and rose when I grabbed my coat. “I live near here,” I said, going for broke. “You want to come over, watch a movie? Make it a full date after all?” He bit his bottom lip for a second. Then he said, “Sure.” At my place, I told him to pick a movie and watched him out of the corner of his eye as he looked through my DVDs – half of them on display were gay porn – and he blushed again. He picked out a mindless action flick, and I popped it into the DVD player. He sat on my couch, and I asked him if he wanted a drink. He did. I got us two beers and we sat and drank mostly in silence. When I finished my bottle, I reached past and behind him to put it on the table, and let my arm rest behind him after. He shifted a little, but leaned a bit towards me. “You’re shy,” I said, breaking the quiet. He looked at me. “A little.” He was blushing again. I tugged him in for a kiss, and he accepted easily enough. His hands went to my chest and I spent a good while with my tongue in his mouth. When we broke apart, he rubbed his lips. “Your beard tickles,” he said. “It feels good everywhere,” I grinned, and he blushed again, and then turned his shoulder to me and leaned on me. It was a glacial pace, but I put my arm over his shoulders and we rearranged ourselves on the couch, him lying on me. For a moment, all I could think was that my buddy Warren hadn’t had this much trouble getting into Chris’s ass the first time. There was something to be said for a guy who’d already learned it felt good to get fucked. I stroked his arm and chest and teased him a little bit while we watched the movie, and when it ended, I used the remote to turn it off. He turned around, and lay on top of me, and we made out for a while, getting a bit heavier as the minutes went on. My hands gripped his tight little butt, and his hands pressed against my chest. When I moved one hand to take his wrist and slide his hand under my shirt to my nipple, he shivered, moving his hand across my hairy chest awkwardly under the shirt, and obviously not quite being sure what to do once he got there. Our dicks were hard, I could feel his against my thigh. Fuck it, I thought. “Okay, come on,” I said. “Get up.” He looked surprised, but rose awkwardly off the couch. I got up beside him, and tugged him in for another kiss. Then I took his hand and said, “Bedroom’s this way.” He stammered. “Uh. I. Uh.” I grinned. “If you’re scared to tell me you haven’t done much before, don’t worry – it’s fine.” He turned crimson. “Oh.” I led him into the bedroom, and then pulled off my shirt for him. He bit his bottom lip, looking at me. I took his hand again, and rubbed it across my chest. He smiled, and stepped a little closer, and we kissed a bit longer. Getting his shirt off was pretty simple after that, and when I rubbed my beard against his nipples and gave them a teasing nibble with my mouth, his back arched and he let out a gasp. “See?” I said, and pushed him over onto the bed. “Beard feels good everywhere.” He laughed, and I crawled over him. His nipples turned out to be very sensitive, and his hands locked behind my head as I licked and slurped and rubbed at them with my beard while my hands worked on his belt and zipper. In no time, I had him naked – and it was a pretty view. Slim and toned, he was very much the runner he called himself, with great legs and only the sparsest body hair. When I stood and undid my belt and jeans, he watched me from the bed, his mouth half-open, his cock hard and up against his stomach. I dropped my jeans to reveal I hadn’t been wearing underwear, and my thick cock popped up, happy to be free of the confinement. “Wow,” he said, and I grinned at him. We rolled around on the bed for a while, all pretty vanilla stuff, but it was getting him excited enough. I moved my beard from his nipples to his arm-pits, which made him wriggle and gasp, and then slid down his stomach and took his cock – a decent cock, though not huge – into my mouth. “Oh my god!” he gasped, and I smiled around his dick. I sucked him until I felt him getting too excited, and then started to lick and suck at his balls, moving his legs apart with my hands. He moaned and twisted on the bed, making little gasping noises. When I lifted his thigh and twisted him on his side, he went easily enough. I slurped and slobbered between his legs, slowly rolling him over until he was on his stomach. I felt him tensing when my tongue moved closer to his ass, but when I buried my face suddenly between those tight little ass cheeks and licked at his pucker, the kid went wild. “Oh my god!” he said again, and jumped so much he slid away from me. I grabbed his thighs. “Get back here,” I said, and tugged, and went back to that perfect little picker. I licked and sucked and drilled at his hole with my tongue, and the kid was flipping around like he’d been shocked by a wire. I wanted to slide up his slim body and ram my dick in him until he cried, but I held back, enjoying making a meal of his ass well enough. Eventually, when my beard was wet through, I leaned up on my elbows. “You like that?” “Oh my god,” he said. I wondered if he’d lost the ability to say anything else. I traced my finger between his spit-slicked cheeks, and rubbed at his hole. He shivered. “I’ve never... Uh...” “I know,” I said, and rubbed a little firmer. He was nearly hyperventilating. “It’s okay. Relax.” He shivered again, burying his face in the pillow, and writhed under my finger. When he made a little whimpering noise, I went back to burying my tongue up him, and he shifted back to gasping and moaning. I darted my tongue as deep as I could into his pucker – which was finally relaxing under my assault – and then felt his whole body jerk and twist as he let out a loud grunt. I pulled away. “Did you just come, boy?” I asked. He was beet red. He turned his face to look back at me. “Yeah.” I slid up the bed beside him, and gave him a deep kiss. “Shit,” I said. “That was easy.” I wanted to slap his ass hard for coming without permission. Damn virgins. He laughed, and smacked my shoulder. He bit his lip. “Um... You... uh?” I took his hand, and put it on my dick which was hard and aching to be shoved up his butt. Too bad it wouldn’t be tonight. I closed my eyes, and stretched out beside him as his fingers circled my cock. His strokes were a bit too light at first, and I wrapped my hand around his and gave him directions. “Bit firmer. Yeah, like that. All the way up and down.” He shifted beside me, and then I felt his mouth on my cockhead. “Oh yeah, that,” I growled, and his hands grew more sure. He bobbed his head a little bit, but his hands did most of the work. I felt his warm mouth around my cock head, and I reached my hand behind him, sliding it down his back, until I found his wet ass, and rubbed it with one finger. He moaned. “Don’t worry boy,” I said. “You’ll get fucked eventually.” He moaned around my dick, and I pulled off his head just in time to spurt my load all over his neck and chest. He gasped, but after I’d shot, I felt his mouth go back onto my dick, his tongue tentatively licking my cockhead again. I smiled. I got a towel, and wiped us down. Then we got under the covers and I turned off the light. In the night, I woke up three times and licked and sucked at his pitts or nipples or cock or that fine boy ass, and all three times I made him cum again. In the morning, when we shared a shower before he had to go to class, I managed to get my finger into his ass, and while he winced and grunted in front of me in the shower, he jerked himself off with my finger in his hole. I could almost feel Chris’s ass on my dick already.

(This came from the post where someone asked what the "Stages of Members" meant. I thought it would be fun to make a series out of the titles, which are: Virgin, Curious, Barebacker, Sex Addict, Slut, and Whore. Here's the first part). VIRGIN It was a new year, and me and my friends were having a good time at the local bar, which had flipped form its usual older leather-and-bear crowd to a more mixed state for the night. New Year’s Eve decorations covered the place, and everyone had been given a nametag with a number written on it when they’d paid their cover. All night long, you could buy a little piece of paper for a quarter, and then the staff would deliver the message to the corresponding person. You could write whatever you wanted, and I was pleased to have received a couple of messages myself – most of them praising me as a “daddy” and suggesting the sender would enjoy some time alone. About an hour after my buddies and I had arrived, and we’d gotten our usual booth and settled in for the evening, a group of guys arrived that weren’t at all typical for the place. They were college aged kids, clean-cut and a little wide-eyed at the place as they came in. “Check out number forty-eight,” my buddy Warren said. Like me, Warren was a “daddy” – both of us fit, filthy and fifty, we liked to joke – we shared a general taste in fellows younger than us, though sometimes the specifics would differ. He had a boyfriend, though – a twenty-something he’d picked up at a coffee shop in an airport, Chris. Chris was fine on the eyes – and, Warren spared no shame in telling me – fine on the cock, too. Chris wasn’t with us tonight – which was a shame, since I liked to eye the fella myself – he’d had to work. Tonight though, he was dead on – number forty-eight was a boy right up my alley. Young, cute, and trim, I could definitely find a way to enjoy time with him. He had dirty blond hair – not quite blond, not quite brown – and a snug red t-shirt that showed off how lean he was, as well as a pair of jeans that were snug around his ass, which was definitely his asset. “Damn,” I said. “Sweet ass.” “Fresh on the vine,” Warren laughed. “Just needs to be plucked and eaten.” I grinned in agreement. “Hang on a second,” I said, and dug into my pocket. I pulled out a couple of singles, and hopped down from the booth long enough to go buy the pieces of notepaper and grab a pencil. Back at the booth, I wrote the “48” on the back of one of them, and then flipped the first piece over. “What do you think?” I asked. “Give it a shot?” Warren laughed. “Buddy, I’ll bet you you can’t get anywhere with that boy. Too young, too pretty. He’ll want someone like himself.” “I’ll take that bet. What’s the wager?” I asked. Warren laughed, but then took a swig of his beer. “Okay,” he said. “I bet you can’t get your dick in that boy – no – I bet you can’t get your cum up that boy’s ass.” I smirked. “In one night? That’s not a fair bet.” Warren raised his beer. “Fine. Take the whole damn year. I feel magnanimous.” He laughed. “Just mine?” I asked, smart-mouthing. “Shoot, that’s too easy. If I got a year.” He shook his head. “Fine. You get in that boy’s ass, blow your wad, and have him take it from all your buds like a cheap whore in the next year, and you win.” He tipped his bottle back. “What do I win?” I asked. He shrugged. “Shit, I don’t know. You ain’t gonna do it.” I leaned forward. “How about I get to fuck Chris if I win?” He howled. “You’re a dirty old man. That’s my boy.” But he grinned. “Fine. And if you lose...” He frowned, looking around the room. “If you lose, you gotta let Earl suck your dick.” I grimaced. Earl was a prissy queen who came to the bar most nights. He drove me nuts, and always hit on me. I looked over at number forty-eight, and he happened to meet my glance for a second. He blushed, and turned back to his friends. Huh. “You got a deal,” I said, and held out my hand. We shook. I looked down at my note papers. I wrote: “If you’ve got nobody to kiss when the countdown happens, put this note in your back pocket when you get it.” I folded the note up, and handed it to a staff. Then I watched him and waited, drinking my beer. When he got the note, I kept an eye on him. He unfolded it while his friends elbowed him and generally tried to embarrass him. He read it without letting them see – though one tried to – and then he glanced up and looked around the room. He didn’t see me, but I saw him slide the note in his back pocket. I smiled. The next note said: “It’s a shame a boy as cute as you don’t got someone to kiss the new year in with. If you don’t mind kissing a guy with a beard, same deal – into the back pocket with this note.” This time, he really tried to look around the room – he paused on everyone with facial hair, which, given the clubs usual clientele, was about half the crowd tonight, but again I managed to duck a little out of his line of sight. The second note went into his back pocket. “Damn you if you don’t just think you’re gonna win,” Warren laughed. I’d been watching the boy carefully – him and his friends hadn’t been going slow on their drinks. I was counting on him to feel a little wild. The third note: “Only an hour left until the countdown. You like what you see enough for just a kiss, you give me a note back.” This time I wrote my number on the back of another piece of the notepaper, and folded them up together, with his number showing. After that, I waited. I managed to turn myself enough that my number – and my chest and arms – showed up to best advantage, and I chatted with Warren and waited. I didn’t look at the boy – I didn’t want to spook him, even if I was hoping to get some face to face time with him before the night was out. After a while, one of the staff came by and passed me the note. “Definitely like enough for a kiss,” it said. I glanced up, and the young fella was looking at me while I read it. He turned bright red, and glanced down when I smiled at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Warren sighed. When the bar staff announced that the countdown would soon be starting, I slid out of the booth and walked over to the young fella, who had sidled away from his buddies and started to move toward me. We met half-way through the floor. Up close, he was hella cute. “Hi,” he said. He was blushing again. “I’m Jack,” I said. “Corey,” he said. I offered my hand, and we shook. “Hi Corey,” I said. “I’ll be kissing you tonight.” He laughed nervously, looking up at me. Behind us, the countdown started, and Corey looked at me, more and more nervously as the numbers dipped toward zero. I put my arms over his shoulders when the countdown hit five, and he shivered. But by the time we were at three, he’d put his hands hesitantly around my back, and leaned forward. When we hit “Happy New Year!” and the noisemakers and cheering started, I gave that boy a real daddy’s kiss – I tugged him into my chest, crushed him with my arms, and filled his mouth with my tongue. He made a little noise, but like a good boy, he surrendered to it, and we spent a few really good seconds swapping spit. He hadn’t done much kissing, I gathered, but he was a quick enough study. That, and the boy started to pop a boner against my thigh. When we broke apart, he was breathing a little quickly. “Thanks,” I said. “Okay,” he said. I reached into his back pocket and pulled out one of the notes. I let my fingers graze his butt a little too much, and he shivered again. “You know this site?” I asked, writing down the name of a website where gay guys put up profiles and sent messages back and forth. He nodded. “Yeah.” “This is me,” I said, writing down my screen name of DaddyKnowsBest. “When you’re up for another kiss, you drop me a line. Make sure you send me a friend request when you get home, you hear?” He nodded, blushing. “I’m RunningMan92,” he said. “Thanks again,” I said. “Okay,” he repeated, and then took a step back. I went back to the booth, and wrote down his screen name before I’d forget. “Well?” Warren asked. “That boy,” I said with a knowing smile. “Is a fucking virgin my friend.” “Well shit,” Warren laughed. “You got your work cut out for you, don’t you?” I just smiled.

Aha! That's how I went from "virgin" to "curious." Come to think of it - that'd make a fun story series - one for each title...

Thanks! Glad you enjoyed.

Glad you liked - Mac is definitely a favourite (The only e-mails I ever got were all about him - ha!) It's a work in progress, and I try to add a page or two here and there every week. There is a cop in there already, though he's not finished off yet. I'll keep working on it!

Hey guys - I don't know if you all remember those "Choose Your Own Adventure" books like I do, but at a wiki site, there's a place you can post/write them online so you can click instead of "turn to page" whatever. I've been writing one for a while, and thought I'd share the link here: http://editthis.info/choose_your_own_adventure/Birthday_Bottom_Boy's_Blackout_Bar-night The story is about a guy at his first "Blackout Night" at a rather rough-n-tumble pub. If you make the right choices, you can end up filling up with a heck of a lot of spunk. Hope you enjoy! (If you do go read it and play, please post here if you've got any ideas for what you'd like to see there. It's a sprawling story with a lot of "red links" I still need to finish.) -Mike

Working on it... Retail season is slowing me down...

Working on it.

Thanks for the feedback!

Thanks! Glad you liked it.

Thanks! Glad you liked.

When Bill pulled up in his truck, my stomach started to fill with butterflies. I was more than a little nervous, and felt jittery and awkward. I forced myself to be nonchalant as I picked up my backpack and walked to the passenger side of his pickup. It was a hot day, late summer, and he had the windows down. “Hey, Brian, ” he said. “You look great!” I was wearing a very loud Hawaiian shirt, red with pineapples, and a pair of blue swim trunks, and sandals. Through the window, I could see Bill was sporting a yellow Hawaiian shirt of his own, and black swim trunks. The shirt hugged his burly frame, and was open at the throat low enough to show the dark hair on his chest. The trunks stopped high on his thick thighs. “Thanks,” I said, opened the door, and slid in. “You, too.” “Next stop, luau,” he said, and we drove off while I put on my seat belt. Too late to change your mind, I thought, and felt my nerves both lessen and increase. “Looking forward to it?” Bill asked. “Yeah,” I said, and it felt true. I relaxed a little, and leaned back. “How far is it?” “Mac’s cabin is about two hours away,” Bill said, and reached out with one rough hand to tousle my hair. “Lots of time to play X-Rated 20 Questions.” I laughed. Thing is, I’d only met Bill once before. Earlier in the summer, when the city was having gay pride, I’d convinced my friend Justin to go to the Bear Brunch with me, and bought two tickets. I’m not a bear, just a big fan, but I’d never gone to any sort of bear event, and wanted backup. When I’d gotten there, and sat down at the tables reserved for the event, Bill had been three seats away, two empty seats between us, and he’d overheard me have a stilted conversation with Justin on my cell when the tables started to fill with big hairy guys, and I realized that Justin wasn’t going to show. “Stood up?” Bill had asked me, leaning over those two empty seats. I nodded, “Yeah.” Bill was hot. Stocky, with thick arms and a wide chest, a full dark brown beard and a deep voice, he’d definitely gotten me flustered. I’m about five ten, slim, and I have dimples. I look like the guy on the cover of a college pamphlet – about as non-bear as you can be, but stocky hairy studs were definitely what I was into. The pictures and DVDs I had of bears were always my preference when I was beating off. I imagined they’d been an insular group, and some of them were, but Bill surprised me by saying, “Dumb bear if he stood you up.” “Not a bear,” I said. “He’s just a friend.” He patted the seat beside him. I moved over, stomach flipping. We ordered breakfast an soon the tables were pretty much full. Bill asked my name, and introduced me to the rest of the bears at our table. A few barely glanced at me – not interested, I guess – but Bill spoke directly to me, as did a couple of his friends. They were all big guys, stocky with or without anything from a bit of a beer gut to a full belly, and all incredibly masculine. “So what brings you here?” Dave asked, one of Bill’s friends who had a goatee and a short crop of brown hair. “Uh,” I said, at a loss for words. “It seemed like fun.” Lame response, I know. “You got a thing for bears?” Dave pressed, grinning. I felt myself blush. “Maybe,” I said, and tried to look coy or something. Bill had tousled my hair. “Okay, this boy is adorable,” he said. “Who wants him?” My face went red hot. “I’ll take him,” Dave said, and he had a little growl in his voice that went straight to my cock. “Me first,” Mike said – he was sitting across from me, an older guy in his fifties maybe, with short grey hair, glasses, and a pretty bushy beard. “Hell no,” Dave said. “You think I want your sloppy seconds?” He snorted. “You’d get him dirty.” Mike leaned forward and smiled at me. “I bet you’d like that.” “Uh,” I said, and laughed. Bill wrapped one arm around me, and tugged me into his shoulder. “Back off, I saw him first.” I laughed louder, beyond embarrassed and more than a little bit horned up, and squirmed out of Bill’s near headlock. “Thanks,” I said, not really sure what to say. At the end of the meal, my cell rang. Justin and our friends were meeting for the parade. I said I’d be there shortly. When I hung up, Dave, Mike, and Bill were looking at me. “Thanks for the company,” I said. To be honest, I was a little let down that it was over. Bill picked up my phone. “How do I put in my number?” I blushed, but put in his number, then gave him mine, which he put into his own phone. That, I thought, would be it. They’d been polite, and flirty – hell, they were at least two decades older than me, if not three – and it was really flattering, but that’d be it. But Bill had indeed called a couple of weeks later. “Hey, Dimples,” he’d said. I’d recognized his name with a bit of shock when my phone rang, and answered it quickly. “If that’s what you’re going to call me,” I said, “I’m going to hang up.” “Fine,” he said. “I’ll think of something else. You free for the long weekend?” “Yes,” I said, hesitating. “You got a Hawaiian shirt and some swimming trunks?” “Uh,” I said. “I’ve got trunks…” “Buy a shirt, and I’ll pick you up Friday at five. Where do you live?” “Why do I need a Hawaiian shirt?” I was off balance. Had I agreed to go somewhere? For how long? “Luau party at a friend’s cabin. Definitely something you’d like.” “Oh,” I said, surprised. “So where do you live?” he asked. I gave him my address. It was only after he’d repeated it back to me and hung up that I realized he’d never actually asked me if I’d wanted to go – he’d just assumed. “Okay, you first, or me?” Bill said, after we’d been driving a bit. “Sorry?” I said, snapping out of the reverie. “X-Rated Twenty Questions,” he said. “You first, or me?” “Not sure I’ve played X-Rated Twenty Questions before.” “It’s just like 20 Questions,” he said, “But instead of Animal, Vegetable, Mineral, you start with Type, Act, or Toy. Like, type of guy that gets you going, type of stuff you like to do, and what toys you like to play with.” “Type, Act or Toy,” I repeated, and laughed a little nervously. “I’ll go first,” he said. He waited a minute, then said, “Okay, go.” “Is it a type?” I asked. “No,” he said. “That’s one.” “Is it an act?” I asked. “No,” he said. “Two.” “Toy then,” I said, already blushing. “Is it, uhh…” I pictured Bill in a leather harness. Oh baby. “Is it something you wear?” He took a moment. “You mean me wear?” “Yeah.” “No. That’s three.” I thought. “So it’s something the other guy would wear?” “Yes. Four.” “Is it leather?” I asked, feeling my face heat up. I’ve always been an easy blush. He turned and grinned at me. “No, but interesting question.” I had to look away. “Five,” he said. If it wasn’t leather… “Is it cloth?” “No. Six.” “Uh,” I pondered. What the heck else could you wear? I thought of my DVDs. “Rubber?” He grinned again. “Another interesting option from the oh-so-innocent boy with the dimples. But no. Seven.” I bit my lip, then had a brainstorm. “Is it metal?” “Yes,” he said. “Eight. Well done.” “Handcuffs?” I said, and even as I said it, I felt a little twist in my stomach. “Got it in nine,” he said. I laughed. “Your turn,” he said. I went blank for a second, then said, “Okay.” “Is it a toy or an act?” he asked. “Yes,” I said. “One.” “A toy?” he asked. “No,” I said. “Two.” “Damn,” he said. “I wanted to know more about the leather and rubber fetish you have.” I laughed, but it came off a little nervous. “Okay,” he said, “An act. Is this act something you are doing?” “Sorry?” I said. “Like sucking cock,” he said. “You suck. As opposed to being sucked.” “Oh,” I said, and amended my thought to be a bit more specific. “Uh, no. Three.” “Does it involve your dick?” he asked. “No,” I said. “Four.” I kept my eyes on the road ahead of us. “Does it involve your tight little ass?” he asked, with a playful note in his deep voice. I felt my throat hitch. “Yes. Five.” He laughed. “Is it getting your tight little ass fucked?” I aimed a smile at him. “No,” I said, smugly. “Six.” He paused only a second. “Is it having your tight little ass eaten?” I nodded. “Got it in seven.” He grinned, teeth white in his beard. “So far so good.” Bill went next, and chose type. It took me fifteen of my twenty questions to get to “Dimples” and my groan let him know what I thought of that. So I chose type and went with “Older Men” which he actually didn’t get after twenty questions. “Your turn again, then,” he said. “Since I didn’t get it. And you’ve gotta go with toy now.” “Oh really?” I said. “It’s the rules,” he shrugged. I smirked. I went with a leather harness – which took him only seven guesses – and he said “Damn. Didn’t pack mine.” “You have a leather harness?” I asked. He just smiled. His next choice was an act – I got it in three – getting a blow job. “Do I have to pick a particular one next?” I asked, being imperious. He just waved a hand. So I chose type again, and he got to “Hairy Chest” in ten guesses. I missed his next one, which was an act. It was something he liked to do to someone else, didn’t involve their dick, their ass, or their mouth, and didn’t involve putting anything inside them. I’d narrowed it down to being about the head, and then about the face, but I didn’t get it. My last guess, though, of “cumming on a guy’s face” made him tousle my hair again, and he’d said, “Naughty boy… but no.” He went again, picked type, and I got to “Naughty Boys” in eleven. By this point, I had a semi hard on, and was trying to play it cool. My turn – I picked act – and he guessed “being fingered” in ten guesses. “You really like having your ass played with, don’t you?” he said. I shrugged, blushed, and he laughed. He went with type again, and I got “Younger” in nine, which surprised him, but I still had my choice of “Older Men” in my head from earlier. Back to toy again, and I admitted “dildoes” in six guesses. His toy took me longer – twelve guesses – and was “paddles.” “Wow,” I said, vaguely. He grinned at me. “Tired of this game?” I shrugged. More like getting horny and a little embarrassed. “Maybe.” I was trying to hide my semi , too. “I’m just waiting for you to admit you like getting fucked,” he said. “Okay,” I laughed, my stomach wobbling. “My turn.” “Is it an act?” he said. “Yes.” “Is it getting your tight little boy ass fucked ragged?” “Got it in two,” I said, and felt my dick harden. We arrived at the cabin, at the end of a long winding driveway into the woods, about two hours later. It was definitely dressed up as a tacky luau. Tiki torches were lit, paper lanterns were hung all over the place in the trees, and there was Hawaiian music playing. Cars lined both sides of the dirt and gravel road. We got out, each of us lugging a bag – Bill had a duffel, I had my backpack – and we went inside. There were a lot more people there than I’d thought. There were about twenty men inside the main floor of the cabin, which was open-concept and had a great room with a brick fireplace that was in the centre of the room and rose up to meet the top floor, which seemed to be half the size of the main floor, with a stairwell against the left wall. The fireplace was lit, which was a poor choice. The place was very warm in the late summer evening, even with all the window screens open. The kitchen was opposite where we entered, with glass doors beyond that leading to a back yard where I could see a few more people. Everyone was dressed for the luau, in Hawaiian shirts and shorts – and I couldn’t help but notice most of them were like Bill – about a couple of decades (at least) older than me, and bearish. Everyone had a fake plastic lei on as well, mostly in patterns of red and white. “Bill!” someone called. Bill led me through the people to the kitchen. There, a man in his mid-forties or early fifties gave Bill a big hug, and then glanced at me. He was stocky, with a short beard that was blacker than his salt-and-pepper hair, and his Hawaiian shirt – green with palm trees – was undone. His chest was full of graying hairs, and a little slick with sweat. Around his neck, a purple and white plastic lei hung. “This is Brian?” the man said. Bill nodded, “This is Brian. Gotta get him leid, though.” I felt my face go crimson. “Aw, he’s blushing,” the man said. “I’m Mac. This is my place.” “It’s awesome,” I said. He ducked into the pantry and came out with a purple and white lei like the one he was wearing, and a bright green and white one. He gave Bill the purple, and I got the green. “Bartender is at the back,” Mac said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to the glass doors. “And the hot tub is there.” I couldn’t imagine getting into a hot tub – I was already sweating a little in the heat. “Can we put our bags somewhere?” Bill asked. “Oh shit, yeah…” Mac said. “Pick one of the bedrooms.” I blinked, but Bill clapped my shoulder and we ducked under a rope at the bottom of the stairs decorated with plastic flowers. We passed the first two doors – Bill pointed at the second and said, “Bathroom” – and then passed one more, finally taking the fourth door. Inside was a large bed, a chest of drawers, and chair. Bill tossed his bag on the chair, and I put mine on the bed. “So we’re staying the night?” I said, trying to be casual. He laughed. “You said you were free for the weekend.” I nodded. “I did.” “Come on,” he said. “I’m boiling. Let’s grab a drink.” In the back, three guys were actually in the hot-tub, which blew my mind, and one of them was about my age, maybe a little older, though he had a beard and a fuzzier chest than me by far. He was wearing a green lei as well, and I turned to Bill. I asked, “Why did I get a green lei?” “Noticed that?” Bill smiled. “Mac does it every year. Purple are for overnight guests, so they can have drinks, Red aren’t staying, so they get punch after it goes dark. And green are for first time guests.” “Ah,” I said. We went to the bar, where one of the burliest bears I’ve ever seen was there, a thick chested guy with a shaved head and blond hair all over his chest and belly, which was hanging a little over his shorts. He didn’t have the Hawaiian shirt, but he was wearing the purple colored lei. He nodded as Bill and I approached, and winked at me. “Hey Bill,” he said. “And a newbie!” “This is Brian, ” Bill said. “Brian, this is Randy.” Randy held out a hand, and I shook. “Drinks?” he asked. “Please,” Bill said. “Long drive, and it’s fucking hot.” Randy opened the bar fridge and pulled out two mixes – I assumed they were margaritas or daiquiris – one was a bright green, the other a bright purple. I laughed at the continuing color theme as he handed me mine, which he poured into a green plastic tumbler, and topped with a slice of pineapple and a paper umbrella. “Nice,” I said. But I sucked on the straw. It was blessedly cold and sweet, and tasted strongly of lime. Bill took a long sip of his as well. "Careful,” he said. “Randy makes them strong.” Randy shrugged, “It’s a party.” Bill took me around, and introduced me to more bear types than I’d ever met before, we settled on one of the sofas, and between the heat of the fireplace and the heat of the day, I soon got over my shyness and undid a few buttons of my Hawaiian shirt. Half the guests had undone theirs completely or shucked them entirely by the time the sun had gone down, and I’d gone back to Randy once for a refill, and then Bill had gone once more and taken my plastic tumbler with him. Bill wasn’t kidding, Randy made a strong drink – I was definitely starting to feel it. I’d spotted five more purple leis, not including Randy, Mac, and Bill, but hadn’t spotted another green. It seemed like me and the cub in the tub were the two newbies. On a couch, wedged between Bill and a guy named Geoff (a dark haired bear, no beard, red lei) who had been chatting with me for a bit, Geoff leaned over and asked me how I’d met Bill. “He came to a bear brunch,” Bill said, and wrapped one arm around behind me. His arm was hot and sweaty against my neck, but it sent a tremor through me. I was definitely feeling the effects of Randy ’s drinks – I was working on my fourth, but wasn’t sure I was going to finish it. “You’re a chaser?” Geoff asked. “He’s a chaser,” Bill said, and then tugged me into his chest. I laughed, and then Bill gave my ass a hard smack with his hand. I yelped, and Bill let me go. I could feel my face burning again. “Cute,” Geoff said, and winked at me. “Not just that,” Bill said. “He’s into dildoes, and getting fingered, and likes having his ass eaten and leather harnesses…” “Bill!” I said, trying to cover his mouth. He laughed at my attempts, and Geoff was laughing too. Bill put his bearded lips to my ears and whispered, “and having his tight little boy ass fucked ragged.” My dick – already unbelievably twitchy for being surrounded by all the bearish hunks – thickened in my shorts. I squirmed out of his grasp, and shifted on the couch a little between them to let the tails of my shirt cover my lap a little. “Damn!” Geoff said, “I gotta go to those brunches.” We all laughed. “Last round?” Randy yelled, stepping into the room, carrying the four pitchers, two in each hand. A few glasses were raised, and Bill tugged mine – still half full – from my hand and Randy topped it up with the green slushy. It seemed to be the cue for a lot of the red leis, and one by one, they started to leave, including Geoff, who leaned into me and gave me a kiss goodbye that involved a lot of tongue, some hooting from Bill and the other guys watching, and didn’t help my growing hard on at all. As more of the people slowly filed out, the cub from the tub came in with the two bears who’d been in there with him. They were all red-skinned, and had towels wrapped around their waists. Randy topped up their drinks, and then went to the kitchen and poured the dregs down the sink, joining me and Bill on the couch. Randy slapped a hand on my thigh and said, “Come on. They finally vacated the tub.” “Oh yeah,” I said, laughing. “Just what I need, to warm up.” Bill laughed, but shoved my shoulder. “It’s cooler outside.” Reluctantly, and trying not to let my hard-on show – a bit easier since there weren’t lights on inside, just the fireplace – I got up, and went with Bill and Randy to the back yard. Mac was there, saying goodbye to two guests, and he nodded as we went past. The hot tub was square, and designed to fit four. I put my mostly full drink beside the tub, and I stepped in quickly. Although it was hot, the bubbling water felt awesome on my skin. Once I sank in a little, and it covered my waist, I sat down in the far corner, and then undid my shirt and chucked it outside the tub. I kept the lei on. Bill settled in beside me, leaving his shirt behind, and Randy sat across from me. “Having fun?” Randy asked me. He had cool blue eyes, and was smiling. “This feels awesome,” I said, and leaned back. “I think I’m drunk.” Bill laughed. “Just a little. Maybe now you’ll tell me the one I missed?” “What?” Randy said. “Twenty questions,” Bill said. “We played it on the drive up.” “X-Rated twenty questions,” I corrected. “And I missed one, too.” “What’s X-rated twenty questions?” Randy asked. “It’s like twenty questions,” Bill said, “But instead of Animal, Vegetable, Mineral, it’s Act, Type or Toy.” Randy laughed. “Nice.” “Passes the time,” Bill said. “But I missed one. What was it?” He leaned in and tickled me under the water. I thrashed a little, laughing, and sat up straighter. “It was a type,” I said, and my head was spinning. Bill seemed to be holding his drinks better. “It wasn’t about hair, or body size, or shape, or cock size-“ Randy laughed “-or a bunch of other stuff I don’t remember.” “Older Men,” I said, grinning. My head was spinning a little. “Ahh,” he said. “How old are you?” Randy asked me. “Twenty,” I said, smiling. Randy grinned at me. “Good.” “Wow, it’s hot,” I said, but didn’t move. It felt awesome in here, and besides that, my slight hard on had elevated itself to full on. “Okay,” Randy said. “I got one.” I blinked, but Bill said, “Is it a toy or a type?” and I clued in. Randy said, “No.” “That’s one,” I said, and grinned at Bill. I was having a great time. “You guess,” Bill said. “Um,” I said. “An act. Is it something you do, or something that’s done to you?” “That’s not yes-no,” Bill said. Randy shrugged. “It’s neither , or it’s both, maybe, I guess.” I blinked. Bill said, “Is it done in the bedroom?” “No.” Randy said. “Three,” I said. “Um… does it involve touching?” “Not in and of itself,” Randy said. “Four,” I said. “Jerking off?” Bill said. “No,” Randy said, and then added, “Five.” Mac came out onto the patio while we were thinking, and stepped into the hot-tub. “Everyone who’s going is gone.” He’d shucked his shirt, and was soon sitting beside me in the water, which darkened his salt and pepper chest hair, and revealed a lot more hair on his shoulders and arms. I shifted in my seat, hyper-aware of my hard-on. “Watching porn?” Bill said. “What?” Mac asked. “No,” said Randy. “Six.” “We’re playing twenty questions,” Bill said. “Randy is thinking of an act he enjoys that doesn’t involve touching and is something you do together, sort of, but not in the bedroom.” Mac looked at me. I laughed. “X-rated twenty questions,” I said. Mac looked at Randy. “Is it done naked?” Randy splashed water at Mac. “Yes. Cheater.” Mac wiped his face. “He wants you to take your shorts off,” he said. “Naked hot-tubbing is the best,” Randy said. “Ahh,” Bill said. Then, with a grin, started shifting about in the water. After a few long moments where he was leaning forward, he raised his shorts out of the water and dropped them over the side. Randy cheered, and Mac laughed. “Damn straight,” Randy said, and did the same. Mac shook his head, but stood in the centre of the tub long enough to take his off as well, and through the bubbling water I could see the dark patch of his pubic hair, but not much else. When they all looked at me, I felt a reckless laugh escape, and I tugged my shorts off as well – my cock, freed from the fabric, felt fantastic in the hot bubbling water. There was no way I was getting out until I’d managed to calm down. “Having a good time?” Mac asked me. I nodded. “So hot, but it feels great.” “Here,” Bill said, and handed me my drink. I took a big gulp. It was pretty much melted, but it was still cold. He drank some of his as well, and we all leaned back a little. My cock was positively throbbing. “So what were the ones you guessed?” Randy asked. I groaned. “Don’t…” Bill laughed. “Well, let’s see…” “Bill,” I said. “Come on…” Bill grinned. “Brian likes having his ass eaten, fingered… dildoes… he’s pretty much all about his ass, actually…” I groaned, and slid under the water, eyes closed, while the three laughed and Bill kept on talking. When I came back up again – the water feeling cool on my face in the night air, they were still laughing, and Bill said, “…for sure.” I shook my head, and let the water fly, but it made me majorly dizzy. “Woah,” I said. “Someone’s drunk,” Mac said. “If you go under again,” Bill said, “You should aim more to the left. You missed my dick last time.” “Or right,” Mac said, and winked at me. I shifted, flushing. Bill leaned over to me, and said, “C’mere.” I leaned towards him, and he kissed me, his rough beard tickling against my chin. Then, with a swoosh of water, he’d grabbed my shoulders and shoved me under the water. I managed to grab a breath before I went under, and came up again pretty quickly, but had slid off my seat and was pretty much kneeling in the middle of the tub. Bill’s legs were on either side of me, and Mac and Randy ’s feet brushed me as they laughed. I spat some water at Bill, and he grinned. “C’mere,” he said again. “Fool me once,” I said, but after a second, I moved towards him, leaning forward. He leaned forward, and gave me another kiss, this time holding the back of my head with one hand. It was a longer kiss, and his tongue went deep in my mouth, exploring. My cock throbbed under the water. Mac’s toes brushed up against my ass. I kind of yelped into Bill’s mouth, and Bill pulled back, eyebrows up. Mac laughed. I settled back into my seat awkwardly, and took another big gulp of the melted drink to get the chlorine taste out of my mouth. “So, Mac,” Bill said, and as he spoke, his hand, out of sight under the water, moved to my thigh. I tensed. “We know what Randy likes –“ “We know one of the things Randy likes,” Randy said. “- how about you? Twenty questions?” Bill’s hand had moved up, and he brushed his pinky finger against my hard on. He glanced at me, and winked. I shivered. His hand moved away. “I gotta think of something I like?” Mac said. Bill nodded. “Okay,” Mac said. “Is it an act, type, or toy?” Bill asked. “Act,” Mac said. “Naked hot-tubbing,” Randy said. Mac smirked. “Partly.” “Naked hot-tubbing with me?” Bill said. Mac laughed. “Not knocking it, but no. Close.” “Being in the hot-tub with Brian, ” Randy said. Mac smiled, “That’s part of it.” I blushed. “Just part?” I couldn’t believe I said it. “Wouldn’t mind a kiss,” Mac said. “Since you’re givin’ em out.” I laughed, but Bill and Randy started to cajole, saying, “Come on, give him a kiss,” and the like, so I slid back down to my knees in the middle of the tub and leaned in toward Mac. He leaned forward and gave me a long, deep kiss. His hands gripped the back of my head, and he kissed me for quite a while, his short beard rough against my lips. My head swam with it, and I only barely heard Randy and Bill whistling. Mac pulled back, but kept his hands firmly on the back of my head. “Nice,” he said. Randy shifted in his seat. “My turn.” He raised his hands over his chest, and made a “come here” gesture, leaning back against his corner of the tub. I laughed, and leaned in a bit, but he was leaning all the way back against his seat. I tried to lean forward further, but couldn’t quite reach, and I didn’t want to get out from the middle of the tub because of my hard on. Bill laughed, slid into the water behind me, and shoved me up onto Randy ’s chest. My hard on pressed against Randy’s thigh, and Randy kissed me quick, grabbing my ass with both hands, then said, “Someone’s happy.” I blushed, and slid back into the water, embarrassed, and turned on all at once. “Hrm,” Bill said, wrapping his arms around me in the water. I could feel his own hard cock against my back. “Maybe time for bed now?” I kind of stammered a bit, and Randy and Mac laughed. Bill got out of the tub, and I couldn’t help myself – I turned and looked at his cock, which was thick, and semi-hard, and surrounded by dark wet pubic hair that spread up onto his stomach. He wrapped a towel around his waist, and then held up one for me. I got out – Mac slapped my ass as I went – and wrapped a towel around myself. The tent in the towel was obvious, and Mac and Randy were laughing as Bill walked me through the glass doors. We walked quickly to the stairs, but I managed to see that three of the other purple lei’s were sitting on one couch, while the cubby guy was on another couch with two more – and he was making out with one of them, his hand in the guy’s shorts. My head was spinning, and Mac had to pretty much march me up the stairs. I was dizzy, and chuckling to myself, and my dick was furiously hard. We walked past the all the doors until we got to our room. Bill left the door open, and then with one shove, he pushed me onto the bed, face first. He turned on the lights, which surprised me, and while I blinked, and rolled over, he fiddled with something in the chest of drawers. When he came back to the bed, he’d dropped his towel, and I got a good look at him, outlined against the open doorway. Still wet, his chest and legs and stomach was covered in dark hair, and his beard was a bit tangled. His dick was half-hard, rising up from his thighs, and he smiled at me while I looked up at him. “You look very fuckable right now,” he said. I shifted on the bed, tugging the towel away. I was absolutely fuckable. I was so horned up I’d beg for it. He said, “Now, what was the first thing? Oh yeah. Roll over.” I rolled over. And in a second he’d crawled onto the bed and buried his tongue in my ass. I squirmed, and shoved my ass up to meet his rough beard, and let out a loud gasp. My hands slid down between my legs, and I gripped my cock. “Nuh-uh,” he said, and stopped licking my hole. He grabbed my hands, and took them from my cock, pressing me down onto the bed. He whispered into my ear, “No touching.” I moaned. He rolled half off me, and reached for his bag on the chair. I heard him unzipping it, and then there was a metallic clinking sound. I looked over. He had my hands handcuffed to the headboard before I could really process, and I felt myself nearly humping the bed in response. When he scooted between my thighs and tugged my ass into the air and started eating my hole again, I was frantic to find some way to rub my cock against something, but he just kept licking and sucking on my hole while I groaned and moaned and made little gasping noises. Soon he had a fingertip up against my ass, and was teasing me with it, sliding just the tip in and out. I pushed back against him, his saliva slick on his finger. I’d never played without lube before, and was stunned at how electric my whole body seemed to be. My cock had never been this hard, this long… “You want me to fuck you now, boy?” he said. “Yesssss…” it came out in a hiss. “Nuh-uh,” he said, close to my ear. “Louder than that, boy. You ask me to fuck you, you do it loud.” “Fuck me,” I said, very loud, almost shouting. “Fuck me… please…” My head was wild with it. He laughed, and then he tugged at my shoulders until I was gripping the headboard with both hands, on my knees for him, almost on all fours. He leaned past me to his bag, and rummaged. I felt the hot tip of his cock against my ass, and then a cool shock of lube being poured liberally along my ass crack. I was bucking back against him. He chuckled, and with a pretty mean thrust, he shoved his cock into me. I yelled, one long “fuck!” as he shoved inside, and he grunted. I felt my knees shake, and almost went down onto my belly, but he gripped my thighs and held me in place. White light flashed in front of my eyes, but behind it all, this insane horniness that hadn’t let up in hours was there, and my cock didn’t even deflate a bit. Bill pulled back slowly, letting me feel the length of him, and then pushed back in again. I let out a guttural moan. He laughed. “You like that, boy?” “Yessss…” I hissed again. He slapped my ass. “Yes!” I half-yelled. He pulled back, and then pushed back in, a few more times, faster each time, and then he was fucking me all out, thrusting in hard, rough jabs that were making it hard to breathe. I gripped the headboard tightly, and pushed back against him, grunting and sweating. My head was swimming, and I felt so desperate to have him keep fucking me I was surprising myself. “Fuck me, fuck me fuck meee!” I was yelling. After a time, he said, “Yeah, here it comes, boy,” and I felt his cock throb inside me and hot surges of his cum filled my ass. He shoved in hard while he came, and I felt his cock twitch twice more, as two more bursts of cum filled me, the hot liquid slick on my insides, almost soothing after his rough entry. “Fuck,” he said, and pulled out. I felt his cum slick down my thigh. “Damn nice, boy.” I leaned my cheek against the headboard, breathing. Bill touched my dick, still rock hard, and I moaned. “You want to cum, boy?” “Yes!” I said, and rattled the handcuffs a little. He leaned over me, his sticky cock against the small of my back, “I dunno.” “Please!” I gasped, and pushed back against him. His finger teased my ass again, and I whimpered. “Doesn’t seem fair to Mac or Randy, does it?” “What?” I said, brain foggy with the need to cum. “Nope, sure doesn’t.” Mac’s voice was startling. I turned my face as far as I could, and saw Mac and Randy standing at the doorway, no sign of towels, dicks hard in front of them. I gasped. They’d watched? “What?” I repeated, but my eyes went to their dicks. My mouth actually watered, and my ass twitched. Mac had a very hot daddy thing going for him, and Randy had one of the wickedest curved dicks I’d ever seen, and... What was I thinking? Bill dipped his finger further into my ass. “You want to cum?” I whined. “Yes, I do…” More than I’d ever needed to cum in my life. “Well then,” Bill said, and slid off the bed. I turned my face to the wall, stunned, and the bed shifted as someone else got onto it. “Nice,” Randy said. So it was Randy on the bed. His finger pushed at my ass, and despite my confused state, I groaned and pushed back against him. Randy fucked me, using Bill’s cum and the remnants of the lube that were slick in my ass, and I pushed back and begged him to do it. His belly slapped against my ass with every thrust, and I often crashed into the headboard. His curved dick was wicked inside me, and I was gasping and yelping, and he slapped my ass on every third thrust or so. He came soon after, and I yelled as he came. I wanted to come so fucking badly. After Randy fucked me, Mac took his turn, and I was nearly crying with the heat that was filling my balls, desperate for release. Vaguely, I could hear fucking noises from another room, and I wondered if the cubby type was being treated the same way. Mac rode me rough, his hands biting into my waist, and I begged him to fuck me. “You like that, you little slut?” Mac asked. “Yes!” I said. “You want my load, slut?” he asked. “Yes!” I would have said anything, done anything. I’d never felt like this before. When he blasted his load in, which mostly spilled out around his dick, I collapsed against the bed. Bill undid my handcuffs, but grabbed my hands before I could reach my cock. “You want to cum?” he asked me. “Yes!” I yelled. “Please!” He laughed, and kissed me, rough. I rolled onto my back, squirming, and he kept kissing me, his tongue inside my mouth. Someone grabbed my legs – I assumed Randy or Mac – and a hard dick was once again pushing at my ass. When Bill pulled away from the kiss, I saw it wasn’t Randy, or Mac, it was one of the other purple lei guests, a balding bear with very hairy shoulders and chest, and then he was fucking me, and Bill let go of my wrists, and I jerked myself off furiously while the bear – whose name I didn’t know – added one more load of cum to my ass. I felt my dick explode in my hands, and cum spattered against my chest and stomach. I threw my head back with the most intense release I’d ever had, and then, to my amazement, found I was staying hard. The bear rolled off me, and said, “Nice ass.” I was stunned, incredibly turned on, and yet embarrassed and confused as well. “What..?” I said, but had no way to finish the sentence. Bill kissed me again. “Good boy,” he said, and reached between my legs, cupping my balls. I moaned. “Want me to cum on your face, boy?” he asked. I found myself nodding. By the time the night ended, all eight of the guys in the purple lei had had their dicks in one end of me or the other – or both - and the same had happened to the cubby guy. I woke up in bed with Bill and the hairy shouldered bear. At the end of the night, which had only really been a couple of hours earlier, Bill and the other bear had gotten me into the shower, and then I’d sort of remembered coming to the bed. I’d gotten up twice to piss – they’d also had me drink a few large glasses of water, but beyond that, I had only a foggy recollection of the rest of the night. Bill was awake when I opened my eyes. “Uh,” I said. I was pressed between the two bears. “Did you have fun?” he asked, smiling, in a rumbly voice. “Yeah,” I said. I’d been fucked by eight bears and hornier than I’d ever been in my life. I’d swallowed loads, begged for them to cum on me, and had had a hard on that took four jerking off sessions to finally deflate. “That green stuff is pretty good, eh?” I shifted beside him, trying not to wake the other bear. “You guys drugged me?” My head was mostly clear now, but I was having trouble processing it. I wasn’t particularly hung over, maybe a bit. Mostly I was surprised I wasn’t actually angry. I’d enjoyed every fucking moment of it – pardon the pun – and it was like living a fantasy I’d not known I’d had. Bill kissed me, one of his possessive, hard, kisses. I kissed him back, ran my hands through the hair on his chest. “Morning wood,” Bill said, taking my hand and sliding it down to his dick, which was very hard. “My ass is a bit sore,” I said, but gripped his cock in one hand. Bill reached up and took my head, and started pushing me under the covers. I laughed, and went under, putting his dick in my mouth. The other bear woke up when I squirmed around, and Bill said, “Good morning, Jack.” “Looks like it,” Jack – his name was Jack, I thought to myself - said, voice muffled on the other side of the sheets. He moved, and I felt his own dick, semi-hard, against my shoulders. I shifted and sucked him for a bit. “Fuck, yeah…” Jack said. “Good morning.” I took my time with them, sucking one, then the other, for a good fifteen minutes. Jack had an uncut cock, which I liked, and I swirled my tongue around his dickhead. Bill’s dick was bigger, and thicker, and I tried to get it all in my mouth. I was sucking Jack when his hands reached under the covers, grabbed my hair, and held me in place while he spurted his morning load into my mouth. I didn’t manage to swallow all of it, and some of it ended up on my face and in his crotch. He let go, and got out of the bed – “Gotta take a shower,” he said – and I went back to Bill’s dick with my cummy mouth. Bill tugged me back up out from under the covers and we shared a cummy kiss. “Damn, boy,” he said, “You sure your ass is too sore?” His hands gripped my ass, index finger teasing my hole. I groaned against his chest, biting my lip. My hole felt sore and itchy, but the kind of itch that a scratch wouldn’t really help – it’d just make it more itchy. “Pretty sure,” I said. His finger teased a little longer, but he let go. “Damn,” he said. “How about breakfast, then?” I blushed. “Uh. Okay.” “What?” he said, voice teasing. “You don’t like breakfast?” “No,” I said. “Just… everyone…” I blushed. It was hard to explain. “Uh. I’m a little embarrassed.” “Says the guy who just sucked two cocks.” He laughed, and gave my ass a slap. “Everyone already fucked you, boy. Don’t worry – they’ll be hungry, too. Now wipe your face off and put on some shorts, or you’ll end up getting fucked on the breakfast table before you can eat.” I blushed, but we got up. I wiped my face quickly on a towel, then rooted through my backpack, and found clean underwear and shorts, and tugged a t-shirt over my head. When I looked over, Bill was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a black t-shirt that had white letters on it that spelled “Daddy.” He gestured to the door, and I stepped out in front of him. I’d be here the whole day, I realized, and headed for the stairs. I was starving.

Heh - that's the fun of fantasy, right?

Glad you liked - and thank you!

Thanks - glad you liked.

When I was still dating my ex, an older daddybear type who definitely opened my eyes to many new facets of sex that I found thrilling, kinky, nasty or scary (and all the more thrilling for being kinky, scary or nasty), he would bring over some DVDs or VHS cassettes (and his VCR, since I didn’t own one) of his favourite porn, and we’d watch them together. It was a kind of litmus test, I think – he’d watch my reaction (and my dick) to see what new discoveries he could show me and expand my horizons and sexual appetite. This was how I learned I had a thing for bears, and how he convinced me to visit a glory hole (and suck my first anonymous cock), and how he got me to try handcuffs, and get spanked, and all sorts of other things. His favourites were always pretty much a reflection of us – older hairy types (usually burly rather than gym-muscular) and younger smaller types (or otter types), but definitely the big older stud fucking the younger fella. Preferably bareback. All of this turned my on like crazy, and most of the time we wouldn’t make it to the end of the cassette or DVD because I’d go down on him, and that’d lead to him fucking me, and pretty much ended our viewing session until we were sweaty and sticky. When he showed me his copy of “Dawson’s 20 Load Weekend” we had some pretty hot fucking sex thereafter, and the entire time he was plowing me, his beard was at my ear. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he’d say, grabbing my waist and ramming himself home, “Getting fucked over and over, fucking filled to overflowing, eh?” God it got me hot. After that video he showed me the video “What I Can’t See.” In that one, a blindfolded guy gets fucked by random studs, and holy crap that was even more of a turn on. When my daddybear fucked me during that movie, he covered my eyes with my shirt first (pulling it over my head half-way) and this time his voice added another layer “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he said again, adding “Getting fucked by strangers? Anonymous studs fucking your ass, eh?” I blew a massive load that night. Over the days and weeks that followed, he teased confessions out of me. Yes, I found both videos incredibly erotic, and yes, I had to admit the thought of being fucked by some stranger was definitely hot. Yes, being blindfolded would make it even hotter, but it must have been obvious that I was a freaked out as much as I was turned on. He understood my attraction/aversion struggle, and teased me over and over again, showing me more scenes, fucking me and talking nasty to me, and bringing the discussion around again and again, nudging a little further every time. Soon we were talking not just about anonymous blindfolded sex with strangers, but without condoms, and that was a topic that – at first – had me totally freaked out (but rock hard, as he’d point out, often with his finger up my ass). When I finally voiced my real concern – “What about, y’know, the danger?” – I hadn’t even really managed to say it out and out – what about the fact I was negative? He just nodded, but while he was fucking me that night, during which I was wearing a blindfold, he whispered in my ear "Yeah, you don’t know who I am, do you? Just some random dick up your ass. You can’t even see me. You don’t know anything about me. For all you know, I’m about to fill you with dirty cum. Admit it – the thought of the risk turns you on.” I shot all over my stomach while he fucked me, his hairy stomach sliding over my load while he rammed in deep and unloaded. I was even more confused – and aroused – after that. Then came my birthday. I should mention here that my daddybear was a graphic designer, more or less, as his job. He’d make me sexy posters sometimes, or take pictures of me and do things to the image – putting my face on the body of a guy getting gangbanged, for example. He was good at it, and at least once a month there’d be some sort of picture in my in-box or a printout on my bed. I still have them. My birthday was coming, and he had a surprise for me. We’d been fucking – I think I was handcuffed to the bed rail - and, for leverage, he’d been doing me doggy style. Affterwards we’d lay down in the bed and he’d reached under it for my present. It came in a large tube – it was basically a poster, though there was a blindfold and a sharpie in the tube as well. When I unrolled it, it said, at the top “Happy Birthday!” and at the bottom there were two rows of four guys, each cut off around the neck and knees, naked. They were all more or less my 'type': big guys, some hairier than others, some more gym-strong than burly-strong – a mix of studs that definitely made me grin. Beneath the “Happy Birthday!” and above the eight graphics, however, was a box of text. It led with “Your Birthday Spit-roast Surprise!” To paraphrase, it said that for my birthday, my daddybear had arranged for eight possible hook-ups with guys I’d never met. Each of the men pictured below (though without faces), had seen all sorts of pictures of me, and even watched one or two of the videos the daddybear had taken of himself fucking me or me sucking him and were definitely interested in fucking me – bareback – and dumping a load in me while I was blindfolded and sucking the daddybear’s dick. That’d be my birthday party. I stared at my daddybear, and my dick got rock hard, even though we’d just fucked. “Seriously?” I asked. He nodded remarking “You just gotta pick one. I’d love to watch your ass get tagged by any of those fuckers.” He gave me the marker, and made a circling gesture. Then, he leaned in, and whispered in my ear. “And maybe one of those studs isn’t entirely sure about his status.” I immediately started shaking. And got hornier. And more excited. And aroused. And afraid. Everything all at once. My birthday was in four days. The next three days were a mess – I was up and down about making a decision. I pulled out the poster and stared at it a few times, and when I came home on the night before my birthday, the poster was pinned up over my bed, and the marker was on my pillow. One of the guys was incredibly hairy – the hairiest guy I’d ever seen. You could barely see his nipples on his chest. He was a bear in shape as well – thick chested, with a bit of a gut, and a thick cock nestled in the pubic hair. I circled that one with the sharpie, and barely slept at all that night. I knew my daddybear would check my apartment while I was at work the next day, and that when I got home.... I jerked myself off thinking about it, even as I felt my stomach ache with worry. When I got home, sure enough, he was there. We had a slice of cake, and then he brought out the blindfold, checked his watch, and grinned at me. “Time for your party.” We both stripped and settled on my bed, legs spread. I crawled between his legs and started to suck his cock. After a while he tied the blindfold on me, and instantly my hearing seemed to be in overdrive. He got up, leaving me on the bed, and moved around the room for a while, leaving me there, aroused and completely at a loss and helpless. I heard him moving things, and assumed it was at least one camera – he liked to take pictures of us, like I said. Then he came back to the bed, and I went down on him again. A short while later – which felt like an eternity of sucking on his hard cock while my stomach turned in knots – I heard my apartment door open, and my entire body shook. My ex put his hands on my head, and held me down on his dick while I heard someone come into the room, undo his belt and strip, and then felt the bed shift behind me. The stranger I’d picked never said a word. He ate my ass for a while, slurping and licking at my hole and making me moan and writhe and shift from being terrified to being turned on to being totally aroused – nothing makes me hornier than having a bearded mouth rim my pucker – and between this stranger’s attention, the dick in my mouth, and my daddybear’s commentary, I was soon so incredibly turned on I was up on my hands and knees, pushing my ass into the stranger’s face. Blindfolded, every other sensation went crazy. The man’s hands on my ass and waist seemed incredibly rough, his breathing seemed loud. My daddybear’s precum tasted incredible. His voice seemed to fill the room “He’s gonna fuck you raw, birthday boy,” my daddybear said, and I nearly came on the spot, moaning around his dick. When the stranger’s hairy arms pressed into my sides and he guided his cockhead into my hole, I did come, shooting all over my sheets and moaned like crazy while the daddybear fucked my throat. I heard the guy laugh behind me – a low chuckle, and then he pushed himself home. As soon as his dick was inside me, it seemed as if I was being electrocuted. I buzzed, shivered and writhed. Four hands held me tight and two dicks fucked me at both ends. The lack of lube – though there was plenty of spit – made my ass tight and raw against the thick cock up my hole, and my daddybear’s balls started to tighten almost the moment the man behind me was inside me. He came pretty soon after, too – though he kept his dick in my mouth and soon grew hard again while I sucked and slurped up his cum. I moaned, grunting, and basically throwing myself back on the anonymous cock that was fucking me. The man was so hairy – I could feel his thighs and arms and, when he leaned forward, his stomach and chest, and the sensation had me half-way to another orgasm. He wasn’t exceptionally rough, but he wasn’t gentle, either – it was a strong man’s fuck, and I felt every thrust. When he gripped me and let out a low series of grunts, I knew he was cumming. The anonymity of the situation - that I didn’t know this guy’s status – hit me and it was the most intense moment of my life. When he came the series of liquid bursts up my ass seemed so hot I actually yelped, my daddybear’s dick popping-out of my mouth. I reached down and jerked my dick and shot in moments. Total mindfuck. The big hairy stud (who I never actually saw) got off the bed shortly after that, withdrawing his dick out of my ass only after his load had completely blown up my ass. I heard him dressing as my daddybear and the other guy spoke to each other: “Yeah, that’s what he wanted for his birthday, all right.” “Fuck yeah, you filled his ass, didn’t you?” “You liked that, didn’t you boy? You liked his cock up your ass?” I squirmed, aware I was naked, dripping spunk from my ass and my chin, and that the man who’d just fucked me, who I had not yet seen, and I didn’t know, was watching the scene. Then I heard him zip-up, buckle his belt, and then I heard him leave. My daddybear fucked my face until he came again, and then told me to stay put while he moved around the room, fingered my ass a few times, and pushed his cummy finger to my lips for me to taste, and then eventually he let me take off the blindfold. He picked up the sharpie, and went to the poster, still naked. “This guy knows he was clean,” he said, and scratched off one of the studs I hadn’t picked. I realized he was going to tell me, one by one, and watched him intently. The reality that the guy fucking me might have given me more than a load hit me again, and I shook while – achingly slowly – my daddybear crossed off stud after stud, saying “Clean,” or “Neg.” He, of course, left the last two choices to include the guy I’d picked and one other, and then, with a malicious smirk, crossed off the guy I’d just let fuck me raw and said, “Clean.” He drew a question mark on the other guy. My whole body flushed. Then my daddybear rolled me over, got hard again, and fucked me with the other guy’s cum as lube. As our relationship started to get rocky – he loved to fuck around, as did I, and inevitably I started to realize we were more fuckbuddies than boyfriends, and was young enough for that to make me feel bad sometimes – he’d get a little meaner sometimes. That turned me on, and made our sex life all the more enjoyable, even as it made everything else a bit more confusing for me. Eventually, when he’d had enough of me being alternately clingy and avoiding, he broke it off, though before the week was out, he was over and fucking me, though he made it clear that it was just sex. A month or so later, we weren’t seeing each other more than once a month, but again it was to have sex that was getting all the rougher – he would fuck me with very little lube, and I found I really enjoyed that, especially when he’d talk dirty to me. Then he got offered a job in B.C. and he mentioned he would move in about a month. The second tube arrived about a week after that. It was pretty much like the first one, but with a few major differences. First, instead of “Happy Birthday!” at the top, it had a picture of me being spit-roasted by the daddybear and the hairy guy. Although the photograph only showed them from the shoulders down, I knew it was them. (On the other hand, I was shown in full, including the blindfold). Second, at the bottom of the poster were photographs of four guys instead of eight who were depicted on the birthday poster. Again, they were burly hairy guys, and again, the photograph was from the chest-down to each guy's dick. Of course all four guys were all pretty much exactly my type. Third, the text in the middle of the poster read “Break-up pimp fuck!” and invited me to pick one or two of the guys from the four, and I’d get fucked good (twice, if I picked two). My ex-daddybear would show up, help me set up, and then let the guy (or guys) in to have fun with me. It’d be his goodbye present to me. Fourth: there was a mailing label with the sharpie and fresh new blindfold. Fifth: he had included a handwritten note: “Three of the guys are sure they’re neg.” To say that I was even more a mix of arousal and conflict would be understating it. If I picked one guy, there was a one-in-four chance I’d be getting more than a good fuck. Was I even considering it? God yes I was! But if I picked two guys? That was insane.... Except there were two guys there on the poster who really turned my crank: one was guy who, like the guy who had fucked me a few months ago, was very hairy. The other was just the perfect mix of what looked like a blue-collar type or a former wrestler who’d started to get soft around the edges – still damned strong – I got the impression he had no chest hair at all. I drove myself crazy for days, made my decision, wrapped up and mailed the tube, and then drove myself even crazier waiting. My ex-daddybear called me to tell me what night he’d be over, and my stomach re-tied itself in knots. I ended up choosing both guys. My soon-to-be-gone ex-daddybear came over, had me strip, put on the blindfold, and handcuffed me to my headboard. He awkwardly stood between my arms and I heard him put the poster up over my bed, pinning it in place. Then he stepped out from where my arms were cuffed, and got off the bed. Again, I heard him moving about the room, and finally he leaned in close to my ear and said, “You’re the best fuckboy I ever had. I’m glad you let me set up a proper goodbye for you.” When he kissed me, I got so hard I moaned, and he laughed, slapping my ass, and then pulling away. “I’ll be back when they’re done,” he said, and with that he left. I didn't have long to wait. Judging from the hair I could feel on the first guy’s thighs and chest, I figured it was the hairier stud who came in first, rather than the one I was calling “the former footballer” in my head. He was verbal, and chuckled when he came into the room. “Damn, that’s a sweet view,” I remember him saying. When he crawled onto the bed and poured lube into my ass, he rubbed his finger up and down against my pucker and told me he “Couldn’t wait to ride that boy ass ragged.” I groaned, and made little animal noises. He delivered on his promise. I don’t know if my ex-daddybear told him that I’d enjoyed a rough fuck or not, but my hands were gripping the headboard and I was letting out yelps and groans and moans while this stranger fucked me with what I think was honestly the roughest fuck I’ve ever had. He was brutal, and between that and not knowing anything about him – especially his status – my body was in overdrive. I didn’t come while he fucked me – though despite his rough thrusts I stayed very hard – but I was swearing and pushing back to meet each angry thrust of his cock. When he came in me, he said, “Yeah, take that, boy! Take it!” and the phrasing had me so terrified – and turned on – that I pretty much yowled. The noise was a cross between begging and crying out in fear. He laughed, slapped my ass, thrust a few more times for good measure, and then pulled out. He dressed, fingering me a few times or slapping my ass a few more times, and then with a very casual “Thanks, boy,” he left. It felt like ages before the door to my apartment opened again. I knew this guy was the former footballer, and I could feel the cum from the other guy leaking out of my sore hole. Unlike the first guy, he didn’t speak. He fingered me for a while, which made me groan and twist on his finger since my ass was sore, and then he lined himself up and shoved in. He wasn’t as rough as the first guy – though my ass was so sore it didn’t matter, it still ached and burned – but he had more stamina by far. He gripped my waist and just fucked me. It felt like an hour went by (though it turned out it was closer to twenty minutes) – he changed his tempo a few times, and whenever he’d speed up, I’d groan and moan and push back against him, thinking this was it – but then he’d slow down and take more time. I didn’t speak to either of the two men who fucked me, but I made a lot of noise – I yelped and groaned and moaned and both seemed to like that. The former footballer reamed my ass until he finally pushed forward and buried his load so deep up my roughly fucked pucker that I saw stars. I felt his sweaty chest against my back, and nearly fell off my knees. My dick ached with the need to release. In my head, I was doing the math of the risk, and what my ex-daddybear had said came back to me saying “Admit it – the thought of the risk turns you on.” Damn he knew me. I desperately wanted to cum. The guy left, and I crouched there, ass in the air, on my knees, blindfolded and cuffed to my headboard, while I waited. A while passed, and then my ex-daddybear came into the apartment. He moved around – I imagined he was taking down his cameras again, if he’d set them up before. Eventually I felt him climb onto the bed, and then awkwardly put first one leg, then the other, between me and the headboard. He crouched, pushing his ass against my face. “Eat my ass while daddy marks your poster for you,” he said. I licked at his hairy ass, and listened. “Daddy’s gonna put X’s through the guys who know they are neg,” he said. I head the sharpie squeak on the poster. “That’s one,” he said, and I buried my tongue up his ass. He groaned in satisfaction. I was wild at that moment – so desperate to see – so terrified to know. He pressed back against my face, and I heard the sharpie squeak again. “That’s two.” I licked at him, sucked at him, loved the taste of his sweaty ass. I was going to miss him something fierce. The sharpie squeaked a third time. “That’s three,” he said. He shifted awkwardly, turning around, and I felt his dick enter my lips. I sucked him off, one last time, and he shot his load all over my face, then made me lick his sticky dick clean. He climbed out from where my arms were cuffed, and spent a little longer gathering and cleaning up, then I heard him move around more. Then I heard the click of the light switch and he said “I’ve turned off the lights,” he said, close to my ear, and “I’m going to undo your cuffs, and then I’m going to leave. You don’t take your blindfold off until you count to one hundred, you got it?” “Okay,” I answered. It was the last thing I’d say to him before he left. “Good boy,” he said. Those were the last he said to me. He unlocked the cuffs, and then, true to his word, he left. I counted to one hundred, pulled off the blindfold, and – hands shaking, each still looped in a cuff with the other end not attached to the headboard, I turned on my lamp. At first, I was confused. I looked up at the poster, and instead of the “X” marks he’d said he’d cross through the guys who were neg, I saw that on all four of the guys from which I’d chosen, there were phone numbers written instead, along with the words: “Call them when you want more, fuckboy.” He must have written that before he’d come over, given that I’d only heard short squeaks from the sharpie – only enough to cross out, not enough to write phone numbers. But what....? Then I looked up, remembering the note he’d written. “Three of the guys are sure they’re neg.” At the top of the page, where there was the picture of me getting spitroasted the first time, he’d put three X’s through me, himself, and the hairy fucker who’d plowed me. Those were the three guys who were sure they were neg. I felt cum leak out of my ass, and my whole body shivered. I grabbed my dick, and jerked off into the sheets, looking at the former footballer’s phone number.

As our relationship started to get rocky – he loved to fuck around, as did I, and inevitably I started to realize we were more fuckbuddies than boyfriends, and was young enough for that to make me feel bad sometimes – he’d get a little meaner sometimes. That turned me on, and made our sex life all the more enjoyable, even as it made everything else a bit more confusing for me. Eventually, when he’d had enough of me being alternately clingy and avoiding, he broke it off, though before the week was out, he was over and fucking me, though he made it clear that it was just sex. A month or so later, we weren’t seeing each other more than once a month, but again it was to have sex that was getting all the rougher – he would fuck me with very little lube, and I found I really enjoyed that, especially when he’d talk dirty to me. Then he got offered a job in B.C. He’d be moving in about a month. The second tube arrived about a week after that. It was pretty much like the first one, with a few major differences. One: Instead of “Happy Birthday!” at the top, it had a picture of me being spit-roasted by the daddybear and the hairy guy – both their heads were cut off, though mine wasn’t (though the blindfold was on). Two: At the bottom, there were four guys instead of eight – again, they were burly hairy guys, and again, they were headless and had their dicks out (and were all pretty much exactly my type). Three: The text in the middle led with “Break-up Pimp fuck!” and told me that this time, I should pick one or two of the guys from the four, and I’d get fucked good (twice, if I picked two). My ex-daddybear would show up, help me set up, and then let the guy (or guys) in to have their fun with me. It’d be his goodbye present to me. Four: There was a mailing label with the sharpie and fresh new blindfold. Five: He’d included a handwritten note: “Three of the guys are sure they’re neg.” To say that I was even more a mix of aroused and messed up would be understating it. If I picked one guy, there was a one-in-four chance I’d be getting more than a good fuck. Was I even considering it? God yes I was! But if I picked two guys? That was insane... Except there were two guys there on the poster that really turned my crank – one was another guy who was very hairy, the other was just the perfect mix of what looked like a blue-collar type or a former wrestler who’d started to get soft around the edges – still damned strong – he had no chest hair at all, it looked like. I drove myself crazy for days, made my decision, wrapped up and mailed the tube, and then drove myself even crazier waiting. My ex-daddybear called me to tell me what night he’d be over, and my stomach retied itself in knots. I ended up choosing both guys. My soon-to-be-gone ex-daddybear came over, got me naked, tied on the blindfold, and handcuffed me to my headboard. He awkwardly stood between my arms and I heard him put the poster up over my bed, pinning it in place. Then he stepped out from where my arms were cuffed, and got off the bed. Again, I heard him moving about the room, and finally he leaned in close to my ear and said, “You’re the best fuckboy I ever had. I’m glad you let me set up a proper goodbye for you.” When he kissed me, I got so hard I moaned, and he laughed, slapping my ass, and then pulling away. “I’ll be back when they’re done,” he said – and then he left. Judging from the hair I could feel on the first guy’s thighs and chest, I figured it was the hairier stud who came in first, rather than the one I was calling “the former footballer” in my head. He was verbal, and chuckled when he came into the room. “Damn, that’s a sweet view,” I remember him saying. When he crawled onto the bed and poured lube into my ass, he rubbed his finger up and down against my pucker and told me he “couldn’t wait to ride that boy ass ragged.” I groaned, and made little animal noises. He delivered on his promise. I don’t know if my ex-daddybear told him that I’d enjoyed a rough fuck or not, but my hands were gripping the headboard and I was letting out yelps and groans and moans while this stranger fucked me with what I think was honestly the roughest fuck I’ve ever had. He was brutal, and between that and not knowing anything about him – especially his status – my body was in overdrive. I didn’t come while he fucked me – though despite his rough thrusts I stayed very hard – but I was swearing and pushing back to meet each angry thrust of his cock. When he came in me, he said, “Yeah, take that, boy! Take it!” and the phrasing had me so terrified – and turned on – that I pretty much yowled. The noise was a cross between begging and crying out in fear. He laughed, slapped my ass, thrust a few more times for good measure, and then pulled out. He got dressed, fingering me a few times or slapping my ass a few more times, and then with a very casual “Thanks, boy,” he left. It felt like ages before the door to my apartment opened again. I knew this guy was the former footballer, and I could feel the cum from the other guy leaking out of my sore hole. Unlike the first guy, he didn’t speak. He fingered me for a while, which made me groan and twist on his finger since my ass was sore, and then he lined himself up and shoved in. He wasn’t as rough as the first guy – though my ass was so sore it didn’t matter, it still ached and burned – but he had more stamina by far. He gripped my waist and just fucked me. It felt like an hour went by (though it turned out it was closer to twenty minutes) – he changed his tempo a few times, and whenever he’d speed up, I’d groan and moan and push back against him, thinking this was it – but then he’d slow down and take more time. I didn’t speak to either of the two men who fucked me, but I made a lot of noise – I yelped and groaned and moaned and both seemed to like that. The former footballer reamed my ass until he finally pushed forward and buried his load so deep up my roughly fucked pucker that I saw stars. I felt his sweaty chest against my back, and nearly fell off my knees. My dick ached with the need to release. In my head, I was doing the math of the risk, and what my ex-daddybear had said came back to me. “Admit it – the thought of the risk turns you on.” Damn he knew me. I desperately wanted to cum. The guy left, and I crouched there, ass in the air, on my knees, blindfolded and cuffed to my headboard, while I waited. A while passed, and then my ex-daddybear came into the apartment. He moved around – I imagined he was taking down his cameras again, if he’d set them up before. Eventually, I felt him climb onto the bed, and then awkwardly put first one leg, then the other, between me and the headboard. He crouched, pushing his ass against my face. “Eat my ass while daddy marks your poster for you,” he said. I licked at his hairy ass, and listened. “Daddy’s gonna put X’s through the guys who know they are neg,” he said. I head the sharpie squeak on the poster. “That’s one,” he said, and I buried my tongue up his ass. He groaned in satisfaction. I was wild at that moment – so desperate to see – so terrified to know. He pressed back against my face, and I heard the sharpie squeak again. “That’s two.” I licked at him, sucked at him, loved the taste of his sweaty ass. I was going to miss him something fierce. The sharpie squeaked a third time. “That’s three,” he said. He shifted awkwardly, turning around, and I felt his dick enter my lips. I sucked him off, one last time, and he shot his load all over my face, then made me lick his sticky dick clean. He climbed out from where my arms were cuffed, and spent a little longer gathering and cleaning up, then I heard him move around more. I heard a click. “I’ve turned off the lights,” he said, close to my ear. “I’m going to undo your cuffs, and then I’m going to leave. You don’t take your blindfold off until you count to one hundred, you got it?” “Okay,” I said. It was the last thing I’d say to him before he left. “Good boy,” he said. That was the last he said to me. He unlocked the cuffs, and then, true to his word, he left. I counted. At one hundred, I pulled off the blindfold, and – hands shaking, each still looped in a cuff with the other end not attached to the headboard, I turned on my lamp. At first, I was confused. I looked up at the poster, and instead of the “X” marks he’d said he’d cross through the guys who were neg, I saw that on all four of the guys from which I’d chosen, there were phone numbers written instead, along with the words: “Call them when you want more, fuckboy.” He must have written that before he’d come over, given that I’d only heard short squeaks from the sharpie – only enough to cross out, not enough to write phone numbers. But what..? Then I looked up. I remembered the note he’d written. “Three of the guys are sure they’re neg.” At the top of the page, where there was the picture of me getting spitroasted the first time, he’d put three X’s through me, himself, and the hairy fucker who’d plowed me. Those were the three guys who were sure they were neg. I felt cum leak out of my ass, and my whole body shivered. I grabbed my dick, and jerked off into the sheets, looking at the former footballer’s phone number.

When I was still dating my ex – an older daddybear type who definitely opened my eyes to many new facets of sex that I found thrilling, kinky, nasty or scary (and all the more thrilling for being kinky, scary or nasty) – he would bring over some DVDs or VHS cassettes (and his VCR, since I didn’t own one) of his favourite porn, and we’d watch them together. It was a kind of litmus test, I think – he’d watch my reaction (and my dick) to see what new discoveries he could show me and expand my horizons and sexual appetites to include. This was how I learned I had a thing for bears, and how he convinced me to visit a glory hole (and suck my first anonymous cock), and how he got me to try handcuffs, and get spanked, and all sorts of other things. His favourites were always pretty much a reflection of us – older hairy types (usually burly rather than gym-muscular) and younger smaller types (or otter types), but definitely the big older stud fucking the younger fella. Preferably bareback. All of this turned my on like crazy – and most of the time we wouldn’t make it to the end of the cassette or DVD because I’d go down on him, and that’d lead to him fucking me, and pretty much ended our viewing session until we were sweaty and sticky. When he showed me his copy of “Dawson’s 20 Load Weekend” we had some pretty hot fucking sex thereafter, and the entire time he was plowing me, his beard was at my ear. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he’d say, grabbing my waist and ramming himself home. “Getting fucked over and over, fucking filled to overflowing, eh?” God it got me hot. After that video, he showed me “What I Can’t See.” In that one, a blindfolded guy gets fucked by random studs, and holy crap that was even more of a turn on. When my daddybear fucked me during that movie, he covered my eyes with my shirt first (pulling it over my head half-way) and this time his voice added another layer. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he said again. “Getting fucked by strangers? Anonymous studs fucking your ass, eh?” I blew a massive load that night. Over the days and weeks that followed, he’d tease confessions out of me. Yes, I found both videos incredibly erotic. Yes, I had to admit the thought of being fucked by some stranger was definitely hot. Yes, being blindfolded would make it even hotter... But it must have been obvious that I was a freaked out as much as I was turned on. He understood my attraction/aversion struggle, and teased me over and over again, showing me more scenes, fucking me and talking nasty to me, and bringing the discussion around again and again, nudging a little further every time. Soon we were talking not just about anonymous blindfolded sex with strangers, but without condoms, and that was a topic that – at first – had me totally freaked out (but rock hard, as he’d point out, often with his finger up my ass). When I finally voiced my real concern – “what about, y’know, the danger?” – I hadn’t even really managed to say it out and out – what about the fact I was negative? – he just nodded, but while he was fucking me that night – me wearing a blindfold – he whispered in my ear. “Yeah, you don’t know who I am, do you? Just some random dick up your ass. You can’t even see me. You don’t know anything about me. For all you know, I’m about to fill you with dirty cum. Admit it – the thought of the risk turns you on.” I shot all over my stomach while he fucked me, his hairy stomach sliding over my load while he rammed in deep and unloaded, and was even more confused – and aroused – after that. Then came my birthday. I should mention here that my daddybear was a graphic designer, more or less, as his job. He’d make me sexy posters sometimes, or take pictures of me and do things to the image – putting my face on the body of a guy getting gangbanged, for example. He was good at it, and at least once a month there’d be some sort of picture in my in-box or a printout on my bed. I still have them. My birthday was coming, and he had a surprise for me. We’d been fucking – I think I was handcuffed to the bedrail and he’d been doing me doggy style for leverage – and afterwards we’d lay down in the bed and he’d reached under it for my present. It came in a large tube – it was basically a poster, though there was a blindfold and a sharpie in the tube as well. When I unrolled it, it said, at the top “Happy Birthday!” and at the bottom there were two rows of four guys, each cut off around the neck and knees, naked. They were all more or less my “type” – big guys, some hairier than others, some more gym-strong than burly-strong – a mix of studs that definitely made me grin. Beneath the “Happy Birthday!” and above the eight graphics, however, was a box of text. It led with “Your Birthday Spit-roast Surprise!” To paraphrase, it said that for my birthday, my daddybear had arranged for eight possible hook-ups with guys I’d never met. Each of the men pictured below (though without faces), had seen all sorts of pictures of me, and even watched one or two of the videos the daddybear had taken of himself fucking me or me sucking him and were definitely interested in fucking me – bareback – and dumping a load in me while I was blindfolded and sucking the daddybear’s dick. That’d be my birthday party. I stared at my daddybear, and my dick got rock hard, even though we’d just fucked. “Seriously?” I said. He nodded. “You just gotta pick one. I’d love to watch your ass get tagged by any of those fuckers.” He gave me the marker, and made a circling gesture. Then, he leaned in, and whispered in my ear. “And maybe one of those studs isn’t entirely sure about his status.” I immediately started shaking. And got hornier. And more confused. And aroused. And afraid. Everything all at once. My birthday was in four days. The next three days were a mess – I was up and down about making a decision. I pulled out the poster and stared at it a few times, and when I came home on the night before my birthday, the poster was pinned up over my bed, and the marker was on my pillow. One of the guys was incredibly hairy – the hairiest guy I’d ever seen. You could barely see his nipples on his chest. He was a bear in shape as well – thick chested, with a bit of a gut, and a thick cock nestled in the pubic hair. I circled that one with the sharpie, and barely slept at all that night. I knew my daddybear would check my apartment while I was at work the next day, and that when I got home... I jerked myself off thinking about it, even as I felt my stomach ache with worry. When I got home, sure enough, he was there. We had a slice of cake, and then he brought out the blindfold, checked his watch, and grinned at me. “Time for your party.” I got naked, and he got naked and settled on my bed, legs spread, and I crawled between them and started to suck his cock. After a while, he tied the blindfold on me, and instantly my hearing seemed to be in overdrive. He got up, leaving me on the bed, and moved around the room for a while, leaving me there, aroused and completely at a loss and helpless. I heard him moving things, and assumed it was at least one camera – he liked to take pictures of us, like I said. Then he came back to the bed, and I went down on him again. A short while later – which felt like an eternity of sucking on his hard cock while my stomach turned in knots – I heard my apartment door open, and my entire body shook. My ex put his hands on my head, and held me down on his dick while I heard someone come into the room, undo his belt and strip, and then felt the bed shift behind me. The stranger I’d picked never said a word. He ate my ass for a while, slurping and licking at my hole and making me moan and writhe and shift from being terrified to being turned on to being totally aroused – nothing makes me hornier than having a bearded mouth rim my pucker – and between this stranger’s attention, the dick in my mouth, and my daddybear’s commentary, I was soon so incredibly turned on I was up on my hands and knees, pushing my ass into the stranger’s face. Blindfolded, every other sensation went crazy. The man’s hands on my ass and waist seemed incredibly rough. His breathing seemed loud. My daddybear’s precome tasted incredible. His voice seemed to fill the room. “He’s gonna fuck you raw, birthday boy,” my daddybear said, and I nearly came on the spot, moaning around his dick. When the stranger’s hairy arms pressed into my sides and he guided his cockhead into my hole, I did come. I shot all over my sheets and moaned like crazy while the daddybear fucked my throat. I heard the guy laugh behind me – a low chuckle, and then he pushed himself home. As soon as his dick was inside me, it was like being electrocuted. I buzzed, shivered, writhed. Four hands held me tight and two dicks fucked me at both ends. The lack of lube – though there was plenty of spit – made my ass tight and raw against the thick cock up my hole, and my daddybear’s balls started to tighten almost the moment the man behind me was inside me. He came pretty soon after, too – though he kept his dick in my mouth and soon grew hard again while I sucked and slurped up his cum. I was moaning, grunting, and basically throwing myself back on the anonymous cock that was fucking me. The man was so hairy – I could feel his thighs and arms and, when he leaned forward, his stomach and chest, and the sensation had me half-way to another orgasm. He wasn’t exceptionally rough, but he wasn’t gentle, either – it was a strong man’s fuck, and I felt every thrust. When he gripped me and let out a low series of grunts, I knew it was coming. The realize of just how anonymous this was – how I didn’t know this guy’s status – hit me and it was the most intense moment of my life. When he came the series of liquid bursts up my ass seemed so hot I actually yelped, my daddybear’s dick coming out of my mouth. I reached down and jerked my dick and shot in moments. Total mindfuck. The big hairy stud I never saw got off the bed shortly after that – pulling his dick out of me only after his load had completely blown up my ass, and then I heard him getting dressed. The entire time, my daddybear kept speaking. “Yeah, that’s what he wanted for his birthday, all right.” “Fuck yeah, you filled his ass, didn’t you?” “You liked that, didn’t you boy? You liked his cock up your ass?” I was squirming, aware I was naked, dripping spunk from my ass and my chin, and that a man was watching me who’d just fucked me and I didn’t know who he was. He got dressed – again I head his zipper, his belt – and then he left. My daddybear fucked my face until he came again, and then told me to stay put while he moved around the room. He fingered my ass a few times, and pushed his cummy finger to my lips for me to taste, and then eventually he let me take off the blindfold. He picked up the sharpie, and went to the poster, still naked. “This guy knows he was clean,” he said, and scratched off one of the studs I hadn’t picked. I realized he was going to tell me, one by one, and watched him intent. The reality that the guy fucking me might have given me more than a load hit me again, and I shook while – achingly slowly – my daddybear crossed off stud after stud, saying “Clean,” or “Neg.” He, of course, left the last two choices to include the guy I’d picked and one other, and then, with a malicious smirk, crossed off the guy I’d just let fuck me raw and said, “Clean.” He drew a question mark on the other guy. My whole body flushed. Then my daddybear rolled me over, got hard again, and fucked me with the other guy’s cum as lube.

It’s very rare that I go to the local bear bar. For one, I’m a little guy. Oh, I’m tall enough, I clear six feet with a little left over to spare, but I’m pretty slim (and that’s on a week where I’m feeling good about myself, otherwise I have to use the dreaded “skinny” word). Thing is, I’ve always been interested in the bear type. Unfortunately, those husky, rough, stocky guys rarely seem to like little guys like me. I’m not a large guy, have dark red hair that turns brown on my head, but stays a dark read on my goatee, chest, and everywhere else. I’ve also got mismatched eyes - the right one is green, the left one is blue. They’re both pretty dark, and it’s hard to tell until you’re up close, but every now and then, someone notices, and they always get extra points. But, regardless, I’m a little guy. One guy once said, “I’d be afraid to break you.” Hey, I might like getting broken. I’m digressing, where was I? Oh, right. I had a rare weekend off from working my retail job, and having a confident day, I decided to head out to the local bear-pub. I sat out on the patio for most of the late afternoon with a book, since it was nice weather, then went inside and stuck my book behind the bar with the bartender and set about to some bear-watching. One of the benefits of Ottawa having only one real bear-bar is that all the bears come visit. Even better, being in the nation’s capital has the added bonus of attracting a lot of travellers (though, I’ll admit, Toronto and Montreal have more traffic, and I’ve sure had fun at the bottom of a big ol’ pile of bears in both cities, but I’m digressing again). I’m sitting at the window-table, which is round and normally seats about five, but it’s early and no one is really here yet - and a lot of people are outside smoking (yeah, anti-smoking laws, it sucks. I don’t smoke, but man do I love to watch a stocky man puff on a cigar). And then in walks a man in - I kid you not - a security guard outfit. Now, normally, I’d think to myself, “Roleplay.” But it’s a tad early, and he seems to have a really “real” outfit, right down to highly polished boots. He’s about my height, but he’s a big guy - stocky in the right ways - not a cut muscular body-builder, more like what you’d call “Farm muscle.” He was strong in a beefy stocky way that you know came from honest hard work, not gym bunny stuff. Add to that a full beard and hair dark enough that you could see it all over his forearms and I was thinking it might be worthwhile to get arrested. Anyway, he grabbed a beer, and sat down to drink it, looking around vaguely. He caught me staring at him, and so I nodded and tried to look nonchalant. He nodded back and went back to his beer. That’s about typical. After I finished my drink (and he was on his second beer), I wandered past him (nice thick hands, and - lo - a wedding ring), and went to the pool table. Normally I just watch, but I was bored, and I figured I could stare at the officer stud between shots at the table without looking too obtrusive. He was near the end of the bar, well within sight of the pool table in the lower room to the rear of the bar. I put down my loonie, and when the current game ended between two bears I vaguely knew from the “Bear Brunches,” I got to play the winner. I am willing to admit that I chatted up the two to see if they knew the uniform man, and they said they didn’t. When he strolled over on his third beer and put down a loonie, I suddenly wished I could play pool worth a damn. Suddenly, however, the bear I was playing got very bad at pool (he winked at me as he sank the 8-ball by “accident”) and I ended up playing with the officer. Oh man. I could barely speak. For one, he’d undone the first two buttons on his dress shirt now, and there was a veritable forest of black hair in there to play with. For two, he was being friendly enough. I learned that he was here for some sort of cop/peace-officer/corrections-officer parade and event. His arm-badge said “Correctional Services Correctionnels, Ontario.” The man worked in a prison in a fair sized city up north. Have I mentioned I could barely speak? Married, no kids. Damned good pool player. I was struggling for the game not to end quickly, but I lost pretty fast, and he offered me another shot. I laughed, told him I sucked (unintentional advertisement, I assure you), but he shrugged and said he had the rest of the day free, and that the parade proper didn’t start until the next day. I found out he was in the Lord Elgin (nice place), had his own room, and did I mention I could barely speak? Then the bombshell. When I asked him what brought him to the Centretown Pub, he says, “I was just walking and it looked like a good place for a beer.” Crish-crash for the hopes and dreams of this little otterboy. Married, Prison Guard... straight. Oops. Part of me wanted to tell him that he was in a gay bar. The other part of me figured that if he hadn’t noticed the way he was getting ogled, and how swishy the bartender was, then he had no right to be a corrections officer anyway. As the bar filled up, I noticed him casting odd glances around, and we played another three games (I actually won one when he missed the 8 ball at the end), and I bought him a beer for the sole reason of gloating to the rest of the bar with my eyes that yes, I was here with the prison guard. They could do without knowing he was straight and married. We were crammed in at the bar when he finally turned to me and said, “You’re gay.” I couldn’t help it. He stated it with such vague unease that it made me laugh. Here was a big strong husky stocky prison guard stud and he’s uncomfortable with a little guy like me. I’m probably giving myself too much credit - there was a bar full of bears by this point, all looking at him. I managed to wipe the smirk off my face and nodded, and said, “Yup. It’s okay, I saw your ring.” He looked at it, smiled, and had another swig. Talk was better then. He eased up on the topic, and I admitted that it was fun to be chatting with him in front of all the other bears. Then I had to explain what a bear was. He laughed at that one. He asked a few intelligent questions about a guy my age being in this particular bar (I’m 26, and the average patron was likely in his late thirties/early forties), so I explained my “tastes” in older stocky beary men. By this point I was tipsy (like I said, little guy I am, third or fourth beer by now), so I was likely flirting a little. He eventually glanced at his watch, saw it was nearly midnight, and said he should probably try and find his way back to his hotel. Well, being the consummate gentleman I am, I offered to walk him to his hotel, which he accepted easily enough. I left the bar with the stare of a dozen envious bears on my back, and I soaked it up happily. While we were walking, however, his questions got a little bit more intense, and I started to wonder about my new friend the security guard. “How long have you liked older guys then?” he asked. I told a particularly poor-taste story of how I got my first real hard on as a twelve year old sitting on Santa’s lap as a gag with some friends. “So you like older older men,” he said. I shook my head, and said I usually preferred men in their late thirties, like himself. He grinned at me through that awesome fucking beard and said, “Son, if you think I’m in my late thirties, then you’re welcome on my lap anytime.” He laughed a little while he said it, but the combination of “Son” and the notion of sitting on his lap had me hard. My jeans were a little too tight to be comfortable, and I got all tongue tied, but managed to say “Yes, sir.” He glanced at me, and smiled at that, and suddenly the look in his eyes struck me as more than friendly. I got even harder. Unfortunately, as anyone knows who has lived in Ottawa, the Centretown Pub and the Lord Elgin Hotel aren’t that far apart. I was there before I wanted to be, and gestured to the doors, “There you are, sir.” He nodded, “You like saying that, eh, son?” Another thrill at being referred to as ‘son.’ “Saying what?” I tried to be a little coy. “Sir,” he said, and smiled again, “Like the guys we’ve got in the cells.” Oh help. I swear to God my knees got weak. “Yes, sir,” I managed again, but it came out wobbly. He looked at the hotel again, and then at me, and said, “Come on.” I had no trouble saying “Yes, sir,” that time. In his room, which was a nice little room with two windows on one of the corners, and a fairly large bed and two chairs, he turned on the television, and yanked his shirt out from his belted pants. I got a brief flash of a stocky hairy torso, and swallowed hard. He flipped on the television, and then sat on his bed. I stood there awkwardly for a moment, and then sat down on the edge of the bed. “Some of the guys offer to suck me,” he said, in his rolling deep voice, “They say no one sucks a cock like another guy.” My mouth watered, and I said, “Sounds about right, sir.” “Would cost me my job,” he said, and looked at me, “So I never found out.” I nodded. “Suck my dick,” he ordered. Oh man, I can’t tell you how my whole body jerked when he said it. I pretty much threw myself at his crotch, and started to undo his belt. “Yes, sir!” I said, and in about four seconds I had his belt undone, his zipper down, and tugged down his white briefs enough to get his cock out. Thick, uncut, and fuck did he have a hot man scent going on. Hairy bush tickled my nose as I started licking his shaft a little. Even soft he was thick, and I knew that he might not be long when he was hard - maybe six and a half inches - but he’d be thick. I swallowed him, and he got hard pretty damned quick. I dug my tongue under his foreskin, and licked around his cockhead. He liked that, and grabbed the back of my head with one hand and shoved me down on his cock when I did that. “Yeah son, suck that dick,” he moaned, in his grumbly voice, “suck it good, fuck yeah.” I went down on him with a vengeance, and he got so hard and thick my spit was dribbling down his shaft and getting his pubic hairs wet. He kept shoving my head down agains this crotch, and once he did it so forcefully that I started to gag. He pulled me back, and as his cock slapped up against his hairy stomach he said, “I thought you could suck cock good, son.” “I’m sorry, sir!” I said, and he smiled at me with a really hot look in his eyes. “That’s how you want it, eh?” He shoved my head back into his crotch, “Lick my balls, son. Lick em good.” I sucked on his balls, licked them, and said, “yes sir!” as often as I could between licks. He mashed my face into his groin, then put my mouth back on his cockhead again and ordered me to suck. I sucked. It got faster and hotter, and wanting to test the boundaries a little, I put one of my hands under his shirt and ran it over his furry chest. His pecs were hard with my sucking, and he felt like he looked - like a stocky football player or something. He didn’t move my hands, so I kept exploring. With one hand I wrapped my fingers around his cock so I could give his cockhead more attention, with the other I found one nipple in his hairy chest and started to roll it between my thumb and forefinger. That god a deep moan. “Fuck yeah, son, suck my cock... play with my chest... you want it, don’t you, son...” “Yes sir! I’m your boy!” I gasped out, and went back to sucking again. His balls were drawing tight, and I could feel his entire body tense. “You want my cum down that throat, son? That what you want?” I just sucked harder, running my tongue around his cockhead furiously, and he grabbed my head with both hands and shoved me down his meat - I felt his load shoot into my throat, and I nearly gagged again, but he held me fast on his dick. “Fuck yeah, son!” he yelled. I swallowed furiously, but quite a bit of it leaked out around my lips and onto his bush. He grunted, fucking my face, and I swallowed more. Finally, he slumped back, and released his hold. I kept sucking, and then released his cock and licked up all the cum from his pubic hairs. Fuck he was hot - salty and slick. I lay there on his legs, and he smiled down at me. I licked my lips, and said, “Thank you, sir.” He put his rough thumb in my mouth, and I sucked it. He chuckled, “You keep that up, boy, and I’m gonna want it again.” Boy. Fuck. Nothing makes me hotter than bein called Boy. Goddamn. I suckled his thumb more insitantly, and he grinned, “Get up, son.” I got up, regretfully, but I had a belly full of cum and that would have to be enough. But he just got up, went to the bathroom, and wiped off the bits of his cum that were on his bush. When he came back out, the shirt was undone, revealing his hot stocky fur-covered chest, and he was only wearing his briefs, having left the pants in the bathroom. He stood above me beside the bed, and grabbed my crotch, feeling my hard on. “You’re turned on, eh son?” “Yessir,” I said. I was never going to tire of saying that. “I ain’t gonna suck that, boy. I ain’t no pussyboy.” “Nosir!” I said. He smiled, and leaned right into my face, “You making fun of me, boy?” “No Sir!” He smiled, “Sometimes the boys make fun of us guards. Think we’re stupid. You think I’m stupid, boy?” “No sir!” “Good,” he said, but he was still holding my crotch. God it felt good to have this hot fucking stud holding my hard-on, even through my jeans. “You get fucked, boy?” I writhed! “Yes sir, please sir!” He kept a hard grip on my dick. “The guys say they suck better than a chick, and you proved that right. They also say they fuck better than a pussy - is that right, boy?” “Oh yes sir!” He was squeezing. It was starting to hurt my balls but fuck it was turning me on. “Please sir, fuck me!” He laughed, and let go, “Show me your ass, boy.” I fumbled with my pants, but got them off as fast as I could, and tugged off my briefs the same way. Obediently, I rolled over on my tummy, and put my ass up in the air like a good pussyboy. He held my ass with both hands - gripped it roughly with those awesome calloused hands, and I got so damned hard all over again. I balanced on one arm and jerked my cock with the other, but only got in one stroke before he’d grabbed both my hands and wrestled himself on top of me. My cock was pressed against the bed, and I could feel his hard on again through his briefs, right near the crack of my ass. I writhed. “Don’t you know that boys aren’t allowed to touch themselves on my watch?” I moaned, “No, sir! Sorry, sir!” He kept my wrists in one of his big hands, and started reaching for something. He couldn’t reach, so he dragged me up a bit, and I stumbled, but he kept me on my feet as we walked to the closet by the door. My hard-on strained out ahead of me, and I could feel the hair on his forearm against my back. Fuck I needed to cum! He grabbed something, and before I knew it, he was shoving me back towards the bed, climbing back on my, pinning my legs under his own knees, and then, with a quick and obviously practiced motion, he cuffed me. The feel of hte handcuffs make me moan out loud. “You can’t touch yourself now, boy.” He let go of my wrists, and I started to struggle. He laughed. Oh man. He grabbed my ass again now, one cheek in both hands, and rubbed. “My wife never lets me fuck her ass, boy. Says it hurts. It hurt, boy?” “Yes, sir!” I tried not to sound pathetic, and was rubbing my cock against the bed furiously. Oh man oh man... “I don’t care if it hurts boy, I’m gonna fuck that ass. Looks nice and tight, boy. Better than a pussy, right boy?” “Oh yessir!” I was nearly yelling now, and he laughed, enjoying my frantic humping of the bed. With a yank from both hands, I was up on my knees again, my face pressed against the bed, but my cock up away from the bed, rock hard and aching. He spat at my hole, and I thrashed. He laughed again, “Gonna fuck your ass, boy.” “Please sir, fuck my ass sir! Ride me hard, sir!” He pulled his cock out of his underwear again, and teased me by putting his cockhead at my hole. “You want that boy?” I tried to shove my ass back onto his cock, but he kept my ass in place with his hands. The strength of him turned me on and was pushing me over the edge, I was writhing, “Please sir, fuck me, fuck my ass, plow this boy!” I kept chanting it over and over. He shoved himself into me with one brutal thrust, and I fucking saw stars! I screamed with it - he filled me up with his thick fucking cock up to bursting, and with only one glob of spit I was on fire! It burned, it felt like he was breaking me up inside, and I yelled. He grabbed the back of my head with one hand and shoved my face into the covers of the bed, “Fucking tight ass, boy!” he yelled, “You wanted it rough, boy, you’re gonna get fucked!” “Please, sir! Wait.. You’re... ahhh!” was about as far as I got before he pulled himself back, and just before popping his cockhead out, he shoved himself back in again, and I was screaming again. He did this three or four times, a slow pull out, and a rough fuck in, and I felt myself collapsing under him. Only his hands, now back on my ass, kept me on my knees for him. My hands were straining in the cuffs, and without any more warning, he started to fuck me faster. “Fuck yeah boy, tight fucking ass... better than pussy... fuck yeah... take it, boy, take it...” He grunted while he assaulted my ass, and through the burning it started to work into that rubbing that feels fucking awesome - the slamming of a cock inside that lets you know you are being ridden by a fucking man. I moaned again, feeling my hard on returning, and he started getting more verbal. “You little pussyboy, you take that cock, you’re just a fucking pussy fag, arent you boy?” “Yes sir!” I would yell, over and over, while he slamfucked my ass. Before long, his pace went from fast to furious, and he started shoving me down with each thrust, his hands biting into my ass they were clenching so hard. I could feel his dick getting thicker, and fuck I was mad with it, I started begging. “Give me your load sir! Cream this boypussy, sir!” He let out a long, harsh yell, and fucked me so hard my knees started to bounce up off the damned bed, and with his yell he shot a hot liquid load up my ass. His second load wasn’t as big as his first, but the feel of it shoved me right over the edge and came as he collapsed on top of me. He lay there, heavy on top of me, dick still inside me throbbing last bits of cum down my hole, and I could barely breathe. My ass felt like it would never get tight again, and leaked his cum. My shoulders burned from the cuffs, and he rubbed his beard against my neck, moving his mouth to my ears, and said, “Better than pussy, boy.” He rolled off me, but left me cuffed like that while he got himself cleaned up. He was fucking rugged looking - cum dripping from his cock, his underwear wet with it, his shirt all rumpled and pits wet with sweat, chest hair damp with it. He washed his face, and cleaned his cock, then he made me ask him to be released, a process that involved many “Sir”s and begging. He let me spend the night, and in the morning he fucked me again, this time with me on my back, arms still cuffed behind me, so he could watch my face. He said he liked that better, and ordered me to give him his number, and gave me an extra “Correctional Services Correctionnels, Ontario” badge. Apparently, these Correctional Officer Parade things happen on a semi-regular basis. I can’t wait for the next one. I also wonder if he’s as worried about his job anymore. If he’s not, I’m damned fucking envious of the convicts in his home town.

At our yearly meeting, we use the same hotel every year, and the meetings go pretty long each day. As a result, our breakfasts and lunches tend to be buffet-style, and rather bland. The head office folk seem to realize this, and every year, the three nights we’re there, the dinners are done with little cards that get left in our rooms. The cards have three choices for a starter, five choices for an entrée, with options, four or five drink options, and desserts. You circle what you’d like, and give it to the hotel staff with your table number, and at the dinner, that’s what you get. The first day, I met my roommate for the first time in the half-hour between the end of meeting and the first dinner, and I couldn’t have been happier – he was in his mid-late forties, wide-shouldered, thick chested, with just the beginning of a gut, he had a beard of his just-starting-to-grey hair, and clear grey eyes. In short, he was a hot daddy type, and I was quite keen on getting as much of an eyeful in our all-too-short room-mate times. He seemed quite chatty, which was good, but he had a gruff voice that made my dick thicken on a regular basis. I went to the first meal feeling horny and frustrated. Dinner was good – everything I’d circled, and I admit I rushed through it to get back to my room as soon as possible, but he hadn’t come back yet. A bit dejected, I showered (I hate trying to shower and race to the first meeting session, so I always showered the night before), and then changed into boxers and a t-shirt for lying on the bed and reading. He showed up at about eleven that night, and it was obvious he’d gone out for a beer (or two) after the dinner. He smiled, re-introduced himself with a hand-shake (Roger), asked my name again (he’d forgotten), and was a lot more gregarious than before. He flipped on the television, stripped off his dress shirt, and I was in heaven. The man was a hairy guy, shoulders and chest, and when he shucked his dress pants and revealed boxer-briefs, I had to try hard not to stare at the package. His legs were thick – solid, strong thighs, and I felt my dick get hard again. The television sucked, except for a commercial, where downloadable entertainment to a cell-phone or something, was being explained as “entertainment in your lap,” or something like that, and the last image was off a hot soccer player type in the lap of a guy in an airport. “I could handle that,” Roger muttered, grinning. “Looks like a fun place to be,” I nodded, and he glanced at me. I gave a half-embarrassed shrug, and we hit a silence for a bit. I could barely stand it, and finally gave up and slid off my bed, sort of walked over on my knees, and planted my face down in his boxer-briefs. He laughed, and said, “Good boy!” and I worked my way in as fast as I could, found his cock already half-hard, and slurped his fat dick right up. He let out a little moan, and his hand found the back of my neck. He had a thick cock, a meaty shaft, and was uncut (a favourite of mine, as I love swirling my tongue around under the skin), and his balls were heavy and hairy. I rubbed and stroked his balls while I sucked him, and he pushed on the back of my neck in an authoritative way I liked. When he said “good boy,” again, I moaned around his dick, and I could almost hear Roger grinning. He knew I was a “good boy” all right. Alas, it was all too soon that I was chugging cum, and be damned if I was going to miss a drop. I gagged a little – he was a surger, not a slow cummer, but I got it all down, and he rubbed the back of my neck for a bit. “Thanks, boy,” he said, and I looked up and saw a great grin – almost nasty, but mostly pleased. I grinned back. “Anytime, sir,” I said, and then rose. It was obvious we had to crash for the night for tomorrow’s meetings, which sucked, but hey. At least I’d gotten to blow him. Hopefully there was a repeat after dinner tomorrow. If only I’d known! The next day, during the breakfast buffet, I saw Roger briefly, and he handed me an envelope, like the ones the hotel staff left in our room to pick our dinners. Bemused, I went to open it, and he shook his head, and said, “Take a bathroom break with that, and bring a pen.” I nodded, and said, “See you later.” He winked. I didn’t last long in the first meeting, too eager to get to the bathroom. Inside, Roger had made a mock-up of the dinner order card (which I’ll try to add as a jpeg if I can ever scan the damn thing), as follows: Starters Your choice of: Dad-dick and boy-lips, mouthwatering and salty. Dad-ass and boy-tongue, deeper the better. Dad-hands and boy-cock, jerked to perfection. Entrees Your choice of: Gentle dad-cock in boy-hole, with a crème sauce. Rough dad-cock in boy-hole, gags as required for neighbouring rooms comfort. Doggy-style boy-hole, with hard pounded dad-cock. Dad-tongue and boy-hole, deep and long. Dad-fingers or hands in boy-hole, up to elbow deep on request. All meals come raw, with saliva sauce, but upon request, rubbers and/or lube can be added to your entrée. Drinks Your choice of: Cum Freshly squeezed pit sweat Piss juice up boy-hole (available in shower stall) Boy-spit, fresh from dad’s nipple Desserts Your choice of: Dad-fingers dipped in cummy boy-hole, finger-licking good Dad-tongue in boy-hole sauce, mouth-watering Red boy-ass, freshly dad-spanked. I nearly shot a load right there in the stall, I got so hard. I scribbled on Roger’s mock order sheet (especially taking care to circle, many times, the “raw with saliva sauce”) my selections and then couldn’t resist adding at the bottom: “Please note I have a specialized diet, and require multiple servings to maintain a healthy lifestyle. I have marked these with stars.” I managed to stuff the note back into the envelope, and I felt it in my shirt pocket all through the morning meetings (Roger was in another group). When I saw him at lunch, I handed it over wordlessly and grinned, then shot back to my table with my plate of buffet. Evening meetings dragged on for-fucking-ever. I bee-lined back to the hotel room after dinner (I skipped dessert, claiming fullness, much to the shock of my co-workers) and hopped into the shower, careful to give my hole a lot of cleaning attention. I got out of the shower, and basically vibrated on my bed for about half an hour, waiting for Roger to come back to the room. When I heard the door click open with the magnetic card, my dick jumped. I was sprawled out naked on my bed, and when Roger came around the corner, he was holding the mock-up order card and grinning with a lot more of the nasty than last night. “So,” he said in his gravelly voice, “Let’s see. You’ve selected the Dad-dick and boy-lips, mouthwatering and salty. That’s a very good choice. And for your meal, you’d like the Doggy-style boy-hole, with hard pounded dad-cock, which I promise you has been excellently prepared this evening. And I notice you’ve strongly suggested that you don’t need any extra condiments, which makes me very happy. You’ll be drinking cum and pit-sweat, which I’ll point out is two selections, but the management is feeling generous tonight, and for dessert you’re going to have the dad-fingers dipped in boy-hole, brought fresh to your mouth for your licking pleasure. Excellent.” He smiled at me, “And we noticed your extra dietary needs, and I did bring an order of rough dad-cock with a gag, and I promise you the red-spanked boy-ass is a remarkable experience.” I laughed, and then he said, “Get that mouth on my dick, boy.” I sucked him just like the night before, if a little more frantic, and he stepped out of his pants and shucked his shirt while I knelt before him on the floor. I gobbled his dick, and he gripped my short hair with one hand, shoving my head up and down on his cock while he grunted and said, “yeah, boy,” and “good boy.” It wasn’t long before he said, “up,” and tugged on my hair, and I climbed up onto the bed, facing my aching ass out towards him. God I wanted him to fuck me. He spat on my hole and rubbed his fingertip around, and pushed his finger into my hole once, then twice. “You are fucking tight, boy,” he said, “Daddy is going to rip you open.” “Yes please, sir,” I begged, and he laughed with his gravelly voice. He spat on my hole a few more times, and some into his hand, which he rubbed with the spit from my blowing him, and then I felt his thick cock-head at my hole. I took a deep breath, tried to relax my hole, and he grabbed one of my shoulders with one hand. “Tell me you want daddy to sperm your hole, boy.” “Breed me, daddy,” I begged. He shoved into me with a violent thrust, and I yelled into the pillow. He stayed inside me for a moment, breathing heavy, and leaned over me. “Boy want his gag now? We can combine two entrees with no extra charge?” I nodded, and he pulled out just as roughly. I let another grimace and gasp out, and then he was back behind me, his beard tickling my neck as he spoke. “If daddy puts this gag on, how you going to tell him if he’s being too tough on you, boy?” “If the boy passes out,” I said, voice throaty, “Then daddy is being too tough.” He grabbed my throat, and his whiskers were at my ear. “You are a fucking smart-ass boy, and daddy loves fucking a smart ass boy,” he said, and then shoved the tie in my mouth, tying it around my open jaw. He repositioned himself behind me, grabbing the back of my neck this time instead of my shoulder, and holding his cock at my hole with his other hand, he said, “Daddy is going to fuck you now, boy.” He shoved in again, and I screamed into the gag, muffled. He held himself inside for a while, then slowly pulled back, inching his dick out of my ass, to the point where he almost came out of me, then shoved forward again, his hand clenching on the back of my neck. I made another hoarse muffled cry, and he chuckled. “Too damned tight, boy. If you’d been a better boy and had a looser hole, you’d be having as much fun as daddy.” He pulled out again, and shoved again, and the spit and raw skin was barely enough lubrication for my ass. I burned with it, but he showed no mercy – as a good daddy never does – and soon I was barely catching my breath between yells as he pounded the shit out of my ass with his dad-cock. Sweat, as he’d promised, leaked from his pits and chest, dripping on the small of my back as he thrust in and out of me. My ass stung with it, my elbows and knees shook from taking the force of his fucking, and I was making animal noises deep in my throat with every stroke. He fucked like a mad-man, calling me a boy slut, a boy whore, his boy hole. And when I was sure I couldn’t take any more, he began a series of thrusts that were lifting my knees off the bed, before he grunted deep and planted his seed so far up my hole I felt it would leak from my nostrils. The immediate relief of the hot cum inside my battered hole was intense, and I sobbed into my gag. Roger held himself inside, and I felt one, then two more spurts of cum from his throbbing cock. And then, roughly, he yanked himself out of me, and he shoved my back so I collapsed onto the bed. He pushed his rough fingers into my hole with one hand, and yanked at the gag with the other. “Here’s your drink and dessert, boy, eat it all up!” he snarled, shoving his cummy fingers into my mouth. I licked and sucked them four or five times, he re-dipping them into my battered hole, I greedily sucking the cum from them. Then he collapsed down beside me, lifted his left arm and shoved my face into his pit, where I licked and sucked at the sweat. We lay like that for a while, breathing and quiet, and then he turned to me and grinned in that nasty way. His right hand was running small circles on my ass. “You still want your red-spanked boy-ass now? Or maybe for tomorrow’s entrée after all.” I grinned, “Tomorrow,” I agreed, “Although I hope there are fresh options on the menu card.” There were, but that’s another chapter of this story. It turned out that we weren’t quite done for the night – I sucked him off twice more over the course of the night, and in the morning, he got three fingers into my ass and talked dirty to me while I beat off a nice sticky mess for the cleaning staff to tidy, before we went off to our respective meetings. “I’ll have your menu for you by lunch,” Roger smiled, “I’ve got an idea or two.” That got me hard, which made the morning meetings unbearable. Finally, at lunch break over very unappealing buffet food, Roger caught me for a moment and passed me the envelope. We only had a half-hour to eat, so I wolfed down lunch, dashed off to the bathroom, and opened the envelope, so turned on I had a lump in my throat. This time, the menu was: Starters Your choice of: Dad-dick and boy-lips, mouthwatering and salty. Dad-ass and boy-tongue, deeper the better. Dad-fingers in boy-hole, with boy-cock, jerked. Entrees Your choice of: 1. Dad-cock in a wrapped and tied boy, with a crème sauce glaze. 2. Rough dad-cock in boy-hole, gags as required for neighbouring rooms comfort. 3. Raw boy-hole, served up raw in your bathroom, with facial toilet water dunking upon request. 4. Reddened boy-ass, fingered and pounded thereafter with a rough crème sauce glaze. 5. Elbow-deep Dad-fist in tight boy-hole, with jerked boy-cock sauce. All meals come raw, with saliva sauce, but upon request, rubbers and/or lube can be added to your entrée. Drinks Your choice of: Cum Dad spit, mouth to mouth or as a light whipped topping. Piss juice up boy-hole (available in shower stall) Boy-spit, fresh from dad’s nipple Desserts Your choice of: Bound boy-hole, for Dad’s use and enjoyment. Dad-hole seated on boy-face, for deep enjoyment. Twisted boy-nipple, reddened, with Dad-spit. Please note that we received notice that your special diet requires multiple servings to retain a healthy lifestyle. We have acquired a second chef for this purpose, who will be happy to serve you this evening if you’d like (place a star beside choices in which you’d like both chefs present, or, alternatively, beside two choices for dual-servings). My fingers shook I was so turned on – and a little worried about the “second chef” I was quickly marking as definitely desired this evening. I circled choices rapidly, and scribbled a note at the bottom: “I am very pleased at the management’s personal attention to my needs. I hope I can be as accommodating a client as possible on this, my last night’s stay. Bring whatever tools you would like for my meal this evening, as I trust the management implicitly, and would like nothing else than their complete orchestration of the event.” I walked up to Roger, just as the lunch break was ending, and saw he was chatting with a wide-shouldered bear-type fellow with a full black beard. I tapped him on the shoulder, and handed him the envelope. I saw the other fellow leering at me, and Roger smiled. “I’ll see you later,” he said. “Guest chef?” I asked, nodding to the bearish guy. Roger winked. I got back to the room as early as I could, and, sure enough, had beaten Roger back. I went straight for the bathroom, showered, nearly shivering with anticipation, and it wasn’t till I got out of the bathroom that I saw he had made it back before me, and left something on the bed. It was a plain opaque plastic bag – the sort you get from stores that sell things they know their clientele don’t want advertised – with a note in Roger’s hand on it: “For your use as preferred.” I tipped it out eagerly. There was a blindfold, a pair of fake leather wrist cuffs that could be connected with a short chain, a plastic gag, and a dildo that seemed at least as thick as Roger’s already prodigious cock. I slipped on the pleather wrist guards, though I didn’t connect them, and put the blindfold down – I wanted to see them both, quite frankly – and although I was tempted and horned up to high heaven, I didn’t play with the dildo at all – my ass, damned abused the night before, was still sore, and I wanted to endure as much as I could with my two “chefs.” The gag I put handily in reach on the bedside table, and waited. And waited. I swear they were trying to rile me up (they as much as admitted so, later), but they took another good twenty minutes to arrive. When the keycard chirped in the door, I thought I was going to yelp out loud. Roger and his friend entered, and Roger, who’d seen me sprawled out naked for him once already, grinned. His friend said, “Eager,” with a bemused smirk. “Now let’s see,” Roger said, with deliberate slowness. My dick was hard and bobbing on the bed, which was a strangely erotic experience in front of two clothed men. He pulled out the “menu” and read out my selections. “For starters, you’ve selected a double helping of Dad dick with boy lips, which is an excellent start, as you know,” He grinned, and undid the button on his pants, “And for your entrees, you’ve selected the Reddened boy-ass, fingered and pounded, and the rough dad cock in gagged boy, which makes the chefs very happy, as it is a pleasure to make.” The black-bearded bear chuckled, shaking his head a little, and I writhed a little on the bed. “You’ll be drinking cum and dad-spit, and for dessert, you’ve selected the bound boy-hole for Dad’s use and enjoyment – which makes me very happy – and the Dad hole seated on boy’s face, for deep enjoyment, which I’m told is one of the specialties of our guest chef. Two excellent choices. We’re a little let down that you didn’t select any of the piss dishes this evening, but maybe we can change your mind a little later, hmm?” He gestured to the dark-haired bear fellow he’d brought with him, “And this is your guest chef for the evening, Serge.” “Hi, sir,” I said, smiling wickedly. He nodded, then unzipped his slacks. They’re weren’t good at sharing my mouth, which is to say, with both of them kneeling, naked, on the bed, and me sprawled out on my stomach in front of them, I didn’t get very long with Roger’s dick before Serge would grab my head and shove my face onto his dick. Serge, it turned out, wasn’t as hairy as Roger, but his thicker frame had a light dusting of very dark hairs on a wide chest that turned me on just fine. His dick was uncut (more’s the pity!) but longer than Roger’s, and his balls hung very heavy and low. I loved slurping them up in turns with his dick, and from his growls, he enjoyed it, too. They passed me back and forth until my jaw started to ache, and long dribbles of my spit were slathered on their cocks. “If you let the cunt finish his starter,” Roger said, “I’ll start work on the first dish.” Serge moved to the head of the bed, and sat back, his cock waving in the air. I crawled up the bed, leaving my ass up in the air for Roger, and swallowed Serge as deep as I could. He pushed his hand on the back of my neck, grunting, and said, “Good boy.” Fuck but there is just something about a rough bear or daddy calling me “boy.” Roger said, “Daddy’s going to slap your ass red, slut.” Serge muttered, “You bite me, and you are fucking beaten, boy.” I nodded around his cock, and Roger’s hand connected with my ass for the first time. It stung – he hadn’t been gentle, of course, and I shivered down my entire body as he brought the flat of his hand against my ass again. Slap! Slap! I sucked desperately on Serge’s cock, and Serge bucked into my face with a muttered, “fuck yeah.” Slap! Again. Again. Roger’s spanks came at random intervals, without a rhythm for me to prepare myself for. They stung – hard slaps to my ass that I could already feel burning. As they continued, I let out a whimper or two, and Serge yanked on my short hair to pull my face up a little. “You like that, eh, slut?” he said. “Yes sir,” I agreed, tears in my eyes from the stinging. Roger gave me another – very hard – slap and I yelped. I heard him laugh behind me. “Nice and red,” he said, his rough hands rubbing my burning cheeks, his fingers and thumbs running between and teasing my crack, “Let’s see if the inside is done,” and then he shoved a finger up my hole. I moaned in lust – this was what I wanted, what I always want – the daddy inside me. Serge moved off, some of my own saliva smearing on my cheek as he left, and I buried my face in the pillow as Roger twisted his finger inside me. “Fucking tight ass, boy. You’re going to feel it,” He chuckled. He removed his finger, and then I felt two fingers shoved inside, rough and careless. I arched my back and gasped with the quick pain of it, and heard Serge chuckle, “good cunt.” The bear was definitely the rougher of the two. They took turns fingering my red hole. “You want my cock in there, don’t you, boy?” said Serge. “He wants it,” Roger answered for me, “Wants mine, too, the fucking slut.” “Gag, boy, now,” Serge snapped, and I scrambled to grab the gag and shoved it into my mouth. Roger slid up beside me, and put his arms up behind his head. He grinned at me, nastily, and said, “We flipped a coin,” he said, “Serge gets to fuck you first, boy.” Serge lay down on top of me, his full weight pushing the breath out of me. His beard scratched at my neck and ear and he rubbed his cock along my burning crack once, twice. He moved his lips to my ear, and said, “Are you my cunt?” I nodded, gagged. “You gonna scream for me?” I nodded again. “I’m going to fucking tear you up, cunt, you got a problem with that?” I shook my head. He laughed, “Good cunt,” and then got off me, pulled me up onto my knees, and grabbed my waist. He lined his dick up against my hole, and I realized that most of my spit had dried during their fingering. He let go of my waist with one hand, and then I felt his head against my hole, pushing, forcing. Serge shoved in hard, and I saw lights in front of my eyes as the intrusion hit me. I made a screech into my gag, muffled, and Serge panted twice, saying, “Fucking tight cunt… nice cunt… oh yeah.” “Good boy,” Roger said, and rubbed the back of my neck, “You’re a good boy for daddy.” Serge pulled back, dragging his dick through my burning hole, and then shoved forward again, hard. I yelled again into the gag, and he repeated the motion. He was slow at first, but didn’t give my ass much time to recover between his violent thrusts. My elbows shook, and I thought I was going to topple onto my face, but Roger put a hand on my chest and sort of held me up. “Good boy,” he repeated, almost lovingly, “You’re a good fucking boy. That bear is going to rip you up, and you take it for daddy, okay?” I nodded. Serge, behind me, rammed into my ass again, and this time, rebounded quickly. He was ready to pound my ass, and my vote didn’t count. He gripped my waist with both hands again, and started to piston fuck me. I quickly lost my breath between gasping and groaning into the gag, and stars were bursting in front of my eyes. “He’s gonna breed you, boy, you want that, don’t you, boy…” Roger was nearly chanting in my ear. Despite the assault on my ass, I was still semi-hard through the pain, and the burning in my ass was growing hotter with each shove from Serge’s long dick. He slapped into me with fury, and the sweat between our bodies was starting to make that little popping noise. Serge started to groan, then he lost his rhythm and shoved hard into me, slamming his full weight into my hole, and collapsed on top of me, knocking me off my knees and elbows. I felt his dick pop inside me, and the burn of his cum in my battered hole made me yell into my gag one more time. The slickness of it didn’t seem to ease the fire in my ass at all. Serge took a moment to breathe, then yanked his cock out of me. I felt my ass leak onto the bedsheets. Panting, Serge said, “All yours,” to Roger, and then leaned into my ear again and said, “Fucking good cunt, boy.” Roger got off the bed, and pulled on my ankles, which made me flail a little at first. He said, “Just getting you ready, boy,” and he positioned me off the end of the bed, my red, dripping ass at a good height for him. “Daddy wants his turn now, boy,” Roger said, “Like you said, if you pass out, Daddy is too rough, right?” I managed to nod, and Roger reached under me and squeezed my dick. I was still semi-hard, and he laughed. “Boy likes his dick.” Serge laughed, and pushed sticky fingers around my gag. I tasted cum. After Serge’s breeding, Roger’s dick lanced into my hole with a slickness that left him free to raise the tempo rapidly. He assaulted my ass much in kind, and told me I was a good boy, a good slut, a daddy’s dream as he pounded my ass. It burned and I yelled into my gag, and Roger seemed to take pity and let himself cum, with his surging three spurts, fairly quickly after he’d begun. With a deep grunt as he came, he stayed inside me for a few more heartbeats, and then pulled out. Roger tugged out my gag, rolling me over onto my back – my ass burned at the movement – and Roger’s slick dick, coated in the cum of two men, slid into my mouth. I sucked it down greedily, and Serge, still not good at sharing my mouth, did the same. “Drink up, boy,” Serge laughed, and then lay down. Roger did, too. The three of us lay there for a while, just panting. My ass burned, but I had that glorious “full” feeling in my hole. I’d been fucked damned right by two fucking hot dad/bear types. Piggy heaven. “Dessert,” Roger mumbled, and I turned to see him looking at me wolfishly. His hand snaked down my side, and cupped one ass cheek, still hot to the touch. Serge grunted, and sat up, then stood on the bed, which swayed. He swung one leg over me, and then crouched above my face, his heavy balls and his ass – also lightly dusted with black hair, I noticed – just over my nose. “You eat that up good, you hear?” he said. I lifted my face – tongue already flicking, and buried myself into his ass. Rimming him as deep as I dared with my tongue, I wrapped my arms around his thighs and breathed in the scent of his musk between slurps. As I licked and slobbered into Serge’s hole, Roger moved, and his hands took my ankles. He pushed my legs up, bending at the knees, and I felt Serge take hold of them. And then Roger’s tongue began to lick and flick at my exposed, pounded, sore, bred hole. I arched my back, which pushed my tongue further into Serge’s ass, and Roger grabbed my ass cheeks and really dove into his rim job. I felt myself harden between his attentions and my enjoyment of a bear’s ass on my face, and Serge made noises of lust above me. I desperately wanted to cum. My dick was hard, but when I tried to reach my hand to touch it, Serge batted my hand away, and said, “No boy, you don’t touch your dick, daddy touches your dick.” Moments later, he’d shifted holding up my legs by hooking them through one elbow, and with his freed hand he wrapped his fingers around my dancing cock. He squeezed as I licked his hole, and Roger made grunts and slurps at mine. I moaned with it, wriggling and writhing underneath them, and Serge began to pump my cock with deliberate slow, hard, tugs. Roger alternated with fingers, his tongue, a thumb, and – eventually – the dildo with rapt attention, and tugged on my balls as Serge jerked me faster and faster. I nearly screamed into Serge’s ass when I came, splattering his forearm and some of his stomach and slightly hairy chest with my cum. After that, we rearranged ourselves, and after a good fun time of licking Serge clean, and sucking on Roger’s fingers, Serge noted he had better get back to his own roommate before he wondered where he was (we were all, after all, flying to our respective homes the next day). He padded to the bathroom and started the shower, to clean off what I hadn’t licked. “Good boy,” Roger said, and gave my ass a squeeze. The rest of the night passed fairly eventless – I slept like the dead for a good long while, though I did wake up early enough to receive a pleasant face-fucking from Roger before we both had to shower and get ready to go. And in the shower, he shoved me up against the tile and fucked my sorry sore hole one last time with a furious abandon, calling me his little whore for use, his good boy, and the like. I shot my load while he was in me, jerking myself rapidly under the hot water, before he bred another load deep into my guts with a nearly roared grunt of satisfaction. “I wish I could have talked you into taking my piss,” he grinned at me, as I packed my bags, “And I would love to tie you down…” I could see the line of his dick in his pants again. “We should request each other as roommates next year, then,” I smiled, and handed him one of my business cards – the second I had given away the entire time I’d been at these godforsaken meetings. Serge had the other one.