Cleaning out the attic

[newboy1689]

This is a bit of a departure for me in my story telling. Its an idea I’ve been kicking around for a while that came from a slew of vintage porn I stumbled across on twitter. The set up is probably a bit longer than normal, but hopefully it’ll be worth it. Thanks for sticking with me and hopefully giving my new story a chance.

-d

 

It had been almost a year since Luke’s grandfather had passed away. At ninety-eight it hadn’t come as much of a surprise, though till just a year before he died Luke’s grandfather had lived on his own, tottering around the house he’d live in for more than seventy years. It was the house that Luke’s father and his siblings had grown up in. It was a house alive with memories.

 

At first the family didn’t really know what to do with the house. There was no real pressing need to put it on the market, Luke’s grandfathers’ finances had been in good order and there were no major debts to pay off. The will had been clear saying the house could be sold and the profits split between the four siblings, or one of them could take it over and live there. Having all moved away, or created their own lives in which they were now happily ensconced, no one much fancied moving into the old, rather outdated house.

 

After almost nine months of mostly just coming to terms with their father being gone, the siblings had all decided that selling it was the best move. They could use the profits for their own homes, or for their kids. Everyone had pitched in to clean the house out, a yard sale was had to get rid of things no one really wanted, but they all felt were too nice to just put in the trash. Keepsakes and trinkets had moved to new homes on new shelves. The only place left untouched was the attic.

 

Everyone had largely forgotten its existence, no one could remember the last time that any of them had been in there. Luke’s dad, the youngest brother, guessed that it had probably been almost a decade, around the time Luke’s grandfather had said he didn’t want to hire people to put lights on the house anymore and get the Christmas decorations out of the attic.

 

So it had sat, forgotten, and gathering dust, till Luke’s father had noticed the door in the ceiling while showing a relator around one day. That was how, during his summer vacation from his junior year of college, Luke found himself alone in the empty house, making his way into the hot attic. The air was dry and scratchy, like it was made of dust. There was almost no ventilation, and the summer heat was already turning the cramped space into an oven early in June.

 

To say Luke was not thrilled to be spending the first weeks of summer break in the attic was an understatement. He had grumbled and griped the whole drive over, and now he just rolled his eyes at the piles of stuff around him.

 

“Fuck, this is going to take forever,” he said to the empty room.

 

The attic was a long low room running over the middle section of the house above the bedrooms and front stairs. There were two little gables that stuck out on the front side of the house, each with a round window set in their center. Luke was glad to see that the floor was at least all boards, he wouldn’t have to squat on ceiling rafters while going through things. Making his way between carboard boxes and old trunks he moved half hunched over towards one of the windows. Please God let this thing open, he thought. Much to his shock it did, and gratefully he pushed the round window so it spun on its center access opening like a porthole. He scrambled round to the other window and did the same, breathing a deep sigh of relief as he felt the cross breeze make its lazy way across the stuffy little room.

 

Now, armed with a box cutter, a Costco box of trash bags, colored labels for keep, sell or trash, and a flashlight, Luke began his task. His father had told him to go through as many things as he could, toss down the bags of trash and over the weekend he and Luke’s uncle would come and help move the big stuff down the ladder. Careful not to smack his head on the low rafters Luke moved over to a pile of boxes and crouched down. Most of the boxes Luke noticed had were labeled in a clear square all caps handwriting. His grandfather’s handwriting Luke guessed, he’d been an architect and there was something to the perfect sameness of the letters that gave them the practiced feeling of a gifted draftsman.

 

Luke grabbed one that said “SPORTS”. Inside were baseball gloves, pads, cleats. The discarded accessories of boys joining sports teams and then getting board when they found sport wasn’t for them. Luke sorted the things that seemed like someone might want to buy them, a vintage glove, some baseballs that were still in good shape, and put the rest into a trash bag. Most of the boxes he opened were like this, the things that were left over as kids grew up. There was an old trunk of dress up clothes. One box was full of children’s books (all of which Luke marked to keep). There was a box of dresses from what looked to be the 1960s, that must have belonged to his aunts.

 

A large steamer trunk contained an old and worn cardboard box. Carefully Luke lifted the lid off the box and pulled back the thin paper inside. A white dress, with little glass beads around the neck sparkled back at him, the edges slightly yellowed with age. As gingerly as he could Luke unfolded the dress, keeping it off the dusty floor. It was his grandmother’s wedding dress, and it looked as bright and shining as the day she had worn it. Very carefully Luke packed it back into its box, and carried the box downstairs. He would take that home with him tonight.

 

Despite the breeze from the windows the attic seemed even hotter when he climbed back up. “Fuck it,” he said, and pulled his shirt off, tossing it down the ladder to the hallway below. Luke was certainly no sports star, something that had once greatly disappointed his father, but in the last year he had found a new passion for the gym. He had gone from being a little scrawny teen, to someone who loved beer a little too much and suffered the freshmen 15, to what a rather toned looking jock. His chest had started to fill out, his arms now had long veins running down the bicep and snaking along his forearms. His torso narrowed to square hips, and a firm butt, and flared again at his strong legs. Along with the new muscles, Luke loved to show off the thick hair that suddenly had grown across his body. His chest, which when he had started college was completely bare, now sported a dense fan of dark brown hair that swirled around his nipples. A broad treasure trail grew over his flat stomach and dove into his shorts, meeting with a thick, though usually trimmed down, bush.

 

Luke stretched his hands over his head, and got a whiff of himself. He’d been sweating like mad in the attic, and though it wasn’t even noon yet he had a strong musk about him. The smell made his cock twitch in his shorts. A love of the gym wasn’t the only thing Luke had learned about himself in college. Just after Christmas his freshman year, Luke had been at a party. He’d had a few beers and found himself taking to this senior guy. At first the conversation had been fairly standard, what their majors were, where about campus they lived, things like that. The guy, however, kept getting close and closer to Luke, and Luke found that he like it. Luke had started leaning in closer to the guy as well. A few more minutes of fake small talk and they were kissing. A mad, wild lust had been born in Luke in that moment. When he guy had asked Luke if he wanted to go back to the guys place he didn’t even hesitate before saying yes. That night Luke had been fucked for the first time.

 

That was the night Luke understood for the first time the thing about him that had always been different, he was gay. He was out at school from basically that moment on. Almost overnight he had gone from a quiet guy who didn’t know who he was, to an out and proud homo. Along with his new-found self-awareness had come a new found love of sex, and through some experimentation his self-identification as a vers bottom with a thing for older men. Luke rubbed his crotch through his shorts a couple of times, stretched again, and got back to work.

 

By lunch time he had a pretty massive pile of trash bags at the bottom of the ladder. He climbed down and moved them to the front door, piling the “To Sell”s and “To Keep”s separate from the trash pile. He ate the sandwich his mother had sent him, and pounded a Gatorade in the deserted kitchen perched on the counter. He absently scrolled through TikTok while he ate, not really paying attention to anything on the screen. Finishing his sandwich, he checked the gay apps to see if anything interesting had happened there – nothing, disappointingly.

 

Resignedly Luke climbed the stairs back up to the second floor and then back up into the even hotter attic.

 

Luke started in a new corner of the attic, sorting through a collection of boxes all labeled “Josh’s room”. These must have come from his dad’s old room. He had gone through probably half a dozen of them when he found the box. This box had no label, and was a different shape from the rest. It was short and square, like the boxes Amazon loved to use, Luke thought. It was old though, with a worn lid that clearly had been removed over and over again. The sides bulged out slightly, buckled from the weight of all the other boxes on top of it.

 

Luke opened it with the same detachment he had all the rest. He’d already gone through boxes full of gym socks, and old trophies, discarded textbooks, old posters and photos from a teenage boy’s room in the 1980s, and a mountain of matchbox cars. This box, however, was not the normal detritus left behind when a kid moved away, or went to college. At the top of the box was an old journal, worn and well loved. Its once bright red cover was faded and chipped in places. The binding was cracked and soft. Luke set it aside quickly noticing what had been beneath it. An old and yellowed jockstrap lay on top of a scattered collection of Polaroid pictures. Was this his dad’s Luke wondered? His cock stirred, his thing for jockstraps had been growing as he spent more time at the gym. Luke now wore almost nothing else at school. Having his ass exposed all the time made him feel slutty and powerful. He held the jock for a long moment, before pressing it to his face and breathing in. Maybe it was his imagination, but he would swear the sent of sweaty man still clung to the yellow fabric. He looked at the stained pouch and his mind ran wild imagining how each spot had come to be on the fabric. His cock was now hard as a rock.

 

He had been so taken in by the old jock he hadn’t noticed the content of the Polaroids. Now looking down again he flipped through one after the other in shock. Each and every one of them showed a naked man. Some had bad lighting, an aggressively bright flash, or were a little out of focus but there was no mistaking the collection of sexy men through the slightly too yellow chroma. Most he would guess were a little older than he was in their mid to late twenties. They were photographed on bed, and couched, lounging outside, and laying on the floor. There had to be maybe fifty photos here, and so far as Luke could tell not a single repeat. He stared at one, a guy maybe his age with messy blond almost shoulder length hair, thick bushy sideburns, a thin lanky body, beautifully thick blond chest hair, and a thick heavy looking cock sprouting from a massive bush flopped over onto a hair leg, lounging in an avocado colored office chair. He was the perfect encapsulation of a time period, and Luke’s cock was hard as a rock.

 

“Are these dad’s?” Luke wondered out loud, setting the pictures on top of the journal. He pulled as small pile of gay magazines from the mid-seventies out of the box next. While the Polaroids had had a younger slant to their models, these magazines were full of older men. The kind of men that Luke hunted for at school. These were guys with thick arms, broad chests, and full mustaches. The kids of men Luke, more often than he would admit to his friends, begged to fuck him. Luke was rubbing his crotch as he thumbed through the magazines. Who had taken these pictures, who’s magazines were these, was his dad into guys, Luke’s mind was racing. His dad had been cool when Luke had come out but he didn’t thing that his dad was even bi.

 

He put the magazines down and picked up the journal, and flipped to the first page with writing. The handwriting was clean, slanting, somewhere halfway between cursive and print, but also matter of fact without extra flourishes or adornments.

 

July 16, 1977

 

Ive never had a journal, always seemed silly to me. But – someone one said that when you need to sort something out writing it down can help. This just feels stupid though, what do you do just write like you’re talking to someone?

 

I guess fuck it, feeling like an idiot is worth a shot to sort things though. Maybe that’s normal after a once in a life time moment? Ok. Whatever –

 

Three days ago the whole city lost power. That sounds like an exaggeration but it’s true, like a great black sheet was pulled over all of New York. This wave of darkness washed over the city coming from Queens and crashing over Manhattan till everything was dark. 9:30 at night, and the whole city is down. They’re still not completely sure what happened, something about lightning taking out substations, and then overtaxing the grid, and then the main generator not being able to take the strain of the whole city.

 

First it was the TV. The Mets game just blinked off – like the programing had ended for the night, and then our fan stopped and a second later the lights were out. Brett and I were suddenly plunged into darkness. I’d never seen the city that dark before. It was wild. Even with the lights off in the apartment normally there’s is some light from the street, or the apartment across the way, but suddenly there was nothing. For a really long time everything was silent. Then shouting and car horns, people clambering to find their way home. The paper today was full of storied of people being stuck on stalled trains underground for hours before being evacuated.

 

Brett seemed to come to his senses first. He went to the bathroom and found the one candle we keep in there – I don’t need to explain why – and lit it out little living room. He then went an grabbed one of the bags of ice we had been keeping in the freezer and filled a cooler with that and beer.

 

“Shit,” he said, or something like that.

 

I was leaning out of the window, looking down at the street. Everything seemed to have stopped, it seemed like everyone was holding their breath for the power to come back on. But it didn’t. An hour passed, then two, and then three. Nothing. Just blackness.

 

By that time, Brett and I had each gone through a six pack, and the first cooler of ice had turned to mostly freezing water. The beer was nice though, without the fans running the apartment was becoming sweltering. NYC is barely tolerable in the summer with fans, without it them its miserable. I sometimes wondered, when I came home to a muggy apartment and cranked the three box fans to high, how people did it before electricity. All of those clothes too. Fuck.

 

“What made you think to put the ice in the cooler,” I asked Brett eventually.

 

“Hurricanes,” he said as if that was an obvious answer.

 

“What?”

 

“Growing up in Florida you learn that if the power goes out you want to keep certain things cool. The fridge will stay cold for a long time so long as you don’t open it often. So put ice in a cooler and put your drinks in there. Then you’re opening the fridge like one tenth of the times.”

 

“Damn. Smart.”

 

“Just experience living in a shitty swamp.” He laughed.

 

Brad never really talked about growing up – we’d been roommates since college but I still only knew the bare bones of his home life. Something had happened that he didn’t want to talk about. I wondered about it, but it wasn’t the sort of thing you press a guy for.

 

He sat back, taking a long swig of his beer, “fuck though, its hotter than Florida ever was, I cant do this.” He got up and walked to his room. When he came back he had stripped down to just his underpants, a pair of tight-fitting white briefs. Being roommates for years, and both playing sports in college I had seen Brett in his underwear more than once but always in passing we had never just sat around like that. I guess – if I’m being honest with myself, that’s when things started to change. Seeing him sitting there, his legs spread wide, sweat shining on his chest in the dim candle light, his bulge pressing against the fabric of his briefs, I started to feel something new.

 

 

 

Luke stopped reading. He readjusted his cock in his shorts, his hand coming back slick with precum. He licked it off. His dad hadn’t ever lived in New York, at least not that he knew. He didn’t think any of his relatives had. He pulled out his phone and googled NYC blackout 1977. Shit, that actually happened, who the fuck wrote this?

 

 

Brett was right though, it was too fucking hot. I went to my room and did the same. I came back and flopped down on the couch in my own briefs. We sat like that for a long time. We’d both been busy since moving to the city, neither of us had a lot of money and had both been working multiple jobs trying to make ends meet. It had been a long time since we had caught up. Despite the heat it was nice to share beers and talk. It was when the conversation drifted to girls and sex that I realized how drunk I was. I freely shared stories of the few dates I’d been on, how they hadn’t worked out, of the couple of girls I had managed to pick up. Brett was quite, not adding much and letting me ramble on.

 

“What about you?” I finally asked.

 

“Oh, I just haven’t been that interested in girls lately.”

 

“Shit, how long’s it been since you got laid.”

 

“A couple of days,” He gave me a look that seemed to dare me to ask questions.

 

“Doesn’t sound like you’re not into girls.”

 

“A bold assumption.”

 

“What?”

 

“You’re assuming that because I got laid there was a girl involved.” There as that look again, daring me, pushing me onward.

 

“If there wasn’t a girl then… what?”

 

“What?”

 

“You had sex with a guy?”

 

He looked down for a moment, almost embarrassed and then looked up, his eyes defiant, “So what if I did, you got a problem with that?”

 

I paused for a long time. That flicker went through me again. I saw his chest rise and fall, the thick hair matted down with sweat. I smelled his sent, manly and raw. I took in the patch of his leg right by his crotch devoid of hair. The swell of his bulge in the white briefs, drew my eyes down, until I finally dragged them back to his face. His strong square handsome face. Big green eyes sparkled at me in the quickly dying candle. I took in his messy blond hair, how it fell in unkempt waves around his shoulders, he thick sideburns that grew down his cheeks. My friend looked exactly the same and yet different. Or maybe I’m different.

 

“No,” I said, after a pause that felt way too long, “I don’t have a problem with that at all.” Another long pause. “So some guy fucked you?”

 

“Another bold assumption,” Brett had some of his confidence back, and grinned.

 

“What?”

 

“I fucked him,” now he was on a roll. Shifting slightly so he was turned towards me on the couch.

 

“How… I don’t… how does that even work.”

 

“You really want me to tell you?”

 

“Yeah… I mean, sure… why not.”

 

“Ok… Or I could show you.”

 

“What,” I was panicking, “I’m not…um…I’m not…”

 

“You’re hard as a rock.”

 

I hadn’t realized it but he was right, and in just my briefs it was totally obvious. I was hard, the thought of Brett fucking a guy had gotten me completely hard.

 

He shifted on the couch and leaned forward, getting closer to my face. “It’s ok, so am I.” In his new position I had an even better view of his crotch and when I looked down I saw an obvious boner pointing off to the side in his briefs. He leaned even closer, I could feel his breath on my face, “So why don’t you let me show you. If you want to stop, we can stop whenever you want.” And then…

 

He kissed me. For the first time in my life a man’s lips were pressed to mine, and what’s more I liked it. It wasn’t like kissing a girl, all soft and sweet smells, it was rough, and scratchy. Brett smelled of sweat and heat. His hand found the back of my head and held me tight. It was different and it took me only a moment to decide I liked it.

 

Our kiss quickly lost all caution, and his big hands pulled me on top of him. I was straddling another man in my underwear when only a few moments before I had never consciously thought about even kissing another man. My hands started to explore him. I felt the roughness of body hair, and his slick skin. I felt his muscles and veins. I felt the heat of his erection pressing into my leg.

 

My heart felt like it was going to explode and I could feel a massive wet spot forming in my underwear at the tip of my own raging erection. I finally broke the kiss, and said “So, how does this work?”

 

Brett smiled, and chuckled, “It’s the same things you do with girls just two guys.”

 

I laughed.

 

“What do you want a girl to do before you fuck her?”

 

“Is one of us getting fucked tonight?” I was suddenly very nervous.

 

“Maybe, but lets cross that bridge when we get there.” He shifted me so I was back on the couch, and then got down on the floor. He moved between my legs. Hooking his thumbs into my briefs he pulled them off and my cock sprung free. “Fuck, I knew you’d have a nice dick.”

 

“You’ve thought about my dick?”

 

“Not as much as I’ve thought about your ass.” He spat on my head, and dove forward. No girl had ever done that to me. I don’t think I’ve got the biggest dick in the world but it’s not small and most girls didn’t like blowing me. Brett however had my cock all the way down his throat in an instant. He didn’t’ gag at all, he just swallowed and slurped. It felt better than anything I had ever done before. My eyes rolled back, my body was tense and pleasure crashed over me. I forgot about the heat, I forgot about the blackout. I forgot about everything. If this is what sex with guys is like…well I don’t know. I guess that’s the problem.

 

“Fuck don’t stop, I’m gonna cum.” I said. My fingers now twisted in Brett’s hair.

 

“Oh no you don’t,” Brett said, and pulled off of my cock. I was gasping. My cock was throbbing. I had been so fucking close.

 

He stood up, covered in sweat now. There is no pretending I wasn’t looking at him sexually now, I was. Brett is hot and I now knew it. He pushed his own underpants to the ground and kicked them off into a corner. If I had thought my own cock was bigger than average I was put to shame by him. It was big and thick, with a long hard looking vein running along the top. His balls hung way down low below his shaft, and his pubes were a thick forest at the base.

 

I don’t know how this all is happening, or happened. The beer, the heat? Maybe writing it out will make me understand it. Though if I’m honest writing it all down has just made me horny as fuck again.

 

Brett didn’t have to tell me what to do. I knew. I leaned forward, slid off of the couch so I was on my knees in front of him, and started to give him a blow job. I must have been terrible at it, but in that moment, I was lost. I was just slobbering all over his cock. I had one hand at the base and the other holding his furry ass cheek. Brett was moaning, his hands on the back of my head. He kept pushing his cock a little deeper into my mouth. I felt like my jaw as stretched wider than it ever had been, which is probably true. I tasted the salty sweat, and found instantly that I like it. I could smell his musk even more as my nose got closer to his pubes and it turned me on even more.

 

“Fuck,” he groaned, “you’re a natural.” I remember him saying that so clearly because it made me feel proud.

 

I slobbered on his cock till my jaw hurt. I think he sensed me slowing down and he let go of the back of my head. He pulled me to my feet and kissed me again. This time he shoved his tongue in my mouth. The kiss was rough, and passionate. The kiss you give someone in the throes of lust.

 

“Jaw tired?” he asked.

 

“Yeah,” I replied, feeling sheepish about it.

 

“No worries, stamina will come. Come on.” He dragged me out of the living room and into his bedroom. I followed willingly. Once in his bedroom he pushed me back on the bed so I landed on my back. He pulled my legs so my ass was right at the edge of the bed, then he got on his knees again. I thought he was going to suck me off, but he grabbed my legs and pushed my knees into my chest. Then something happened I had never even thought of before. Brett’s tongue brushed against my asshole. He licked it like he was eating a pussy. He pushed against my tight hole, and then danced around the edges. His tongue flicked back and forth, making me moan and squirm. It was like nothing I had ever experienced and it was blissful. My cock was now leaking like a hose and my stomach was covered in precum.

 

My legs started to feel like Jello. Brett’s continuing tonguing of my hole was sending my body into over drive. I felt myself relaxing and giving in to him. His tongue started to push past my hole, entering my virgin ass.

 

“Remember when you asked if one of us was getting fucked tonight?” He asked, his face wet with spit.

 

“Yeah,” I panted.

 

“I think your hole is answering that question for you.” He stuck a finger in his mouth, and drew it out slowly. I gasped as his slick finger pressed against my hole, and then slid inside me. For the first time in my life something had just gone inside my ass. A massive wave of pleasure crashed over my body. I had never felt anything like it before. I wasn’t tense at all, I was relaxed, giving in. He took the finger out, and stuck it and the next one in his mouth. Just as slowly as the first time he pulled them out and then slid them inside my hole. “Do you want that?”

 

“Want what,” I gasped.

 

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

 

“I…” he twitched his fingers inside me, “Fuck, yes I do. I want you to fuck me.”

 

“Good,” he leaned forward and kissed me, “I want to fuck you too.”

 

He took his fingers out of my hole and spit into his hand. First, he smeared the warm spit all over my hole, and then he repeated the movement lubing up his cock. I’d been here with girls before, the moment before penetration, but now the roles were reversed. I felt the blunt head of his cock against my hole. He pushed with a gentle firmness, almost willing his cock inside of me rather than forcing it. He leaned back and dropped a big drop of spit onto his cock. The pressure increased and then my body gave way. His cock entered me and I gasped. Or maybe I screamed. I’m not really sure.

 

Something broke within me, that I do know. The waves of pleasure that had been washing over me was Brett fingered me were now a tsunami. They crashed over me, breaking as I felt his bush against my ass. Softly Brett kissed me. He held me in place, his lips locked to mine as he very, very slowly started to fuck me. I know I was whimpering, I couldn’t help it, it just felt so good. His cock was doing things to me I had never imagined possible.

 

He held me tight even as he increased the pace. He wasn’t just fucking me, he was making love to me. All of the affection of our friendship was in this moment.

 

“You ass feels so good.”

 

“I cant belive I’m going to say this, but your cock feels amazing.”

 

“You want to get really fucked now?”

 

“What are we doing now?”

 

“Now I’m just inside you. Do you want me to fuck you like the guy earlier this week? Were you imagining what it would be like to get fucked when I told you about him? Is that what got you hard in the first place?”

 

I reached up and grabbed him, pulling him in for another kiss, and as it broke I said, “Fuck me.”

 

I really cant believe I said that but I did. I said it and I meant it. I said it with hunger and lust. I wanted it. If he had pounded that guy earlier in the week I wanted to be pounded. I wanted to be fucked. Jesus – what does that mean for me?

 

Brett grabbed my legs and reared back. Holding my ankles wide he started to pound. The sound of sweaty skin slapping filled the room. He was grunting and I was yelping as my ass was hammered. I felt the resistance in my ass give way. Is this what girls felt like when they got fucked? Was this something different.

 

Without pulling out Brett shifted us on the bed so he was now above me, fucking down into my hole. With each thrust he stuffed almost the full length of his cock into me and then pulled it out again. I was putty in his hands. Sweat dripped off of him and splashed on my chest. I could smell us both and it was intoxicating.

 

Something changed in Brett’s face. It was contorted, hungry. His breathing was shallow and hard. He gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes. He was trying not to shoot. I watched him, almost unblinkingly, as he lost the battle, and then with a roar said, “Fuck! I’m going to cum.” He made to pull out, but almost on instinct I grabbed his hips and pulled him tight to my body. I could feel the throb of his cock as he orgasmed. I took his load inside my hole. As his cock spasmed my own gave a powerful jerk and I spattered myself in my own load.

 

We were both panting as our orgasms came to an end. It was a long time before Brett pulled out of me. When he did, he collapsed behind me in the bed, one of his big arms pulled me close and his kissed the back of my neck. Despite the heat we fell asleep like that, his cock nestled against ass, his load deep inside me, the confusion that’s lead me to this stupid journal not yet setting in.

 

 

“Holy shit.” Luke said – one hand now thrust down his shorts stroking his cock.

[daddybear54]

Definitely an intriguing start!

[evilqueerpig]

MORE!

[plisken]

a beginning that calls for more, much more

[drew4fun]

What a GREAT imagination!!

[newboy1689]

Luke was in shock. Who the fuck had written this? Was it real? Had someone in his family, possibly his dad, had some life changing gay experience in the late 1970s? On top of that, had they then written about it in explicit detail in a journal? Luke felt a little weird being so turned on by the story given it was almost certainly someone he was related to writing it but also his cock was hard, he was covered in sweat and now all he could think about was raw cock.

 

He flicked through the pages of the journal reading a few more of the dates and headlines.

 

November 10, 1977 – The baths

June 25, 1978 – Pride

July 4, 1978 – Fire Island

March 2, 1979

 

­The last entry was for April 11th 1979. Luke read the first paragraph, a little knot in the pit of his stomach thinking about the time period and where they were in history. Please don’t like the hottest thing he’s ever read end in someone dying…

 

 

Its sad to see Brett’s room empty. After all this time living together it’ll be weird not just having him around. But! It gives me an excuse to go to San Francisco to see him. Not to mention a whole new world of guys for us to enjoy.

 

 

Oh thank fuck, Luke thought. Great, Brett moves away after three years of hot fucking.

 

Luke picked up the stack of pictures again and leafed through them till he found the one he had been holding before. The blond with shoulder length mess hair, and heavy cock flopping onto his leg. He flipped the picture over. In the same tidy clear handwriting as the journal in all lowercase letters was written: brett 1978. This was him. This was Brett. Luke leaned back against a trunk he had already emptied, looked around the attic, and unbuttoned his shorts.

 

With the photo propped next to him, and his own cock now uncovered and completely hard, he began to read again

 

 

If that was the only time maybe I could have just written it off as a fluke. The heat, the beer, the closeness, the excitement and fear of a blackout across the whole city. But I can’t really use that excuse for waking up in Brett’s arms hard again. I can’t use it as I knowingly pushed back against his morning wood, feeling his erection rub between my cheeks as he slowly woke up. And I definitely can’t use it for accepting his kiss as he growled and turned my head to him. The passion was still there, but there was a familiarity now. This was a kiss that came with a history.

 

His tongue pressed past my lips and I opened my mouth to let him in. I knew this tongue now, and it was comforting to feel his body against mine. His hands slid up and down my body, one finding my nipple and giving it a little twist. I gasped. Brett’s morning wood had turned into a raging erection full of heat and lust. His precum was making my cheeks slick as he ground it against my ass.

 

I remember arching my back, I wanted it. I felt his cock catch on my hole, and pushed back against it. Brett growled at me and broke our kiss. He brought his hand to his mouth, spit onto his fingered and primed his cock. I felt the blunt pressure again. This time it was easier. I still felt slick, was his load from the night before still inside me? This time I pushed back as he pressed inside me, my hole gave way faster and his cock head sprung inside me. I groaned. I knew what to expect this time, and the waves crashed over me as before. I rocked back. I wanted him inside me.

 

One of Brett’s hands was on my hip, guiding me, controlling my rhythm. The other, trapped beneath our bodies had a tight hold on my nipple, keeping me in place. He began to fuck me very slowly, tenderly.

 

“God you feel so fucking good,” I said, as he kissed the back of my neck.

 

“Your ass feels even better the second time. You know how to take my cock now.”

 

“Brett, is this what its always like?”

 

“What?”

 

“Is this what its always like with another man, does it always feel this good?”

 

“If you like this,” he whispered in my ear, “there is a whole world of fun I can introduce you too.”

 

I groaned and pushed back onto his cock. Brett took control again, and rolled us so he was on top of me, my chest flat on the bed and my legs spread. He had one of his arms tight across my chest pulling me up into him, and the other braced forward. He drove his cock deep inside me with a steady rocking motion. My own cock was being ground into the mattress, making a big wet puddle of precum.

 

He rocked me back, I was on my knees now and his hands were on my hips. He was hammering me. With long hard strokes he pounded his boner into me. The slapping of flash was back, and we both started to sweat again. The heat in the room was stifling, the power was still off, and the fan in the window say motionless. The still stale air began to wreak of sweat, and man, and sex. It is the hottest thing I have ever smelled. It turned me on more than anything with a girl ever had. I was harder than I have had been in my entire life as my best friend fucked me for the second time.

 

I still hadn’t really stopped to think about what it all meant. Does this make me gay? Is Brett gay? What does that make us. Really it all felt so good that I didn’t stop to think about what we were doing till this afternoon when I was walking to work. I spent my whole shift thinking about it, I’m sure I fucked up several people’s orders because I was so distracted. I just kept thinking about Brett, and his cock, and my hole. I still feel tender. I guess that’s probably normal for someone who’s been fucked like four times a day for three days. I thought that I had to take a shit at work today, sat down on the toilet and all that came out was a literal river of Brett’s cum. I got hard right there in the bathroom and jerked off looking at his loads in the bowl. That’s when I bought this silly thing. I saw the journal at a news stand by the train and just grabbed it.

 

But writing about it, thinking about how that morning Brett hand pushed me forward so my ass was in the air and pummeled my hole with his cock, has just gotten me horny all over again. I’m laying here in my room, naked and hard, thinking about the drops of sweat falling onto my back from his chest and he got closer and closer to orgasm. Jesus - maybe that’s my answer. Brett had said he could show me a new life, and over the past few days he’s shown me how good it can feel to be fucked, maybe I should let him. Maybe my answer is to just explore with him.

 

Just thinking about how he roared and shot another massive load into me before collapsing on the bed, his big cock still hard and shining with cum and ass juice has me leaking precum. I wish I was sitting on his cock now. Fuck – that’s the truth, I want to sit on his cock, just like I did that morning. After he had cum, and was laying there, his arms behind his head basking in his orgasm. I had climbed on top of him and sat down on his still hard cock. It slid in easily, I was open now and full of his load. I jerked off while riding him. If I rocked in just the right way the head of his cock hit something inside me that made my balls pull tight to my body. The waves kept crashing as I stroked my cock and finally felt my orgasm spill out of me. I think it was probably the biggest load I had ever shot. It just kept happening, and quickly all of Brett’s chest hair was matted down with my load.

 

“God you’re fucking sexy,” he said and pulled me close for a kiss. Our chests pressed together, smearing my load between us. His cock was still lodged in my ass and I felt it twitch. He started to rock up into me, his cock perfectly hard. “Again?” he asked.

 

“Right now?” He made his cock pulse. I kissed him and whispered, “Yes.”

 

 

Luke’s own cock throbbed and he started to shoot long ropes of cum up onto his chest. He leaned back, allowing his orgasm to crash over him. He looked at the photo of Brett, wondering where he was now, and wishing that the hot blond was pumping a load into him. As his orgasm subsided Luke noticed that the shadows had started to elongate and expand in the attic. It was late in the afternoon and the sun had moved to where only a small sliver spilled in through the small round windows. He looked around for something to clean up with, there wasn’t really much of anything. On an impulse he grabbed the old jockstrap and wiped his chest off with it.

 

He held the journal for a minute, deciding if he should take it home with him. No, he thought, this was more fun, illicit somehow. He’d keep it here and use it to get off when he was bored cleaning the attic. He packed it back into the box with the magazines and the photos, but pocketed the now damp yellowed jock. He stashed the box in a corner, and grabbing his t-shirt climbed down the ladder. He locked up the house and drove back to his parents’ house.

 

“How’d it go?” Asked Luke’s mom as he walked into the kitchen, “Wow you are filthy, and you reek.”

 

“Thanks mom, hello to you too.”

 

She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Here,” she handed him a beer and said, “go have a shower, dinner will be ready soon.”

 

“Cool. Oh,” he put the box with the wedding dress on the kitchen island, “look what I found.”

 

Gingerly his mother opened the old worn box and brushed aside the tissue paper. “Oh my God, is that?”

 

“Grandma’s wedding dress, I think so.”

 

“I can’t believe you found that. Your aunt’s been looking for it for ages. Luke, thank you.”

 

“Ok, I’m off to shower.” Luke traipsed off upstairs slugging the cold beer as he went. Standing under the cool water of the shower Luke started to think again about the journal, who had it been? Who had Brett been fucking. He ran his hands down his body to his steadily stiffening cock. Leaning back against the cool tile wall of the shower he started to stroke himself again. The water cascading down his recently acquired pecs, and playing in his own bush. He thought about the big blond man with the broad hairy chest and cock that even when soft looked meaty and thick. He thought about how good it would feel to have Brett slide inside of him. How he was almost jealous of the author getting to experience that as his first cock.

 

Luke’s first time had been good but they guy hadn’t been like Brett. He was quicker and less loving than Brett. Though, Luke thought, he had certainly been good enough to awaken the same hunger in him that the author had felt. After that first fuck it had been less than a week before Luke was googling gay dating apps and making a profile. That night he had taken a Lift to a guy’s house. He’d had Grindr for less than a day, and he was already hooking up. That guy had been Luke’s first taste of daddy cock. The 47-year-old, mustached, bear had tossed Luke onto his bed almost as soon as he got in the door. He bent Luke over and pulled the boys cheeks apart diving in as if Luke’s ass were an oasis in the desert. 

 

He hadn’t intended to take the man’s load, his first hookup had used a condom, Luke figured that was safer, but as the big bear tongued Luke’s hole his concerns about the real world had drifted away. He had arched back and pushed himself onto the bear’s cock when it was rubbed on his hole. As it slid inside him, stretching his almost virgin hole around its girth, Luke had been concerned with only how good it felt.  It really wasn’t until he was in the Lift home, his own load still clinging to his chest, that he had thought about what the wet sticky feeling between his cheeks meant. He had panicked a little, run to the bathroom as soon as he got into the dorm, and pushed the bear’s load out. Seeing how much cum had been inside him made his cock stir too.

 

A few days later Luke was back at the bear’s house, flat on his back taking another massive load. That had been the end of Luke’s condom use. He liked it raw. He wanted the guys loads.

 

He was snapped out of his reverie by a knock on the door. “Dinner’s ready, come on,” his mother said from the other side of the door.

 

“Ok, just a minute.” Luke looked down at his hard cock in his soapy fist and sighed, “to be continued.” He rinsed and dried off, padding barefoot with a towel wrapped around him across the little hallway to his room. He pulled his underwear drawer open, at first reaching for some comfy boxer briefs for the evening, but changing his mind when he spotted an old pair of white briefs at the back. He pulled them on, feeling how snugly they fit. Was this how Brett and the mysterious author had felt in their briefs?

 

Luke had a hard time not glancing at his dad as they sat at dinner. Was he the author? Had he been the one getting fucked by Brett’s dick? Did they have more in common that Luke had thought?

 

“Are you ok?” His mother asked as they all finished their food.

 

“Huh? Oh yeah fine, just tired. That attic is hot.”

 

“Take a Gatorade from the garage when you go upstairs,” his dad said.

 

“Yeah, good idea. I’m gonna grab one and go lay down. I barely made a dent today.”

 

Luke drained the whole Gatorade before he even made it all the way upstairs. He refilled the bottle with water in the bathroom and flopped down on his bed. He lay there, looking up at the ceiling for a long minute. He really was tired, the heat and the moving was exhausting, but his mind was stuck on the journal and the pictures.

 

He stripped off down to his briefs, and lay on top of his covers. He turned off the ceiling fan, letting the air settle around him. He cracked a window letting the warm summer air into the room. His hand slid down his chest and stomach, slipping under the elastic of his briefs to the base of his cock. It had never completely deflated after his shower and the blood quickly flowed back into the shaft. With one hand behind his head, the light smell of man drifting from his pit, he jerked off again. His mind filled with images of Brett and the mysterious author. He put himself into the story, feeling Brett’s body pressed against him. Imagining Brett now as one of the older guys Luke has been bred by at school. He shot another big load over himself. He wiped most of it off with a towel and feel asleep. Images of the men from the photos drifting through his dreams all night.

[daddybear54]

Better and better! 

[myDNA4u]

Very hot

[newboy1689]

Luke’s cock and the heat woke him up in the morning. He’d never turned the fan back on after jerking off last night. He lay there for a long minute, his hard cock straining against the briefs, imagining he was in New York waking up during the heat of the black out.

 

Reluctantly he dragged himself out of bed. He found a tank top in a drawer and a clean pair of shorts, he was about to pull them on over the briefs when he noticed the thick waistband of the jock from the box sticking out of the pocket of yesterday’s shorts. On an impulse he stripped off the briefs, and stepped into the old used jock. The pouch was slightly stiff from his load yesterday. It fit perfectly however, and his semi-hard cock filled out the pouch perfectly. He looked at himself in the mirror, he looked like one of the Polaroids he thought. “Do not get carried away,” he said to himself, “You still have to deal with the attic.” He finished getting dressed and headed out the door.

 

The attic was a little cooler today. Leaving the windows open overnight had let out much of the stainless and the dust that had swirled around so thickly yesterday. Luke had promised himself he would spend the morning honestly working, clearing things out, and moving more trash downstairs. If he did that, he though, then the afternoon was his to spend reading more of the journal.

 

Most of what he found was boring. More junk left by his dad and his siblings when they moved out or went to college. There was a big box of old documents, the sort that weren’t really important but it felt weird to just throw away. He found another box of old sports equipment, and a big old bin completely full of ancient discolored Legos.

 

Try as he might his eyes kept drifting over to the corner where he had stashed the box. It was like it was calling to him. He was desperate to know what happened next, to maybe find some clue to who the author really was. He fought to keep himself on task, going through boxes of old binders and folders, tax returns, and bank statements. Boxes with trinkets and decorations that had been retired from the house but felt too precious to get rid of at the time. He found bins of Christmas ornaments, and big old-fashioned strings of multicolored lights. Under one box of Christmas thing he found an entire little village for a model train.

 

The air was starting to get hot again, and Luke checked his phone, just after one. Perfect. He went downstairs, quickly ate his lunch and went back to the attic. He didn’t waste anytime today. As soon as he was back in the hot air of the attic he stripped off his shirt and shorts tossing them in a pile. He threw an old blanket he had found on the ground and sat down in nothing but the old jock. He was instantly hard, the semi he had been sporting all day swelling in the old slightly crusty pouch.

 

 

 

Brett held me tight to his chest, my load gluing our hair together. He bent his legs up so he could lift his hips off the mattress and fuck his cock up into me. In this position every thrust of his dick hit that spot inside of me and it was like a little lightning bolt shot through me. I whimpered into his mouth as he kissed me in rhythm with his thrusts. At that moment I couldn’t think of anything more perfect than being fucked by him.

 

I let him work his cock into me, I imagined what it looked like from the back. The thick base of Brett’s cock, his pubes wet with sweat and cum, sticking out of my hole, the edge of my tight ass gripping his shaft. I imagined how the hairs on my ass my now be wet too with cum and sweat. How I must look used up after being fucked twice by his big dick. It turned me on.

 

It turns me on now. I can see it in my head, two men and all of the hair, muscle, and roughness that comes with them, intertwined together and one takes the other. After days of Brett fucking me can I go back to a life where I never feel a man inside me again? I don’t know. No that’s stupid I do know. I can’t. The answer is no. I could never go back to just fucking girls. Really, I don’t know if I ever want to fuck a girl again. I could never feel this heat, this animalistic rawness with a girl. I think that’s something I can only feel with another guy. Maybe I can only feel it with Brett?

 

But I don’t think that’s true either. Today at work this guy came in and for the first time in my life I found myself checking out a guy. He was tall, older than me, probably in his forties, with a little gray at his temples. He had this big thick black moustache, and these bright dazzling blue eyes. I kept glancing over at him, noticing when his cut off shirt would slip and a hairy pec and big pink nipple would be exposed. I watched him walk to the bathroom, his tight shorts clinging to his ass, and as he walked back I saw him adjusted his cock through his shorts and I was instantly hard. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted to come home and tell Brett about how the man with the moustache had fucked me. I wanted to feel him blow his load inside me. I wanted to have that load inside me when Brett got home.

 

I could have gotten Brett naked when he got home, and laid him down on his back and just mounted him. I could have ridden him till he came like we did that first morning. I remember being able to feel his heart beat our chests were pressed so tight together. His kiss felt like it would never end. He had both arms locked tight across my torso and all I could do was kiss him and let him fuck me. Not that I wanted anything else.

 

I felt his breath change and his kissing become more frantic as he got close. He pressed me even tighter to his chest and then bucked up into me. He roared into my mouth as I felt him throb inside my hole again. I felt like I could feel his flooding me. Another big load rushed out of him and into my ass. Three times in just about twelve hours. I had woken up the day before thinking I was totally straight, never having thought about men like that, and there I was taking my third load from my roommate and best friend.

 

When his orgasm had ended he has kissed me and allowed me to roll off of him. I remember feeling really empty for a moment. I had gotten used to having his cock inside me. I wanted it back.

 

Fuck, I guess maybe there is something to this. I started writing hoping I would logic myself into seeing how this was all a fluke, but all I’ve done is cement how good it made me feel and how much I want to feel like that again.

 

How could I pretend it was a fluke, I was disappointed when Brett had said we should get dressed and see what was happening with the black out. “Or we could stay here and fuck,” I had said.

 

He kissed me, patted my ass, and said, “There will be lots more fucking, don’t worry.” Then he’d tossed me a jockstrap from his dresser. “Here, put this on.”

 

I’d worn jockstraps for sports before but never just as underwear, it was fun, sexy. I felt hot. I liked how the fabric of my shorts felt against my bare ass and how the pouch made my cock bulge forward through the thin shorts fabric. Brett and I had looked almost like twins leaving the apartment that morning. Him in little cut off jean shorts, a cut off, tube socks and sneakers and me in basketball shorts, and a tank.

 

It was weird outside. Nothing was really open. Only the corner shop had its doors open, but with no power the most they had to sell was boxed goods and canned foods. There weren’t even newspapers out, no one had been able to print them. For a whole day it was like the world stopped. Of course, that night when the power came back on, and the reports of crime started coming in that tranquility seemed like an illusion, but there in the village on that morning it felt like nothing else existed. For one morning New York was a quiet little town with nowhere to be and nothing to do.

 

I’m sure that the bliss I felt from having just been fucked twice by Brett’s big cock had a lot to do with how I saw everything. The sirens that constantly fill the New York air still existed, the shouts of people, the crowds, it was all still there but for me it didn’t exist. I flet the slickness between my cheeks as we walked. I smelled the stench of sweat and sex every time a breeze played around my body. I kept staring at Brett, at how his shorts were filled out, at the chest hair that peeked over the top of his shirt collar, at his nipples when his shirt shifted. I looked at his thick hairy legs, and his square handsome face.

 

We eventually found a store a few blocks away that was open and amazingly still had ice and beer. We bought three big bags and two cases before heading home.

 

As soon as we were back inside Brett pulled his shirt off again, and then dropped his shorts. He approached me in nothing but a straining jock.

 

“How do you feel,” he had said.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“A lot’s happened to you. Your first time kissing a guy, first time sucking a guys cock, first time being bred.” I hadn’t heard that phrase before but I instantly understood what he meant. “And I’m not exactly packing the smallest cock. So how do you feel, emotionally? How are you doing? How is your ass doing?”

 

I had paused for a minute. His questions almost broke my blissful mindset, but not quite. I was still caught up in the throes of newness and lusts. I was enraptured still. Before I answered, standing right in front of the door to our apartment and in full view of the living room window, I stripped down to the jock he had given me earlier. I walked over and grabbed the back of his head. I kissed him.

 

“Honest answer, I don’t really know what all I’m feeling right now except, I’ve never been this horny in my entire life. Its like I’m 12 again and just figured out how to masturbate. You could tell me you wanted to fuck me right now and I’d bend over. Jesus Brett. I don’t understand it but fuck.”

 

He kissed me back. “I don’t think I’m quite ready for another round, but I there is something else we can do.”

 

“What?”

 

He got really close to my ear, and whispered, “you can fuck me.”

 

 

“Oh shit, fuck… fuck…fuck…” Luke groaned, as he shot another load on himself. He slumped back, his arms behind his head, and his load running down his chest. “Jesus,” he panted.

 

He looked down at the jock he was wearing, its pouch off to one side and his still pulsing cock sticking up, was this the jock Brett had given the author? He didn’t really care it was true or not, he decided that it was. Despite having shot a big load on himself Luke was horny in a different way now. Imagining himself as the author, feeling Brett’s loads pump inside of him, had gotten Luke in the mood for cock.

 

Fuck it, he thought, he’d made good progress on the attic. He could tell his family he was meeting some high school friends for a drink or something. They would never even question where he was. He got his phone out of his shorts and started looking on the apps.

 

The image of a man floated through Luke’s mind. The man he imagined Brett would have become. Of Brett would probably be in his late 70s by now, but Luke saw the 50-year-old Brett. His hair just now truly becoming more gray than blond, thick well-kept facial hair maybe just a moustache. He wore a black leather vest in Luke’s mind, and a well-loved jock. His face was still square and handsome, his body thicker and meatier, with dense hair all over it. He saw the thick cock, and low hanging ball still jutting from a dense bush, though it was no longer in fashion. He scrolled the apps, it was far too specific he knew, there would be no man to fit the perfect vision in his head. Even if there were, he thought, there was no guarantee the man would be interested in him or even free.

 

Luke scrolled. The burbs were, thankfully, not completely devoid of gay men so there were at least options. Some twinks close by, a guy that Luke had gone to high school with, the kid who worked at the movie theatre, closeted middle aged men hiding their faces, and him – Luke almost gasped when the picture appeared at the bottom of his grid. The square handsome face, the thick moustache, big expressive eyes – he wasn’t Brett but he was exactly what he wanted.

 

He clicked on the profile. 55, 6’3”, 210, muscular. Luke looked at the other photos, they showed a big strong hairy chest, the type of stomach that came from working out and a love of beer not muscular but firm, more of that handsome face, and a big meaty bulge in a pair of tight swim trunks. Luke sent him a woof, and then a greeting. Then he waited.

 

There was no point messaging anyone else, it would be this guy or no one. He thumbed through the pictures from the box again. This time flipping to the back and reading the names. He noticed now that they weren’t all young like he’d thought. There was a mix, and as he looked defiantly a slightly older slant. The author’s taste and his seemed to align. He landed on one labeled “frank – FIP 1978”, featuring a tall man, late 40’s standing naked by a pool. He had a lanky body, well-shaped torso, and a long uncut cock hanging down between his legs. He had a crazy beard made up of muttonchops that joined to his moustache but left his chin bare. Would Frank turn up in a late journal entry?

 

Luke’s phone buzzed. He opened it. It was him, and Luke saw he had unlocked his album. Luke quickly unlocked his own, and clicked on the message “Hey boy, what’s up?”.

 

“Oh nothing much,” Luke replied, “Been cleaning out an attic all day for my folks. Honestly kind horny after all the hard work.” He opened the man’s album. Jesus Christ, Luke thought, this man is perfect. The first picture in the man’s private album was a picture of a big thick cock and an ample bush. It was exactly the cock that had been in Luke’s mind, down to the blunt mushroom head he had imagined forcing his hole open. The next was that same cock from below showing a set of heavy full looking balls just begging to be drained. Then finally, shot from above, that beautiful beastly cock shoved half way into some bottom’s hole and not a condom in sight.

 

“I’m Jack,” came the man’s next reply. “Your pics got me kinda horny myself.”

 

“Luke, nice to e-meet you… oh really? They got you horny?”

 

“Sure did, you’re cute as hell. Maybe we can help each other out.”

 

“How so ;)”

 

“How about some fun that ends with my dick deep inside you?”

 

“Perfect!”

 

“You free now boy?”

 

“Sure am… you’re place?”

 

“Yeah,” he sent Luke his address. It was about twenty minutes away.

 

“I’ll be there in half an hour?”

 

“See you then boy.”

 

Luke rushed around the attic gathering his things. He stuffed the journal and pictures back in their box and stashed them back in the corner. He tossed down several more bags of trash, and moved empty boxes off to one side making it look like he’d worked hard all day. He put his shorts on, and grabbed his shirt, locking the house as he rushed out. It was when he was getting in the car he realized his chest was covered in dried cum from his load earlier… fuck it he thought, and drove off.

 

It was an easy drive to the next suburb over and Luke made it there almost exactly 30 minutes after his last message with Jack. He parked in the drive way, and sent a quick message to his mother saying he was meeting up with some friends from high school wouldn’t be home for dinner, and walked up to Jack’s front door.

 

The man who answered his knock was exactly as he had been in the pictures. Tall and strong, bright kind eyes, but a slightly rough demeaner. He welcomed Luke inside.

 

It was a nice house, a midcentury split level, still kitted out in all of its wild space age glory. Luke looked around and smiled. The dichotomy between the rough sex hungry beast in front of him and the clean perfectly pastiche home was spectacular and joyful. Something about its retro vibes fit into Luke’s fantasy in that moment, as if he had gone back in time, though he knew the midcentury had gone out a full decade before the journal had been written.

 

Jack lead them through the little foyer and past a living room complete with low slung couches and tall spacey lamps, into a bright kitchen. “Fancy a beer,” His voice was warm and rich, rumbling out from deep in his chest. Luke accepted and they stood in the kitchen Jack leaning against the counter, Luke leaning on the island in the middle of the room. They made polite small talk: where Luke went to school, what he was studying; what Jack did for a living; why Luke was cleaning out an attic.

 

“I found this box… can I sit on this?” He gestured to the island behind him. Jack nodded and Luke hopped up. “I found this box, and I have no idea who it belongs to, but it was full of old photos of naked guys, these gay porn rags from like the 1970s, a jockstrap and a journal.”

 

“Wait seriously? Do you have a gay uncle or something?”

 

“Not that I know of, that’s the thing. So I started reading the journal yesterday, and its like the story of this guy’s gay awakening. There was a black out in New York in 1977, and whoever wrote it ends up getting kinda drunk during the black out and hooks up with his roommate.”

 

“Ok, well which of your relatives lived in New York in the 70’s,” Jack sounded casual but his shorts had started to swell.

 

“Dunno. I’m hoping that I’ll find a clue or a name if I keep reading. But it’s so fucking hot. Seriously. He’s not just writing ‘my roommate fucked me gay panic ensues’ it’s like porn. He’s written every detail of what it was like to take his first cock, what it felt like as his roommate Brett bred him for the first time, waking up the next morning and wanting it again. I came all over myself reading it today.”

 

“Fuck. So it wasn’t just hard work that got you horny was it?”

 

“No, it uh…” Luke bit his lip and looked Jack dead in the eyes, “It was him describing getting fucked.”

 

“It made you want to get fucked, didn’t it boy?”

 

“Yes,” Luke felt a little breathless now, as Jack took a step closer to him.

 

“You want a man’s cum inside you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Jack was now right in front of Luke. He stopped just before they touched a pulled his shirt off over his head. Luke’s cock throbbed at the sight of Jack’s big pink nipples, bouncing muscular pecs, and thick swirling hair. He caught a whiff of the older man, and his mouth watered at the scent.

 

“Take your shirt off boy.” Luke did as he was told, and pulled his own shirt off. “Looks like you didn’t even bother to clean up before coming here boy.” Jack ran his fingers through the dried cum in Luke’s chest hair.

 

“No sir,” Luke answered in almost a whisper.

 

“That journal had you so turned on you just rushed right over to get fucked.” Luke nodded. Jacks hands snaked around Luke’s body and up his neck holding his head in place. The older man pressed his mouth firmly to Luke’s and the college boy melted into the kiss. He would put up no resistance, he wanted to be fucked. Jack pulled Luke forward till just his ass was resting on the counter. Luke swung his legs around Jack, locking them around the big man’s middle, holding himself tight to Jack’s body.

 

“Come here boy,” Jack said as he grabbed Luke by the ass and lifted him into the air. Somewhat awkwardly they walked, Luke holding tight to Jack with his legs, still kissing out of the kitchen. Jack dumped Luke back onto a bed and dove on top of him once more. He forced one of Luke’s arms up over his head and dove into the boy’s ripe pit. He lapped at the sweaty skin, till his whole face was covered in Luke’s scent.

 

Luke’s eyes had rolled into the back of his head. He was already moaning as Jack explored his body.

 

Jack took a step back. He pulled Luke’s shorts off in one swift move and looked at the toned college boy laid out in front of him. He took in the budding pecs, the pert nipples, tight stomach, and strong legs. He reveled in the fan of hair that was slowly taking over Luke’s chest, and the trail that disappeared into a… he paused looking at the old yellow jock.

 

“You’re wearing the jock from the box aren’t you?”

 

“Yeah,” said Luke a little sheepishly.

 

“Fuck, you want me to breed you in that jock? Just like the guy in the journal?”

 

“Yes,” Luke’s voice coming out in a breathless whisper.  

 

“Get on your knees boy.”

 

Luke slid off of the bed and onto his knees. Jack turned away from the boy, and stripped off his shorts and underwear. He turned back around, fully naked and completely hard. His dick was even better than it had been in the pictures. The head, looked like it was three solid inches across easily, and was flatter than any cock Luke had ever seen. It was like one of those massive plugs guys played with that barely had any taper at all. It was going to stretch him wide and Luke wanted it.

 

Jack stepped closer and smacked Luke in the face with his hard cock. Luke licked his lips and turned his head, opening his mouth wide. Jack smacked his cock against Luke’s tongue a few times before putting his hands on the back of the boy’s head and pushing his cock down his throat. Luke lapped at the invading member, swallowing hard as it passed his tonsils and allowing Jack to fuck his throat.

 

Since that first time the bear had fucked Luke at school he had slowly been developing a taste for rougher sex. He liked having his throat fucked, he liked being thrown around. He had once been tied to a guy’s bed and bred without being able to move at all. He had a bit of a reputation with the college boys too of being a rough top. While for older guys like Jack Luke might be a hungry bottom with his peers he was much more vers. He’s spanked a classmates ass so hard and so many times during one hook up the boy hadn’t been able to sit for classes the next day – he had happily come back for seconds.

 

Jack could sense what Luke wanted. He wanted to be used. He wanted the fantasy of being taken just like the author had been. He wanted Jack to work him over and then pump him full of cum. Luke was spluttering and gagging when Jack let him off his cock. The boy gasped for air as the big cock feel from his mouth. His chin was covered in spit and his eyes were watering, but the pouch of his old soiled jock was straining to keep his rock hard cock contained.

 

From deep in the back of his throat Jack hauled a big wad of spit, “Mouth open boy.” Luke obeyed, looking up with big hungry eyes, his mouth wide. Jack hawked his spit straight into the boy’s mouth. “Swallow.” He then grabbed Luke under then arms and pulled him to his feet. He spun the young almost jock around and pushed him forward onto the bed.

 

Luke had a thick round hairy ass, and when Jack spread the cheeks he found a pink pucker with a perfect spiral of hair growing around it. He ran a finger of Luke’s hole sending a shudder through his whole body. Jack got down on the ground, spat a thick wad of spit right onto the boy’s hole and then licked it. It twitched. Perfect, Jack thought, the boy’s not all talk, he’s experienced. Luke groaned in appreciation as Jack started to eat his hole properly. He dove his tongue in and out, pressing it into Luke’s sphincter, willing the tight hole open. He was soon rewarded for his labors and Luke’s hole began to soften and bloom. Jack had been right, this hole may look tight, but it has taken more than its share of cocks. Soon his whole tongue was flitting in and out of Luke’s hole.

 

The boy was writhing and groaning in ecstasy. He had both hands on his ass spreading his hole apart, trying to get the older man’s tongue deeper into himself. Luke pushed back against Jack’s face, bucking into his tongue. Jack grabbed hold of the squirming boy and gave his ass one hard smack. Luke yelped, and his hole winked at Jack. The boy liked it. While he lubed a finger with his spit Jack gave Luke’s other cheek a powerful smack as well.

 

Gently he rubbed the boy’s reddening cheeks, and started to finger his hole. First one meaty index finger working around the hole, pushing and probing. Then slowly he pressed the finger inside. Luke let out a guttural sound as the tension went out of his back and his full weight pressed into the mattress. Jack twisted that finger around, working it in and out. Then, withdrew it completely. He lubed it and the next finger with more spit and worked on then the other back inside the boy. Steadily he stretched Luke open, though really Luke was easy to open. Jack was grateful, he got so many inexperienced college boys looking to live out their daddy fantasy who really couldn’t take it. He’d spend an hour getting them open only for them to crap out after then minutes of fucking. Looking at Luke’s hole flexing around his two fingers he knew Luke could take it.

 

With his free hand Jack started to lube his cock with yet more spit. He slathered it over the big flat head, working it down the sides till the whole shaft glistened. He got up and lined his cock up with Luke’s hole.

 

“Please fuck me,” Luke moaned into the bed.

 

“Oh I’m going to fuck you boy, don’t worry.” Jack spit into his hand again and smeared it on Luke’s hole before pressing forward. There was a long moment of tension, Luke took a couple long slow breaths, and then his hole opened. The first three inched of Jack’s cock vanished inside Luke’s hole as the boy opened around the mushroom tip. They both groaned as Jack sunk the rest of his cock inside Luke’s warm guts. All the tension was gone, the entry had been made, and both were in heaven. Luke’s hole was exactly the right sort of tight, it gripped the sides of Jack’s cock while not strangling it or making him fearful of hurting the boy; and the long veins on Jack’s cock along with its slight upward curve pulled perfectly at Luke’s insides working him open and pushing against all his pleasure centers.

 

Jack rocked his hips back, pulling most of his cock out of Luke. For a moment they stayed there, with just the head of Jack’s cock holding Luke open, and then Jack slammed back inside. Luke moaned in pleasure. Jack did it again, and again, long dicking the boy’s hole till it felt completely open and use able.

 

Fifty years ago, a relative of his had been discovering how good it felt to get fucked, and now Luke was bent over in a stranger’s house experiencing the exact same joy. When Jack flipped him onto his back without pulling out Luke just sighed with contentment. Jack smiled looking down at the grin plastered across Luke’s face. This was a boy who took pleasure in being fucked, who loved it.

 

Jack growled and moved them so he was now over the boy fucking down into his hole. They were both sweating, Jack could smell the dried cum on Luke’s chest. He fished Luke’s cock out of the old jock’s pouch and stroked him while fucking his hole.

 

The energy was shifting. Jack’s pounding was more ferocious. Luke moved Jack’s hand out of the way and started to stroke his own cock as Jack fucked him. He thrust his hips back against each buck forward, trying to push Jack deeper inside himself. They were both panting. The air around the felt hot and muggy. A drop of sweat fell from Jack nose onto Luke’s chin.

 

“Fuck, you’re about to get your wish boy. I’m going to breed you.”

 

“Yes! Please! Cum inside me.”

 

“Oh, shit… Fuck… here…”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Take my…”

 

“Give it to me.”

 

“FUCK!” Jack slammed forward with all of his weight and his cock throbbed inside Luke’s hole. Luke felt the familiar rush as his insides were flooded with cum. His own cock pulsed once in his hand and then started to fire ribbons of cum across his chest yet again. Luke coated himself as Jack coated his insides. The two panted, and yelled, their orgasms reaching their peek and then slowly falling off. Luke’s head crashed back onto the bed, his hands falling limp to his sides. Jack supported himself, hovering above the boy his body shaking as the last waves coursed through him. “I fucking needed that,” he panted, looking down at Luke’s satisfied face.

 

“Me too. Fuck. That felt…” Jack slid his softening cock for Luke’s hole with a soft plop, “Fuck, shit, that felt amazing.” Luke wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “Thanks.”

 

“Any time kid,” Jack handed Luke a towel.

 

“Well, if the rest of the journal is a hot as the first few pages… I’ll probably be hitting you up a lot.”

 

“Good.”

 

They lazed around for a few minutes, still basking in the glow of their shared experience. Slowly Luke got up, tucked his cock back into the old used jock, and found his clothes. After a long kiss at the door Luke finally left and got back in his car. He was shocked to see it was after ten. Well, he thought, at least my going for drinks story seemed plausible now.

 

Back at his parents he slipped upstairs and into the shower, he took his time washing the loads off his chest. His hole felt tender and well-fucked. He slipped a finger in and felt the telltale slickness of a fresh load.

 

That night he fall asleep naked, the elation of a good fuck carrying him off to dreams of Brett, and Frank and the other men from the photos and all the stories he had yet to read.

[seattlebbbtm]

Truly epic 

[Gaysyd6666]

Amazing. Can’t wait to read more 

[Bluey02]

Fuck... What an amazing read.  Am right there in the story, loving it. Looking forward to reading more 

[SFCumdog]

This has the makings of being the best story on BZ!!! Can't wait for the rest.

[AlwaysOpen]

Life is imitating art-- I rushed back to this story today to see what the next page would reveal. Loving this story, and I have fastened the seat belt, I suspect there will be some unexpected twists coming. Thanks for putting up here for us !

[gingerdaddyG]

Wasn’t just Luke and Jack that shot their loads!!!  Amazing story! 💦💦💦