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Searching for It

by Habu


Searching for It

(Corbin and Ethan both go looking for it on the New York docks)

(sounding, fetish, docks, gay male clubs, domination, gay anal, rough sex, daddies, obsession, collections)

“Yo, there, buddy. Lookin’ for somethin’? Cause I got somethin’ for you.”

Corbin took a good look at the burly man who had materialized from behind a stack of metal barrels beyond where the light over the alley door into the Christopher Street bar reached. He took a good look, reaching a quick decision because of the overly friendly way the man was extending a hand toward him.

“Ummm, no, I don’t think—”

“I could show you a real good time. A tasty little trick like you.”

“Sorry, just made a wrong turn back there,” Corbin mumbled and backed out of the alley and into the street-lit gay bar district just up from the Manhattan docks.

He stumbled up the street, toward the upper end of the strip. That was where it was. Back there in the alley. He was sure of it. But it was a bad idea to come down here again. What did he think he’d find? And what did he think he wanted to get out of it if he did find it.

“Got a light?” The man was older, maybe in his forties. He’d been quite a looker in his day. Still not too bad. But there was no way he was right. He was built well enough, but not built like Corbin was looking for. Corbin didn’t even have to think about seeing it. He was OK . . . and on a normal trip down here . . . maybe before what had happened, what Corbin was now obsessed with finding . . . it would be just fine. But this wasn’t what Corbin had come down to Christopher Street to find.

“Aw, come on. I can pay well for the right service. Up front. And I’ve got a room. It’s a nice room. Clean and just here. Just over there across the street.” He gestured toward the Christopher Hotel. Corbin knew it well. He knew it had recently been refurbished and the rooms indeed were clean and better than most here on the strip—certainly better than one of the back rooms in most of the bars here. And better even than the one he’d been in three nights ago.

“I was just ready to leave . . . to go on home,” Corbin answered. But that wasn’t true. He had checked out more than three bars yet and he had been determined to walk the whole strip tonight until he’d found what he was after. He’d steeled himself for this for two day. Had wanted it again for two days. Had thought about little more than having it again, even though it made him shudder to even think about it.

The man came up close and put an arm around Corbin’s waist, loosely though, as if not wanting to push him . . . too much . . . but not wanting him to bolt away either.

“Come on, sweetheart,” the man whispered in Corbin’s ear. “Good money and I give a good ride.”

He smelled clean and the musky scent of his cologne was intoxicating. He felt firm. Trim and well dressed. He probably did have a fat wallet.

“I was going to go home. I just wanted to look in at a couple of more bars and then call it a night.” It was true that he was going to check some more of the bars—at least that was what he’d planned to do before the encounter in the alley. That had unnerved him a bit. Too much like the other night, but not the right one. Not the right one at all.

“I can ride all night, and good money each time,” the man murmured. “You’re sweet. The best I’ve seen down here all night. You want to go into bars, I’ll take you into bars. Give you whatever you want to drink. Here’s Joey’s right here. Come on it and let me buy you a drink.”

It had been Joey’s Corbin had been in three nights previously, and he indeed had planned to go in there to check. He had had high hopes that that was where he’d find what he was looking for. He’d come all this way down here—ignored what he should do. Go to the police is what he should do. But he’d built up courage to come down here. It would be a pity to cut and run now.

“Well, maybe just one drink. Here in Joey’s.”

When they entered the bar, Corbin’s eyes scanned the room. Not many in here tonight. Very few of the build he thought was right. Several turned their faces toward him and smiled as he came through the door with his smooth-talking, well-dressed forties guy. The men always smiled for Corbin, and most showed interest. The forties guy put a hand on the small of Corbin’s back and guided him toward the bar, his eyes also sweeping the room, challenging, claiming territorial rights.

Corbin continued to look, but what he wanted to see was the right-hand wrist of any guy who was anywhere close to the right build. He wasn’t seeing what he was looking for.

Later, Corbin was thinking that the refurbishment if the Christopher Hotel hadn’t really changed a couple of things that probably should have topped the list in getting fixed. The bedsprings still made that tinny, irritating grating sound and the headboard still thumped against the wall.

The forties guy had been right. He sure could ride. And he could get back in the saddle fast. Corbin lay on his stomach, naked, on the white chenille-covered bed, his hips raised to give the forties guy, knees clutching Corbin’s thighs and fists pressing in the hollows below Corbin’s shoulder blades, a good angle to bottom out as he seemed to want to do as he rode Corbin’s ass.

The guy was good and the cock was thick and long enough, and Corbin didn’t have any trouble giving him the gasps and groans and the usual “Yes, fuck me just like that” and “Give it to me good, Daddy,” phrases that were expected of him, as he bunched up folds of the coverlet in his fists and thought about what he’d hoped to find down on Christopher Street tonight. And it wasn’t this. But this was safe . . . a lot safer than the other. And maybe he could build up the courage to give it another try in the next couple of days.

* * * *

Ethan had never been in New York before, and the buildings soaring overhead, picked out majestically in the gathering twilight, exhilarated him. In fact, having grown up in Vancouver, British Colombia, he had never been on this side of the continent before, having signed on as crew for Ted Gleason’s yacht and pretty much just sailed between Gleason’s interests in the United States, most of them in Boston, and his preferred home in Bermuda.

What Ethan did know as he was tying the bow of the yacht up to the pier in the shadow of Manhattan skyscrapers is that he wanted to get laid—and bad. When he’d signed on with the Seaskipper crew, Liam, one of his fuck buddies from the fishing fleet in Vancouver, had gone east and gotten this cushy job on the yacht. He had enticed Ethan to follow him and he’d been taking care of Ethan’s needs. And he done a great job of it—so good that Ted Gleason wanted Liam to take care of his needs too, and now Liam was laid up on land in Bermuda as manager of Gleason’s estate.

Ethan had been four days on the Seaskipper without getting any. Liam had told him, with a wink, though, that he’d helped take the yacht to New York before, and that all Ethan needed to do was walk up a street called Christopher Street from where the yacht would tie up and he’d get all of the taking care of he needed. Ethan sure hoped so.

He didn’t know what guys wore for cruising in New York—or how they signaled their need. But another guy on the crew had warned him that he’d probably not want to wear his working duds—baggy white cargo shorts, hanging low at the waist; a white cut-off T-shirt, showing his hard-muscled midriff; white deck shoes; and gold stud earrings—around this area of the city if he didn’t want to get hit on. And so that’s exactly what he wore. He just tied off his auburn hair in a ponytail, and didn’t bother to shave his four-day beard—mostly because it made him look older than his nineteen years, and he didn’t want guys passing him by thinking he was too young—and started walking up Christopher Street from the docks as soon as he saw where it opened up from the water.

He had been warned correctly. He basked in the cat whistles he heard as he sauntered up the street. A group of three black guys waved at him from across the street and started to cross. Ethan had no experience with black guys—and he didn’t like the idea of there being three of them—so he waved and shrugged as if he was meeting someone, and then turned and entered the closest bar door to him. A flashing neon sign over the door told him it was Joey’s Bar. The black silhouette of a well-built guy was slouching against the “J” of the bar name with his back, so Ethan figured he’d guessed right on what sort of bar this was. As soon as he entered, he knew he was right.

The light was dim, the music was loud, and there was smoke reflecting in the roving multicolored beams of light revolving around the room, which gave the initial impression that the bar was crowded. But when Ethan’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see that that wasn’t so. Still, most of the attention of the men in the room—of those who weren’t already far into making moves on each other—became focused on him.

The three black guys entered the bar and Ethan moved defensively away from the bar and farther into the area with tables as the three bellied up to the bar and, after voicing their drink orders to a bartender, turned toward the room. All three of them were staring at Ethan and smiling. Ethan moved back farther into the table area, until a hand reached out, gripped his wrist, and pulled him into enfolding arms.

“Hello there, sailor,” a deep, gruff voice rumbled from the dimness. Ethan found himself drawn into the lap of a bulky, big-boned, heavily muscled bruiser of a man in jeans and a black muscle T-shirt. The man’s strong arms encircled him and held him close. Even before more could be said, Ethan could feel the hardness of the man’s staff rising at the cleft of his buttocks. The cargo shorts were light-weight material. Part of his Bermuda duds. A large, strong, calloused palm was pressing on Ethan’s belly, holding him firmly in place. “Playing sailor today, are we?”

“I am a sailor,” Ethan muttered defensively, gasping from the suddenness of being imprisoned. He turned his face toward that of the other man, seeing him more clearly with each passing second as his eyes adjusted to the light. The man was ugly as sin. His features were severe, bordering on gross. He was bald but he had dark, bushy eyebrows that made it look like he was permanently glowering. There was a wild look about the dark eyes, his nose had been broken and badly reset, and there was a scar that sliced down from the corner of an eye and across both of his thin lips. His chin jutted. But while he was ugly and thuggish, he had the air of power and “able to have what he wanted” about him.

“Oh, a real sailor, then. Not Navy?”

“No I work a private yacht,” Ethan answered through heavy breathing.

“Too bad. Navy guys fuck well; usually have well-used holes.”

Ethan squirmed to get up, but the man held him fast.

“Calm down,” the man muttered. “You came in for this, didn’t you? Or did you come in with those guys at the bar staring you down.”

“No, I didn’t come in with them.”

“And don’t want to be with them, I guess.”

Ethan didn’t answer. But his trembling probably answered for him.

“You’d rather be with me, wouldn’t you? Black guys are known for big dicks, but I bet mine will do you just as well.”

Ethan didn’t answer that either. He had been squirming, but he could feel that that was only arousing the man—and he knew he couldn’t break the guy’s grip anyway—so he settled down.

“Yes, good. Just quiet down. You a working piece?”

“Excuse me?”

“Did you come in here to pick up a john?”

“No,” Ethan made his answer sound wounded without the least bit of acting.

“But you did come in here to get fucked, didn’t you? Comin’ in a bar like this, dressed like that. You came in to get laid. Feel that? Like that?” He was moving Ethan’s butt around in his lap, letting him get the feel of the hardening cock. A hand had gone up under the hem of Ethan’s cut-off T-shirt too and had found a nipple. His face was close in to Ethan’s ear and he was licking the side of Ethan’s neck under his ear lobe. All Ethan could think of was that he didn’t think he could kiss the guy on the mouth. No, that wasn’t all. He also was very much aware of the strength of the hardening cock he was sitting on. Ethan wasn’t a large man—it seemed to him he was only half the size and weight of the big bruiser. He could barely touch the floor with the balls of his feet. But when he did so and tried to rise a bit out of the bruiser’s lap, he was pulled back down, hard on the hardness of the man’s tool.

Ethan moaned, which the man chose to take as a vote of appreciation for the feel of his cock.

“You want me to fuck you or do you want me to walk you over to those three black dudes at the bar? They look like they want to give you what you came in for too, but times three. Bet they could try to double you.”

Ethan looked at the bar. The black guys were still watching him—closely. They weren’t making any moves of approaching the table, however, even though there were three of them. This only added to Ethan’s feeling of being overpowered by this man. Three well-built guys and they were just hovering there, watching.

“I . . . I don’t . . . know. Here?!” he burst forth with, as he felt the man working on knotting of his belt.

“Maybe here, yes. Maybe no. But you’re going to sit on my cock and ride it like a good little boy, ain’t you?” His hand moved to grab and squeeze Ethan’s cock through the material of the cargo pants. “Or do you want me to give you to those black dudes?”

“No . . . I mean yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“You want to ride Daddy’s cock?”

“Uh . . . yes.” Ethan’s eyes were on the black guys at the bar. They still were watching. He was panting shallowly now. The man was stroking his cock through the material of the shorts—and the man’s cock was rhythmically pushing between his butt cheeks.

“Yes, what? Say it.”

“I want to ride your cock, Daddy.”

“Good. see what’s on the table top right here?”

Ethan looked down at the surface of the table. There was a sheaf of condom packets beside a half-full beer mug.

“Oh. Please.”

“I want you to open one of those rubbers and put it in my hand.”

With trembling fingers, Ethan picked up the sheaf and pulled one packet away. He was shaking so badly that even with two hands it was hard for him to slit open the packet.

The man laughed and brushed the packet out of Ethan’s hands. “Just testing you. Seeing how much you wanted it. But we’ll play a bit.”

The hand that had brushed the packet away was on Ethan’s bare knee and began working its way up Ethan’s thigh, up under the wide leg opening of the baggy cargo pants. Ethan could feel the metal of a ring on the man’s finger—and he felt something else there, but couldn’t quite figure out what it was. The hand was going under the hem of the pouch of the jock strap he was wearing when the man turned Ethan’s face to his with his other hand and pushed a thick tongue between Ethan’s lips. Ethan gasped and almost choked, but the man maintained his possession, his control of Ethan’s mouth.

The other hand had reached Ethan’s cock, flesh on flesh, and it was slowly stroking him hard. Ethan involuntarily was moving his hips, pressing and then releasing on the man’s covered cock. He suddenly wanted the cock inside him. This is what he’d come for. It didn’t matter that the man was ugly, Ethan could tell that he had a monster cock and could do him well.

Ethan’s mouth was freed and he gasped at the arousing sensations he was being given below the waist.

“What’yer three lookin’ at,” the man’s voice bellowed out. “This one’s taken. Go find your own pigeon.”

Ethan turned his face to the bar. The three black guys looked angry. But they also looked defeated. Two of them downed their drinks and then joined the other one who was already half way to the door.

“Please,” Ethan murmured.

“Please what?”

“Please. Fuck me”

The man laughed a low, husky laugh. “Here and now?”

“If you want. But soon. Please.”

“So, you want me to make you come?”

“Yes. Yes!”

The man laughed again. Then he retook possession of Ethan’s mouth with his. The man’s mouth tasted like stale tobacco and booze, but Ethan didn’t care anymore. He’d come here to get a good fuck, and this man would give him that. A back room? a fleabag hotel room? right here? It didn’t matter. Not as long as he could cock as well as he could make Ethan want it.

But then Ethan was shuddering and trying to pull away to gasp and object and ask what the hell was going on. The strange feeling of the hand coming up his leg. It must have been the underside of the ring on the guy’s finger. A metal bead. A big one. Being pressed in his piss slit.

The man held him fast in a strong hold, with one arm encasing his torso, a thumb and finger pinching Ethan’s nipple. Ethan’s mouth fully possessed. A hard cock between his butt cheeks, pressing at his hole even between the layers of intervening material. And the big bead on the underside of a ring pressing into his piss slit. Releasing and pressing. Releasing and pushing in. Rhythmically fucking his piss slit.

Ethan came in a pent-up spouting of cum and collapsed in the man’s arms.

The man laughed another deep-chested, hoarse laugh and released his hold on Ethan so that the young sailor just sank into himself on the man’s lap. The man reached over and tossed off his beer at one go, swept up the packets of condoms, and pushed Ethan off his lap. Ethan almost fell to the floor, but the man swung him around as he himself stood and dropped Ethan into the chair.

“Like piss slit fucking?” he leaned down and asked.

“It’s . . . it’s different,” Ethan murmured.

“I asked if you liked it. There’s more like that if you liked it. Did you like it?”

“Yes,” Ethan answered truthfully, although he was a bit ashamed that he had liked it as much as he did.

The man took a couple of steps toward the bar exit.

“What? Are we . . . ?”

“Those guys are gone now. That’s what you really wanted, isn’t it? And you got to come. I got other things to do. Unless you want more of what you just got.”

He laughed his way to the exit and was gone. Ethan just sat there, wilted. When he looked up, he saw that there were still guys interested in him. One, leaning at the bar and looking back at him, was a well-dressed, slim guy who was maybe in his forties. He’d obviously been a looker in his day, and he still looked like he was in good shape. He was dressed expensively. He lifted a glass and inclined his head like he was offering to buy a drink for Ethan.

They fucked in a back room of Joey’s, which Ethan on the small of his back cross-wise on a massage table, and the forties guy holding his legs up and together with fists on his ankles while he pumped Ethan’s hole vigorously with a fair-sized cock.

This was the fuck that Ethan had come for but, even though this guy was handsome and had a good, strong stroke, the young sailor couldn’t help but feel having been let down by the dangerous, ugly bruiser. And that fucking of his piss slit. He had never . . . ever . . . And the guy had teased him. Asked him if he liked it and maybe wanted more and when he said he did, just walked off.

* * * *

The forties man had released his legs and was pulling off his condom and releasing his seed on Ethan’s stomach.

Ethan rolled to his right, ready to pull himself off the bed.

“Hey, wait. Where are you going? I told you $100 for two fucks. Roll onto your back. I’ll be ready again in a few minutes.”

* * * *

Ethan stumbled out of Joey’s. He needed to piss, and he probably should have done it in the bar. But for some reason he just wanted to be gone. The forties guy was OK, but he wanted to exchange phone numbers and addresses and such, and Ethan wasn’t into that. He still had the sour feeling in his stomach that the ugly guy had ruined his night. Ethan was $100 richer when that wasn’t even required, but, despite what should have been two decent fucks, he felt unsatisfied. And it was all the big bruiser’s fault.

He looked around to make sure those three black guys weren’t still hanging around and then turned the corner and stood facing a wall beside a parked black van. He unzipped and pulled his dick out of the pouch of the jock strap and, leaning into the wall supported by the heel of the other hand of an outstretched arm, and pissed a strong-arced stream of piss against the cinder brick wall.

God, that felt good, he thought, as he shook the dick dry.

He didn’t even have time to cry out as a hood was forced over his head and he was slung sideways through a van door and onto a carpeted floor. His wrists were being cuffed and his arms were being pulled over his head and attached to something. He heard the van door slide shut with a solid thump. The cargo shorts and then the jock strap were jerked down his legs, which were wishboned and raised, with strong fists grabbing his ankles.

He cried out inside the hood and arched his back, as a cock slid into Ethan’s channel—with difficulty as it was thicker than the forties man’s had been—but yieldingly as Ethan was lubed and opened up by the two recent fucks.

The man was breathing heavily and muttering something Ethan couldn’t make out from inside his hood. Was he talking to someone. Were there others there? The three black guys?

But the cock was thick and long and was pumping him even better than the forties guy did. And longer. Almost interminably. Hands were moving up his torso, grabbing his pecs under the cut-off T, digging into his nipples, punishing him. Ethan cried out under the hood and his hips went into motion. This was a fuck! He was meeting the cock thrust for thrust, and he could feel the vehicle they were in rocking back and forth. The man’s torso lowered to his. It was brushing up and down on Ethan’s chest in rhythm with the thrusts of the man’s cock.

Hairy. The chest was hairy. Chaffing Ethan’s chest, but he didn’t care. Bulging muscles. The man was strong. And vigorous. And long lasting. Or was it just the one. He would pull out and then thrust in again. Was that someone else taking over?

Ethan shot his load and soon after, with a couple of jerks and a grunt and groan, the man’s body tensed and he too came. Ethan felt no flow inside, so he must have been capped. It was almost a disappointment. Ethan wanted to feel the creaming of his insides. But maybe it was for the best. Maybe it meant Ethan wasn’t in mortal danger. Or maybe the man was just protecting himself.

He was left there, where he lay, his wrists bound above his head, a hood covering his head, when he heard the van door slide open and then close, another door open and close, and then the van was on the move.

* * * *

Ethan decided they must be in a bathroom. his knees, painfully were on a hard, tiled floor. His belly was on the cold rim of a porcelain tub, and his arms were dangling in the tub, still bound at the wrists.

A man was hunched over him from behind and fucking him. It was a glorious fuck. If the floor and porcelain weren’t so hard and cold, it would be an even better fuck. The hood was jerked off his head—and, sure enough, he was draped over the rim of a bathtub in a small and barely functional bathroom—and he gasped for air.

“Please,” he pleaded when he could get his breath. “my knees. My belly. It’s killing me. Please can we do this another way.”

“But you want it, don’t you?” The voice was muffled. Ethan managed to turn his head enough to get the impression, his eyes following the line of bulging muscles of an arm, of a massive, heavily muscled, and quite hairy—dark hair—chest. And a head covered by a hood. The man was tanned, but either white or Hispanic.

“Yes,” he conceded. “I want it. But could we . . . ?”

The man laughed, that too muffled, but he pulled Ethan up and backed him the few feet it took to get to the opposite side of the room. He sat on the toilet and then brought Ethan down on his lap and onto his cock and resumed the stroking by lifting Ethan up and down on the cock. Ethan didn’t fight it. He placed the balls of his now-naked feet on the tiled floor and helped with the rhythm of being raised and lowered on the cock.

His eyes free to see now, Ethan looked around. The bathroom was clean and neat—just small and old-looking. The man’s thighs between his spread legs were tan and hairy. Black hair. The man had forced Ethan’s arms up with Ethan’s bound wrists locked behind the man’s neck, which made Ethan arch his back, putting his torso in the form of a taut bow. When the man stopped raising Ethan up and down on his waist and had felt that Ethan was willingly doing that himself by the leverage of the balls of his feet, the man’s hands had gone to covering Ethan’s pecs again and playing with his nipples. When he did that Ethan saw, for the first time, the tattoo on the man’s wrist. He couldn’t quite make out what it was, but he was working on it.

That was forced out of Ethan’s mind, though, when the man raised his feet, massive, hairy-toed boats, to where his heels were on the rim of the tub across the room, This forced Ethan’s shoulder blades back onto the bulging, hairy pecs of the man and lifted his feet off the floor. At this angle, the man’s thrusts up into Ethan’s channel, using the leverage of the man’s heels on the tub rim, sent the cock ever deeper and Ethan was panting and groaning and moaning. And luxuriating in the exhausting fuck.

Ethan was totally exhausted after the fuck, but the man seemed as vigorous and hyper as ever. He stood up from the toilet and moved Ethan to where he was draped over his arms in front of him, Ethan laid across his arms, dangling like a rag doll, still panting softly from the total fuck, and looked up at the massive hairy chest and the bulging arm muscles. Ethan had never been taken by such a strong, beautifully built man as this before.

He was carefully carried into another room and laid on some sort of medical table. The man unbound his wrists but immediately bound them in cuffs on the edge of the padded table parallel to his shoulders. Ethan’s feet were bound in stirrups that raised and spread them. His buttocks was raised by a wedge at the bottom end of the table.

Still wearing the hood and nothing else, the man then rolled a table up to below and somewhat beside the table. Ethan’s eyes went from the massive tube of now-flaccid manhood dangling between the man’s beefy thighs and to his right wrist, where Ethan could see the tattoo again, but still could not make out what it was. But his eyes also went back to the barrel chest, with the matting of black, curly hair, cascading down to his pubes—and to the pronounced curves and bulges of all of the muscles and the armor-like plate of his six pack. Now that he could see the man’s body completely, the line between the tan and that of the Speedo he must have been wearing when he was getting his tans revealed that he was a white man.

Ethan wished he could be free to let his hands roam on that body, to follow the tan line with his fingers, to taste that cock and watch it engorge, and to pull it inside him and ride it like a cowboy. And maybe after this . . .

But, what was that? What was the man doing? He had picked something up from the surface of the table he had rolled over. A long, thin, metal wand.

“Do you know what this is?” the voice, muffled by the hood, asked.

“No,” Ethan murmured.

“It’s called a wand. Do you know where it goes?”

“No.”

“Think about that.” The man had cupped Ethan’s cock and raised it. The tip of the want was lowered toward the tip of the cock. “Where could it go?”

“No. Noooo. Please no!” Ethan cried out.

“Ah, you’ve guessed it. Now you must hold very still. I tell you this for your own good.”

“Noooo!”

The man slapped Ethan on the belly, and said in a more forceful voice. “I said you must hold still. You will thank me for warning you of that.”

“Please don’t,” Ethan said with a whine. “Don’t do this. Please. Why are you . . . ? Oh, shit. Nooo!”

He could feel the cold steel slowly enter his piss slit. Just a little way. Enough for him to realize that this was going to happen. He gasped and then whimpered, “Why?”

“I have enjoyed fucking you. I can tell you have enjoyed it too. We are going to be friends. Very intimate friends. And I am going to teach you control. Ultimate control. I liked the look of you from the very beginning. And dark hair. That five o’clock shadow. It completes the package. We’ll have to keep that.”

Ethan had been concentrating on trying to understand what the man was saying through the hood. If he hadn’t been, he would have realized that the thin metal wand was nearly half buried inside him. He was trembling, but as warned, he was trying to remain as still as he could.

He gasped and moaned as the wand was slowly pulled out of his penis. He was going hard in spite of the horror of what was happening.

He looked down the line of his body and saw the man picking up a thicker wand. “Please . . . oh my god,” he whimpered as the thicker rod entered his slit and slowly was pushed in.

“Just to this point and then just watch what happens,” the man said. “You want it. You’ll see.”

Ethan looked down as the wand half buried in his raised penis. The man didn’t have a hand on it, and yet it was moving. It was sinking into him. And he could feel it sinking in.

“See. Your cock wants it. It’s taking it in on its own.” Then the gasping and the sucking in of air as the wand was pulled out.

As the man was turned to the table, selecting a thicker wand, Ethan could see that the man was aroused by this. His cock, huge and curved up toward his belly, was hard again.

With the fourth wand buried three-quarters of the way inside Ethan’s penis, the man pushed the stirrups Ethan’s feet were tied to toward the base of the table so that Ethan’s legs were bent. Ethan watched him roll a condom on his cock. Then he placed his hands on Ethan’s knees and moved in between Ethan’s thighs and entered his channel with his cock.

Ethan sighed and moaned as the man slow-pumped him. The young sailor almost forgot that over four inches of a thick wand were buried in his penis. The man moved Ethan’s knees back and forth with the rhythm of his stroking and Ethan became lost in the fuck. He was close to coming, when the man stopped and pulled his cock out. He stood there, holding Ethan’s knees still, while Ethan’s breathing slowly returned to normal and he lost the urge to ejaculate.

Then the man said, “Ultimate control,” and Ethan watched in fear, renewed horror, and fascination as the man brought his cock head up to the exposed tip of the wand. He squeezed the head of his cock and the piss slit opened right up and then he swallowed two inches of the wand in the cock. One end of the wand was in Ethan’s cock and the other end in the man’s.

“The ultimate fuck,” the man said. “You are mine now . . . unless . . .” One of his hands enveloped Ethan’s balls and pulled and released them as more of his cock swallowed the end of the wand and the two cock heads came close together. The hand left Ethan’s balls and moved down. Fingers entered Ethan’s ass and worked their way in and out, stretching for the prostate.

Ethan arched his back and turned his head to the side and moaned deeply. The man started to move his penis, moving the metal wand back and forth in both Ethan’s penis and his own, bringing the cock heads closer together.

“Oh shit yes. Oh fuck. Oh god, yes. Yesss,” Ethan moaned.

“Do you want me to stop? To free you? To send you back to that yacht of yours?”

“Oh god no. Fuck me. Fuck me like this forever. Oh, shit . . . I’m going to come.”

“Go ahead.”

And Ethan did come, and so did the man, obviously having been able to hold himself for a mutual ejaculation, the cum of the two burbling out around the sides of the wand and lathering each other’s cock bulbs.

The man leaned over Ethan and released his cuffed wrists. Ethan’s hands immediately buried themselves in the silky chest hair of the man’s pecs, hungrily seeking the man’s taut nipples. The man pulled the hood off his head.

It was the bald-headed man who piss-slit fucked him with the bead of his ring in Joey’s bar. It hit Ethan then that he should know this. The man had alluded to a different, more intense piss slit fuck that he’d given with the bead on the ring, and just now he’d revealed that he knew Ethan sailed on a yacht.

“Do you want to go home or do you want it again?”

“Again. And again and again. Oh fuck yes!”

The man had begun to move his hips again, moving the wand connecting their penises back and forth inside them. “I’m ready if you are. But do you want to try a thicker wand?”

“Whatever you want,” Ethan murmured between gasps and heavy pants, his hands greedily tugging at the man’s nipples. “You are in control.”

“Good answer. I knew you could accept that,” the man said as he raised off of Ethan and moved his hand over to select a thicker wand.

Later, the man carried a totally spent Ethan down and hall and into a bedroom with four twin beds against the walls. A young blond man was on one of the beds. He was naked and his body was beautiful—slender but well-muscled. He had been reading a skin magazine, but he looked up, eyes flashing, as the man carried Ethan in.

“This here, the blondie, is Mark. Mark meet Ethan. He’s going to be the dark headed one.”

Without acknowledging Ethan, the blond turned his eyes on the man and raised up on his knees in a provocative pose. “You going to do me again now, Seth? Sound and fuck me again. I need you. I need you bad. I need the wand. The cock fuck. Please, are you—”

“Yes, Mark, I’m going to do you now.” The man—who had now been named Seth—walked over and picked the blond up in his arms. “Bathroom’s through there, and the kitchen is down the hall, darkie. Make yourself to home.”

Ethan laid back on the bed he’d been placed on after picking up the magazine the blond guy had been reading. His eyes roamed the bodies and sexual positions of the guys on the glossy cover without seeing them as he heard the cries of passion from the blond in the room down the hall—wishing all of the time that it was him again. Not wondering where he was, how long this would last, or how he was going to get back to the yacht he should be sailing on to Bermuda in a couple of days. Only thinking of that steel rod joining his cock to that of the big, ugly, magnificent bruiser Seth and living variously what the mouthy blond in the other room was screaming was happening to him.

* * * *

When Corbin came out of the back room at Joey’s after being fucked by the handsome forties guy with the open wallet, he realized that this was the bar he’d been looking for. He had been three sheets to the wind when he’d left the bar that night and had been pulled into the alley and into that van and fucked like he’d never been fucked before in his life.

He’d never even heard about sounding before. After the hooded guy had done him and then sounded him and then pushed him out of the van and driven off, Corbin had gone home and researched it. It had taken him quite a bit of research to find that ultimate fuck—what the hooded man had called the “ultimate control”—but he’d found it eventually. The two-cocked sounding, with the dominate guy controlling the action of the mutual penis fuck. Nothing had been said about coming at the same time and slathering each other’s dicks, but Corbin just couldn’t get that out of his mind.

The man had been hooded. And so had Corbin been hooded. But Corbin’s had come off during the fuck and he’d seen it—the tattoo on the guy’s wrist. It was only after it was all over—the next day, in fact—that Corbin had realized that the tattoo depicted exactly what he now craved again. Two penises, their heads connected with a thick rod.

Corbin had to have it again. And again and again and again. He wouldn’t recognize the guy by his face, but there couldn’t be more than one tattoo like that on a man of magnificent, hairy build cruising the Christopher Street bars. It was just a matter of time and research.

Corbin bellied up to the bar and ordered a beer. Then he turned and surveyed the dimly lit room, with the colored beams of light roaming around. A yellow light highlighted the man at the table. It was only for an instant. But it was enough. He’d had his hand raised, and Corbin had seen the tattoo. Just in a flash, but enough.

They were at one of the tables. The big man had a younger, slender man, in his lap. A redhead, with freckles. But good looking and built nicely. The man was ugly as sin, but that didn’t matter. That wasn’t what Corbin wanted from the man. The redhead was being held tightly in the big man’s lap and there was movement at their hips. The back of the redhead’s head was pushed into the hollow of the big man’s shoulder, black hair curling out of the neckline of the big man’s T-shirt, and the younger man had the look of being in dreamland on his face. A pair of shorts and bikini briefs were laying at the feet of the redhead.

It was clear that the big man was lap fucking him. It was also clear to Corbin from memory, that, although the redhead’s shirt was covering his lap, the position of one of the big bruiser’s hands underneath the front of the shirt told Corbin that the bead on the underside of the man’s ring was busy fucking the piss slit of the redhead’s penis. And the redhead was loving it, without having any knowledge just how far that could be carried.

Corbin didn’t want to watch this, but he didn’t want to leave either. He’d wait until it was done and then he’d follow the big guy—at least get the license plate of his van. The redhead thought he was in heaven now, but if the big bruiser gave him the sounding treatment he’d been in higher glory yet. Corbin was already shaking in anticipation of getting it again.

But Corbin was not destined to be satisfied by the ultimate fuck again. Corbin was a blond. The big bruiser, Seth, already had a blond in his collection. Corbin was fine for a fuck and a sounding in the back of the van, but Corbin wasn’t going to experience the ultimate—again and again—as he dreamed of.

Tonight, big Seth was shopping for a redhead for his collection.


###

146 Gay Erotic Stories from Habu

Angled Entries 1: Big Balling

Angled Entries 1: Big Balling [Author’s Note: This series follows on from “Dueling Regeneration” of the Philippe LeCroix short story series.] Chas Angle strutted down the stairs of his new plantation house, gathered his extra-long sweat shirt around his waist, climbed onto his cycle, and roared off down the long driveway on his way to the Hornet’s basketball stadium in downtown New Orleans.

Angled Entries: Painted Laddie

When Ms. Elisha came off the stage at the Bourbon Street female impersonators’ club and swished into her dressing room, Chas Angle was waiting for her. The meta hunk had worn a muscle shirt barely covering the superhuman bulges of his torso and a silky pair of shorts that barely held the bulge of his twelve thick inches. So, when he asked her if she’d come pose for him for photos, her quick

Angled Entries: Hard Decisions

Years and then more than a decade went by with nothing much happening in Philippe LeCroix's rotting plantation house on the Mississippi beyond the dust accumulating and the oaken walls drying out and spitting. Chas Angle still held his mentor and tormentor in his bed chamber on the second floor of the mansion, shackled to his bed, and rejuvenating himself only when Chas brought him young men to

At the Reservoir

I take three- to five-mile hikes about twice weekly. I have five nearby nature trails I rotate through (in addition to a few more urban walks). The park I went to recently—at the town's reservoir—has been on the Internet for years as a male pickup spot, although the police seemed to have stopped that a few years ago, I thought—and the pickup spots (the restrooms and an old barn) aren't near where

Azores Assignation

Edgar steadied himself against the bulkhead as the wake of a passing yacht sent his own ship to wallowing and scraping against the dock. He was hunched over the sink in the closely confined space, space being at a premium even in a Latitude 44 such as he’d sailed from Marseilles to the harbor town of Horta on Azores’ Faial Island. He believed that he could find exactly what he wanted here, and

Back Where . . .

I rolled over in the bed, reaching for Esteban, but he wasn’t there, setting off in me a mild zing of irritation. He’d gone to sleep last night while I was fucking him and now he wasn’t there at all in the morning. This brought the decision I had to make back to mind and was, perhaps, yet another nail in the decision—two decisions actually. I had an opportunity to head up the Radio y Televisión

Beautiful Bondage

I had been told that the assignment was a bit kinky, but a weekend stopover in Hawaii and three days on my own in Tokyo, paid for by the generous fee addition, were enough for me not to care. My pimp, Leon, told me to make myself blond all over, which I had grown used to in any assignment sending me to the Orient. And I was a bit intrigued because I was told up front that the client was Matsu

Being Fussy

I was going back from throwing some hoops with the guys one afternoon when I decided to drop in on Charlie and see how he was doing. He was a little high strung and had been having trouble with his latest live in of late. Denny was a real cocky asshole, so sure of himself and going directly for what he wanted—and usually getting it—and taking advantage of everyone along the way. And he was messy.

Bermuda Triangle

“A candidate for the Bermuda Triangle, might you say?” Dean said to Penn across the cocktail table. They were sitting at a window of the Splendor Lounge on the Champion of the Sea mega tourist ship on the first full night of its sail from Baltimore to Bermuda.The two, both members of the ship’s dance troupe were looking over a thirtiesh blond, well-formed, and obviously well-heeled hunk

Beyond the Beaded Curtain

I had been holding up the bar in the smoky lounge for more than a half hour, and Nick hadn’t shown. Felt pretty sorry for myself. That had been my story with my encounters with Nick: fuck ’em and leave ’em. I didn’t really want to play that game anymore, but here I sat, waiting for Nick. I had waved off several guys in obvious search of a pickup when the mystery man appeared at my elbow. As time

Biloxi Renewal

\Ham couldn’t sleep, and he thought he heard a noise from downstairs. Probably only one of the many ghosts haunting this old, rotting mansion, he thought. But, still, he was fully awake now. He rose off the cot he’d set up in his room until after everything was packed out and padded down the stairs into the music room. He was barefoot, only wearing his muslin sleeper pants. In twenty-four hours

Bite of the Schlange

Jacques, the young comte de la Arbois, nearly fell off his horse, both steed and rider trembling from exhaustion, into the arms of the innkeeper of the small village of Saint-Avold, a hard half-day's ride west of Metz. "A fresh horse," Jacques muttered feverishly through swollen lips. "We have such a horse for you," the innkeeper exclaimed. "But you are in no condition to ride on, young

Cast Party

I could not have been in any steamier place or time for my sexual awakening. Bangkok, Thailand, in the eighties was sin city extraordinaire. Anything went there; everything was tolerated. It was a mai bin rai (“nevermind; whatever, it’s OK”) place and everything was not only tolerated, but it also was on offer—and almost always for free or at a very good price. And it was an innocent time. The

Chain Gang Banged

I was only in for thirty days, and then not because of something I’d actually done. My buddy Phil had left drugs in my car, and the cops found them when they stopped me because I was driving a little too fast when I pulled away from a country beer hall they were staking out. I should have known better. I was only nineteen, and I shouldn’t have been in that beer hall at all, let alone drinking.

Chain Gang Banged

I was only in for thirty days, and then not because of something I’d actually done. My buddy Phil had left drugs in my car, and the cops found them when they stopped me because I was driving a little too fast when I pulled away from a country beer hall they were staking out. I should have known better. I was only nineteen, and I shouldn’t have been in that beer hall at all, let alone drinking.

Chaz's Choice

“Are you sure? You don’t have to go through with this.”But, who was I kidding. Julio’s choices had been shut down that first night—the night I’d found him supposedly by chance, but with chance having nothing to do about it. He’d been had even before I approached him at the Noobai Café, the discreet little gay hookup bar in the Restele district of Lisbon, not far from the Cuban consulate.

Cockpitting

After two years in the male-male paradise of Bangkok, a short assignment to Okinawa, Japan, seemed, for most of my tour, like entering a monastery. I was supposed to rotate directly back to the States with my SR71 supersonic photoreconnaissance unit, but the North Koreans were acting up on the DMZ, and the government wanted an intense look-see at whether or not they were building their troop

Congo Drums

The riverboat hit a log, or something, on the hull right at my head, and I woke with a start. The first sensation in the soft, wavering light of a single lantern hung by the doorway was the sound of the drums and low chanting from somewhere above. The driver and cook at it again. The sound was monotonous and comforting all at the same time. It also seemed to be richer than before, almost

Creamy Thighs

Tight, hard and hairless bodies with creamy thighs, resilient flesh on muscles of steel; and flexibility; flexibility is a must. I insist on that; and obedience and total subservience. And I possess them all. I fuck them all, women and men alike. I fuck them all regularly, without showing favor. That’s the only way to keep order. And they stand in line, audition for the privilege of being

Dagger Through the Moon

I am Darien, magician to the D’Ibelins; son of Jared, magician to the D’Ibelins before me; and grandson of Deter, magician to the kings of the Aquitaine. Can anyone deny my powers after the Horns of Hattin? But, no, no one but me knows of what really happened there in miracle of the stronghold of Belvoir. And that, perhaps, is as it should be. But as I glide across the sky, I look at that brand

Dangerous Experiment

[Author’s Note: When the Philippe LeCroix series has been completed, it’s best read in the following order: “New Orleans Rejuvenation,” “Natchez Refreshment.” “Biloxi Renewal,” “Reconnected Recovery,” “Theatrical Revival,” “Sailing Back into Life,” “Harvesting in the Park,” “Garden District Plunge,” “Dangerous Experiment,” “Dueling Regeneration”] Philippe had just been renewed, and he was

Deal Closer, Part 1

As we strapped ourselves in across from each other, knee to knee in the sleek corporate jet, I was wondering why CJ had picked me to fly out to the coast to try to close this business deal. I was pretty new to the company and no where near to having the seniority to be included on this trip. But I wasn’t complaining. A week in California and time to get to know the vice president of sales better

Deal Closer, Part 2

We got into L.A. that night and CJ and I went straight to the hotel. I was exhausted after my in-flight service training. CJ had booked a suite with two separate bedrooms, so I went to my room after dinner, showered, and went straight to bed. I was laying there on the wide bed, on my back, staring at the ceiling and just about asleep, when CJ crept into the room, came up on the bed and sat on my

Deal Closer, Part 3

When I had cleaned up and returned, I found that CJ had wiped himself off with a washcloth that Binggum had conveniently previously located in a bowl on the coffee table and was stuffing and buttoning his sausage back into his red-silk pouch. Binggum was stretched out on full the sofa, another wash cloth lying near him on the floor, probably used with a gentle touch by CJ in the most

Director's Couch

I often did things backwards in life. The old Hollywood adage goes that many a starlet—and we can add many a leading man, now that the cat is out of the closet on that—got their film career break by the audition they did on the director's or producer's couch. In my case, however, I got the part before the director had me taking direction under him on his couch. I had been a child actor on

Do You Trust Me?

Angelo had been so tense through his set at the café this evening, that he was afraid that it could be heard in his voice or in a change in how he coaxed the music out of the strings of his guitar. But those sitting around a smoking and drinking long after the food service had been shut down didn’t seem to have reacted any differently than before, with just those exceptions. Although all of the

Doubling Bets

(Suckered into betting against the double penetration myth) I should have known the sneaky Dutchman had all the angles figured when he suckered us into betting against a myth in the Men Only back room at Cowboy's Bar in Bangkok's Patpong district. He waited until the third revolution of the happy hour clock—when we were all soused and sluggish—and entered with a boy-built Thai. I recognized

Dueling Regeneration

[Author’s Note: This story completes the Philippe LeCroix series, which is best read in the following order: “New Orleans Rejuvenation,” “Natchez Refreshment.” “Biloxi Renewal,” “Reconnected Recovery,” “Theatrical Revival,” “Sailing Back into Life,” “Harvesting in the Park,” “Garden District Plunge,” “Dangerous Experiment,” “Dueling Regeneration”] Philippe LeCroix, with his new chauffeur,

Egyptian Ram

I was nearing the end of the fourth group lesson on self-defense techniques at the store-front gym under the instruction of a heavily muscled Egyptian wrestler named Anwar, when he took me aside and, after telling me he thought I’d make a natural wrestler, asked me if I’d like to stay after class and have him demonstrate some holds to me. I had admired his massive build—a bodybuilder’s barrel

Eight- and Nine-Inch Drills

Ad placed by Andre (9 slender inches) and Mike (8 thick inches) in the local weekly newspaper: - - - - Power Drills: GBM’s, Strong, hard, silent eight- and nine-inch power drills seek tight BWM or SWM who seeks filled fantasy experience for multiple drill role play says-no-but-wants-yes bottom. Call Mike at 945-6036. - - - - Ad Rob saw instead in the local weekly newspaper and decided

Elementary, Snidely

“But I don’t understand how you can just stand here, out on this beach, and declare that Jason Dunn has run away with his college football offensive team coach and lost his virginity, Doctor Klein. The Dunn’s paid us to find their son, and I very much doubt they will be amused with the elaborate and very offensive story you’ve come up with by way of explanation.” “It’s elementary, Snidely. And

Elusive

I waited until we'd almost reached Miami's airport, but I couldn't leave it here.

Emmet

We live in a university town, my wife and I, and we live in a neighborhood within five blocks of the edge of that university. It’s an affluent neighborhood, built on heavily wooded, well-manicured lots on the side of a ridge, with narrow streets running up and down and twisting here and there. Almost like the country, but a wealthy enclave right in the small city. Quite staid we are. Not ones for

Enticingly Unnaked

“How about I treat you to a drink? You must be thirsty from all that naked time on the platform.”I had just climbed down from the velvet-covered bench on the platform where I’d been posing, in the nude, for the past hour for Chad Simmons’s Savannah College of Art and Design night school art class. I’d barely had time to shrug my white cotton dress shirt over my shoulders. That didn’t stop the

Ernestine

I’m not sure why I went to Club 216 that night. I’d joined months before but had gone only rarely. Joining put me on their e-mail list, though, and I kept seeing announcements go by of their semiannual beauty contest. It didn’t pay much attention to it—or at least I didn’t think I had—but that Saturday night found me there, just a couple of table rows away from the stage. I was by myself at the

Ethiopian Cabin Boy

When I left Bangkok, Thailand, the first time, I originally thought I'd be returning to a world that was almost completely straight and that my days of enjoying a rich and active bi lifestyle were over. My work with the government, with its strong homophobic policies, just didn't seem to leave that avenue safely open to me. And for a couple of years, when I was assigned to Washington, D.C., and

Family Day on the Pool Table

I had always thought that about the only thing you could do on a pool table was play pool, but the Taylor brothers went to great length and depth to teach me otherwise. I’d met the three brothers on the beach at Pataya, Thailand. Their family owned a hotel construction company and was making money hand over fist in throwing up fancy hotels in downtown Bangkok and at the Pataya and Hua Hin

First Threesome

My first, memorable threesome was in that fancy gym in Bangkok where I had recently met who I called my Indian magician, who had seduced and initiated me. And the threesome was orchestrated by that Indian diplomat as well. He had been eyeing a military attaché from the Israeli embassy on the exercise floor—a man pushing his forties, built close to the ground but with long arms, almost simian in

Firsts With An Indian Magician

My first time for a lot of things came within a three-week period. I was a young Air Force pilot, living in Bangkok, Thailand, and flying the SR71 photoreconnaissance airplane. I was as virginal as they came before arriving in Bangkok. Sports through school and Air Force training and heavy workouts pretty much had taken all of my time and energy. I was about as Mom, apple pie, and country first

Friday Nights with Lenny

I stepped back from the sidewalk, hugging my arms close to my sides, and leaned back on the wall at the corner into the alley, raising one leg, knee bent, and my cowboy booted foot flat against the wall. The hole in the sole of that boot was worn clean through and the cold of the wall wasn’t as cold as that of the sidewalk pavement. Besides, it was a good pose for the purpose. While still

Garden District Plunge

[Author’s Note: When the Philippe LeCroix series has been completed, it’s best read in the following order: “New Orleans Rejuvenation,” “Natchez Refreshment,” “Biloxi Renewal,” “Reconnected Recovery,” “Theatrical Revival,” “Sailing Back into Life,” “Harvesting in the Park,” “Garden District Plunge,” “Dangerous Experiment,” “Dueling Regeneration”] Philippe watched them from the shadows in

Getting . . . Educated, Conclusion

The next day was my next tennis date with Ben. As I had thought and hoped for, after we’d played and I’d beaten him for the first time, I learned that he was in bad condition again and needed help. We both took showers, and he started back for the massage room, but I stopped him, telling him I had found a better place for him to get relief. We hurriedly both put gym shorts and T-shirts on, and I

Getting . . . Educated, Part 1

It was the first month of my graduate school, and it was my turn for the “introductory” evening with my Logic professor, Paul Hollings. When I’d asked someone who’d taken his class the previous year what the proper attire for such an event was, he had just given me a lopsided grin and said, “For a handsome guy like you? I’d suggest very bulky clothes.” He hadn’t elaborated, but I probably

Getting . . . Educated, Part 10

Although I had several white bandana encounters that week in which all a stranger needed to do to get submissive sex from me was to ask for my bandana, none were as strange as the one I had while I was on my way to play tennis with Ben the first time. I was strolling along, racket case under my arm, when a big black limousine, with smoked windows rolled up beside me, the driver’s window rolled

Getting . . . Educated, Part 12

My next team punch event day was more memorable for being the day of the double massage than for my losing a wrestling match and getting fucked. I lost the match, of course. This time to Greg, who was perverse enough to make me swing both my arms and legs over the parallel bars and then got on a bench under me and fucked me first from the front, my ass tipped up and then from the back, my ass

Getting . . . Educated, Part 13

I still felt better about the possibilities of taking control the next evening, which may be why I took that ticket the doped up rocker had given me and attended his concert. His band really was quite good. He had a large crowd in the university’s soccer stadium and it was even filmed for national sale as a video. The rocker who had fucked me had a great, raspy, character-laden voice and he

Getting . . . Educated, Part 14

At my next tennis match with Ben, he allowed as how he wasn’t in nearly the same painfully hard condition that he had been when we’d done the prostate procedure, but he did show a bit too much eagerness to repeat the massage that day if I thought it was advisable. I wanted him at full staff for presentation to the coach, so I asked him if he could hold off until our next practice match, to which

Getting . . . Educated, Part 15

Coach Seeman had told all of the wrestlers that they could come over and use his swimming pool at any time, and I was so sore and strung out later that afternoon that I took him up on the offer. I knew there was a wrestling meet during that time and figured that Seeman and the real wrestlers would be busy with that and that I’d have the pool to myself. I did, in fact, have the pool to myself

Getting . . . Educated, Part 2

I trudged back to the dorm from having been raped by my Logic professor, feeling very down and very sore, hoping that no one would ever learn about my humiliation; angry at the professor, not knowing how I was going to be able to sit in his class in front of him now. Worried about whether and what demands he might make on me for the rest of the semester. I wasn’t that way. I didn’t want to be

Getting . . . Educated, Part 3

I had been sexually assaulted by three men within my first week at school. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. I let it go for several days and then, when I was on my way to throw some hoops at the gym, I just snapped and found myself seeking out the dean of men students. I didn’t know if I could get a walk-in appointment with him, but I felt like I needed to talk to someone about

Getting . . . Educated, Part 4

It had been three days since I had been raped four times within two days, and I was hiding out. I had taken a by-week apartment made over from a motel not too far from the campus, dropped the logic class, and kept as low a profile as I could. I’d found the former motel too noisy to study in, so I was camped out in a small overgrown park nearby, where I was studying on an old picnic table. I

Getting . . . Educated, Part 5

I’d had enough of these repeated sexual assaults; being used like this. The next day, I packed my car and headed for home. No more than three miles beyond the campus gate, though, I heard a police siren and was pulled over to the side of the road. I sat in the car, wondering what I had done wrong, as a policeman strutted around and took a look at both license plates, all the time swishing a

Getting . . . Educated, Part 6

Coach Seeman delivered me to Nate’s door, ravished and still in handcuffs, which had been moved so that my arms were in front of me, and with my jeans barely covering me. When Nate answered the door, he was wearing only his briefs. As the dorm counselor, he had an actual one-bedroom apartment, including separate bedroom, a kitchenette, and a bath—which made me wonder why he showered in the common

Getting . . . Educated, Part 7

I stayed with Nate for the next two weeks, taking in my regular classes in the afternoon and spending most of the mornings learning the fundamentals of wrestling from Nate and Greg in a small room off the main wrestling gym while the coach’s regular “Greek Wrestling” class went on in the main wrestling gym. I thought I was getting the hang of it until I was called in for what coach termed one of

Getting . . . Educated, Part 8

Later that afternoon I got my first glimpse of my possible ticket out of this “team punch” hell. I went to class and the professor, who was also my faculty advisor, asked me to come see her in her office after her next class. When I appeared there, she wasn’t alone. A young student was sitting and chatting with her. I took to him immediately. He was perhaps the most handsome youth I’d ever seen;

Getting . . . Educated, Part 9

My next team punch event defeat wasn’t too taxing. I was getting steeled to these attacks on my body. The winner was one of those lean, mean Marines, without an ounce of fat on a very efficient body and a shaved haircut. Not much to brag about in the below-the-belt category, which probably is why I’d seen him hang out with one of the bantam-weight wrestlers, a willowy, but obviously strong,

Getting. . . Educated, Part 11

The exhaustion of and loss of strength from the previous day’s unexpected sex encounters may have accounted for my tennis match the next day, but it’s just as likely that Ben was just a much better tennis player than I was. He agreed to let me try to recoup the loss and set up another match for two days hence. As I had hoped, we were the only ones in the graduate gym shower room when we went in

Gotta Keep This Job

I had been summoned to the medical suite at my office at the end of the Friday dayshift of my second week on the job, and I showed up with a great sense of trepidation. It had been hard finding this job, and I just had to keep it. But I’d scored drugs for a short time when I’d been in college, and I knew this company had a strict drug policy. I hoped that they hadn’t found out about that—or that

Handed On

“I really do worry about you. When did you eat last?”“Please, please, don’t stop,” Marc whimpered between pants. “Finish me, please. Don’t make me wait.”“Now you want it,” the dance master laughed. “We’ll see how badly you want it.”The two young men were lying on a pile of old costumes in the dark corner of the back of the stage behind the wings. The dance master, Patrick Moran, only

Harmony and Dissonance

“Are you sure this is the address?” Lars Krieger asked, as the hotel car stopped in front of a massive, carved-wood, two-panel door in an otherwise blank concrete wall on Bangkok’s Soi 51 Sukhumvit. The road was narrow, almost an alley, it seemed, to the young German engineer, with one, long stuccoed wall running down its full length on each side with doors like this and wider garage doors at

Harvesting In The Park

[Author’s Note: When the Philippe LeCroix series has been completed, it’s best read in the following order: “New Orleans Rejuvenation” “Natchez Refreshment” “Biloxi Renewal” “Reconnected Recovery” “Theatrical Revival” “Sailing Back into Life” “Harvesting in the Park” “Garden District Plunge” “Dangerous Experiment” “Dueling Regeneration”] Philippe had found this one particularly

Highballing

If the CEO of my company hadn’t seen me recently in that gay bar over on 12th and Madison, I don’t know how long it would have taken me to get invited to the executive floor. But Pete Peterson had seen me, and there I was, in his conference room, sitting in a second-row position in the weekly executive meeting. I’d been surprised, but pleasantly so, to see Peterson in the bar. He was one of

Iced

If I didn’t get a good fuck in before tomorrow evening, Tonya and I would be out of the medals for sure. We’d come to the Paris Grand Prix with good hopes of standing on the platform, but my timing was all off in the twists and throws we’d attempted in our practice session tonight, and I knew it was because I was so jittery from not getting my rocks off since we’d been at Skate Canada a couple of

Iced Flip Side

I had had my eye on Aleksey since the skating season began. He was the new partner for Tonya in the ice pairs division, and he was sheer sex on ice. He was all dark, brooding good looks; muscle and power and with curly black hair on his arms and legs and swirling around his pecs and diving in a wide path down into his leotard. He wore his jet black hair long, in a pony tail, with a few strands

Into the Dark

Momma, please. I won’t talk back anymore. Let me out of the closet, Momma. Or turn on a light. You know how scared I am of the dark. Don’t leave me here in the dark, Momma. Please. Please Momma. Momma? Momma?* * * *Brandon leaned over the low, padded cubicle wall and winked at Colleen and told her she was looking mighty fine today. Then, as he turned and moved down the corridor between

Israeli Assault

I'll always remember the Israeli by the image of him standing there at the window of the Oriental Hotel room, the strong Bangkok sun bathing his body in afternoon light—that and by the cockiness with which he took control. The Israeli army officer, a military attaché at his country's embassy in Thailand, had just two weeks earlier been part of my first threesome. He had seen me working out in

Joggered

“Open to me. Open to daddy.” And I spread my legs for him. Before he pushed me back gently onto the thick carpet on the moss covering the little sun-spackled glen, he had me kneel before him and take his beautiful, huge cock into my mouth, where I worked it up to over ten inches of hardness to the sounds of the birds twittering in the trees and the jogger emitting little sighs and moans of

Kasem's Kitchen

If the kitchen of Kasem’s family in the upcountry jungle of Thailand hadn’t burnt to the ground, I possibly never would have found out what the special Bangkok sports massage was all about. Kasem was my masseur at a fancy Bangkok gym, which was open for “men only” a couple of nights a week and which was a major pickup place for prime cuts of male meat. Of course, when I’d started going to the

Last Rodeo

Lattimore stopped at corner of the cookhouse as he was crossing from the main house of his ranch outside Laramie, Wyoming, to the corral to train the quarter horse he’d bought on the last cattle drive to Omaha. He leaned on a fence and watched young Kit chopping wood. The young man was stripped to the waist while he chopped.Bulking up real good, Lattimore thought. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad

Late Night Workout

I had been going to Gabe and Steve’s Gym for a couple of months, and I was quite pleased with the results. I could tell that Gabe and Steve were pleased too, as they’d both been giving me the eye when I was in the shower. I didn’t mind all that much; it was a free world and looks didn’t cost me anything—or so I thought at the time. I knew that Gabe and Steve were a couple, but that didn’t mean

Legend of Cowboy

All sorts of expatriate “characters” gravitated to Bangkok, Thailand, in the seventies and eighties, and none were more colorful than the man known simply as Cowboy. Cowboy was a six-and-a-half foot black American stud, who was said to have been a pro basketball player of some note who had retreated to Bangkok in the face of possible charges for point shaving and racketeering. In Bangkok, Cowboy

Like Father Like Son

As I walked into the city on the main street, Damrak, leading directly from Amsterdam's central train station, I nervously fingered the folded e-mail I'd been carrying tucked in my wallet for the past month and a half. Damrak changed into Rokin, and at the end of canal off the Amstel River, I made a right onto Heiligeweg. I had thought of this possibility on and off for the whole cruise down

Locker Room Revelation

It wasn’t a regular day of practice; only Hank and I had come in, and we’d worked out in the gym after we’d done laps on the field. I could tell he was steamed about something, but I didn’t ask about what. He had finished first, and it looked like I had the locker room to myself when I came in from the gym. I took a quick shower and pulled on my briefs and some baggy shorts and an athletic T, and

Loving Wife

“What’s for dinner? Lamb chops, I hope. You do those so well.”“Of course, if that’s what you want, Ely. If that’s what you want, than that’s what we’ll have.”He’s got no taste buds left, I think. What does he care if it’s lamb, pork, or shit? Note to self—while I try to keep my voice from having the sarcastic edge Ely had complained about of late. Of course we don’t have any lamb chops in

Master of the Boardroom

The reports of the week were winding down, and I looked around the table, only half conscious of what was being reported. The three older guys at the table would take care of all that for me. I was sizing up all of the young and beautiful people I’d stocked the board with. The power to do this was the joy of heading a robust family business; I could stock the board with the pick of the crop, and

Mentoring

Is this the very café table where we sat? Yes, I think it is. In fact, I’m sure it is. It’s as if time has stood still. The café is just as it was nearly thirty years ago—or at least I don’t remember anything as different. It’s hard to believe that as much as London has changed over the last twenty years, Norwich might not have changed at all. Or so it seems. And so I want it to be. I don’t want

Nailed By Obsession

He had become obsessed with me. The party was large and boisterous and our eyes had met across the room and he gave me a brilliant smile. A short time later, he’d sat down beside me with people swirling all around us and had put his hand on my thigh and had given me that brilliant smile again. I tipped my glass to show I needed a refill and glided away from him, not wanting to make a scene. Not

Natchez Refreshment

The cyclist was racing along the top of the Mississippi levee, anxious to get back into Natchez before the rains hit. Sweating profusely in the humidity and under the blazing sun, he had stripped his jersey off and wrapped it around the handlebars of the bike. It was almost dusk now, however, and the storm clouds were rumbling in. He felt chilled and tried to free the jersey from the handlebars

Naval Dilemma

Dutch came first. It was a particularly busy and boisterous night in the Dick Hut, tucked in the back shadows of an alley off the Nuuanu Stream in the heart of Honolulu's red light district. The sign over the door actually said

Neighbor's Hot Tub

My wife was off to see her mother, and for the first time since he’d gotten it, my neighbor, Marty, had invited me for an evening in the hot tub he had put in. His house backed onto my side yard, and he’d done a whole lot of nice renovation on his property since he had moved in. Marty was divorced and probably was in his early fifties, judging from his graying hair, but he had kept himself quite

New Master at Riverbend

Jerome stood just inside the doorway at the shadowed end of the room. He should have just turned and gone down the stairs and out to the carriage to tell Thomas that Master John wasn’t ready to go yet. That’s all Thomas, Master John’s carriage driver, had told him to do. But the shock of what he’d found when he’d entered the house on Decatur Street and been waved to the second door down the hall

New Orleans Rejuvenation

I was there for three nights in the basement strip club on Dauphine Street in the French Quarter, always sitting at the same table. I had picked him out on the first night—a lithe but well-muscled, dark Greek, displaying a mixture of danger and sassiness; much more into what he was doing than any of the other performers. His act was black leather. Studded-leather harness crisscrossing his chest,

No More Evening Shifts

There were four of them who entered the store close to closing time, all muscled punks decked out in black leather. I owned the small convenience store but found myself behind the counter this evening because my regular night clerk called in sick. The hunkiest of the four came up to the counter and puckered his lips and gave me a air kiss. He asked me where Jake, my regular evening clerk, was.

Norwegian Stallion

One of the saddest—and most ironic—casualties of the internecine Greek-Turkish war on Cyprus that divided the island into warring camps three decades ago was the once-famous and elegant Ledra Palace Hotel. The Treaty Room of the Ledra Palace, a hulking stone edifice in the Moorish style, had been the venue where the British secretly committed the crime of slicing up the Arabian Peninsula and

Nuclear Meltdown

It was all happening so fast. I didn’t even have time to feel panic. I just felt a dullness and a foreboding—and a creeping sense of being trapped in a web of some sort. No, more like a cocoon, the sticky thread winding around and around me. Smothering me.“Just a few minutes, Dr. Winthrop, and you can go back to your room. I know this has been a shock to you. We have just a few more questions

On a String in Bangkok

In more recent years I look back on my mid-1970s (and then again early 1980s) Bangkok adventure and just shake my head, wondering what we were thinking we were doing then and how shallow we must have been to be so totally focused on beautiful bodies and the striving for perpetual orgasm.I think that for most of those I played with for two-and-a-half years in the 1970s, the hedonist urges

On The Roof

It was a hot day, and I was out doing my laps in the pool when the roofers arrived. They had started the previous afternoon, just diddling around and getting their supplies where they wanted them. The older of the two was a well-turned-out, chiseled-featured, and solidly built dude, probably in his early forties, with prematurely graying dark hair. He looked like he’d taken real good care of

On The Trail

I had never tried to seduce another guy before, but Dale was just there at the right time and place. We were both runners—he because he was on the college football team and running up and down the Pine Mountain trail helped keep him in shape and I because I wasn’t that long out of college myself and I was doing the best I could to keep my fine form in shape. We had passed each other a couple

Only a Custodian

“And a ten-inch cock.”“You’re shitting us now,” Oliver said.“Yes, I’m shitting you,” Porter answered. “But, really, I would want him to have a nice cock on him.”“Well, high on my list is that he has to be willing to take out the trash without being asked to,” Adrian interjected.“And put the toilet seat down too?” someone asked. They all laughed.“No, thank god,” Adrian answered

Pay-as-You-Go Hitching

I saw him from a good distance away, walking down the highway in the direction I was driving shortly after a big cloverleaf marking the intersection of two major highways. He hardly looked like an experienced hitchhiker, but that was exactly what he seemed to be doing. Not only was hitchhiking illegal on a highway like this, but I also couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a hitchhiker on the

Pianoman

“First the tide rushes in, plants a kiss on the shore . . .”Matt often started a set with something quiet and slow, like “Ebb Tide,” when there was a convention or two in the hotel, like there was today—electricians and bankers. What a combination. Something quiet tended to settle and quiet them down to the point that he could stand it.It wasn’t a question of being a prima donna and

Picking the First Fruit

I think I just might be the best peach picker in Virginia. Well, in Rockingham County at least. And that isn’t just me boasting. That’s what Brother Jeb said all the time I was picking peaches for him. And Mr. Howell said that to me too. More than once he said that. I’ve heard both men say that, in the peach business, it’s getting the first fruit of the season to market before anyone else does

Pirated

I was just about home free with the tasty wench the lads had brought on board for me from Kingston when the attack started. After some mouth play, she hadn’t objected in the least when I’d unlaced her bodice and started giving her ripe melons the attention they deserved. We were entwined together in the window seat of my vessel’s fantail, and, forward lass that she was, she had unbuttoned my

Porn War

The song “Kisses Sweeter than Wine” sprang to my mind, because that was what his kisses were. As far as I could tell in the dimly lit Blue Moon resort hotel room in Las Vegas, he was a young hunk, no older than I was. Most of the men in the room were older, a few probably twice or more my age. None were complete throwaways, but he was prime among them. And he had latched on to me as soon as I’d

Reconnected Recovery

[Author’s Note: When the Philippe LeCroix series has been completed, it’s best read in the following order: “New Orleans Rejuvenation” “Natchez Refreshment” “Biloxi Renewal” “Reconnected Recovery” “Theatrical Revival” “Sailing Back into Life” “Harvesting in the Park” “Garden District Plunge” “Dangerous Experiment” “Dueling Regeneration”] The young, drunk construction worker

Remembering Miles

I hadn’t seen Cousin Miles for nearly twenty years, and he looked more like it had been thirty. He looked so defeated and withdrawn into himself. And my memories were of a vibrant athlete. He wasn’t really a cousin in the blood-relative sense. Uncle John and Aunt Frieda had adopted both him and his sister, Mandy, because they couldn’t have any of their own. You could have told he wasn’t really

Renewal of Passion

I had been down and just marking time ever since I'd left Beirut three years earlier. I hadn't really been able to write that whole time either; I was just floating on the royalties from my earlier novels, written in the passion of my youth—passion that I just couldn't find in me anymore. Perhaps it was having hit that deadly age of fifty; perhaps passion naturally dissipated from that point.

Rest Stop

We were tooling down the highway in the early evening at a pretty good clip in my BMW Z4 Roadster when Perry started to get frisky. Perry was this hulking blond roommate of mine who also was on the football team, but who was a couple of years older than I was and played first-string tailback. I’d just started college this year and was still warming the bench, although I’d impressed the coach

Resting a Demon

I thought I was going to be sick. His mother asked him to entertain us, to play something for us on the piano, and the pert-butt blond tossed the curl out of his face and flowed over to the piano and started to fill the room with Chopin. I’d had this kid in my craw for a good fifteen years, and all I wanted to do was to slam him to the floor and fuck the stuffing out of him. And that was when he

Ride Em Cowboy

Since the 1930s my extended family has had a remote ranch in a hidden Colorado Rockies valley abutting Medicine Bow National Park south from Laramie, Wyoming. The mountain fasts there—almost alpine in environment—are majestic, but they can be raw and cruel as well. Our family raised cattle there and took timber off the mountainsides in a planned "thinning" harvest pattern that supported a

Rude Awakening

The most wonderful thing a lover has ever done for me was to give me my life. I didn’t understand it at the time, but if he had loved me as I wanted him to—as I begged him to—I would be long dead today. The days of my sexual coming of age in Bangkok, Thailand, during the early eighties were paradise followed by a rude awakening, a realization of how life can come back at you hard that I didn’t

Sacrificed by Curiosity

Doug had been conditioning me for months. We had met at the gym, and several weeks after we’d become regular spotting partners, he revealed to me, almost in an off-hand manner, that he was bisexual and that he actually preferred gay sex. He didn’t come on to me—at least not directly—and I consider myself fairly open-minded, so I continued with our informal spotting arrangements. I also had an

Sacrificed by Curiosity, Part 1

* * * The coven was good enough to dump Doug on the steps of an ER in a cross-town hospital and to drop me off at home with one of the younger men from the group there with me to clean me and the damage to our bedroom up and to provide an alibi for me when the police arrived later that evening. After the police left, I went into the bathroom and ran a steaming bath. I stretched out in the

Sacrificed by Curiosity, Part 2

I had been playing with the brunette’s tits, just as she was playing with mine, and I just got my hands away in time for Doug to take over. He must have been rougher on her tits than I was, because she was yipping and moaning and groaning and bouncing a bit on my skewer, which went to twelve inches under her attention. After a few minutes, he wish boned my legs again so that he could bury meat

Sailing Back into Life

Sailing Back into Life [Author’s Note: When the Philippe Lecroix series has been completed, it’s best read in the following order: “New Orleans Rejuvenation” “Natchez Refreshment” “Biloxi Renewal” “Reconnected Recovery” “Theatrical Revival” "Sailing Back into Life” “Harvesting in the Park” “Garden District Plunge” “Dangerous Experiment” “Dueling Regeneration”] Alphonse waved

Sailors and Flyboys

FlyboysPete swung into the gym with a big grin on his face. “Fleet’s in and I’ve already talked with Javier. His ship will be in early, on Thursday. Says he can get a three-day shore pass. Time for a special weekend.”“I’m game,” Todd answered, but he was looking up at the man spotting him on the bench press and asked, “How about you, Dan?”“Every weekend’s special with you, babe,” Dan

Satin Circus

(Written by request for a satin fetish story by James A.)The music swells and the lights dim under the big tent, as the excitement builds in the audience and the buzzing conversations subside with the rising expectation that something—something special—is about to happen. Strobing lights and laser beams come up, gyrating around on the floor below and under the canopy of the tent above,

Satin Sleigh Ride

Count Gregor Arninov towered over his elegantly dressed host and hostess in the foyer of their winter dacha as his sleigh was being brought around. He was leaning over them and holding the admiral’s wife’s small silk-gloved hand in his appreciably larger satin-clad one while he murmured how wonderful their ball had been and that, yes, he had enjoyed dancing with their daughter immensely. The

Satisfaction Ashram

As I stood outside the entrance to the old British colonial-style Windsor Hotel in Nuwara Eliya, Sri Lanka, in the shadow of Mount Pidurutagala, waiting for someone to take me up to the ashram, I couldn’t believe how far—and how far back in time—I had moved from Teddy’s cabin in the Catskills. From the moment Teddy’s business partner, Mort Whitley, had driven up to the cabin and told me how

Searching for It

Searching for It(Corbin and Ethan both go looking for it on the New York docks)(sounding, fetish, docks, gay male clubs, domination, gay anal, rough sex, daddies, obsession, collections)“Yo, there, buddy. Lookin’ for somethin’? Cause I got somethin’ for you.”Corbin took a good look at the burly man who had materialized from behind a stack of metal barrels beyond where the light

Snaked on Anjajavy Beach

I had both the advantages and curses of being a rock star. I could afford to go anywhere I wanted on the spur of the moment or as the mood hit me, but if a mood hit me that would land me in the tabloids, I’d better be prepared to go to the ends of the earth.The mood had hit me to get the most exotic and total fuck that I could find by the most talented cocksman I could attract. I had been on

Snow Trap

Boyd had been leery of the arrangement from the very beginning, but he hadn’t said anything to his father about it. His father seemed so happy about having found Vic, one of Boyd’s college prep school coaches, two years after Aaron, his former lover, had died. Boyd would much rather it had been anyone other than Vic, someone who Boyd hadn’t known before Aaron died. But, when he was being honest

Snowy, Snowy Nights

In most senses Bran had been invisible at the Hayden saloon the couple of months he’d been there. But as he came out of the back room into the main saloon hall, carrying the bucket of water Levi Yost, the saloon keeper, had told him to use to freshen the bowls in the rooms upstairs, he looked at the tall Christmas tree in the corner. Sadie, Katie, and Faye were busy happily decorating the tree

Solicitous Service

Goran saw the young man standing nervously at the reservations desk and liked what he saw. He was even happy that Serge, the maître d, was pretending not to see the young man, because that meant that Goran, the waiter, could see him to the table—and could make contact of some sort with him on the way there. Goran was one to make an immediate assessment of the playing field and pick out who he

Someday My Prince Will . . .

Last night I dreamt I went to paradise again. I believe we can credit the encounter to Daphne du Maurier. My tour in Cyprus was at an end, but I had hung on for a month, sending my wife back to Washington, D.C., to get the house open up again and everything there back in working order and to guide one of our children into a new university year. I had stayed past my assignment rotation date to

Sweet Sanjay

I heard my name being called out from the midst of the teeming horde pressing in on the barriers after customs in New Delhi’s Indira Gandhi international airport, and a head and arm waving a sign was bouncing up and down over the tumult. The sign the young man was carrying said “Clifford Jenkins” with “New York” written under it. That was me. But I wasn’t being met by anyone that I knew of. The

Swimming Lessons

“I’d like to make an Australian Crawl.” Stan gave a hearty laugh and acknowledged an empty glass up the bar. While he was gone, Keith, in turn, acknowledged that his own beer glass had miraculously filled on its own. He didn’t have much doubt that Stan was trying to get him drunk so that Keith would go in the back room with him. The burly barkeep had been putting the moves on him for some time

Ten Slash Two

I had been jittery and conflicted for the entire two weeks since I’d seen that big black topping a guy at a pool party in Bangkok. I had been bottoming for a Swede in a nearby patio lounge when I looked over and saw this monster cock jack-hammering in out of the other guy—who clearly was in seventh heaven—and I almost melted on the spot. I was conflict, though. Obsessed with desire because the

That One Exception

I have always managed to keep my bisexual world in check and separate from my public straight world by always putting my wife and children first and by committing only to them—that is, possibly, with one notable exception. I had an atypical long-term relationship with an Australian colleague that seemed innocuous at least at the beginning but that has grown stronger over the years—possibly beyond

The Awakening

I guess it may have been because of my mother—and of the strange beliefs my grandmother formed around her. Up until the time my grandmother’s ill health coincided with me being old enough to go to college, I’d been kept in the dark about so many things. I knew that my mother must have done some really, really bad things from the way that my grandmother just tightened up, crossing her arms under

The Caregiver

Perhaps I gave in so easily because Lenny embodied the best of two worlds. First, he was a wonderful, gentle caregiver. He had been coming to my house twice a day for several weeks to take care of my bed-bound grandmother, who was recovering from a broken hip. Second, he was drop-dead gorgeous. All blond Swedish muscle with a shy smile to accompany his sensuous mouth. I’d had a rough week

The Celtic Sonata of Life

I was sitting outside the cottage door, just in my shorts, wondering if the farmer who had rented the rustic Cotswold cottage with the thatched roof and the rose trellis beside the door to me for two weeks had misinterpreted my offer. It hadn’t been in so many words, but I think I had been clear enough in my nonverbal delivery. But maybe not. Maybe signaling here in England was much different

The Clothes Horse

“You’d get half of the bid, plus you’d get to keep the clothes.”I didn’t know that I was all that wild about being auctioned off, but I had to admit that I liked—no, I loved—Zhao Zeng’s clothes. That was what had attracted me to him in the first place. His black satin shirt and trousers were cut so well—and so provocatively—on him that I could hardly keep my eyes off him, even though I’d come

The Commander

“Ahhh, that were very nice,” I said with a deep, satisfied sigh, as I spilled my seed down Des’s chin. We were in the boathouse on the lower lake, here because Des had wanted me to fuck him. But now we’d have to sit and talk for a bit, listening to the racing shells grind against the dock outside in the bit of a squall that had come up over Sandhurst. It would take me a few to recharge.“Cig?”

The Compassionate Reporter

“Lou is chasing another story down, Gavin, and this one doesn’t look like more than a short paragraph in the local news section. So if you’ve got an hour or two, could you check this out? And if you don’t have an hour or two, I’d like to know what you’re doing; what you’re working on now was due on my desk an hour ago.”The city editor handed Gavin a telephone message form.“OK, boss. I’ll

The Cure

I came to slowly, the flashing colored lights taking their time to form in my consciousness and whatever Tony had spiked my drink with slow to let loose of me. I was lying on a bed. I tried to rise, but my hands were cuffed together above me and my legs were cuffed as well to the lower corners of the bed. But the bounds were loose there. I could raise my legs as I wanted, but I couldn’t rise from

The Darling

“I’m going to take you to the Darling tonight.”I froze. I’d been chatting with three other guys on the sectional sofa in the conversation pit, not even aware that the major had reentered the house. I was studiously avoiding thinking of where he was. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been in this conversation group at all. I normally tried to stay well away from these three. The three pansies we had

The Day the Earth Moved

The two construction workers worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning up for the evening around the construction site on the new house on the steep hillside overlooking the pounding surf on the rugged coast below. The two moved together, in fluid motion. They were having a boisterous and obscene conversation of what the two horny hunks planned to do to their girl friends that evening after a

The Netotiator

I wondered what he could tell about me that no one at home or the office—at least I hoped and always had thought—knew. He had introduced himself as Hal when he’d appeared beside me in Business Class and I’d stood from my aisle seat so that he could get over to the window. He’d had a friendly smile, and if I hadn’t been busy during the first two hours over the Atlantic from New York going over the

The Thunderstorm

I fully acknowledge my weakness, but I think Janine has a share in the shattering of my vows to her. I’d only had that one fling back in college—with Phil. But Chet and Phil had had an affair after college, and now Chet was living in the next acreage to ours. Obviously Phil and Chet had talked about me, and Chet knew all about me before he moved here, because he had made quite clear to me that he

The Video List

“It sounds too complicated for you, Matt,” Jason had said. “Getting a list would be the hardest part—impossible, I think. This is a small potatoes town. I think you should just keep it to the street and be happy when it works out. And get a job.”I’ll admit that getting a job was what got the plan rolling. Then getting a list turned out to be one of the easiest parts. The roughest part,

Theatrical Revival

Theatrical Revival [Author’s Note: When the Philippe LeCroix series has been completed, it’s best read in the following order: “New Orleans Rejuvenation” “Natchez Refreshment” “Biloxi Renewal” “Reconnected Recovery” “Theatrical Revival” “Sailing Back into Life” “Harvesting in the Park” “Garden District Plunge” “Dangerous Experiment” “Dueling Regeneration”] The bodybuilder

To Die in Madeira

I closed my lips over Sir Guy’s cock and pushed his foreskin down with them, my tongue going to opening and flicking down into his piss slit as my mouth slowly took more and more of him inside the moist warmth of my mouth cavity. He sighed contentedly and ran his fingers through my hair. He reached up and pulled my cock down to his lips and started returning the compliment.We were half way

Training Asu

“You cannot put it off any longer, my friend. If you do not choose for Asu soon, the priests will take him. The choice will no longer be yours—or Asu’s. He is of age for starting the life chosen for him. He cannot do other than meet his destiny.”“I know that, Sargon, it is just so hard . . .”Baltasar, the wood merchant, was sitting at a table outside of the tea shop in the bazaar, sipping

Trip Money

I had become a regular at the gym on Tuesday nights, and this 40-something businessman named Clint, who was also a regular on that night, and I had gotten to where we regularly spotted each other through our bar bell work. He was in great shape for his age, leaner than I was, but with well-defined, ropy muscles and chiseled square-cut features. I’d been trying to save the money for some time to

Trucker Bait

As I came up from the beach, I saw Carl and Angela on the deck, He had her top off and was stroking her breasts, and she was sitting astride his lap, having made who knows what connection. I knew what they’d be doing for the next couple of hours, which would leave me at loose ends again. I decided to take the initiative. “Hey, Carl,” I yelled out from below the deck sight line. “Would now be

Trunk Of The Car, 1

Trunk of the Car, Part 1 I found I had a carefree weekend on my hands, so I had driven into the small town to answer an ad for a classic Triumph convertible that I might want to add to my collection. But I had been up and down the street several times without finding the address I was looking for. So, I just parked my car and started hunting on foot. I did find the address, but no one seemed

Trunk Of The Car, Part 2

Eric must have enjoyed the polishing job we’d done on the trunk of his Tempest, because when I’d finished shooting off into him, he said, “Well, Peter if you’ll get this beautiful body off mine and stop entertaining the neighbors, perhaps we should go in and shower.” “I want to fuck again. I want you to fuck me,” I said, without moving. “That’s not out of the equation,” Eric said, with a

Trunk Of The Car, Part 3

As we were leaving the shower, Eric took the tube of mentholated lubricant, squeezed out a large glob, and asked Claude to apply it, which Claude was more than happy to do, pushing his hand deep down the back of Eric’s silk shorts and massaging the gel into Eric’s ass as Eric grunted and twitched his butt. “As soon as this does it’s magic,” Eric said. “I want you to have another go at me, Claude.

Trunk Of The Car, Part 4

Sometime later, I was awakened by Eric pressing on my shoulder. I raised my arms to bring him into bed with me, but he shushed me and said in a low voice, “No, not that. We hear something downstairs. Claude’s gone ahead to check it out. He wants us to follow him down. When we got to the first floor, we could see Claude at the back of the house, near a door that went into a workout room. Claude

Trunk Of The Car, Part 5

After hosing ourselves off again and getting back into those silk shorts, Claude suggested we go down to the living room and drink beer and watch a football game on TV. So, down we went. After I tossed off my first beer, I began to feel a little sorry for the dude hanging up in the gym and asked if it would be okay if I went in there and cleaned him up a bit and put some salve on the new hole

Trunk Of The Car, Part 6

When I awoke, the room was dim, and the house seemed very quiet. It had been a great day, but it was time to shower off one last time and hit the road. But first I’d find the guys and see what they were up to. As I got to the bottom of the stairs, I heard some noises from the back of the house and padded into the gym. The pizza guy was still on delivery, I could see. They’d pulled out the

Turkish Delight Times Six

While living on the island of Cyprus, I developed quite a taste for young Turkish men. If you could get a good-looking, well-constructed Turkish guy before he got too far into his forties, you could almost guarantee you'd have something forceful, vigorous, straightforward, and good natured to play with. You also, quite often, would have a guy with a pretty heavy pelt on him. Now, I didn't

Two Men in a Dungeon

The Hulk crouched near the bolted heavy oak door, eyeing Rab, ready to pounce, trying to anticipate where Rab might try to scurry next. The stone-walled chamber wasn’t small, but it wasn’t so large that Rab had much of a chance evading the Hulk much longer. Both men were panting, having played this cat-and-mouse game for several minutes, but Rab was more winded than the Hulk was. No one in his

Wrong Choice

It was the wrong choice of swimwear, and I was headed back to the guest room to rectify that, when the cause of it all stopped me in the hallway. The new owner of our company had invited me to his country place for a weekend to discuss some details of a project we were working on and it turned out there was a pool party included. But, not knowing that, I hadn’t brought my suit. I had assumed this

Zonked

I had literally creamed myself almost nightly for Phil’s body, but Phil was about as straight as they come--and getting all the female tail he could handle if all the talk around campus was true. We were both attending the university on athletic scholarships--Phil on a football and baseball scholarship and me on a wrestling scholarship, wrestling being a good way for me to get down and dirty with

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