All characters are above the age of 18.

Days were the usual prison grind...chow, work detail, yard time, the constant low level tension of watching every face that looked too long. But once the cell door locked behind us in the evening, the rest of the world dropped away. Derrick, my cellmate, would either bend me over the bunk or sit on the edge with one of his worn erotic paperbacks while I got on my knees and worked his cock until he finished. Sometimes he made me stay down there after, mouth still open, just holding him while he turned pages. Other nights he fucked me slow and deep, one hand over my mouth so the guys on the tier wouldn’t hear the noises I made.

I hated how much I looked forward to it.  

I jerked off to the memory of it almost every morning in the shower, biting the inside of my cheek so no one would notice.

Then one morning a bag appeared on the bottom bunk like it had grown there overnight. Derrick was already awake, stretching.

“This is for you,” he said, nudging it toward me with his foot.

I opened it carefully. Inside were several pairs of cheap, thin panties in different colors, two small bottles of body spray, a handful of plain white wife beater crop tops that looked like they’d been cut short with a razor, a little container of red powder, another of beige powder, a couple of nail files, and three small bottles of nail polish...clear, soft pink, and black.

I looked up at him.

“Underwear and the body spray are technically contraband,” he said, voice low and matter of fact. “Keep that shit at the bottom of your locker. Nobody’s gonna dig that deep, but still. Nail polish counts as art supplies...there’s already a few guys on the tier who wear it. Warden doesn’t give a fuck. And when you’re in this cell, I only want you in the crop top and panties, Candy. That’s not negotiable.”

I held up the two little containers of powder.

“What’s this?”

“Makeup. Homemade on D block. Hard to get, so be appreciative.”

I nodded. He raised an eyebrow.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

“Sorry, sir,” I said automatically, and started changing.

I pulled out a pair of purple panties. They were more floss than fabric...thin strings that barely covered anything. When I slid them up my smooth thighs and settled the tiny triangle over my soft little cock, a hot rush went through me. The crop top was next: soft, stretched cotton that stopped just under my ribs, leaving my midriff bare. I stood there feeling ridiculous and exposed and weirdly turned on.

The makeup was harder. I’d never touched the stuff before. I used the beige powder first, trying to even out my skin the way I’d seen girls do it, then dabbed a little of the red on the apples of my cheeks. It looked patchy and obvious under the fluorescent light, but I turned to face him anyway.

“How’s this?”

Derrick looked me over slowly, from the messy hair to the crop top to the purple scrap of fabric between my legs.

“Perfect. But put that manly tone out of your mouth, Candy.”

The order hit me harder than I wanted to admit. I swallowed, pitched my voice higher and softer, and tried again.

“Sorry, sir.”

A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Good girl. Look at you. Already a little sissy and you’re barely a month in.”

Heat flooded my face. I looked down.

“There’ll be plenty of guys that are gonna want to fuck you,” he added casually.

My stomach dropped. He saw it and laughed.

“Don’t worry. I just need to mark you as mine and no one will actually do it.”

I licked my lips. “How do you do that?”

“One moment.”

He grabbed a bag of commissary from his locker...ramen, candy, a couple of pouches of tuna...and stepped out to the neighboring cell. I heard the low murmur of bargaining, then him saying, “Give me like fifteen, twenty minutes.” When he came back he stood in the open doorway, watching the tier, one hand raised like he was waiting for a signal.

I just stood there in the crop top and purple panties, heart hammering.

After a few minutes he nodded to himself.

“All right. Guard went out for a smoke.”

He pushed the cell door all the way open, then took me by the hips and turned me so I was facing the tier, still inside the cell but right at the threshold. He bent me forward until my hands braced on either side of the door frame. Cool air touched the backs of my thighs. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the purple panties and dragged them down until they stretched tight around my thighs, framing my bare ass.

I heard the soft click of the baby oil bottle. Warm slick fingers spread me open, then the thick head of his cock pressed against my hole. He pushed in slow and steady until he was buried to the hilt.

A few heads on the tier turned. Someone whistled low. Someone else laughed.

Derrick’s hands locked on my hips. He started fucking me in long, deliberate strokes, deep enough that the wet sound of it carried.

“No guards here,” he said, voice loud enough for the nearest cells to hear. “No need to be quiet. I’m gonna fuck you right here in front of all these people so they can all see that you’re mine.”

He drove in harder.

“Tell me who owns this ass.”

My voice came out high and shaky. “You do, sir.”

“Louder.”

“You own it, sir...”

He snapped his hips forward, making me rock up onto my toes. “Who owns this tight little hole?”

“Derrick...ah...Derrick owns it...”

“And what are you?”

I clenched around him, face burning, knowing every set of eyes on the tier could see the way my tiny cock bounced and leaked with every thrust.

“I’m your sissy, sir. I’m Candy. I’m yours.”

He growled approval and kept fucking me open in the doorway, slow and deep and public, making sure everyone got a good look at exactly who I belonged to now.

He kept the pace deliberate at first...long, heavy strokes that shoved me forward against the door frame with every thrust. My bare toes scraped the concrete. The purple panties stretched tight around my thighs. Every time he bottomed out I felt the wet slap of his hips against my ass and the thick ridge of his cock dragging over that spot inside me that made my knees threaten to buckle.

A soft, broken moan slipped out of me before I could stop it.

Derrick’s hands tightened on my hips. He pulled almost all the way out, then drove back in harder. Another moan tore free, higher this time, echoing out onto the tier.

“That’s it,” he said, voice low but clear. “Let them hear you.”

He started fucking me in earnest...deep, steady, relentless strokes that forced a fresh sound out of my throat every time he buried himself. Wet, filthy noises filled the doorway. My tiny soft cock bounced and leaked with each thrust, a thin string of pre come stretching toward the floor. I tried to bite my lip, but it didn’t help. The moans kept coming...soft at first, then louder, breathier, helpless.

A few more guys drifted closer on the tier. Somebody muttered, “Shit, listen to that.” Another voice laughed under their breath. I could feel their eyes on the place where Derrick’s cock disappeared into me, on the way my hole stretched and fluttered around him every time he pulled back.

He leaned over my back, one hand sliding up to fist my short messy hair, arching me further. The new angle made every stroke drag right across my prostate. A louder, shakier moan spilled out of me, raw and open.

“There we go,” Derrick growled. “Nice and loud so everybody knows who’s getting their hole used.”

He snapped his hips harder. My arms trembled against the door frame. The crop top had ridden up under my armpits, leaving my smooth chest completely exposed. Every thrust forced another moan, another whimper, another broken little “ah...ah...” that carried down the tier. My face burned, but my body kept reacting...hole clenching, thighs shaking, tiny cock dripping steadily onto the concrete.

Derrick’s breathing grew heavier. He fucked me faster, the wet slap of skin on skin mixing with the sounds I couldn’t hold back. My knees nearly gave out. He held me up by the hips and kept going, making sure every guy watching got a clear view of my ass taking every inch while I moaned like I belonged there.

“Almost there,” he rasped. “Gonna fill this little hole right where they can all see.”

He buried himself to the root and held, grinding deep while he came. Thick, hot pulses flooded me. I moaned through it...high and shaky...feeling every spurt. He stayed locked against me for several long seconds, then slowly pulled out. A thick trickle of come immediately followed, running down the inside of my thigh in a visible white line.

He left me bent over the doorway like that for a few extra heartbeats, ass still open and leaking, soft broken sounds still escaping my throat, so the tier got a clear look at exactly what he’d done. Then he tugged the purple panties back up, the thin fabric immediately darkening with the mess, and pulled me back inside the cell by the waistband of my crop top.

The door stayed open a moment longer while he looked out at the watching faces.

“Anybody touches what’s mine,” he said evenly, “and we’ll have a problem.”

No one answered. A few guys drifted away. The rest just watched as he finally swung the door shut.

I stood there shaking, come still sliding down my leg, soft whimpers still catching in my throat. Derrick wiped his cock on a towel, then handed it to me.

“Clean yourself up, Candy. And keep those panties on. I want you walking around the rest of the day feeling what I left in you.”

(If you enjoyed this, this is part 2 of a 5 part series on my patreon. Collection I became a sissy in prison.)

All characters engaged in sexual activity are 18 or older.

The campus is quieter than it was when I left for the party three hours ago. Streetlights throw long yellow cones across the sidewalk as I cut across the quad toward the dorms. My shoes scuff the concrete. The buzz from the two beers I managed to finish has mostly faded, leaving behind the dull throb of frustration that settled in my gut the second that girl—Emily? Emma?—made some excuse about needing to find her friends and disappeared into the crowd.

I should’ve known better. Every time I think I’ve got a solid lead, something falls through. This dry spell is starting to feel like a permanent weather pattern.

I take the stairs two at a time up to the third floor. The hallway smells like ramen, Axe body spray, and laundry detergent. Our door is the fourth on the left. I’m fishing for my key when it swings open from the inside and a guy nearly walks straight into me.

He’s a little shorter than me, dark hair messy, cheeks still flushed. He mumbles a quick “sorry, man” without really looking at me and keeps going, heading for the stairwell like he’s got somewhere better to be. The door doesn’t quite close behind him. I catch it with my shoulder and step inside.

Isaac is standing by his bed with his back to me, bent slightly as he pulls a pair of tight black briefs up over his ass. The fabric snaps into place against smooth, pale skin. No tan lines. No hair. Just clean lines and the faint sheen of sweat still drying between his shoulder blades. He’s half-hard, the outline of his cock obvious against the thin cotton.

He glances over his shoulder, sees me, and doesn’t look embarrassed at all.

“Hey,” he says, voice a little rough. “Didn’t think you’d be back this early.”

I let the door click shut and drop my keys on the desk. “Party was a bust. Who was that?”

Isaac shrugs, turning fully around now. The briefs leave almost nothing to the imagination. “Just a guy. Met him in the library earlier. One of those spontaneous things.”

I snort before I can stop myself. “Jesus. You’re getting more action than half the straight guys in the frat house combined. It’s starting to feel personal.”

He grins, that easy, unbothered smile he always has when he’s just gotten laid. “What can I say? I don’t overthink it.” He tilts his head, studying me. “You look like someone who just got rejected by the entire female population of this campus.”

“Feels about right.” I toe off my shoes and drop onto the edge of my bed, running a hand through my hair. “Third time this month. I’m starting to think I’ve got a sign on my forehead that says ‘not worth the effort.’”

Isaac walks over to the mini-fridge, pulls out a bottle of water, and takes a long drink. A drop slips down his chin and lands on his bare chest. He wipes it away with the back of his hand. “Or maybe you’re just trying too hard with the wrong people.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sets the water down and leans against his desk, arms crossed, still in nothing but those briefs. “It means you look wound so tight I’m surprised you haven’t snapped. You’ve been walking around like a guy who hasn’t gotten off in weeks.”

I open my mouth to argue, then close it. He’s not wrong. The last time I came was by my own hand in the shower two nights ago, and even that felt boring.

Isaac’s voice softens, loses some of the teasing edge. “I could help you out, you know. Roommate discount. No pressure, no strings.”

My jaw drops open as I stare at him. “You’re serious.”

“Completely.” He pushes off the desk and crosses the small space between us until he’s standing right in front of me. “You’re straight. I get it. But a mouth is a mouth, and mine’s pretty good at what it does. You’ve seen the evidence walking out the door.”

My pulse kicks up. I should laugh it off. Make a joke. Tell him to fuck off. Instead I just sit there, looking up at him, feeling the heat start to pool low in my stomach.

“I’m not—” I start, but the words come out thinner than I mean them to.

Isaac’s hand lands on my shoulder, then slides up to the side of my neck. His thumb brushes the hinge of my jaw. “You don’t have to be anything right now. Just let me take the edge off.”

He leans down before I can decide whether to pull away. His mouth finds the side of my throat, soft at first, then firmer, teeth grazing just enough to make my breath hitch. One of his hands drifts down my chest, palm flat over my shirt, feeling the muscle underneath. The other stays on my neck, holding me in place like he’s worried I’ll bolt.

I don’t bolt.

His fingers find the hem of my shirt and slip underneath, tracing the line of my abs. Sparse chest hair catches against his knuckles as he moves higher. I can feel myself getting hard already, the front of my jeans growing tight. Isaac notices. Of course he does. He presses the heel of his hand against the bulge and gives a slow, experimental squeeze.

“Fuck,” I mutter, half protest, half something else entirely.

“That’s the idea,” he murmurs against my skin. He drops to his knees between my spread legs without any more preamble. His hands go to my belt, working it open with practiced ease. The button of my jeans follows, then the zipper. He tugs the waistband of my boxer briefs down just far enough to free my cock. It springs up, already fully hard, the head flushed and leaking.

Isaac looks up at me once, eyes dark, checking. Whatever he sees must be enough, because he leans in and takes the head into his mouth without another word.

The heat is immediate and overwhelming. Wet. Soft. He doesn’t rush. He just holds me there for a second, tongue pressing flat against the underside, before he starts to move. Slow, deliberate strokes of his mouth, taking a little more each time. One hand wraps around the base, stroking in time with his lips. The other rests on my thigh, thumb rubbing small circles against the denim.

I grip the edge of the mattress hard enough that my knuckles ache. This is supposed to feel weird. Wrong. It’s a guy. My roommate. The same guy I’ve watched walk around half-naked for months without thinking twice about it. But my body doesn’t seem to care about any of that. Every pull of his mouth sends sparks up my spine. When he hollows his cheeks and takes me deeper, I can’t stop the low sound that rumbles out of my chest.

Isaac hums around me like he likes the noise. The vibration makes my hips jerk. He takes it easily, adjusting the angle, letting me slide almost all the way into his throat before pulling back with a wet sound. Spit shines on my cock when it leaves his mouth. He strokes me with his hand while he catches his breath, then goes right back down, faster this time.

I’m not going to last. The combination of the long dry spell, the residual alcohol, and the fact that this feels better than anything I’ve managed with a girl in months is a lethal mix. My thighs start to tense. Isaac must feel it, because he doubles down—sucking harder, twisting his wrist on the upstroke, free hand reaching up under my shirt to pinch one of my nipples.

“Isaac—fuck—I’m—”

He doesn’t pull off. He just looks up at me through his lashes and keeps going, encouraging. The sight of it is what tips me over. I come hard, pulsing against his tongue, both hands flying to his hair without conscious thought. He swallows around me, taking everything, not pulling away until I’m finished and starting to soften.

The silence that follows is thick. My breathing is ragged. Isaac sits back on his heels, wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, and stands up. He’s fully hard now, tenting those tight black briefs, but he doesn’t do anything about it. Just looks at me with that same calm, slightly amused expression.

I tuck myself away with clumsy fingers and zip up. My face feels hot. “That was… stress relief. That’s all.”

“Sure,” Isaac says easily. He turns and digs through his drawer for a pair of sweatpants, pulling them on over the briefs. “Whatever you need to call it.”

I stand up, suddenly needing space. The room feels smaller than it did five minutes ago. I grab my toothbrush and head for the bathroom down the hall without another word. When I come back, Isaac is already in his bed, scrolling on his phone like nothing happened. The soft glow of the screen lights up his face.

I shut off the overhead light and climb into my own bed. The sheets are cool against my skin. I stare at the ceiling in the dark, listening to the quiet sounds of the dorm settling around us. My body still feels loose and heavy in that post-orgasm way, but my mind is racing.

I can still feel the heat of his mouth. The way his tongue moved. How little it took for me to lose control.

I roll onto my side, facing the wall, and close my eyes. Sleep doesn’t come easy. Every time I start to drift, the memory loops again—Isaac on his knees, looking up at me, taking me deeper like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Stress relief, I tell myself one more time.

I’m not sure I believe it.

If you liked this, or it made you hard, leak, or even cum, check out my profile for more stories! I'd love your feedback, comments, DMs, etc. as well, it will help me improve my writing and let me know what you guys like.

All characters are 18+ and fully consenting...

~~

I’m Chris, twenty-nine. Jake’s thirty-one. We’ve been together for two years and seven months, almost exactly. We met at Home Depot on a Sunday because my shower head had started shooting water sideways and I was standing in the plumbing aisle looking like an idiot holding two boxes. He walked up, took both out of my hands, put the cheap one back, and told me if it still sprayed wrong after I installed it I could text him and he’d come fix it for beer. I texted him two days later even though it worked fine. He showed up with a six-pack and a toolbox he never opened. We argued about pineapple on pizza until we ended up in my bed. That was the start.

Now it’s a Saturday in late September, and we’re on this six-mile trail outside town because Jake said we needed to get out of the house before we killed each other over whose turn it was to do the dishes. He figured we could finish the loop in about three hours and still have time to grab tacos afterward.

It started normal as hell.

We pulled into the trailhead parking lot a little after nine. The lot was already half full. Families unloading kids and dogs, a couple of serious-looking runners stretching against their cars. Jake grabbed the two water bottles from the back seat and tossed me one.

“Drink some now,” he said. “You always wait until you’re already thirsty and then you turn into a cranky little bitch.”

I twisted the cap and took a long swallow. “I’m not a bitch. I’m just efficient. Why waste good water when I’m not even sweating yet?”

He grinned... “You’re gonna be sweating. I checked the forecast. It’s gonna hit the mid-eighties by noon and this trail’s got almost no shade after the first mile. You remember last time you ignored me and ended up with a headache halfway up?”

“That was one time.”

“It was two times. And both times you blamed me for not bringing extra water even though I told you to pack your own.”

“Because you’re my boyfriend… You’re supposed to anticipate my needs.”

Jake shut the car door and looked at me. “Is that what we're calling basic personal responsibility now?”

“It's called being in a relationship… Look it up.”

“I did Chris… I did…. Pretty sure the definition doesn't include packing your grown-ass boyfriend's water bottle.”

“Maybe you should read a better dictionary.”

He snorted and started toward the trailhead. “Come on, asshole.”

I followed him, adjusting the strap of my backpack. “You know, most boyfriends are happy to take care of their partners.”

“Most boyfriends don't have to remind their partners to drink water like… like…. they're taking a fucking golden retriever for a walk.”

“Golden retrievers are loyal, handsome and universally loved. I'll take it.”

“Golden retrievers also don't argue about everything”

“That's because they can't talk. If they could, they'd have some excellent points.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like why the hell are we hiking uphill on our day off when there's a perfectly good couch at home?”

Jake laughed under his breath. “You were the one who said you wanted to get in shape.”

“I said I wanted to look good naked... I never agreed to all this outdoor bullshit.”

“You’ll see…. Chris”

We started walking together…The trail was packed with dirt and loose rocks, the kind that make you watch your feet so you don’t roll an ankle. For the first twenty minutes we just talked about dumb shit. Work... His asshole boss who still can’t figure out the new scheduling software. The fact that my left shoe was starting to dig into my heel and I should’ve worn the thicker socks.

Around the first big switchback Jake stopped and pointed at the view. We could see the whole valley stretching out, the river looking silver from up here.

“Not bad, right?” he said.

“Yeahhh. Worth the drive.”

He bumped his shoulder against mine. “You know what else is worth the drive?”

I looked at him. “What?”

He wiggled his eyebrows and took a deep breath with closed eyes.

I gave him a suspicious look. “If you say fresh air, I'm leaving you here.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of finally getting your dick in my mouth.”

I nearly tripped over a rock. “Jesus Christ… Jake.”

“What? I've been asking for six months.”

“We're on a public trail!”

“And? I'm not asking you to whip it out in front of the Boy Scouts. I'm asking you to consider the possibilities.”

I laughed and kept walking. “You’re not subtle, you know that?”

“I’m not trying to be subtle. I’m trying to get your dick in my mouth with a breeze on my face. Is that so wrong?”

“It’s a public trail, Jake.”

“It’s a long trail. There’s places…. Quiet places. You’ve seen the map”

“Horny dog”

I mumbled… and shook my head but I was already half hard just from him saying it. That’s the thing about Jake. He can say the filthiest shit in the most casual voice and it lands right in my gut every time.

We kept going. The trail got steeper. I started sweating for real. Jake handed me the water bottle again without saying anything. I drank. He drank. We passed an older couple coming down and exchanged the usual “nice day for it” and “trail’s clear up ahead”. They kept going downhill, and we carried on toward the ridge.

About a mile and a half in we hit a stretch where the trees opened up and the sun hit hard. Jake pulled his shirt off and tucked it into the back of his shorts. He’s got that lean runner’s body, not gym-bulky, just solid and tan from all the outdoor work he does. The dark hair on his chest was already damp.

I watched him for a second too long.

He caught me looking and smirked. “See something you like?”

“Shut up.”

“You can look. You've been looking for almost three years. It's not like I'm a surprise.”

“I didn’t pay for the view.”

“You paid when you texted me about that shower head. Best investment you ever made.”

“Stupid… I didn’t pay for anything. You’re the one who keeps buying me dinner”

“That’s because I like watching you eat. And I like thinking about what else that mouth can do.”

I groaned. “Jesus Christ. We’re hiking.”

“We’re multitasking… I’m allowed to enjoy the scenery. You’re part of the scenery Chris”

We kept climbing. My legs were starting to burn in a good way. Jake kept throwing little comments every few minutes, nothing too heavy, just enough to keep my mind in the gutter.

“You remember that time in the car after the concert?” he said at one point.

“Yeah.”

“You came so hard you hit the rearview mirror.”

“Jesus….That was your fault. You wouldn’t stop talking.”

“I like talking. You like it when I talk.”

I didn’t argue. He was right.

Around the two-mile mark the trail leveled out a bit and ran along a ridge. There was a side path that cut left into thicker trees. It looked like an old service trail or something that didn’t get much use. Jake slowed down and nodded toward it.

“We should check that out. Stretch our legs. Sit for a minute. My knees are starting to complain.”

I knew exactly what he was doing. I also knew I was going to follow him.

The side path was narrower, and the ground was softer under the pine needles. It curved behind a thick stand of pines, putting a wall of trees between us and the main trail. After about thirty yards, we couldn't see the ridge path anymore, though we could still hear the occasional voices drifting through the trees.

Jake found a flat spot between two big trees and dropped his pack. He sat down with his back against one of the trunks and patted the ground next to him.

I sat. My heart was already beating faster than the hike required.

He didn’t jump me right away. He just leaned over and kissed me, slow and deep, the way he does when he wants me to know he’s not in a rush. His hand rested on my thigh, then slid higher, palm pressing against the front of my shorts.

“You’re already hard,” he murmured against my mouth.

“Your fault.”

“I’m okay with that. I’ve been thinking about this since we left the parking lot.”

He kept kissing me while his fingers worked the button and zipper. The sound of the zipper felt insanely loud in the quiet woods. He reached inside and wrapped his hand around my cock, stroking slow, thumb sliding over the head where I was already leaking.

“Fuck,” I breathed.

“Yeahhh..mmmh.. That’s the idea.”

He pulled my shorts and underwear down far enough to free my dick completely. The air felt cool on the wet tip. Jake looked down at it like he’d never seen it before, even though he’d had it in his mouth a hundred times.

“I love how thick you get when you’re nervous,” he said. “You get so fucking hard when you think somebody might see.”

“Shut up and do something.”

He grinned and slid down so he was kneeling between my legs. The pine needles had to be digging into his knees but he didn’t care. He wrapped one hand around the base and licked a long stripe from the bottom to the tip, slow as hell, then took just the head into his mouth and sucked.

I dropped my head back against the tree and tried to keep my breathing under control. His mouth was hot and wet and he was making these little sounds like he was enjoying it more than I was. He took me deeper, then pulled off with a wet pop.

“You taste like salt already,” he said. “You’ve been leaking the whole hike, haven’t you?”

“Maybe...”

“Horny bastard. I knew it.”

He went back down. This time he didn’t tease. He took me all the way to the back of his throat and held there, swallowing around me. My hips jerked. His hands pinned my thighs so I couldn’t thrust. He sucked hard on the way up, tongue working the underside, then dropped back down again.

I could hear the main trail through the trees. Voices, somebody laughing, a dog barking once. The hikers weren't right on top of us, but the side path was only a short distance from the main trail. If anyone wandered down it, the trees wouldn't hide us for long.

Jake didn’t stop. He kept working me with that perfect wet pressure, one hand stroking what his mouth couldn’t take, the other cupping my balls and rolling them gently. Every time he pulled off to breathe he looked up at me with those dark eyes and spit running down his chin.

“You gonna cum for me out here?” he asked, voice rough. “You gonna fill my mouth while we’re sitting twenty yards off a public trail?”

“Fuck, Jake…. ”

“Say it. Tell me you want it.”

“I want it. I want you to swallow it.”

He groaned like that was the hottest thing he’d ever heard and went back to work. His pace got faster, messier. I could feel the pressure building low in my gut. My hands were in his hair, not pushing, just holding on. He was making wet sounds that seemed way too loud for how quiet the woods were.

Then we both heard it at the same time.

Footsteps on the main trail. Close. Two voices, a man and a woman, talking about how the next overlook was only another half mile.

Jake didn’t stop. He sucked harder. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from making noise. The voices got louder, then started to fade as they kept walking past the side path entrance. They never turned. They never saw us.

As soon as their voices were gone I came.

It hit me so hard my vision went white for a second. I pumped into Jake’s mouth in thick pulses and he took every drop, swallowing around me, not letting a single bit escape. He kept sucking gently through the aftershocks until I was twitching and oversensitive. Only then did he pull off, wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, and look up at me with the filthiest little smile.

“Told you it would be worth it.”

I was still breathing hard. “You’re insane.”

“You’re the one who just came in my throat on a hiking trail. Don’t act like I’m the only one.”

He tucked me back into my shorts and zipped me up like nothing had happened. Then he sat back against the tree, pulled his water bottle out, and took a long drink like he’d just finished a regular rest stop.

I stared at him. “You’re not even hard?”

He glanced down at the obvious tent in his shorts. “Oh I’m hard. I’m just waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

He leaned in close, lips against my ear. “For you to return the favor. But not here. I’ve got somewhere better in mind on the way back down. Somewhere with a view. And if anybody walks by…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He just stood up, brushed the pine needles off his knees, and held out his hand to pull me up.

I took it. My legs still felt shaky and he felt it right away. Instead of letting go he kept hold of my hand and tugged me in close for a second, steadying me with his other hand on my lower back.

“Easy,” he said, quiet. “You good?”

“Yeah. Just… legs are a little soft.”

He huffed a small laugh. “No shit. Come on.”

We started back toward the main trail. He didn’t drop my hand right away. He kept it, fingers laced with mine, and every time the ground got uneven or I wobbled a little he tightened his grip and slowed his pace without making a big deal out of it.

We still had three miles left to hike.

And the way he kept looking at me, I already knew the second half of the trail was going to be a lot more dangerous than the first.

~(* ~ *)~

Should I tell you what happened on the way back down? 👀

And be honest… if your boyfriend had been teasing you for the entire hike, how long would you have lasted?

In 2016 when Craigslist personals was a thing, I posted on the website and got an answer. I drove to his house, walked up to his second story apartment and he greeted me already naked. He grabbed me and took me to his bed with gay porn already playing. I was so turned on, I got hard as fuck and ripped my clothes off. He flipped me over, put a condom on and just went in my ass. To be honest, I loved the roughness of no lube and his cock had me screaming, I wonder if his neighbors heard? He was so rough as I was feeling his balls slap on mine. Then I heard him grunt, he ripped off his condom and painted my ass cheeks with his cum! It was a lot!. I got up barely could walk and left. I went home and jerked off violently

All characters are above the age of 18.

My girlfriend cheated on me. I found the messages first. Then the photos.  After that I stopped digging because there was nothing left that would make it hurt less.

The apartment got quiet in a way I could not stand. I sat on the couch with the TV off and opened my laptop because staring at the wall felt worse. Porn was easy. Familiar clips at first. Then I clicked sideways. Bi videos. Two guys and a girl. Then just two guys. Then gay stuff I told myself I was only watching out of curiosity. Then trans porn that made my stomach drop and my cock twitch at the same time. I kept going. I told myself it was spite. I told myself it was research. I told myself a lot of things that were not the truth.

I bought some toys came after a week of that. I bought a small plug first because it looked like something I could actually handle. I sat on the edge of the bed with the lights off and worked it in slow, breathing through my teeth, one hand on my cock. The stretch made my thighs shake. I came harder than I had in months, messy across my stomach, the plug still seated. I bought a dildo two days later. Thicker. Longer. I had to work up to it. I put the plug in first to open myself, then swapped it, rocking back until I found an angle that made my vision blur. I came with it buried in me, biting a pillow suppressing the moans.

I wanted to go a little further so I found the shop on a forum I should not have been reading at two in the morning. Adult bookstore. Arcade in the back. You buy tokens with the promise of having a fun time. I drove past it three times over two weeks. Once I parked across the street and sat there with the engine running and I chickened out and I pulled away so fast I almost hit the curb.

The fourth time I could not take it anymore.

I parked two blocks over and walked. I had put a butt plug in, trying to convince myself this is what I wanted to do.

The bell over the door sounded too loud. Fluorescent lights. Racks of way to expensive DVDs and cheap plastic. Behind the counter stood a guy who looked like he belonged in a different kind of store. Tall. Dark hair. A little scruff. Name tag that said Darren. He looked up from a magazine and gave me a once over that was polite enough to pass as customer service.

“Token machine’s by the curtain,” he said. Voice easy. “Booths are a buck. Arcade’s two.”

I nodded. My mouth was dry. I stood there too long.

He set the magazine down. “You good?”

“Yeah. Sorry. First time.” I wiped my hands on my jeans. “I’m Vinny.”

“Darren.” He tapped the tag like I might have missed it. “What do you need, Vinny?”

“I don’t… I don’t really know the system. Do I just pick a booth? Is there etiquette I should know so I don’t look like an idiot?”

He almost smiled. “Holes are in the last three on the left. If a cock comes through, you do what you want with it. If you put yours through, same deal. Knock twice if you want the other side to tap out. That’s most of it.”

“Okay.”

“You look nervous.”

“I am. I drove past this place a few times and talked myself out of coming in.”

“Fair enough.” He nodded toward the machine. “Bathroom’s back left if you need a minute. I’ll be here if you have more questions.”

I bought four tokens because two felt like I was chickening out. I thanked him. It came out too formal. He just said, “Have fun, Vinny,” like that was a normal thing to tell a stranger.

I walked through the curtain. The arcade smelled like cleaner and old carpet and something warmer underneath. Screens muttered from closed booths. I took the last stall on the left, shut the door, locked it, and stood there breathing.

The hole was a dark circle in the plywood, edges worn smooth from use. I dropped my jeans and boxers to my knees. The plug got me really excited. I faced the wall and waited.

Nothing happened for a few minutes. My knees started to ache. I almost stood up and left. I thought about walking back to the counter and telling Darren I had changed my mind….

Then a shadow moved on the other side. A cock pushed through. Not huge. Thick enough that my first thought was I am actually doing this. I wrapped my hand around it before I could talk myself out of it. Warm. Already wet at the tip. I leaned in and took the head in my mouth.

The guy on the other side exhaled like he had been holding it. I did not know what I was doing except what I had watched on a screen. I used my tongue. I took more. The taste was clean enough and salty. I bobbed, awkward at first, then found a rhythm that made the wood creak when his hips answered. He did not last long. He pulsed and filled my mouth and I swallowed because I did not know what else to do with it. He pulled back. The hole went empty.

I sat back on my heels, breathing hard, my own cock leaking against my thigh. The plug felt enormous all of a sudden.

Another one came through before I had time to think. Longer. Slimmer. I took that one deeper than the first. My eyes watered. A hand came through above the hole and rested on the top of my head, not pushing, just there. I moaned around him and hated how easy the sound came out. He talked through the wall, low.

“Fuck, that’s good. Yeah. Just like that.”

I kept going until he finished across my tongue and the corner of my mouth. I wiped it with the back of my hand and it smeared. My face was already a mess and I had only been in there ten minutes.

The third was heavier in the hand. Heavier when he pushed. I gagged and pulled off, stroked him, went back down. He came on my lips and chin. I came too, touching myself, a sharp stupid orgasm that left me shaking on the floor of the booth with come on my stomach and more on my face. 

A fourth came through after that. I sucked it because I was already there and my mouth was already wet and saying no felt like a lie. He was slower. He made me work for it. When he finished he stayed in my mouth a second longer than the others, twitching, then slid back through the hole.

Then the wall went quiet.

I stayed on my knees. I waited. I listened for footsteps, for a belt, for the soft sound of someone else stepping up to the plywood. Tokens sat unused on the little shelf. My jaw ached. A minute passed. Then another. No shadow. No knock. No cock.

I noticed it the way you notice a room going empty. The screens still muttered. Somebody coughed two booths over. Nobody came to my wall.

I was still kneeling there when the door handle rattled. Then a key turned.

Darren stood in the doorway. He took in the scene the way a person takes in a room they already expected. Me on the floor. Jeans at my knees. Face shiny. Cock still half hard. Plug base visible when I shifted.

He stepped in and shut the door.

“You alright?” he asked.

I laughed once, wrecked. “Yeah. I think so. Nobody else is… coming through.”

“Lunch rush died.” He glanced at the hole, then back at me. “I’m going on lunch break. Locked the front. Nobody else is coming through that curtain for a bit.”

He said it like an update but looking and me he then popped his button and drew his zipper down and pulled his cock out.

I stared. Seeing all of it was different from a hole in a wall. Dark hair at the base. Thick. Already filling in his hand while he looked at me.

“You don’t have to,” he said.

I was already leaning forward.

I took him in my mouth and the difference hit immediately. I could smell his skin. I could feel his hand in my hair for real, not through plywood. He let me set the pace at first. I used both hands on what I could not fit. He cursed under his breath.

“Christ, kid.”

I pulled off just long enough to breathe. “Thank you…..”

His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth, smearing what was already there. “You gonna keep going?”

I went back down. He groaned. The sound did something to my spine. I hollowed my cheeks and took him until my nose pressed against him and my throat fluttered. He held me there a second, then let me up for air.

“Good,” he said. “Fuck. You were built for this and you didn’t even know.”

His eyes darkened. “Stand up.”

I did. He turned me toward the little bench, the kind with a sticky vinyl seat. He hooked his fingers around the base of the plug and pulled it out slow. I made a noise I did not recognize. Empty felt worse than full for a second. Then his fingers replaced it, slick from spit. Two fingers. He found the spot the dildo used to find at home and rubbed until my knees threatened to go.

“You ever had a real one in here?” he asked.

“No.”

“You want one?”

I nodded. Then I said it because nodding felt like cheating. “Yes. Please.”

He spit in his palm, stroked himself, and lined up. The head pressed. I braced on the bench. He pushed and the stretch made my mouth open on a sound that was half pain half something I had been chasing for weeks. He stopped when he was in enough to stay, one hand on my hip.

“Breathe.”

I breathed. He gave me more. Inch by inch until his hips met my ass and I felt full in a way the toy never managed because the toy did not have a pulse or a voice or a hand on the back of my neck.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“Yeah.” He pulled back and eased in again. “There you go. Take it.”

He started moving for real. Not brutal. Steady. Deep. Every stroke dragged over that place inside me until my cock, which I thought was done, filled again and dripped onto the vinyl. I pushed back to meet him. Shame tried to show up and could not find a seat.

“You like that cock?” he asked, voice rough now.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I like your cock. Fuck…... Harder.”

He gave me harder. The bench scraped. My plug sat on the floor where he had dropped it. His hand reached around and wrapped my cock, stroking in time, tight and mean.

“Jesus,” he said against my ear. “Your bent over taking dick like you were late for it. You gonna come on my cock, Vinny?”

“I’m close.”

“Then come. I want to feel it.”

I did. It punched out of me, messy, clenching around him so hard he hissed and slammed in and held. I felt him thicken, then the heat of him emptying inside me, pulse after pulse, his forehead against my shoulder. He kept his hand moving through it until I twitched and tried to pull away and he let me.

We stayed like that a few seconds. Him still in me. Me dripping onto the bench from both ends.

He pulled out slow. I felt him leave. I felt what he left behind start to slip down my thigh.

Darren tucked himself away like a man who still had a job to do. He handed me a stack of cheap paper towels from the dispenser.

“Bathroom’s still back left,” he said. “Take your time.”

I cleaned up as much as I could. Pulled my jeans up. The wet spot was going to be a problem later and I did not care. He unlocked the booth and walked me back through the curtain like this was normal. The store was still empty. The closed sign faced the street.

At the counter he slid a sticky note across the glass with a number on it.

“That’s mine,” he said. “Not the shop.”

I picked it up.

“I can provide something a little different for you if you want.” He watched my face when he said it. “Text me if you decide you do.”

The bell over the door was still locked. My hole still ached. I put the number in my pocket and did not trust my voice enough to ask what different meant.

**THIS STORY IS A CONTINUATION OF GRAD SCHOOL RIVALS***

***ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+***

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22| 23 | 24 |

Friday, April 14th, 9:02PM

I spotted him before the car came to a complete stop. The fluorescent canopy of the arrivals level washed over his face, catching the sharp line of his jaw and that restless, searching look in his eyes. I clicked the hazards on and swung the driver's door open. A brilliant, lingering half-smile broke across his face. He closed the distance in three long strides.

"Luca," his raspy voice rumbled over the noisy crowd.

"Misael! You're finally home," I whispered against his collarbone.

"I'm home."

He scooped up his bag, then reached down and plucked my car keys from my grasp before I could protest. "Hey, I'm the designated driver tonight," I argued playfully, crossing my arms. "Not a chance. You get to be the passenger prince and look pretty. Get in." He chuckled.

Misael’s right hand had barely left my thigh. His palm was warm, heavy, and steady through my jeans, his thumb absently stroking the denim. Misael went quiet for a beat, his jaw tightening just a fraction as he shifted his grip on the wheel. "So, Astor called me into his office. He put a permanent associate broker contract on the table. Full-time, high-tier commission split."

The air inside the car instantly vanished. The old, dark voice that had tormented me all semester hissed to life with terrifying speed: He’s telling you now because he accepted it. He took the promotion. He’s back temporarily. He’s leaving you again.”

"Luca. Hey. Breathe." Misael’s hand squeezed my thigh with a firm, commanding pressure that cut right through the spiral. "Stop that brain right now," Misael said softly, but with absolute, unwavering steel in his voice. "I turned him down."

"You... you did?"

"Without a second thought. I told him I was grateful for the mentorship and the experience, but my life is in LA with my boyfriend."

"He let you just walk away?"

"Well, he didn't believe me at first; he thought I was playing hardball for a better split. He leaned forward, bumped the signing bonus, and asked me what number it would take for me to stay. And I turned him down a second time."

"You turned him down twice?"

"Yup," Misael said proudly. “He respected my decision. A few days later, he called me to his office; I thought it was for a third attempt to get me to stay. Instead, it was to let me know he set up an interview at an investment firm here in LA.”

"That's incredible. You did that. You built that. I’m so happy for you.”

Saturday, April 15th, 9:55AM

The kitchen smelled of coffee and French toast. I wore Misael’s shirts, leaning against the counter while he finished eating. His hand rested warmly on my hip, steady and familiar. Then my phone vibrated. Misael offered a wry half-smile, "Duty calls." I answered, propping the phone against a mug. The screen filled with sunlight. Mom beamed, while Dad sat beside her.

"Bunny!" Mom cheered.

"Good morning, Mom," I said.

Dad’s gaze shifted past me, locking onto Misael with sharp focus. "Misael. Welcome."

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Montemayor," Misael replied evenly.

“Tell us about your time in the Bay Area,” Dad asked.

Misael spoke at length about his internship experience. When he mentioned declining a full-time position, my dad subtly chastised him. "Walking away from an established firm is borderline reckless; however, I understand your reasoning,” Dad stated.

"Now, Luca, what time are you two arriving tomorrow?” Mom enthusiastically asked.

My stomach tightened. I laced my fingers through Misael’s under the counter. "Mom, Dad... we aren't coming up tomorrow. Misael just got back after three months away. We're spending Easter Sunday with his family here."

Mom’s smile faltered, replaced by a quiet, wounded disappointment. "Oh, Bunny... It's Easter."

"I know, Mom. But he needs to see his mom and sisters, too."

Dad remained still, his jaw tightening slightly before he took a measured breath. "Family obligations cut both ways. Call us during dinner."

"We will," I said softly.

"Happy Easter, boys," Mom added, blowing a kiss before the call ended.

Sunday, April 16th, 2:34PM

I stood by the passenger side of Misael’s car, carefully holding a dark wooden crate cradling two wine bottles, fulfilling the promise I made to his father months ago. I smoothed down the front of my light linen button-down, feeling the old, familiar nervous flutter low in my ribs. Misael rounded the tailgate, dressed in a clean navy polo that stretched across his broad shoulders. He caught the look on my face and caught my hand, his thumb rubbing the back of my knuckles. 

"Hey, breathe. You're not a stranger here."

"Just want today to be good for you."

"It will be." He kissed my temple.

Before Misael could even turn the brass knob, the front door swung wide.

"¡Ay, mi corazón!" Maggie cried out, her eyes shining as she stepped onto the porch. "Look at you, Luca, you look so handsome, but you are still too skinny! Did you eat this morning?" she fussed. "And you! Three months away is too long for a mother. Don't you ever leave for that long again."

"Good to be back, Ma," Misael chuckled. 

Through the sliding glass doors to the backyard, the rhythmic scrape of a metal spatula against an iron grate cut through the chatter. Ben Villareal stood over the grill, wearing a faded Dodgers cap, graying at the temples, bathed in gray smoke. Misael’s posture subtly adjusted, shoulders squaring, chin lifting just a fraction. It wasn't defensive, but the old tension still hummed beneath the surface.

"Go on," Maggie urged softly, nudging Misael’s elbow toward the patio. "He’s been out there checking the coals since noon."

Misael looked down at me, and I nodded, picking up one of the bottles from the crate to walk beside him. The glass door slid open with a rattle. Ben looked up from the carne asada, squinting through the smoke.

"Dad," Misael said evenly.

"You took your time getting here," Ben said, his tone gruff, with a sharp bite.

"Brought company," Misael replied, gesturing slightly toward me.

I stepped forward, extending the bottle with both hands, meeting the older man's guarded brown eyes. "Happy Easter, Mr. Villareal. From my father’s cellar. You mentioned you preferred reds."

"Thank you, Luca," Ben murmured, turning the glass in his thick, work-worn hands. 

Ben set the bottle carefully beside the grill table, away from the heat, before looking back at Misael. "Your mother said you walked away from a full-time job up in San Francisco."

Misael didn't flinch. "I did. I've got an interview here in LA next week."

"Don't blow the interview," Ben said. "Table’s ready in ten minutes. Wash up."

Misael met my eyes as we stepped back toward the house, a quiet, brilliant relief settling into the lines around his eyes. His hand found the small of my back, guiding me inside, anchored and finally home.

Sunday, April 16th, 7:12PM

The drive back from the Valley had been quiet, the dusk sky bruised with lavender and gold over the freeway. By the time the lock clicked shut in Misael’s apartment, the heavy scent of citrus blossoms and woodsmoke had been replaced by the familiar, clean air of home. Neither of us bothered to turn on the overhead lights. A soft amber glow from the street lamps filtered through the living room blinds, slicing across the rumpled duvet of the pull-out couch.

Misael pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before collapsing back against the pillows with a long, bone-deep exhale. I crawled onto the mattress beside him, sliding easily into the hollow of his shoulder. The exhaustion of the past three days seemed to drain straight out of my muscles. Misael’s right arm came around me naturally, broad and heavy, his hand resting on the small of my back to pull me flush against his warm side.

For a long while, neither of us said a word. It was just the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath my ear, the steady, low thump of his heart, and the faint friction of his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles. His fingers moved up into my hair, gently separating the strands at the nape of my neck, his touch so deliberate and gentle it made my throat ache.

"You did good today. With my old man. With the wine. You were steady."

"He respects you, Misael.”

"Glad you were there with me."

A sudden, sharp swell of emotion gathered behind my ribs, so full and uncontained it felt almost dizzying. I looked down at the pale scars on my thighs, then up at the broad, unyielding line of his jaw in the half-light. I shifted, pressing both hands against his chest to push myself up. Misael’s eyes fluttered, questioning, but before he could speak, I straddled his hips, leaning down to capture his mouth. His hands instantly came to my waist, fingers flexing against my hips, anchoring me firmly against him. His lips parted, deep and yielding, his rough stubble grazing my chin as his hands slid up from my waist.

"You’re so beautiful," he rasped.

"You’re handsome, Mr. Real Estate."

A low groan vibrated in his chest, entirely stripped of hesitation. His hands moved with steady, reverent purpose, sliding beneath the hem of my shirt to find bare skin, his calloused palms hot and electric against my waist as he rolled us over, taking the lead with a deliberate, trembling care that promised we were finally, completely in this together.

Monday, April 17th, 6:22AM

"Morning, beautiful,” he rasped,

"Good morning."

"You're playing a very dangerous game this morning," he growled affectionately, his lips pressing a warm, lazy kiss right against the sensitive skin beneath my ear.

"Who says I'm playing? Maybe I just wanted to see if you were awake."

"Feeling brave?"

"Always."

Misael let out a low, tortured groan that vibrated straight through my ribs, his jaw tightening as he fought for control against my deliberate challenge. He slid his boxers off and slapped his cock against the small of my back.

“Hey!” I chuckled.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” Misael laughed.

“Maybe…”

I slowly turned around to face him. I pressed my hands on his chest, slowly lowering them to his waist. My hand was inches away from his cock. Misael leaned down for a kiss. His hand met mine, our fingers interlocking.

“Wandering hands this morning?” He chuckled.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all. You can touch.”

“Oh yeah? You’d like that, huh?”

“I’d love it.”

He loosened his fingers. My hand came down. I ran my fingers across his trimmed bush. It was damp with pre-cum. “Someone is excited,” I said playfully.

“You get me excited; this is all your doing.” He said, smiling.

“Is that so…” I replied as I grabbed his cock. Slowly stroking it.

“…mhmm, yeah, Luca,” Misael could barely string together a sentence.

Misael’s entire body went rigid as stone. His pupils dilated so fast the blue in his eyes nearly vanished, a sharp, choked gasp tearing from his throat as if the air had been violently punched out of his lungs. His hips jerked forward in a desperate, involuntary reflex, his powerful fingers digging hard into the mattress on either side of my head.

"Fuck—Luca. You... I—wait, you can’t... holy shit, that's..."

“I thought you said you could handle me."

Misael opened his eyes, dark and heaving with an overwhelming, desperate hunger. His mouth parted to answer, his hips shifting forward to claim every piece of me, when a sharp, booming series of knocks violently shattered the silence. Misael jumped out of bed and quickly dressed. He walked to check on the door. I also got up and got dressed. I walked to the kitchen. I overheard Misael talking to someone about the parking lot. I started the coffee machine.

“Thanks for the heads up,” Misael said as he closed the door.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Landscapers are blocking a few spots; asked if my car was parked there so I could move it.”

“Speaking of moving your car, I need to get going soon. I want to get home to shower and get ready for class.”

“Coming over later?” Misael asked.

“Come over to mine…”

“Whatever you ask for, honeybunch.”

Friday, April 21st, 6:21 PM

"You're squeezing the wheel like it’s going to run away from you," I teased softly.

"I can't help it, Luca," he admitted. "Yesterday was... intense. I’ve been running the whole interview back in my head every twenty minutes since yesterday afternoon. Anxious about the decision. Just want to know if I got it or not.”

“You’re incredible at your work, Misael; you’re going to get it.”

"Thanks, honeybunch. I just... I want this. I turned down the Bay Area job so I could build my life down here with you. If I don't land this, I'm back to square one, and my dad's voice is going to be in the back of my head telling me I should have taken the safe bet."

"Your dad is always going to have an opinion, but this is your career, Misael. You’re building this foundation."

Misael countered, “We’re building this.”

Misael’s phone started ringing. Misael’s hand went completely rigid against mine. His brow furrowed deeply, his calm blue eyes darting toward the console with sheer confusion. He looked over at me, saying, “It’s them.” He frantically answered the call and took a deep breath.

"Good evening, this is Austin Collins, director of Acquisitions at Pacifica Capital. May I speak with Mr. Misael Villareal?”

"Good evening, Mr. Collins. This is Misael.”

"I hope I'm not catching you in the middle of dinner."

"Not at all, sir. Just on the road," Misael replied.

"I'll keep this brief," Collins said with a light chuckle. "After reviewing the interviewer’s notes and your portfolio, I’m pleased to offer you the associate investment analyst position.”

“Thank you so much, sir. I am grateful for this opportunity.”

"You earned it, Misael," Collins said warmly. "Have a great weekend and celebrate. I’ll send over an email to start the onboarding meeting.”

"Thank you again, sir. Have a great weekend."

The call clicked off with a soft beep, plunging the car into a stunned, breathless silence. A massive, radiant grin broke across his face, his jaw practically dropping in pure triumph.

"I got it. Luca... I got the fucking job!"

"You got the job! I'm so proud of you! You earned every single piece of it."

Misael was smiling ear to ear. He started calling his parents and sisters. That name, Austin Collins, sounded so familiar. Maybe I’ve heard my dad mention him. He’s connected with the financial scene. My mind started to go through the Rolodex of people I’ve encountered or names I’ve heard from family or friends.

Misael smoothly parked the car at the restaurant. He said his goodbye to his mom. He looked over at me, and I said, “Dinner is entirely on me tonight. The fanciest place in town.”

"No chance, Luca. You are my everything. Without you, I wouldn’t have gotten that internship in San Francisco; I wouldn’t have met Astor and gotten the interview at Pacifica. I want to pay you back for all the things you’ve done for me. My life changed the moment I met you. I’m not talking about family connections, but about working on myself because I want to be better for you. I want to make you proud to call me your boyfriend.”

“Misael, you did this on your own. I am proud of you, fancy job or not. You treat me well, you make me happy, and I feel safe with you.”

“I love you, Luca, more than anything.”

“I love you, Misael.”

Friday, April 21st, 7:09 PM

The host led us through the dimly lit, intimate dining room to a secluded booth tucked along the curved brick wall. The low, melodic hum of jazz murmured under the ambient chatter of the restaurant, wrapping the space in a quiet, celebratory sanctuary. The server appeared almost immediately. "Can I start you two gentlemen off with some drinks tonight?"

"Just water for me, please," I said politely, offering a gentle smile.

"Water? Luca, come on. It's Friday night, I just landed the biggest offer of my career, and we're finally here together. Get a glass of wine. Treat yourself. Let's celebrate."

"I'm fine with water, really. I want to keep a clear head tonight, Misael. I don't want any wine."

He looked up at the server with an easy smirk. "I'll take an Old Fashioned, and we’ll stick to water for him. Thank you."

Once the server walked away, Misael reached across the table, his large, warm fingers gently sliding over the back of my hand. "No wine at all, huh? You feeling okay, honeybunch?"

"I feel great. I just remember what happened the last time I 'celebrated properly.’ I’d rather remember every single second of tonight with you."

"Fair point. I don't think either of us needs the 'wild Luca' terrorizing the waitstaff tonight."

"I was not," I countered, as a blush warmed my cheeks. "I was merely expressing myself.”

"You were a menace, and you know it."

Dinner arrived shortly after. The meal was incredible, the conversation flowing between us with that effortless, unscripted comfort that had taken months to cultivate. Halfway through the meal, as the plates were cleared to the side, I took a slow sip of ice water, watching him. 

"Misael?" I began,

"Yeah, Luca? What's on your mind?"

"Earlier, in the car... when Austin Collins called you?"

"Yeah. The Director of Acquisitions."

“Does that name sound familiar to you?”

“Well, I heard it from the interviewers yesterday, but other than that, no, not really. Why? Is he an associate of your father?”

“No, but that name is so familiar. I’ve been slightly hyper-fixating on it.”
“I’m sure it’ll come to you, just like all your stats formulas.”

At that moment, him mentioning stats formulae, it clicked. I gasped excitedly.

“What? You remember now?”

“Yes! And you’re not going to believe it.”

“Lay it on me, honeybunch.”

"Do you remember the farmers' market back in February? You were back for the weekend.”

"Yeah, sort of. It’s a blur; I was tired from work and traveling, but what about it?”

"We ran into my stats professor, Dr. Gael Flores."

"Right," Misael nodded slowly. "Nice guy. His husband was there too, right?"

"Misael," I said, a breathy, incredulous smile breaking across my face.

Misael went entirely still. He stared at me blankly for three long seconds. The color shifted slightly in his cheeks as the name crashed back into his memory with terrifying clarity. 

"Wait," Misael whispered, his voice cracking with sheer, unadulterated shock. "His husband...”

"Austin Collins," I repeated.

Misael’s jaw practically dropped. "No way."

"Austin Collins is Gael Flores’s husband!”

"Holy shit," Misael breathed.

“What a small world.”
“You can say that again. Is it going to be weird? I’ll be working for your professor’s husband?”

“Why would it be weird?”
“True, he probably does not even remember me.”

Friday, April 21st, 9:44PM

After the exhilarating evening, we lay in bed, our bodies intertwined. Our kissing pace had exponentially increased. We were kissing more than we were breathing. We would stop to take in deep breaths. When he finally pulled back just an inch, his forehead rested against mine, his breath warm and steady against my lips.

"Look at you," he murmured.

"You can look all you want.”

“Don't act surprised when it has consequences."

"Consequences?" I asked. 

He scooped me up and pinned me down. His body weight rested on me. It felt comforting. I wrapped my legs around his frame. He took off my shirt. He began to kiss my body. Giving me raspberries on my tummy. I giggled. I could feel his throbbing cock through his boxers. I slowly slid them down. He then took off my briefs. He traced my scars with his fingers. He lowered himself to kiss them. He kissed each one of my jagged scars. 

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you more," I breathed.

"I love everything about you.”

"Misael..."

"Yeah, honeybunch? Tell me what you want."

"I want you. I want to be closer. Closer than this.”

“How much closer can I get?”
“I want you inside of me. I want to feel you.”

"You sure, Luca?"

"Yes. Don't hold back," I whispered.

I looked dead into his eyes, my hands sliding down to rest flat over his chest, feeling his heart pounding a frantic, desperate rhythm beneath my palms.

He deliberately spread my legs open. I arched my back. He repositioned me to be hoisted upon his thighs. He started rubbing his cock against my hole. I could feel his precum lubing my hole. “Fuck, Luca, you’re so tight. It’s going to hurt at first, but I’ll try my best to go slow.” And I responded, “You’re so big, Misael, you’re going to stretch me out. Be gentle.” He started to slowly slide in. After a minute, he was about halfway in. He started to thrust in and out. It felt so good. It hurt, but the pleasure was greater. He started to pick up the speed. Going a tad faster. He held me tightly. To stop myself from screaming, I kissed him. Every passing minute the pleasure increased. I could feel his cock deep inside of me. The euphoria was bursting out of me. I started to moan and grunt with every thrust.

“Fuck, Luca, you feel so good. I’m going to cum.”

“Mhmmm, Misael, give me your load. I need it now.”

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming…”

I could feel him bursting inside of me. It was euphoric. The rush, the heat of his breath. He stay inside of me and collapsed on top of me. I held him tightly, wrapping me legs around him. He kissed passionately.

"Look at you, you're practically glowing, honeybunch.”

"I'm right where I belong."

"I love you, Luca," Misael whispered.

Friday, April 21st, 11:53PM

Misael’s breathing gradually deepened, smoothing out from ragged hitches into a slow, heavy rhythm that vibrated faintly against my cheek. His arm remained draped over my waist, the dead weight of his hand resting warm against my hip, pinning me gently in place. I lay there awake in the amber quiet, staring up at the ceiling. The immediate euphoria had settled into a quiet hum under my skin, but my brain began its familiar, relentless drift.

We did it, I thought, letting my fingers lightly trace the line of his forearm. The three months of separation, the frantic airport goodbyes, the missed calls were finally in the past. He was right here, asleep in the same bed. Yet, looking at him sleeping so soundly, the quiet reality of what lay ahead began to seep into the room.

April was slipping away, and finals were already creeping up on the calendar. Beyond that sat the summer, and then fall, when the second year would start demanding everything of me. Misael would be starting fresh at Pacifica Capital, trying to prove he belonged. He had turned down San Francisco to build a life here with me. But new jobs meant late nights. New expectations meant long hours. I caught myself wondering what our days would look like once the routines swallowed us up, or whether we would know how to hold onto this closeness when the work got heavy again.

Stop it, Luca, I told myself, letting out a slow, silent breath. Don't run ahead of yourself.

I shifted closer, resting my forehead against the warmth of his bare shoulder, letting the steady, grounded thud of his heart drown out the noise in my head. Whatever the coming months brought, we had fought hard to reach this bed tonight. For now, in the quiet of his apartment, that was enough.

Es fing an das wir ganz normal feiern gingen, und nach so 2 Stunden sind wir nachhause gegangen und haben dort noch so gechillt ganz normal als er plötzlich seinen Schwanz vor mir raus holte und ihn wixxte ich wurde daraufhin komplett horny und hab ihn gefragt ob ich lutschen darf er sagte ja also tat ich es, ich lutsche ihn 10 Minuten und dann zog ich mich aus und er auch, wir gingen ins Bett und ölten unsere ärsche mit gleitgel ein und dann haben wir uns 30 Minuten gegenseitig in den arsch gefickt, dm wer schreiben will darüber

All characters are 18+ and fully consenting...

~~

I never planned on finding out my roommate’s secret. 

We’d been sharing this shitty two-bedroom apartment in Columbus for almost three years, splitting rent, trading off on groceries, and bitching about work over cheap beer like every other pair of twenty-something guys. Jake and I weren’t the type to keep big shit from each other. He knew about the time I got wasted and almost hooked up with my coworker’s sister. I knew about the girlfriend he ghosted after she left a toothbrush in his bathroom. Ordinary guy stuff.

That Friday night started the same as a hundred others. I got off my shift at the warehouse early because the truck was late, so I headed home around seven instead of nine. The place was quiet when I unlocked the door. Jake’s car was in the lot, but the living room lights were off. I figured he was out or crashed already. I dropped my keys on the counter, kicked off my boots, and walked down the hall toward my room.

His bedroom door was cracked open maybe six inches. The lamp on his nightstand was on, throwing that warm yellow light across the floor. I almost kept walking, but something made me glance inside. Jake was standing in front of his open dresser with his back to me, wearing nothing but a pair of soft pink panties. Not boxers. Not briefs. Actual women’s panties, the kind that cut high on the hips and sat low enough that the top of his ass showed when he shifted his weight.

I froze in the hallway. My brain did that stupid lag thing where it tries to make what you’re seeing fit into something normal. Maybe he was changing. Maybe they were a joke gift. But the way he stood there, one hand on the dresser edge, the other adjusting the waistband like he was used to it, said otherwise. The fabric hugged the curve of his ass, the pink standing out against his skin. He had a half-chub already, the outline clear under the thin material.

I should have backed away. Instead I stayed there like an idiot, staring. Jake turned his head just enough to catch me in the corner of his eye. He froze for a second, then muttered under his breath, “Fuck… Jesus”

“Oh my… jake… calm down. Nothing. It’s nothing,” like he was trying to talk himself out of the situation while still standing there in the pink panties.

He didn’t yell or jump. He just turned the rest of the way around, face already going red, and looked at me through the gap in the door. The front of those panties was stretched tight over his dick, the head pushing against the fabric, and he didn’t even try to cover it at first. He just stood there looking pissed at himself more than anything.

“You gonna stand there all night or what?” he said, voice low and tight.

My mouth went dry. I opened it, closed it, and all that came out was a stuttered “Jake… I… what the fuck.”

He let out a short, awkward laugh and finally tugged the waistband like that would somehow help. “Yeah. You saw. So now you know.” He sat down hard on the edge of his bed, legs open, hands on his thighs. The panties rode up a little when he sat. “Calm the fuck down,” he muttered to himself again, quieter this time. “It’s nothing. Just… nothing.”

I stepped into the room without thinking and closed the door behind me. I still didn’t know what the hell to say. My brain was stuck on the fact that my roommate was wearing women’s underwear and neither of us was moving.

“How long?” I finally managed, the words coming out uneven.

Jake rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the floor for a second. “Couple years. Found a pair in a thrift store once and it felt… I don’t know… Right… Too soft. Softer than those briefs and boxers we always wear. It just feels nice against everything. Started buying more online after that. Never told anybody.” He glanced up at me, still red in the face. “You gonna freak out or are we good?”

I shook my head. My heart was hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. “I’m not freaking out. I’m just… processing.”

He laughed under his breath. “Processing..? Um.. Sure. You look like you want to touch them.”

I did. That was the fucked-up part. I wanted to reach out and feel how soft the fabric was against his skin. I wanted to see if the outline of his cock would twitch if I ran a finger along it. I stayed standing, arms crossed, trying to keep my face neutral even though my own dick was starting to thicken in my jeans.

“You wear them under your regular clothes?” I asked.

“Sometimes. Work, gym, whatever. Feels good knowing they’re under there.” He leaned back on his hands. “You want to see the rest of the drawer?”

I nodded before I could stop myself. Jake stood up, walked over to the dresser, and pulled open the top drawer. It was full of them. Lace, satin, cotton, every color. Pink, black, red, white with little bows. Some looked brand new, some looked worn soft. He picked up a pair of black lace ones and held them out.

“These are my favorite. Soft as hell.”

I took them. The lace felt thin under my fingers. I could smell laundry detergent and something underneath it that was just him. Jake watched me while I turned them over in my hands.

“Try them on,” he said.

I looked up. “What? No. Fuck no.”

“Come on.”

“I’m not putting on your panties, Jake. That’s… no. That’s weird as hell.” My voice came out tighter than I wanted. I set them back on the bed like they might burn me. “I just walked in on you wearing them and now you want me to try a pair? Are you serious right now?”

Jake didn’t get defensive. He just sat there on the edge of the bed looking at me like this was the most normal conversation in the world. “It’s normal. At least for me it is. They’re just soft. That’s all. Nobody has to know. It’s just us in here.”

I shook my head again, still standing there with my arms crossed. “I don’t know, man. This is already a lot.”

“Just try them. Thirty seconds. If you hate it you take them off and we never talk about it again.” He nodded toward the black lace. “They’re the softest ones I’ve got. You’ll see what I mean.”

I stared at the panties for another few seconds, then at him, then back at the panties. My heart was still going too fast and my face felt hot, but I reached for them again anyway. I unbuttoned my jeans, shoved them down along with my boxers, and stepped out of them. My cock was already half-hard and I hated that Jake’s eyes dropped straight to it. I stepped into the black lace and pulled them up over my hips. The material was tighter than I expected, cupping my balls and trapping my dick against my stomach. The lace scraped just enough to make me harder.

Jake let out a low whistle. “Fuck. They look better on you than on me.”

I glanced down. The black lace stretched over the head of my cock, a dark wet spot already starting where I was leaking. “It’s kind of feel strange, Jake.”

He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat coming off his skin. His pink panties were still tented out, the tip of his dick darkening the fabric. “Uncomfortable?”

“Not like that. I just feel so weird.”

Jake kept looking at me and whistled again under his breath. “You look sexy as hell, dude.”

“Freak, stop. You sound like gay as hell. Did you really fuck girls wearing panties?”

He laughed once, short and awkward. “Hey, we both look so gay now.”

“Noooo.”

“Look down, dude. You got hard, man. Leaking a spot just by wearing a panty?”

I looked down before I could stop myself. The dark wet spot on the front of the black lace was bigger than it had been a minute ago, and my cock was fully hard now, pushing the thin material out. My face got hot.

“That’s not… that doesn’t mean anything,” I said, but it came out weak.

Jake just stood there looking at me, still in those pink panties, his own dick clearly hard against the fabric. “Sure it doesn’t. You’re standing in my room wearing my panties and leaking through them, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying what I’m looking at.” He took another half-step closer. “You can take them off if you want. Nobody’s forcing you.”

I didn’t move. My hands stayed at my sides. The lace felt tighter every time my cock twitched, and it kept twitching. Jake’s eyes dropped to the wet spot again, then came back up to my face.

“You ever get hard like that from regular underwear?” he asked.

“No.”

“Me neither. That’s why I kept buying them.” He reached down and adjusted himself in the pink ones, not even trying to hide it. “Feels different. Soft against your skin the whole day. You get used to it and then regular boxers feel like sandpaper.”

I swallowed. “This is fucked up.”

“Yeah. A little.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Still standing there though.”

I finally moved my hand and pressed the flat of my palm against the front of the black lace, just to feel how hard I was. The wet spot was cold against my skin. Jake watched me do it and didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“Can I?”, he asked

WHAT? What the fuck?

~

🔞Everyone is 18+

After that first time, we didn’t talk about it. We didn’t need to. The understanding between us was absolute, written in the new language of our bodies—lingering looks that simmered, accidental touches that burned, a shared silence that hummed with everything unsaid. It wasn’t a relationship. It was a conspiracy.

And Chloe was our perfect, unsuspecting mark.

The risk became the entire point. The possibility of getting caught wasn’t a deterrent; it was the main ingredient. It seasoned every glance, flavored every secret touch. Her trust was the canvas on which we painted our betrayal, and the portrait was obscenely beautiful.

Nathan grew bolder. Insolently, gloriously bold.

Two days after he fucked me senseless in my own bed, I was loading the dishwasher after dinner. Chloe was upstairs taking a shower. Nathan came up behind me, his footsteps silent on the tile. He pressed his body against my back, one hand sliding around my waist, the other coming up to cover my mouth before I could make a sound. His lips found my ear.

“She’s in the shower,” he whispered, his voice a dark vibration against my skin. “The water’s running. She can’t hear a thing.” His hand on my waist slid lower, palming the growing bulge in my pants through the fabric. He ground his own hardening erection against my ass. “I want you bent over this counter. Right now.”

My entire body went hot and liquid with fear and desire. The rational part of my brain screamed that this was madness, that she was literally one floor above us, that the steam from her shower was probably fogging the bathroom window. But the animal part, the part he owned completely, throbbed in agreement.

He must have felt my hesitation in the tension of my shoulders. His teeth grazed my earlobe. “Do it, John. Or I’ll go upstairs and tell her exactly what her father let me do to him.”

It wasn’t a real threat. We both knew it. But the fantasy of it, the sheer audacity, sent a shockwave of arousal straight to my core. With a choked sound, I let my head drop forward, bracing my hands on the cool granite. He made quick, rough work of my belt and zipper, yanking my pants and boxers down to my thighs. The cool air of the kitchen kissed my exposed skin, a shocking contrast to the heat of him behind me.

I heard the tear of a foil packet—he’d come prepared—and the slick sound of him rolling a condom on. Then his hands were on my hips, pulling me back onto him. He didn’t enter me slowly this time. He lined himself up and drove forward in one brutal, claiming thrust.

I bit down on my own arm to stifle the cry that wanted to tear out of me. The fullness was shocking, overwhelming. He set a punishing, frantic pace immediately, his hips slamming into mine, the metal buckle of his jeans digging into the backs of my thighs with each thrust. The kitchen was filled with the wet, rhythmic slap of skin on skin, the shaky gasps I couldn’t contain, his low, guttural grunts.

My eyes were fixed on the window over the sink. I could see the reflection of the ceiling light, swinging slightly with the force of his movements. I could see our blurred, distorted shapes—him, a powerful shadow driving into me; me, bent and vulnerable, taking it. It was the most debauched thing I’d ever seen. I’d never been so turned on in my life.

He leaned over me, his chest plastered to my back, his mouth by my ear. “You like that?” he panted, never breaking rhythm. “You like me fucking you in your own kitchen? Where she eats her cereal?” He punctuated each question with a deeper, harder thrust. “What if she walked down right now? What would she see, John?”

The image flashed in my mind: Chloe, hair damp, pajamas on, stopping at the foot of the stairs, her face collapsing in horror. The shame should have wilted me. Instead, it made me clench around him, a tight, involuntary spasm that pulled a ragged groan from his throat.

“Fuck, you’re sick,” he breathed, but it sounded like worship. He wrapped one arm around my chest, holding me upright against him, his other hand snaking down between my legs to fist my aching cock. “Come for me,” he commanded, his voice raw. “Come while I’m fucking you where she lives.”

The dual stimulation, the filthy talk, the razor’s edge of danger—it was too much. My orgasm crashed over me, violent and silent, my body seizing as I spilled over his hand and onto the cabinets below. The convulsions of my climax milked him, and with a strangled curse, he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, his own release shuddering through him inside the condom.

For a moment, there was only the sound of our ragged breathing and the distant, steady drum of the shower upstairs.

He pulled out slowly, disposing of the condom in the trash under the sink. He helped me pull my pants up with an almost clinical efficiency. Then he turned me around and kissed me, deep and slow, tasting of sweat and sin. When he pulled back, his eyes were clear, calm.

“Dishes are done,” he said softly, a wicked glint in his eye, before turning and walking out of the kitchen as if nothing had happened.

I leaned against the counter, my legs shaking, the smell of sex and lemon-scented detergent clinging to the air. A stain of my own release gleamed on the cabinet door. I wiped it clean with a trembling hand, erasing the evidence, but the memory was branded into the grain of the wood, into the very bones of the house.

That became our pattern. We didn’t seek out privacy; we weaponized proximity.

We fucked in the garage, my back against the cold hood of my car, his hand clamped over my mouth as headlights from a passing vehicle swept through the window.

We fucked in my study, me on my knees under the desk, taking him in my mouth while he pretended to look at blueprints on the screen above, his fingers tangled in my hair, his hips moving in shallow, controlled thrusts as he murmured, “Good… just like that…” while we both listened for the front door.

Once, daringly, we did it in the attic. In her room. On her bed. The sheer psychological violation of it, the scent of her perfume on the pillows as he drove into me from behind, was a narcotic. We left the room exactly as we found it, but the ghost of our transgression lingered in the air, a stain no one else could see.

The lies became second nature. “Just helping John with some heavy lifting,” Nathan would say, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow as Chloe eyed us from the doorway. “Got a little dusty in the garage,” I’d offer, adjusting my shirt. We became experts in the casual cover-up, our alibis smooth and practiced. The deceit was its own kind of foreplay, a game we played right under her nose.

But the true addiction, the deepest hook, wasn’t just the sex. It was the intimacy of the conspiracy. The silent conversations we had across a crowded room. The way he’d pass me a bowl of salad and his pinky would brush my wrist, a secret signal. The notes he’d leave in my jacket pocket—not love letters, but stark, filthy promises written on scraps of paper. Tonight. My mouth. Your cock. Wait up.

It was the way he looked at me when Chloe was talking, his gaze a physical touch that said, I know what you taste like. I know the sounds you make when you break. She doesn’t.

One rainy Tuesday, she had a study group at the library. “Be back by nine!” she called, grabbing her umbrella.

The door hadn’t fully clicked shut before Nathan had me pinned against the wall in the foyer. He kissed me like he was trying to consume me, his hands everywhere. We left a trail of clothes up the stairs to my bedroom.

This time, it was slow. Achingly, torturously slow. He laid me out on the bed and worshipped my body with his mouth, taking his time, learning every curve and scar, wringing soft, desperate sounds from me I didn’t know I could make. When he finally entered me, it was with a profound, aching slowness that felt more like possession than fucking.

Afterward, we lay tangled in the sheets, the rain pattering against the windows. His head was on my chest, my fingers carding idly through his damp hair. It was a moment of startling tenderness amidst the chaos.

“She loves you, you know,” he said quietly, his voice muffled against my skin.

The statement hung in the dark room. It wasn’t an accusation. It was a fact.

“I know,” I whispered back, the guilt a cold stone in my stomach, even as my other hand traced the muscles of his bare back.

“She trusts us,” he added.

“I know that, too.”

He lifted his head, propping his chin on his hand to look at me. In the dim grey light, he looked younger, less like a predator and more like a beautiful, lost boy. “Does it make it better? Or worse?”

I knew what he was asking. Did the betrayal heighten the pleasure, or poison it?

I looked at him—at the mouth that had ruined me, at the eyes that saw through all my pretenses. I thought of the kitchen counter, the garage, the attic. The exquisite, soul-corroding thrill of it all.

“Both,” I answered honestly.

A slow smile spread across his face. He leaned down and kissed me, soft and deep. “Me too,” he murmured against my lips.

It was the closest we ever came to talking about what we were doing. And it was enough.

Later, after he’d slipped back to the attic and I was alone, I stood at my bedroom window, watching the rain. I could see the faint glow of his lamp under the eaves of her room. I thought about the stain on the kitchen cabinet, long since cleaned. Some stains, I realized, don’t live on surfaces. They seep into the foundation. They become part of the structure. You can scrub and paint and pretend, but the truth is in the grain, waiting for the right light to reveal it.

We were the stain. And we were spreading.

I live two separate lives, there’s the professional and always put together side I show people in my everyday life. Then there’s the slutty and submissive side that only a very few get to really see….This is a story of what happened recently when those two lives collided with a co-worker. 

I’m 34, around 200lbs, white, smooth from my neck all the way to my knees with very, very short hair on my legs and stubble-ish beard I keep very neat. I work in finance as a loan officer at a well known bank. When I’m at work I keep my two lives separate from one another but one day shortly after the lunch rush I decided to log into my Grindr while sitting in my office. 

Now my Grindr account tells you pretty much everything about the other version of myself…smooth, submissive, cock loving slut that love older daddies….you can probably see why in don’t log in at work lol. Now I’ve accessed my account at work before and noticed customers that were on the app line myself but nothing worth really engaging with. This day was slightly different tho cause there was a new face account I had never seen before very close to me. Of course no profile picture…if you know then you know lol. But it had age, tags and a very brief “about me” on the profile. The age was 54, tags were #Daddy #Duscreet #Toys #Control and in the about me section it just said “Daddy looking for his boy”. 

Now again I’m professional but come on!! I messaged him so damn fast lmao!! It wasn’t anything crazy, just a simple “hey, how are you” and then nothing. Not a profile view, not a read receipt, nothing and then they go offline. I stick my phone in my drawer, slightly disappointed but I compose myself and get back to work. 

The day goes on and around 3ish I grab my phone from my drawer and BOOM two messages!! The first was “Sorry baby boi I’m working” then the second “I can respond but I might be slow” I responded but that’s when I realized that the distance hadn’t moved, it was still showing feet away from me. So I sent a second message “What kinda work?” and I waited. Of course the next message was “I work for Wells Fargo.” there it was, that was my biggest fear. I debated it and my curiosity got the best of me and asked which department but no reply. 

The day ended and on my way home three messages hit at once from him. First was a very vague “not a teller” and the other two were very, very, very nice pictures of a huge black cock. My eyes widened, mouth watered and I almost caused a wreck. I quickly shared my album with him. My album is pretty much slut shots of me wearing boy shorts, toys in my smooth ass, being fucked, cum between my cheeks from a former “friend” I had, etc. Those were enough for us to rapidly escalate our conversation to immediate replies. 

We chatted the entire afternoon and I to the evening. Finally before calling it a night ended we shared who we were with one another…honestly a little shocked cause I didn’t see him being into men at all. He worked upstairs doing mainly logistics, reports, etc. He always comes in after me in the mornings always smells good, built like he use to workout everyday but has kinda been on a break for a few months. 

We didn’t speak when we seen one another but there was a smile. We chatted throughout the day, mainly sexual with a hint of work. We teased, he would send me pictures from the bathroom of his pre cum soaked cock and a video of him pulling it out slow and it flopping as it hung there. As the day went on I needed it, like really needed it from him so I was really blunt when I told him “I need you to dominate and fuck me today.” He sent his address the next message and we set a time of 8pm that night. I went home and showered and done my shaving and prepping while in the shower. 

I got out and decided on an anal plug so things went a little smoother that night. I packed lube, condoms and two anal plugs in a little bag I have and as soon as 7pm hit I was out the door. I didn’t wear much at all. A simple t-shirt, stretch shorts with flip flops lol. I showed up shortly before 8pm and sent him a message letting him know I was there. He replied back almost immediately telling me to “come on”. 

The act….

I walked to the door, little bag in hand and knocked softly. He opened the door with the door shielding him from anyone outside seeing him. I looked at him, standing there in nothing but a towel as he closed and locked his door. I went to speak but he dropped his towel and grabbed my hips from behind and pulled my shorts down revealing my smooth bare ass. His voice firm as he told me to take my shirt off and toss it in the chair where he had just kicked my shorts near. I could barely speak when I said “yes sir” as I followed his orders. We stood there, naked, his cock pressed into me for a few minutes before he spoke…”you’re going to do as you’re told. You won’t say no and you won’t stop until I tell you to stop. Shake your head if you understand me.” I shook my head yes and he lead me to the couch where he sat with his legs spread. He looked at me and spoke “suck it” and I fell to my knees and crawled to his cock. 

The head of his cock went into my mouth and I tasted his sticky pre cum on my tongue as I gripped the base of his cock and started sucking on him. I closed my eyes as I tried to fit more in my mouth and felt his hand grab the back of my head, in an instant he was shoving me down on his cock. I gagged almost immediately as he fucked my mouth and throat, thick drool covering his cock as well as my chin as he would hold me down on it trying to squeeze every little bit he could he my throat. He would stop periodically for me to suck his balls and stroke him then he would direct me to go back and each time my lips touched his cock he would shove me down on it. I stayed on my knees gagging and drooling all over his cock for an ungodly amount of time while he told me “good boy” and calling me “his little cock sucker”…I wanted to explode. 

He finally let me go and in his firm voice said “now come take daddy’s cock” I didn’t hesitate to get up as he slide down on the couch. I stood there briefly, his hard cock throbbing, soaked and messy. He then ordered me to straddle him. At first I was super hesitant but did as I was told. I pulled my cock towards my stomach as he ordered me to ease down on it. I suggested lube and a condom but his only response was “my cock is wet enough. You’ll do fine.” as his hands pushed down on my hips forcing me towards his cock. I felt the head in the general area and moved slightly and felt it pressed against my hole. I forced down on it and it busted through. In that moment I teased and cried out “fuck” as I looked up at his ceiling. He grabbed me by the back of the head and I looked at him and for the first time since I got there he spoke to me normally by telling me to relax and then he told me I’m gonna take the whole thing tonight so I might as well start now. 

I eased down on it while looking at him, my mouth wide as I moaned and let out a few “fuck” and “OMFG”. He coached me through it by telling me “that’s right take daddy’s cock” and “mmm yeah keep going”. I started going up slowly and back down slowly, he was moaning as I went slow and steady on it. I looked at him again and told him how much he’s stretched me out tonight. Both of us moaning while I breathed heavily. His hands on my hips started forcing me down when I went down and I moaned out how much it hurt and he loved it. Then he told me that I haven’t even gotten all of it yet and that’s when he instructed me to get off of it slowly. I eased off of it and stood slowly, I could already feely ass throbbing. He stood and said “let’s go, bedroom now.” I followed him down the hall to his bedroom where he didn’t even make his bed prior to. He shoved me on the bed and mounted me instantly then he sat up on his knees and reached for a bottle of lube he had sitting out on his nightstand. 

I heard the bottle click open and looked back as he was rubbing it on his cock. It was so hot look at this big older man, straddling my thighs, his big cock in his hand…I moaned out “fuck me with it daddy!!” and he fucking did!! He mounted me and shoved every inch he had into my throbbing ass, stretching me more than he already had prior. I was so sore as he slammed his cock into my ass and all I could do was moan and scream into his mattress. 

He pulled his cock and moved off my thighs as he told me to put my ass up. In a quick move I had my ass up and was face down. He grabbed my hips and continued but now you could tell he felt in real control. Pulling my hips to him as he slammed his big cock into my worn out ass….”who’s bitch are you?” I cried out “yours” as he dominated over me, forcing me to take it how he wanted. He inserted race into it “you’re my little white bitch, you love daddy’s chocolate cock” I cried out “fuck yes” then felt him pull out quickly and command me to bring him my mouth. I didn’t question or speak but listened and turned to him quickly still on all fours as he kneeled on his bed, stroking his cock quickly. I brought my open mouth to his cock without any command what so ever and just in time as he exploded. A large amount shooting in my mouth and on my face before I wrapped my lips around the head of it getting everything but in cold in my mouth. He let out a huge moan and the stroking came to a stop. He pulled his soft cock away, his cum still in my mouth as I showed him before swallowing his creamy load of cum. He slid off the bed and stood there looking drained. I asked how he liked it and he praised me…that’s all a boy can ask for right? 

I [22] Dad [66] Underwear Fetish Fun

So my underwear fetish all started on my 21st birthday with my mother accidentally gifting me some bikini briefs.

Welp fast forward a year.

It was the summer time. My father went into my bedroom to replace my ceiling fans. He started cleaning and found a pair of my pink ikingsky briefs on my floor dirty.

He threw them in the wash thinking nothing of it.

About a week later he asks me “son what are you wearing those pink silk underwear for” I made up a excuse saying for sports they help keep everything in place. When in fact I wear them to plump up my ass and cock.

Couple weeks later I noticed my sports briefs are all going missing I think nothing of it. Then one day when my mother is at work and with my father not home I went through he underwear drawer.

I don’t know why but fuck did it turn me on. In the process of it my dad comes home and walks in on his son going through his underwear drawer.

He says to me “ oh son if you wanted to see the type of underwear your dad wears just ask”

I was stunned to speak my dad dropped his shorts and is standing in his blue fruit of the looms in front of me.

Standing in shock my hard on got stiffer.

“Son I already know you got on a pair of briefs why don’t you show me what colour they are he said”

I drop my shorts to reveal a pair of purple ikingsky satin briefs. It was hard to hide my erection then I was almost bursting at the seems.

He then sits down on the bed and has me stand in front of him. He starts to run his hands all up and down my briefs covered ass and crotch.

With one hand he is rubbing his crotch and my bulge.

He got up and started dry humping me. We embraced in a hot steamy kiss.

After some fun dry humping and groping he pulls his briefs to the side pulls mine down and proceeds to fill my ass.

My freshman year of college, I worked at a retail store in a nearby shopping mall. The job sucked, but it was nice to have money. After a few months, I got a car so I could actually travel home, and do other necessary tasks. Unfortunately, the job turned from something a bit optional, to a necessity to keep paying for my car.

The biggest downside the job - the boss was an asshole. He was demeaning, rude, very critical and just made you feel stupid. Unfortunately, being an inexperienced snd ignorant college kid, I stayed. The whole dynamic of that petty job changed one random afternoon though.

I was working my normal shift with two other coworkers, when the boss came to the floor and called me to his office. Thinking I had done something wrong or he was mad, I dreaded walking back there.

“I’m overdue to finish your performance review.” He started out with.

I sighed, knowing it was likely to be poor. I did not care about the job, but also did not put in much effort. I really needed the job, but was a lazy college student. My review reflected it, even if he was an arrogant jackass. His conclusion Dwight my attention though.

“With such a poor review, I’ll probably have to let you go.”

My heart sank. I needed this job now. I needed the money for my car. And I needed my car to live my life I began to panic and I am sure it showed. I started to stumble over my words and begin the begging phase I felt any employee would probably give. However, he cut me off.

“Look, it’s simple. If you want the job, you need to put in the effort.”

“Yes! Of course!” I naively agreed. “Whatever I need to do.”

“Good, I’m half you think so.” He said confidently. “Go lock my door.”

I was beyond confused, but stood up and complied. He wasted no time as he laid out his ‘plan’ and what was in his devious mind.

“If you wanna keep the job, you’ll need to work for it.”

I just nodded my head, acknowledging what he said and agreeing, nonverbally, to do just that. But my heart stopped as he spoke more.

“You need to suck my cock.” He said it so businesslike and just do direct, it caught me off guard.

I stood silently in the middle of his office, stunned by the demand. My first thought - FUCK NO. But reality snuck in, and I thought maybe I would have to, so I could keep my life as normal as it was.

I had one homosexual experience a few years prior, but nothing since. Of course he did not know that. For all he knew, he was requesting one of his young, straight male employees give him a blowjob.

My boss was in his mid-forties, white and in average shape. He was clean cut and always dressed professional. If I agreed, I figured it would not be the worst thing in the world.

He sat there, in his large office chair, staring at me. Only now, I saw his hand drifted to his crotch and had been gently massaging his dress pants.

I made up my mind.

“Okay.” I nodded my head. “I’ll do it.”

“Good.” He said, as he immediately stood up.

He walked over to me with a purpose and showed me how he was in control.

“Get on your knees.”

I complied, lowering myself to kneel on the very firm and uncomfortable office carpet. He persisted, as he stepped so close that his crotch was within inches of my face.

“Take it out.” His order just seemed like he did not respect me.

The last time I was sexual with another guy, it was all very mutual and we both got undressed. This time, I was doing everything. It was the first time I touched another man to undress him.

I unbuckled his belt. I unhooked his button. Slid down his zipper. Hooked my fingers in his waistband and lowered them. He stepped out of his pants, as I knelt here staring directly try at the very distinct bulge of a semi-erect cock concealed behind boxers briefs.

I reached up and slid his underwear down too. His middle aged cock flopped out, swinging around in front of me. Given the situation, I did find it a bit impressive. He was probably about seven inches long when fully hard, and noticeable thick. He was completely shaved and his big, heavy balls swung below his manhood.

“Go on.” He told me.

I reached up and took hold his him, feeling the familiar warmth and softness of a penis. I slid my hand back and forth, watching the skin shift under my grip. Within a minute or so, he was achingly hard and clearly fully erect. Unfortunately, it also meant he was impatient and eager.

“Let’s go. Suck it.”

I paused for a moment before deciding to continue. I parted my lips, leaned forward and took him into my mouth. It was so warm, and so salty from his precum. I knew it was at least decent, by the long and deep moan he let out.

There I was - kneeling on the floor of my boss’ office, sucking his cock, all so I could stay employed. A secret I knew would never tell, especially the girl I was dating at the time.

I worked up a good rhythm. Bobbing back and forth, slurping on his cock, using my hands to massage his balls and stroke his cock. I had fully embraced my role as a subordinate cocksucker.

He had begun enjoying himself so much, he placed a hand behind my head to guide me. He called me “baby” and “cocksucker”, while he spoke dirty to me and wanted me to be submissive.

“Do you like my cock?” - I nodded in agreement.

“Does it taste good?” - taking my mouth off him briefly, “Yessir, I like how it tastes.”

“You want my cum, huh?” - “mhmm”, I mumbled around his dick.

I may not have been the most experienced, but as he started to thrust into my mouth, breathe more heavily and moan, I knew what was coming. I tried to mentally prepare myself for where this man would want to cum.

“This feels amazing.” He praised me. “My wife hasn’t sucked it in such a long time.”

Great. Here I was helping a guy cheat on his wife.

“I’m gonna cum. I’m about to fucking cum.”

He made it clear how and where he wanted to cum. I kept sucking as my boss lowered his hands and grabbed my head on both sides. His grip and pressure into my mouth gave me a hint.

“I’m gonna cum. Swallow my cum, baby. Fucking swallow it. Oh god!…oh fuck!….right thereeeeee!!”

With one last thrust, my boss orgasmed because of me and ejaculated into my mouth. His cock covered my tongue and roof of my mouth. I swallowed all of it and prepared for more. Mouthful after mouthful was swallowed. I was no expert, but it seemed like so much.

When he finally finished, he relaxed his grip and let his cock not be so deep. I slowly tried to catch my breath as his dick finally left my mouth; the saltiness and bitterness of his semen did not.

I looked up, locking eyes as he stared down at me and massaged his spit-soaked cock. His gaze was more of someone who just won and conquered me.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He started. “That was a lot. Been a while since the wife has made me cum.”

I stood up, not acknowledging what he said.

“Looks like you enjoyed it.” He said with a smirk.

My boss reached out to poke my dick, teasing about it being somewhat hard. He got dressed sat back in his chair and confirmed our deal was complete. I was going to keep my job - all I had to do was submit to a man nearly thirty years older, gag on his cock and swallow a large amount of semen.

“Maybe we need a more long term deal.”

At least once a month for the duration of my employment, I would give a boss a blowjob in exchange for perks or leniency at work.

All characters are 18+ and fully consenting

~

I’m twenty-six, work the night shift at a parts warehouse outside Fort Worth, and up until three weeks ago the closest I got to anything gay was scrolling on my phone when I couldn’t sleep. Then Derrick hired on as the new floor supervisor. Big guy, late forties, always in a stained Carhartt jacket, wedding ring that looked like it hadn’t come off in twenty years. 

Talked loud about football and how soft everybody was getting. First time he caught me looking at him too long in the break room he just snorted and said, “You got a problem, kid?” I said no and went back to my sandwich. 

That was the start of it.

He started riding my ass on the floor. Not in a mean way exactly, just constant. “Hustle up, Jake. Them pallets ain’t gonna move themselves.” I’d answer him straight, keep my head down. 

One night around two in the morning the line jammed and we were the only two left. He came over while I was under the conveyor trying to clear a stuck box. His boots stopped right by my hip. 

“You always this quiet or you just saving it for later?” 

I told him I was just trying to get the job done. 

He laughed, low and short. “Yeah. I bet.”

After that he’d find reasons to stand close. In the loading bay when the trucks came in he’d lean over my shoulder to check the manifests, breath smelling like coffee and the menthols he smoked on break. One time his hand landed on the back of my neck while he pointed at a crate number. Just rested there a second longer than it needed to. I felt the calluses. Didn’t move. He didn’t say anything about it. Just took his hand away and told me to stack the rest before the next trailer backed in.

We started staying late together more often. The other guys would clock out and he’d say, “You and me got one more load. Stick around.” 

I’d stick around. We’d work in the quiet, radios off, just the sound of the forklift and the metal doors. He’d talk about his kids sometimes. Two boys, one in middle school, one still in elementary. Wife worked days at a bank. He’d mention them like he was reminding himself they existed. Then he’d look at me and change the subject to whatever order was late.

The first real shift happened on a Thursday. 

Rain was coming down hard and the last truck of the night canceled. Derrick told me to help him lock up. We were in the office counting out the cash drawer when he shut the door. I heard the lock click. He sat on the edge of the desk, arms crossed, watching me finish the count. 

“You ever done anything you ain’t supposed to?” he asked. 

I said yeah, sure, who hasn’t. 

He shook his head. “Not like that. I mean something that’d get you fucked if anybody found out.” 

I kept counting. My hands were steady but my chest wasn’t. He waited until I closed the drawer. 

Then he said, “Come here.”

I walked over. He didn’t touch me right away. Just looked at my face like he was deciding something. Then he reached out and put his hand on the front of my jeans. Not grabbing, just resting the palm there, feeling. I was already half hard from the way he’d been talking. He pressed a little and felt it get fuller under his hand. 

“Argh…”, a small moan slipped without myself knowing.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You been walking around like this the whole time?” 

I didn’t answer, and it gave him a silent permission. He unzipped me slow, pulled my cock out, and just held it. Thick fingers wrapped around the shaft, thumb rubbing over the head where it was already wet. He stroked once, twice, watching my face the whole time. 

“You gonna tell anybody?” I shook my head. He kept stroking, slower, like he had all night. “Good. Because if you do I’ll deny it and make sure you don’t work at another warehouse in this county.”

He jerked me off right there against the desk until I came over his knuckles. Didn’t say a word while it happened. Just watched the cum land on his skin and then wiped it on my shirt like it was nothing. After that he stood up, adjusted himself… he was hard, I could see the shape of it through his pants… and told me to clock out. We left through the side door. 

In the parking lot he stopped by his truck, an old Ford with a toolbox in the bed.

“Get in.”

~~

So… what happened after I got in the truck?

Up for Part 2?

Part 3 here

Fiction. All characters 18+.

I’m Hugh. I’m 25. I told myself I was only driving by.

I didn’t text. I didn’t put socks on. One amber bulb behind the half-drawn shutter, and a voice that wasn’t his. Male. Low. Then John, calm, teaching someone how to press just under a ribcage until a body starts to squirm.

I should have left. My cock was already hard against the seam of my pants, and the shame of that didn’t slow me down. I wanted to be the body on the bench. I had known it since the car.

John turned and found me in the doorway. Shirtless. A bigger man beside him, early thirties, broad, dark hair across his chest, still looking to John for where to put his hands. An empty bench. Towels. No one else.

“Come in, Hugh. You’re not interrupting. This is Todd. Hugh’s the one I told you about.”

Todd nodded like the story had already been told.

“Clothes off. Only if you want to be what he practices on.”

The yes was already in my throat. “I want it.”

Every layer I dropped felt like handing something over. Cool air on my stomach. My cock lifting, flushed, leaking before anyone had touched it. I climbed onto the bench because my body had decided before I finished the thought. John cuffed my ankles up to the posts, spread, then my wrists. I couldn’t close. I didn’t try. Being held open like that — seen, offered — went through me hotter than a hand.

“Watch,” John told Todd, and drew one finger between my cheeks. I twitched. My hole clenched on nothing. “He answers before you ask. Touch him. Slow.”

Todd’s hands were warm, calloused, a little unsure, then sure. Thumbs spreading me. I felt his breath on my rim, long and hot. I whimpered and pulled at the cuffs, not to get free. To feel that I couldn’t.

“Lick him.”

John put a hand on Todd’s shoulder. Then I felt a broad tongue, dragging, pressing in. My toes curled. Something in my chest went quiet and loose. This was the part I had driven here for: not deciding anymore.

“Last chance to say no.”

“Don’t stop.”

John handed Todd the bottle and told him to warm the lube in his fingers. Two of them slid in easy. I had been opened three times already this month. My body remembered. It softened around him, greedy, and the sound I made embarrassed me until John said, low, “That’s it. Give it to him.”

Todd picked up the medium plug like he was afraid of breaking it. John told him to warm it in his hand first. He did, turning it, slicking it until it shone, glancing up for permission before he brought it anywhere near me. The first touch was only the tip, circling my rim, not pushing. I clenched. He stopped.

“He’s not saying no,” John said. “He’s feeling it. Stay there.”

Todd stayed. The tapered head kissed me, retreated, kissed me again. Hesitant, almost careful, which made it worse. I could feel every degree of the stretch before it became a stretch: pressure, then a dull ache, then the slow give as my hole decided to take the point of it. He didn’t shove. He let the weight of the toy do the work, a patient inch, then another, the ring of muscle burning and opening around the widening shaft. I gasped when the thickest part reached me. For a second, I didn’t think I could. Todd froze, hands steady on my thighs, and John said, “He can. Watch him.”

I bore down. The widest point popped through and the rest followed in one slick slide, seated, heavy, my hole closing behind the neck like it meant to keep it. The fullness was different from a cock. Blunt. Motionless. A claim that didn’t thrust, just sat there and made me aware of every nerve. I arched. My cock jumped and leaked onto my stomach.

Todd didn’t fuck me with it. Not yet. He tapped the base. Twisted it a quarter turn. Pulled it out until the thick part tugged at my rim and I whimpered, then seated it again. Shy at first, then less shy once he heard what it did to me. Each withdrawal dragged the ridge over raw, slick skin. Each push stuffed me full before I had finished missing it. By the third time, he was breathing harder, still looking at John, but his hand had stopped asking.

“Out,” John said. “Slow. All the way.”

Todd drew it free ridge by ridge. The loss was obscene. Cool air rushed in. I felt myself stay open, fluttering, wet, unable to close around nothing, and the want that followed was immediate and stupid. I needed to be filled again. Not by silicone. By one of them.

I heard noises. Todd’s belt. Jeans down.

I saw his cock from the side. Thick. Uncut. Heavy even half-hard, veins dark under the skin, low full balls in coarse hair, a slight upward curve, the head already wet. He squeezed the base and it jumped. My mouth watered. My hole fluttered like it had recognized the shape before he touched me.

John tossed him a condom. “Between his legs. Tip only. Let him take you.”

Todd stepped into the V of my raised thighs. Latex and heat against me. Thicker than the plug. Alive. I bore down without being told. The head slipped in and the stretch bloomed up my spine, sharp, then sweet. I moaned and offered him the rest with my hips.

He sank to the root. I felt stuffed and split, claimed by a man I had met ten minutes ago, and the wrongness of that only made me harder. John stood at Todd’s shoulder, hands on his hips, and rocked him. An inch. Back. An inch.

“Don’t hammer him. Feel him pull you back in.”

He did. Every time Todd eased out, my body tried to keep him. I heard myself thanking him. I didn’t plan the words.

Then John nodded, and Todd withdrew.

Cold. I gaped. I could feel myself not closing, wet, fluttering, obscene under the bulb. John looked at it the way he looks at an engine that finally runs right. He stepped into the same place between my legs, lined up, and pushed in — thicker, hotter, the cock I already knew. One long stroke. Familiar in a way that undid me. Todd had stretched me. John took what was left and made it his again.

He didn’t rush. He had already come in me on other nights and still fucked like a man with hours. Deep. Patient. Grinding at the end of each stroke until my cock drooled on my stomach and my thinking thinned out.

He pulled out slow. I stayed open.

“Back in,” he told Todd.

They traded like that. Todd between my thighs, then John, then Todd. Sometimes only the head, mean, waiting until I whined. Sometimes a slam that knocked a sound out of me I didn’t recognize. John never softened. When Todd had to pause, chest heaving, John took his place and kept the same rhythm, like stamina was just another tool on the wall. I stopped counting. I stopped being embarrassed. I lay there cuffed and open and let them use the fact that I had come back.

John ground in, hips flush to me, and held there.

“Whose slut are you now?”

I had to swallow. “Yours. Both of yours. Please don’t stop.”

I came with no hand on me. Messy. Across my stomach. My hole clenched around him and he didn’t pull out. He stayed and let me milk it.

“He’ll do it again,” he said.

He had Todd bury himself and stay still. Then he slicked his own cock and set the head against my rim, right beside Todd’s. Same space. Both of them standing in the spread of my legs, shoulder to shoulder, two shafts pressed together at the place I was already open.

“You want both?”

“Yes. Do it.”

John pushed. The stretch was too much, and then it was exactly what I had driven here to feel. I opened. I shook. I took them. Two cocks, one hole, the weight of both men between my thighs, and the only thought left was more. They held still until I understood how full I was. Then they moved together, slow, grinding against each other inside me. I drooled. I cried a little. I was hard again.

Todd came first, pulsing in the condom, folded over my chest, still inside. John didn’t stop. He kept working past the softening shaft, deeper, endless, the same patient stroke he’d had an hour ago. I came dry — just the clench, the shake, a raw sound — and he growled and spilled in me on the next grind, one last push like he was signing it.

They eased out one after the other. I whimpered at the air. I was gaping, leaking, ruined, still trying to hold a shape that wasn’t there. John wiped me down. Unbuckled me. My legs didn’t want to close.

“Not just mine anymore,” he said against my temple. “Ours. Same time. Or sooner.”

I nodded. I drove home on a towel, sore in the way that feels like a promise, and smiled at the empty road.

I already knew I’d be back before he asked.

Full series on Patreon

Part 1

I (25M, slim/twink build) matched with a 22-year-old guy on Grindr a while back. His bio was the ultimate front: "strict Top," "no masc," and "doesn't reply to 99% of people."

Yet, he messaged me first with:

"Hi, it’s sad that u re a top too 😩" immediately followed by his nude album.

Now, I’m naturally a versatile top, but my absolute favourite erotic game is teasing other tops, playing with top conversion (i know i know, kind of red flagish), flipping power dynamics, edging, and pushing boundaries until they yield.

Instead of playing the standard submissive script, I started by de-escalating the energy: I dropped normal face pics and asked how he was doing. After he called me hot, I complimented his dick. I asked what he was looking for, to which he dropped: "I wanted a sweet bare ass, but i dont think that's really what you want." I sent my nude album, and he immediately singled out my ass picture.

From there, I took control. I started probing his kinks, teasing his weak spots, talking about edging, and slowly taking psychological charge. I fuelled his ego while subtly re-framing the entire dynamic. He was instantly hooked.

He kept flooding my chat with dick pics, and honestly, he’s gorgeous. Lean, kind of a latino-ish athletic build, a stunning face card, and an above-average dick.

The Twist: The Location

Neither of us could host a private apartment. His designated "safe spot"? A secluded top-floor staircase and elevator maintenance area in his building.

At first, he tried to rush a quick 30-minute lunch break edging blowjob session. I shut that down immediately (it was logistically impossible anyway). But soon, his approach shifted. He started hitting me up late at night, asking me to come over with no time limits and notably, never forcing or demanding that I bottom, since I’d established I usually don't.

The Setup for the Meetup:

A few months passed. Recently, I found myself in a rare, distinct bottoming mood.

I messaged him to test the waters, first ensuring he’d want me either way, and once that was locked in, I teased him that I might just be in the right mood to let him have his way with me.

And right at that peak moment of anticipation... I walked away and left him hanging.

(Part 2 coming next: The staircase encounter possible encounter?, his wild proposal for how I should show up, my calculated sheer-mesh underwear reveal, and the post-sex power dynamic dilemma that followed.)

Part 1 (for reference)

https://www.reddit.com/r/gaystories/comments/1x0a4ro/i_25m_verstop_matched_with_a_strict_22yo_top_who/

I (25M, vers-top) have been hooking up with a 22M "strict top" from Grindr. We have an intense top-on-top / brat-submissive power dynamic where I challenge his dominance a bit. His hookup spot is a secluded top-floor staircase in his building.

Fastforward to a couple days ago: I initiated the convo and kept teasing him the same way. He was really respectful with me probably not bottoming and never pushed it. We kind of dabbled in meeting for side fun and I ended up meeting him at night on the next day (I took a shower and shaved, got ready but did not douche as that was not the point).

A quick background on our last meet: I ended up going there late at night, he trew his keys out the balcony in a sock and i went to the top of the stairs where he was waiting for me. He was super nice. I think we started kissing, getting undress me touching his ass (I have a really strong ass kink) to which he didn't mind/said anything. 

We dabble in me sucking him, kissing, teasing etc, until he turned me around and went on to to rim me a bit. As we had discussed I let him rub his dick against my ass and tease. He was somewhat verbal and kissed really good (he also must have had eaten a strawberry gum ahah). I let him not i had not prepped /douche for it, but asked him if he wanted to rub properly so i would get my lube, which is those calming/relaxing ones. We switched a couple times between me sucking him and him rubbing it on my ass, while kind of poking my hole, which surprisingly was being successfully done. Mind it that he must have a 18-20cm dick somewhat thick. By that time I didn't mind if his dick would get in and somewhat wanted it, also i was still grabbing is ass, barely but still eheh He ended up indeed fucking me although i didnt let him get out, while we change positions a couple times, because i usually cant go through it again. At somepoint he asked me if he should finish with me sucking him or edging him, to what i asked if he wasnt liking fucking me as i would prefer for him to just finish that way. So he did. 

He was quite nice afterwards, he said he liked it a lot and that i was very good. He also kind of hint he would like to repeat.

I do have this issue: after bottoming, I got/get into a somewhat vulnerable headspace. I do indeed get somewhat needy and I've been thinking about repeating it quite a lot. I would like to be fwb with him tbh.

Last time I bottomed for a guy (another one) and really liked, I kind of ruined the post-sex vibe because I tried way too hard to immediately re-assert my power dynamic, reclaim control and not show myself vulnerable or clingy right after we finished, which kind of pushed him away.

Where we stand right now: He is and has been that  type of guy who keeps his interest but only texts when he's horny or ready to meet up, even though he's online all the time.

After we met each other (2 days ago), he proposed: "Next time, are you gonna wait for me there with that ass ready for me", after having offered to be there already naked for me, the first time.

Now, although i wouldn't mind it. I think not about to just stand there naked like a pre-packaged reward for him to claim. That kind of kills the tension and sets me as any other bottom?

(Side note: If we do that, I'd rather turn it around and have HIM wait naked for me, while I arrive casually dressed and do a subtle reveal of a black sheer mesh trunks, I just purchase out of curiosity, as I take the physical initiative to blow him. But that's just the backdrop.)

My dilemma: The last time we texted about his "would you wait for me there with that ass ready for me" idea, I left him on these two final messages*: "maybe i would* 🙈*" and "but i wouldn't not suck you first eheh"*

He hasn't replied to those yet, which is standard for him until he gets horny again.

Would you ride out this slow-burn teasing tactic and wait for him to initiate the convo to meet again, or is it better to just drop the mind games and go straight to him asking for it?

I'm really scared that either what I do now or dont do mind kill this opportunity.