So, I haven’t posted on this blog in over a year, but I still get lots of awesome followers. Thank you all for the kind words and interest in my work. Life kinda derailed for me a while back, I won’t go into details, but I had to set writing aside for a while. I am happy to announce a short collection of stories about my experiences in college will be out next month. I’ll be putting it out independently, so could use all the word of mouth you guys can give it! In the meantime, here’s a story that will be in a later collection to thank you all for your support and encouragement! — Chris.


The Married Man
By Christopher Wyatt

My friend Jayden won a weeklong, all expenses paid vacation for two to a gay resort in Mexico from a charity fundraiser we had attended at one of the local boy bars. He was adamant that I take the trip with him because, as he put it, “You need to stop being so boring.” So I arranged to take a week off work and the two of us headed to what was supposed to be seven days of fun in the sun — with 500 or so other gay guys and nearly naked Latino men paid to wait on us hand and foot.

When we arrived, we were surprised to find ourselves by far the youngest guys at the resort — except for the scantily clad employees — as we had come in the middle of gay seniors’ week. Some might think this was a bad thing, but neither of us found any problem with being fawned over by a bunch of well-to-do silver daddies.

We had been there for two days when a neighboring resort was forced to close down, displacing hundreds of vacationing families. All the resorts in the area, including ours, readily opened their doors to the refugees — and the additional cash flow. The people who stayed at our resort were mostly younger straight couples who were gay-friendly, or families with older teenagers who were often overheard saying they were “cool with the gay thing.” Jayden and I ignored them, focusing on the many older men buying us drinks and showering us with nonstop attention.

One afternoon I was sitting alone at one of the poolside tables when a shirtless man in his 40s asked if the other chairs at the table were being used. Expecting him to take them, I told him no. Instead, he sat down next to me. I gave him a sideways glance and found myself appreciating the view. He was average height, pale except where the sun was beginning to burn him, slightly pudgy around the middle, but had large round pecs covered in a light red fuzz. His blond hair was cut in a typical conservative businessman style and graying at the temples. His legs were thick and muscular, covered with curly blond hair which travelled up under his obnoxiously bright Bermuda shorts which seemed several sizes too small as they were hugging what looked to be a sizable package.

Within seconds, a painfully thin woman with enormous breasts and one too many facelifts took the chair next to him, followed by her two kids, an 18-year-old son and a 16-year-old daughter. The woman immediately started complaining while the kids looked at me as though I were on display in a sideshow.

“Are you a gay?” the daughter asked.

“Cynthia!” the woman snapped. “That’s not polite. Of course he’s a gay; look at that flat stomach.” She looked to both father and son., “The two of you should try lifting a weight now and again.”

I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious, but before I could make an excuse to leave the man extended his hand to me. “I’m Bill,” he introduced himself. “That’s Cynthia, Marc, and my wife Patty.”

I shook his hand. “Chris.”

“My brother’s name is Chris,” Patty said flatly. “But he wasn’t gay.”

“You keep on believing that,” Bill told her, which provoked an argument that ended in Patty asking me if I thought being gay ran in a family’s genes. Before I could even answer, their son announced distastefully, “Well, I ain’t no fag.”

“I’m not a fag, Marc,” Patty exclaimed. “Speak correctly! How do you intend to get a decent job if you sound like an ignoramus?”

“Who needs a job?” he asked mockingly. “I’ll just kill you and collect the inheritance.”

I almost choked on the drink I was now practically chugging. “Well, it’s been fun,” I said, standing up from the chair.

“Oh, are you going?” Bill said as his eyes looked me over from head to toe, lingering a little long on my bulge, which was packed tightly into a yellow Speedo. Did this guy just cruise me in front of his family? Feeling his eyes lingering on me made my cock suddenly stiffen. “Yeah, I need a refill,” I said backing away, and fled before my junk could make it to full size.

I stood at the bar waiting for another drink and willed my dick to calm down. Still, the thought of Mr. Family Man sitting there with his wife and kids and staring at me like I was his next meal sent a sexual thrill through me that I couldn’t deny. I had finally gotten my cock back to neutral when Bill came alongside me to place a drink order. I glanced down at his hand, which was inches from mine and saw his well-worn wedding ring. Another tingle ran through me.

When the bartender handed me my drink Bill said, “Let me get that for you.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” I protested.

“It’s the least I can do after being subjected to my family.” He smiled warmly. “They can be a bit much.”

“Well … thank you.” I turned to smile at him, and as I did I found his eyes searching me. He had that look — the look of a wild animal on the prowl for fresh meat. The way he was practically drooling over me made me start to get hard again, so I was momentarily stuck at the bar. He paid for his family’s drinks and carefully picked up the tray they were balanced on. Before he carried them away he leaned in slightly and whispered, “You’ve got an amazing ass.” I almost gasped for breath at hearing the sudden baritone in his voice. I turned to look at his wry grin as he walked back to the table.

“Really?” Jayden said as he perched himself in front of me and looked at my crotch. “For who?”

I motioned my head toward the table where Bill was handing out drinks to his family.

“The young one or the daddy?”

“Daddy,” I answered. “Son’s a little bitch.”

“Just my type,” Jayden quipped.

As Jayden went on about his latest romp, I kept a discreet watch on Daddy Bill, who was also watching me in between arguing with his wife. When I had finished my drink, I realized I had to pee. So I left Jayden at the bar to order another round while I made a quick trip to the men’s room. In this particular resort, it was not unheard of for anything and everything to go down in the poolside bathrooms with the attendants turning a blind eye or even joining in. The hotel even supplied condoms and lube along with towels for the adjoining showers. However, with the non-gay vacationers staying the week, the management was doing its best to curtail such activities. That just meant guys hooking up in the stalls and closing the doors instead of doing it in the open shower area. The occasional grunt or strained orgasmic moan came from the stalls, but most were drowned out by cheesy disco tunes being blasted on the speakers throughout the pool area.

I stood at the farthest urinal trying to pee, but was still semi-hard. As I ran my finger up my shaft, I pushed out a thick strand of precum that dripped onto a freshly placed “Wrap It Up” urinal cake. It took a few minutes to coax the urine out and I had barely finished when a man stepped up to the urinal right next to me. As I glanced to the side I recognized the shorts; it was Bill. He pulled the front of his loudly colored trunks down and exposed his cock. Though he was almost fully hard, he drained his lizard with no problem, keeping himself turned toward me so I could watch. When he finished he gave his dick a couple quick shakes and as if he had pushed a button, it was fully hard in just a few seconds. It was about six and a half inches, cut and had a nice girth to it. The thing that made it unique was the head — it was huge. It had to be the size of a pool table ball at least, and attached to a shaft that, while sizable, barely looked as if it could support the enormous mushroom that had flowered at the end of it.

It was then I realized he was staring at my dick, which was now fully hard and ready for action. Without hesitation he reached his hand out and took hold of my throbbing cock. I watched him slowly stroke and squeeze my dick, all the while focusing on his time-worn wedding ring sliding up and down my shaft. I felt a wave of lust run through me as I realized his wife and kids were probably less than 10 feet away from us on the other side of the cinder block wall with no clue that daddy was gettin’ busy with another guy.

I noticed the attendant watching us with a disapproving look and motioning toward the stalls with his head. I went to the counter, picked up a condom, lube packet and towel, and headed toward the stalls in the far back. Bill followed me with his hard dick still out and bobbing in front of him with each step. As soon as the stall door was closed he pulled me to him, his hands exploring my back and butt frantically. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he whispered between kisses on my neck and chest. “And with someone as fucking hot as you!” I let his hands roam my body as he held me close, grinding himself against me. He licked my nipples, stuck his tongue in my ear — everything but kiss me full on the mouth.

Finally I took a step back, giving him a chance to calm down. The way he was going I was sure he would blow his wad before we even got started and I was now determined to get that big dickhead inside me! He sat on the toilet and yanked my Speedos to the floor, taking a good long look at my seven incher. After thoroughly exploring my cock and balls with both his eyes and hands, he grabbed my ass with both hands and swallowed my dick, trying to immediately deep throat me. Instead he gagged, pulled back and then started bobbing his head on my dick almost frantically. After almost losing my balance, I put my hands on either side of his head and held him still as I began to slowly face-fuck him. Each time I went in just a bit farther, getting him used to the feeling and letting him savor the taste of my cock. I pulled it out and, taking it in one hand, rubbed the head of it over his lips, his cheeks, and pressed it to his nose so he could remember the scent of a man’s cock. Then I pushed back into his mouth, this time letting him take the lead. He sucked me slowly this time, and managed to get all but an inch past his lips. After a few minutes I felt the first twinges of orgasm build and had to pull away from him.

I opened the condom, put a drop of lube on the inside and leaned forward to roll it down over his bouncing cock. Even with a Magnum, it was a tight squeeze over that head, but I managed to get it all the way on and apply a generous amount of lube. At this point he took full control, standing and roughly turning me to face the stall door. I worried suddenly that he was going to be too rough trying to get that monster inside of me, though my dick twitched at the idea and pushed a strand of precum out of my dickslit.

I grabbed the handicapped rails on the sides of the stall to steady myself as he ran several slick fingers through my asscheeks and pushed his huge dickhead against my twitching hole. As I felt his knob press against my opening, I gasped, both with the desire to have this married man’s cock buried deep inside me and the fear of being able to take it at all. I took several deep breaths, willing myself to relax. He took his time easing it into me and I bit my bottom lip through the twinges of pain from being stretched open so wide.

It seemed like forever, but finally the head was in and my hole immediately gripped his shaft. With a smooth, firm push, he slid the rest of the way into me, causing me to jerk and shiver as his thick prickhead pushed buttons inside of me I had barely known were there. At last he was pressed firmly against my asscheeks. I could feel his entire body shivering as he grabbed my hips with both hands and slowly began pulling backwards, making me whimper with pleasure. As he started a slow but steady rhythm I felt my knees weaken with each stroke, threatening to leave me a crumpled, quivering mass on the floor.

Every time he pushed himself back into me, a drop of precum leaked out of my cock; a long strand of it had run down my shaft and began dripping down my balls. I reached between my legs, finding his swinging balls and began to play with them. He let out a surprised gasp and an “Oh, fuuuck,” encouraging me to keep it up. As he started moving in and out of me faster, I couldn’t stop the noises that were beginning to fly out of my mouth at random.

The sounds I was making spurred him on and he began fucking me faster and deeper. I had to once again grab the safety bars with both hands and brace myself, as he was now slamming into me at a head-spinning pace. My legs were shaking and my insides were sending preorgasmic waves throughout my entire body. I no longer cared about where we were or the noises I was making; all I cared about was the incredible sensations this married man’s cock was giving me. He was now bent over me, his furry chest rubbing against my back, humping me at full speed with short, fast thrusts. His cock was shoved all the way in and his gigantic cockhead was banging against a hotspot inside of me.

“Take Daddy’s dick, boy,” Bill whispered through clenched teeth.

His words sent a spark through me that ignited the final powder keg. My balls tight, my body now shaking violently, I managed to contain what would most definitely have been an ear-piercing “FUUUUUCK!” into a strained guttural groan and my dick jerked and my cum started to fly. Even though nothing was touching my dick, each pump of his dickhead inside of me was like another shockwave running from the base to the tip and sending another shot flying.

I kept coming long after I stopped shooting and my hole spasming on his shaft brought him to climax in seconds. His arms wrapped around me and his hips were pistoning wildly as he grunted and groaned like a wild animal. I could feel his cock swell and knew he was filling the condom with jizz deep inside of me.

We stood there motionless for several moments, him still laying on my back, his arms still wrapped around me, but with a little less desperation. He began slowly moving his still hard cock inside of me. My cock twitched, still so hard it was almost aching. The more he moved his cock inside of me, the more my cock responded until I finally reached down and, taking my cock in hand, started stroking it. It was barely 30 seconds later before I started coming again. As I did, he shoved his prick all the way into me and held it there as I shook in his tight grip.

We cleaned up, he disposed of the condom, and after he gave me an awkward “thank you,” he left. I went to the sink to check myself in the mirror. As I did I saw one of the stalls open behind me and Jayden come out. Seeing me, he gave me a huge grin and a thumbs up. I turned to say something to him, but then out of the stall emerged Bill’s son zipping his shorts. As he noticed me, he seemed to flush a bright red and, without a word, walked out of the restroom.

“Dude,” Jayden said, leaning in, “my ass is on fire! That guy had the biggest dickhead you ever saw!”

I laughed. “Like father, like son.”

23452452345By Christopher Wyatt

My partner and I are average. middle-class, white suburban gays. On the lower side of 40, we have settled into a comfortable routine of Netflix Fridays, home-improvement Saturdays, and gardening Sundays. It works for us. Leaving behind a decade of bars, booze and debauchery, we’ve been together ever since — over 12 years.

You couldn’t tell from looking at us now,but in our twenties we were both party boys, hopping from bar to bar and bed to bed. Then one day I was slamming my cock into the ass of a muscle bear who was strapped into a sling when someone placed a bottle of poppers to one side of my nose, and with his other hand pushed my open nostril shut. I took a deep hit and when I turned to nod a thanks at the guy, I saw my Joey’s face for the first time. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, and as I plowed the large, round ass of the hairy man hanging helplessly in front of me, Joey took a step forward, wrapped one hand around the back of my head, and pulled me into a deep kiss. His other hand dug two spit-covered fingers straight into my asshole. As he pushed downward, putting pressure on my prostate, I came so hard I thought I would never stop. We ended up going to a 24-hour donut shop and talked all night. That’s where we tell people we met, as telling them it was at an orgy of someone’s basement play room would just be awkward.

After over a decade of being looked at as a model gay couple — whatever that’s supposed to be — we have become … well … our parents. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Neither of us have an interest in trading our quiet, routine married life for our old party days. But the topic of opening our relationship sexually has come up several times over the past year — mostly after being propositioned by other open couples. We’ve also discussed trying a three way, but whenever we talk about it, we get so turned on, we bang the hell out of each other and the topic gets shelved.

One night in early spring we attended a fundraiser for a local charity that was held in a local leather bar. Not only did we not know anyone there, but we stood out like a sore thumb dressed in practically matching khaki shorts and polo shirts while others were in everything from leather collars and puppy play masks to latex jockstraps. We were there about 20 minutes when we noticed a rough-trade looking Latino leatherman watching us. He was unshaven with a head of thick black hair, rock hard abs, long tight legs with bulging calves. He was wearing a leather vest, leather boots and a leather jockstrap that highlighted a large package which drew our eyes back to it again and again. He looked like he had walked right out of a vintage porn movie. His brown eyes moved from one of us, to the other, scanning us up and down with an unreadable expression on his face. We tried to act as if we didn’t notice his continuous stare and hoped it wasn’t because he was ready to beat us up and toss us out of the bar.

After a second pitcher of beer, both of us had to pee. We made our way through the length of the dimly lit bar to the bathrooms where we found one stall and a long trough that ran along the length of one of the walls. There were several men loitering around the room. leaning against the back wall, as if waiting for the stall which was occupied. Joey motioned me with his eyes to the bottom of the stall where we saw the knees of one man facing the legs of another.

“Hot,” I whispered jokingly to him as we approached the trough.

Standing only a few feet apart, we both unzipped and began to pee. Midstream, we heard the men on the back wall greet someone coming into the room behind us. There was no reply, just the sound of deliberate, echoing footsteps that ended when the newcomer planted himself directly between myself and my husband. After a few seconds I looked down to see the man’s pee spraying into the trough. My eyes discreetly worked their way up the piss stream to a dark, uncut cock. I looked up to see the Latino who had been watching us, now standing between us. He was so close that I could feel the heat from his skin on my forearm. as I looked up at him, I found his gaze fixed right on me. His expression was completely unreadable. When he broke our stare, he turned and looked directly at Joey with the same unflinching, completely mesmerizing stare. My eyes went back down to his thick brown cock which was no longer peeing, but standing at full mast. Eight inches of thick, Latino cock were throbbing and pulsing just inches away.

Joey and I were both as average in the dick department as we were in life. I was six and a half inches and he was seven, both slightly above average in thickness and both cut. To see a hard, pulsing. eight inch, uncut, dark-colored dick only inches away was both a shock and a massive turn-on.

Neither of us moved, nor sure what to do. Was he just doing this to show off? Did he want to have sex? Were we both okay with it if he did? Finally, the man between us reached out, took my right hand and Joey’s left, and placed them on his warm, hard cock. We stood there, our hands exploring his dick — the first one besides each other’s that we’d touched in years. My hand on the front part of his large meat, I kept skinning his large foreskin back to reveal the large rounded head that was now beginning to leak small drops of precum.

He kept looking from one to the other, now grinning a smile that told us he — and his cock — had complete control over us. And they did. He took a step back and in one motion, with no resistance, he placed his hands behind our heads and pushed us to our knees in front of him. As he pushed us forward, our eyes met questioningly for a split second — each seemingly asking the other’s permission to service the precum-dripping monster cock in front of us. Our eyes were still locked with each other’s, as our mouths opened and our tongues began to lick the sweaty tool in front of us.

It was awkward at first, both of us stealing glances from the other, trying to assure ourselves it was okay to let go of our inhibitions and enjoy servicing the leatherman’s musky tool. We took turns, one going down as far as we could on his plump, dark shaft while the other serviced his large hairy nuts. As we switched positions, we would take a moment to let our tongues find each other’s, as if our kiss was reassurance to the other that our commitment was still intact even while servicing this Barrio stud. He just stood there, however, allowing the two of us to worship him and occasionally muttering a word or two in Spanish that that neither of us understood.

Men were coming in, peeing and leaving, some watching for a few moments and stroking their cocks. One tried to join in, but the Leatherman wasn’t having it and ushered the man away with a few terse words. He made sure anyone in the room knew that we were HIS score — we were his bitches — and we were loving it.

After what seemed like forever, the man took another step back. Looking between us, he pointed at my husband and said questioningly, “bottom?” If not for the intensity of the situation, I would have laughed. Joey nodded hesitantly and without hesitation the Leatherman pulled him up by his elbow and bent him over the urinal. Joey looked to me, eyes wide, not sure what to do. I just stared back at him, my cock getting even harder with the thought of seeing my man getting fucked over the urinal of a seedy bar by this Latino God. His shorts were yanked to the floor, his bright white ass almost glowing in the dimly lit room. It was like watching a porn movie as the Leatherman slipped a condom over his huge cock and emptied the contents of a small lube packet into the crack of Joey’s ass, making him clench tightly and let out a sudden gasp..

It was then that I realized the tall man was handing something to me. I reached out, still on my knees and took it. Opening my hand I found a condom and a lube packet. I looked up quizzically. He said something in Spanish and seeing I didn’t understand, he slapped his own ass and motioned from me to his exposed buttcheeks. He wanted me to mount him as he fucked my partner.

A huge smile crossed my face which he returned. I stood, unzipped my shorts, letting them drop and began fumbling to unroll the condom onto my raging hard cock. Suddenly I heard Joey yell out, “Fuck! Oh, fuckin’ Hell!” I stopped and watched as the stud drove his cock into my partner’s smooth, beautiful ass. Once in, he wasn’t stopping for anyone. His thrusts were relentless, and the moans and whines from my husband made it evident the Leatherman was very skilled at using his monster dick.

I moved in behind him, taking a moment to run my hand over his ass as he plowed my man. It wasn’t smooth like Joey’s, it was hairy and plump. Though the man was mostly muscle, his ample ass jiggled and rippled with each thrust. I couldn’t take it any longer. The movement of his ass, the moaning of my husband, and the guttural grunts of the man between us, I stepped up, ran several lubed fingers between his ass cheeks and moved my cock into him. He stopped thrusting, his ass moving around slightly as if trying to position itself correctly, then in an almost fluid motion, he backed his hairy Latino ass onto my cock, sucking it all the way inside.

I didn’t even have to move; I just grabbed his hips to steady myself, and he did all the work. Each thrust into Joey’s ass turned into a long stroke on my cock. He kept muttering in Spanish as he wildly see-sawed between us. I glanced at a movement to our right and for the first time noticed all the men that were now gathered, watching us. A few of stroked their cocks, but most just stood there in awe as if watching a real life porn movie. I couldn’t have cared less. I was caught in a frenzied lust that had taken control of my mind and body. I was only aware of two things: this hot bastard was fucking my husband, and I was fucking him. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed.

My hands explored his rock hard, hairy chest and stomach as I watched my cock move in and out of his swiftly pumping ass. I was doing everything I could to take my attention away from the mounting explosion ready to erupt from my dick. But I couldn’t hold back, it was all too much. I felt like I was in a dream and the lust of the situation was overpowering me, I couldn’t stop myself from coming. My eyes rolled back in my head, my hands dug into his hips, and I was barely even thrusting as I let out a, “Holy fuck! I’m com —.”

I felt my cum filling the condom buried deep in his ass. I pulled out of him and he let out a string of what sounded like curse words as his thrusts into my partner became more frantic. I took a step to the side and watched the last few moments of my partner getting his ass rammed by that long, thick,Latino prick. Then the Leatherman thrust into my partner and held him still as he spasmed, and cussed, and shook — unloading his jizz into the condom still embedded in my lover’s ass.

The tall stud stumbled back, pulling out of my lover who turned quickly, falling to his knees in front of us and pulling the condoms from our cocks, began to suck the remaining seed from each of our still hard tools. After licking me clean, he did the same to the Leatherman, his tongue making sure to circle under the deep foreskin and clean out every last drop.

As he did this, Joey was jerking his cock as fast and hard as he could, moaning and whimpering as he got closer. The man grabbed the back of Joey’s head and pushed his half hard meat all the way down his throat. Joey gagged on the huge cock as his cum sprayed the man’s black leather boots. His face turning red, his body rocking with the last spasms of his orgasm, I thought for a moment he was going to pass out.

As soon as his head was released Joey wasted no time falling to the man’s boots and licking his own cum off them while still gasping for air. It made the Latino stud smile.

When he finished, Joey stood, reality set in for both of us. We quickly dressed and left the bar. Neither of us spoke the entire way home, but as soon as we were in bed, we fucked each other harder and with more passion than we had in years. We didn’t need any toys or fantasies or anything that night but each other.

We never really talked about that night after that, nor did we ever stray from one another again (that I know of). But every time I drive past that bar or see a Latino Leatherman, I am instantly hard with the memories of that night and can’t wait to get home to my husband.

3567211003_81920c8747By Christopher Wyatt

I work at a restaurant that has a sterling reputation – quality dining at an affordable price – and on any given night we see an average of 500 customers and double that on weekends. When the owners felt it was time to expand and open a second restaurant, they approached me about taking on the host position. While it would be a huge commitment, the pay bump would definitely be worth it.

On one of my days off, I was asked to come tour the new site as it was nearing completion. When I got there one of the owners was doing a walk-through with a city inspector. As I tagged along behind them watching the man go from one area to the next shaking his head and making checkmarks to a form on his clipboard, I realized he was not liking what he was seeing. I, on the other hand, was enjoying my view of him. He was in his late 30s, about 6 feet tall with broad shoulders, a strong, wide back, and muscular arms that were evident even through his dark blue dress shirt. In front his shirt was tight over his sizable pecs and what had to be quarter-sized nipples that seemed to be perpetually hard. His khakis, while hanging loose around his legs, fit snug in the crotch – perfect for showing off his package, which looked to be of ample size. His skin was fair, which made his handsome face look perpetually flushed. A ginger goatee, light blond hair and sharp almond-shaped hazel eyes gave him a strangely exotic look. This guy was all guy and a total turn-on.

When he finally spoke, I was surprised to hear a Nordic accent. Images of Rose from The Golden Girls talking about St. Olaf made me start to giggle, which I tried to pass off as clearing my throat when both men stopped talking to look at me.

“But we’re scheduled to open in two weeks,” the owner argued. “This is like a month’s worth of repairs – if I can even get the men in to redo it that quickly.”

“If you hadn’t tried to cut corners in the first place, you might be opening on time,” the inspector said matter-of-factly. He pulled a pink copy of his report from his clipboard and handed it to my boss, who looked like he was about to lose his shit. As the man started to walk away, he gave me the elevator eye — looking me over as he passed and giving me a slight nod.

I then listened to my boss call his partner and give him an earful. “Well, you better find a way to fucking fix this! It was your fucking brother-in-law — I told you not to hire him! Fine. No, I gotta — hold on.” He turned to me. “Chris, can you wait here until Martin gets here? I gotta run an errand.”


“Thanks, hon.” He turned back to the phone. “Chris is gonna wait here. Well, just get here as soon as you can.” He hung up the phone and, looking at the paper once more, began tearing up. He turned to me, trying to hide his upset.

“It might be a bit, but I’ll add the time to your check this week. Thanks again, sweetheart.” He squeezed my shoulder as he made his way out of the building.

I walked through the carpeted dining area which had been divided into eight sections with high dark-stained wood separators. Most of the seating was already in place and awaiting the delivery of the tables. Toward the front of the building was my area; a half bar with plenty of storage room beneath it. flanked on one side by a small coat check and behind me the entry to the bar where people could wait for their table. After practicing my hosting smile for several minutes while standing behind the bar, I strolled into the kitchen and imagined how it would look with the hustle and bustle of a full cooking team.

As I turned to leave the room, I was not expecting to see the blond restaurant inspector who was standing in the doorway watching me. It was everything I could do not to jump out of my skin. He immediately apologized for startling me and asked if my boss was still in the building. When I told him no, he heaved a sigh. “I gave him the wrong form; I need to switch.” He held up a yellow copy.

I shrugged unsympathetically. “He won’t be here for at least another hour.”

He slammed his clipboard against the doorjamb, then looked at his watch as if considering whether to wait, then shifted his gaze toward me. Again I saw his eyes look me over from head to toe and linger on my crotch. Finally he walked to the metal counter in the center of the kitchen, took a fresh form and began copying the information from the yellow copy. He seemed to be taking pleasure in checking as many boxes as possible. When he finally finished he came over to me and handed me the clipboard. “Sign here,” he said.

I gave the form a quick look and saw he had pointed to a line with the words “Owner Signature” below it. “I’m not an owner,” I said flatly.

“I just need someone’s signature,” he said, his accent thickening with frustration.

“Sorry, dude. You’ll just have to wait,” I shrugged.

He made no attempt to take back the clipboard, instead cursing under his breath and turning away from me. As he stood with his hands on his hips, I started looking at the checkmarks on the form, many of which were things even I knew were nitpicky at best. Reading his notes I actually scoffed, causing him to turn and look give me a dirty look. I met his terse expression with a smirk.

“You have something to say?” he asked, his voice tight as he straightened to his full height.

“Nope.” I set the clipboard down and leaned back against the counter, unmoved by his attempt at intimidation.

“These are serious violations,” he snapped.

“Oh, really?” I looked him in the eyes. “Seems more like you being a dick.”

“I bet you know a lot about dick,” he deadpanned.

I felt myself flush with a sudden intense anger. “The way you keep checking me out, I’d bet you do, too.” I was expecting him to tell me to “fuck off” or possibly even come at me, but instead he just stared at me with his nostrils flaring.

I was determined not to look away from him. Our staring contest seemed to go on for some time and the more we kept eye contact, the more I felt my body start to respond. My breathing had become more shallow and to my surprise my cock started to thicken inside my pants until it felt almost uncomfortable. My eyes still locked with his, I shifted my weight to my other leg to give my cock more room to breathe. My now raised crotch was in clear view.

His gaze eventually fell directly onto the lump in my skin-tight pants and he made no attempt to look away. With a cocky half-smile, he moved his hand to the front of his pants and squeezed to show me the outline of his hard cock. It looked to be about 7 inches and on the thick side. He began rubbing his thumb slowly back and forth over the top of it, his face flushing a deeper red as he continued to stare at me. Though I was now completely turned on by the muscle-bound blond, I was determined to force him into making the first move. I moved my hand down my stomach to the top of my waistband where I hooked my thumb and let my fingers move lower to grab my hard prick and give it a squeeze. I could feel precum pooling against my thigh.

Apparently that was enough to give him the incentive he needed to cross the kitchen and, with no warning or subtlety, shove himself as hard as he could against me. His hands grabbing my ass, he pulled me tight against him as he humped his crotch against mine. Though I had wanted to maintain an air of disinterest, as soon as his mouth found my neck and his teeth clamped down on my bare skin my legs almost buckled from beneath me.

Under his breath he was muttering what I assumed was his native language’s version of dirty talk. Whatever he was saying, it was adding to my excitement as his hands now roughly began pulling at the front of my pants. He practically tore the snap open and had my fly unzipped seconds after. Grabbing my waistband, he pushed the top of my pants down and grabbed my stiff, leaking cock with both his hands. His right hand groped and fondled my cock, my balls and pushed in between my legs as his right hand grabbed my now bare ass and pulled me even tighter against him. His desperation was almost overwhelming.

His hand left my dick and tugged at his own pants which he opened with little effort. I then had both of his large, strong hands on my shoulders pushing me downward. I ended up squatting in front of him, face to face with his cock which was an angry red color surrounded by a thick bush of pubes that were so blond in color, one might think he had no pubes at all if they weren’t close enough to have the view I did. He pulled back his tight foreskin, revealing a beautiful plump dickhead and a veiny shaft that was now being pushed unforgivingly into my mouth.

The taste of fresh sweat and clean linen mixed with the fruity scent of what must have been his body wash was strangely intoxicating and as his cockhead hit the back of my throat, I felt my dick jump and my entire body shudder. With my head pressed firmly against the counter, he drove his cock down my throat until my nose was firmly implanted in his surprisingly soft bush. He held it there until he felt me start to gag, then pulled back, letting his dick slip from my lips. With his fingers wrapped tightly around the base of his ballsack, he shoved his large red nuts, one after the other, into my mouth. They were so large I couldn’t even move my tongue as I struggled not to bite down on the bright pink, obviously shaved nutskin.

His prick pressed flat against my face, I felt lightheaded as I inhaled his unique scent. From above all I could hear were incoherent mutterings through clenched teeth. He pulled back, his balls still in my mouth and his skin stretching tight between us. He moaned loudly, his hand on top of my head, pushing me back as he stretched his balls even more. I looked up to see his eyes looking back into mine, his mouth open and gasping with each hard tug. He continued to pull back until, at last, one by one, his gigantic balls slipped from my mouth.

He immediately replaced them with his cock, driving it all the way into my throat and holding it there, his hips making quick pumping motions until I began to gag. When he pulled his manmeat out of my mouth, several strands of spit came with it, dripping down my chin as they disconnected from his throbbing red cockhead. As I gasped for air, I watched through watery eyes as he pulled a condom from his wallet and tore it open. He made quick work of rolling the clear plastic over the head and unrolling it over the throbbing veins in his long shaft. He hooked his thumb into my mouth and pushed my jaw downward as he reinserted his condom-covered cock. He pushed it in and out several times before sliding it once again down my throat and pushing my face hard into his hairy crotch.

I held his cock in my throat as long as I could, while he muttered incoherently above me. But finally as I started gagging and struggling for air, I raised my hands to his hips and shoved him backward. I coughed and sputtered, wiping a good deal of spit and phlegm from my mouth. I looked at his cock to see strands of my oral juices dripping off his steel rod. It was then he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me roughly to my feet with an almost malicious smile. Spitting in his hand he reached behind me, pulling my asscheeks open and forcefully began to probe me with his long, thick fingers.

I started to cry out, but before I could even think, he had several of his large digits pushed halfway inside of me. I lurched forward against him, but his body held me against the counter, his hands digging their way mercilessly into me, opening me. He pulled his fingers out only long enough to spit on them again and then send them deeper into me. I was trying to relax — trying to go with it — but suddenly his hands pulled away from my ass and grabbed my thighs, picking them up and positioning them on his hips. I instinctively wrapped my legs around him as his hands reached under me once more — this time to guide his cock to my spit-covered hole.

His muscular body was so large next to mine, I couldn’t help but feel completely overpowered. His lust-filled eyes met mine with a glint of dominance as he thrust his hips forward and sent the first inch of his cock into me. He stepped back, pulling me away from the counter, forcing me to grab onto his large shoulders so I wouldn’t fall backward. The full weight of my body now in his arms, my ass slid easily and welcomingly over the remainder of his pulsing cock.

His large hands gripped my thighs and began moving me in a steady rhythm up and down the length of his large meat. The strength of the Norwegian inspector astounded me. While 170 isn’t a massive amount of weight, he maneuvered me over his cock like I was little more than a large masturbation sleeve.

I locked my hands together behind his shoulders as the bouncing became more forceful. His dick, which curved up ever so slightly, at this angle was hitting several places inside my ass, which was sending massive waves of building pleasure through my entire body. I had closed my eyes as I explored the feeling of his thick red cock slamming in and out of me as he forced me to ride and fall on his meat at will. I opened my eyes as the bouncing stopped and his hands released my thighs. My arms and legs still wrapped around him, I hung there, my ass impaled on his prick and his eyes glaring into mine like he owned me. And in that moment … he did.

“You like Norski cock?” he said with an amused sneer.

Hating myself for it, I let out a breathless, “Yes.”

“Yes … you love it. All the good whores love Big Red.”

I wanted to deny it! I wanted to pop him in his smug face and storm out! The arrogance was infuriating! But the kiss he then gave me made me shiver. It started tender, his lips touching me so gently I forgot that I had over seven inches of raging hard cock buried inside me. As our lips parted, it wasn’t a deep, demanding war of tongues, but instead a soft yet purposeful circular motion of his tongue against mine.

When the kiss broke, we again looked into one another’s eyes. His expression was still one of self-assured cockiness, but something in his eyes had softened. His cock, however was as rigid as ever. He spun around, pulling my arms from his shoulders and lowering me back onto the large, cold metal workspace in the center of the room. He pulled my legs from around him, grabbing my ankles, and stretching them out so I lay completely exposed to him. His hands slipped over my calves, down my thighs and into the crooks of my legs where they gripped me tightly, pulling me to him and pushing his thick dick all the way back inside of me.

He then fucked me. A merciless, loud, no-holds-barred, fuck-all ass pounding! He sputtered and cursed in his native tongue as he rode my ass for all it could take. I completely forgot about everything but Big Red filling my exposed hole. The soft moans I started with gave way to loud cries of intense pleasure, and then I heard the words coming out of my mouth on their own. Words that begged him for more — begged him to nail me — begged to be Big Red’s good little whore. I had had amazing sex in my life, sex that left me barely able to think or speak, but what this Norwegian blond stud was doing to me was so intense it almost made me pass out.

I started coming without even touching myself. With his cock banging into me over and over, the power of his massive arms pulling me on and off his thick pole like a toy, I sent a massive spray of cum flying into the air. It hit his face, my face, my chest, the countertops, and everything in between. And once I had stopped ejaculating, my body still convulsed. The noises that came out of my throat while I came echoed off the empty kitchen walls.

I had barely caught my breath when I was pulled off the table, his cock pulled from my ass. He pushed me to my knees in front of him and he pulled the condom off his thick red cock and roughly pushed it into my mouth. He fucked it into my throat for only a few seconds before pulling it out and grabbing me by my hair with one hand, turning my face upward. With the other hand giving Big Red a final stroke, he aimed it right at my face.

The cacophony of foreign words and noises that came out through his clenched teeth started just as the first blast of his load shot straight into my open mouth. Then thick, white strands of jizz sprayed over my face, in my nose, my eyes, and again in my mouth. When he was no longer spewing, but still shaking from his climax, he shoved his sperm-covered cock down my throat and again held it there until I had to push him away, gasping for air.

“What the holy hell?”

Both of us turned to the doorway where my boss and his partner, Martin, stood with their mouths open.

I thought for sure I would be fired on the spot. But I also realized … it would have been worth it.

The inspector didn’t flinch, nor did he bother to cover himself. He picked up the clipboard off the counter and began making notations on his original sheet as I fumbled for my clothes. A few moments later he walked over to my boss and handed him the clipboard. “I think,“ he said casually, “I was not seeing things clearly. You pass. Sign here.”

My boss signed the paper while Martin couldn’t stop staring at the still erect Big Red. Then the inspector grabbed his pants and, throwing me a smile, left the room.

As I faced my boss and Martin, who finally seemed past his initial shock, I waited for the ax to fall. Instead, Martin came over to me with a huge grin, pulled out a handkerchief and began wiping the cum off my face. Once he was done both he and my boss kissed me earnestly on the cheek and forehead.

“You are getting a HUGE raise!”

34253452urlBy Christopher Wyatt

After moving into The Manor, I immediately began looking for a job. Having a degree that basically set me up for either being a librarian or a future high-school teacher did nothing to pay the everyday bills. And no one was looking to hire someone just to write gay erotica — no one I could find, anyway. Not having any practical work experience in anything other than being a barista at an off-campus coffee shop didn’t help much either. Every job I applied for either rejected me before I even got an interview or the position was filled by the time I sent in my application.

One afternoon I was in the living room, staring at the ceiling and contemplating how far my savings could stretch, when my roommate Stefan came in after seeing out one of his clients. His real name was Stanley, but he called himself Stefan when he entertained his johns — all of whom were carefully screened corporate types through some sort of agency he worked for. While I figured it was just a fancier way of being a hooker, the few clients of his I had met were well-groomed, polite older men I would have given it up for for free. He was about the same height as me, his skin a deep, unblemished milk-chocolate color, and his hair was cut close to his head. His frame was the same as mine, only his swimmer’s build was more taut. But when it came to what was in his briefs, he lived up to the stereotypes of a black man. His massive cock was at least eleven inches long and thick as a paper towel tube, and his butt was so perfectly round it was almost hypnotizing to watch him walk.

He plopped down in a large recliner across from me and looked me up and down. “Okay … what’s wrong?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Still haven’t found a job.”



“What kind of jobs are you applying for?”

I chuckled. “Everything. Publications, coffee shops, office assistants — I even applied for construction work today.”

“Sweetie, construction guys are hot and I admire what they do, but you are too young and too pretty — and too pale — to be out in the sun all day gettin’ skin cancer.”

How does one respond to that? “So what do you suggest?”

“Weren’t you a waiter in college?”

“I managed a coffee shop.”

“Yeah, same thing.”

“Not really.”

He ignored me, grabbing his cell and dialing a number. “Hey, Martin, it’s Stef — it’s Stanley. I’m good, hon. Your husband still own that restaurant? … Cool. My roommate is looking for a job. Are there any openings? … Girl, your opening ALWAYS needs filling. … Awesome, who does he talk to? … Thanks, hon!” He hung up the phone and texted me a number.

“Call that number and ask for Frank. Tell him Martin said to give you a priority interview.”

“For …?” I asked.

“Being a waiter.”

“Okay. I’ll do anything at this point.”

“No, boo. You don’t get it. This is one of the top restaurants. It’s about 30 minutes from here, but completely worth it. You can make serious bank off your tips if you’re good.”

“Why wouldn’t I be good? You take orders, you bring them food, you shake your ass for better tips.”

He guffawed, rolling his eyes at me. “No. Come with me.”

Over the next few hours Stefan taught me that being a “professional service person” wasn’t just going through the motions, it was about reading your customers and knowing what their needs were going to be before they even asked. “It’s like sex. You need to find a connection and treat every individual like they are the only person in the room.” Eye contact, confidence, humility and control. “If they have to constantly get your attention, they can’t relax and enjoy themselves. It’s up to you to make them feel carefree.”

At 2:00 p.m. the next day, dressed in a perfectlyironed white button-up shirt, black slacks and tie, I sat in a small office in the back of the restaurant waiting for the operations manager. From what I had seen of the restaurant, Stefan had been right — it was not only upscale, but large and intimidating. The host had been polite to me until he found out I was there to interview as a waiter. I was tersely pointed toward a back hallway and told to wait in the operations office. After half an hour, I was still waiting and my stomach was knotting with nerves. One of the waitresses entered the office hurriedly and saw me.

“Hey there, you interviewing?” she asked, looking through some paperwork on the desk.

“Yes,” I replied, smiling.

“Great! The lunch shift is winding down, so Lee should be here soon.”

“Thanks,” I said, then added, shifting uncomfortably added, “Is there a restroom I could use?”

“Sure. The staff ones are down the hall to your left, all the way in the back.” With that she exited the small office.

I waited a few more moments, not wanting to leave and miss the manager, but as the pressure from my bladder worsened, I finally made the trip down the hall and into the men’s staff bathroom. The room was rather large, three stalls and five urinals, and though it smelled fresh and looked well kept, one of the ceiling lights was out, making the back half of the room dimly lit.

On top of having to pee, my head was buzzing, so I entered the stall farthest in the back. I dropped my pants, sat on the toilet and pointed my pecker toward the water, releasing the built-up pee. As I urinated, I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, willing myself to relax. My eyes flew open as I felt something touch my leg. I looked down to see a large hand coming from under the stall to the left of me, rubbing against the bare calf of my leg. I didn’t move — I didn’t know what to do — but before I could make up my mind, the hand disappeared.

As I sat there, staring at the space under the stall, I thought I must have imagined it. But then two pale bare knees appeared just under the divider and a raging hard six-inch penis was pushed under the divider and pointed directly toward the ceiling. I stared at it as it just waited there, a drop of precum forming from the piss slit. The cock, which was cut, was a slightly deeper color than the person’s knees, its shaft average and head large and swollen. Under the shaft hung two very hairy red balls.

After at least 30 seconds of staring at it, the hand appeared once more and pointed up at me, then pointed to the leaking cock. I had an interview — I didn’t have time to suck a stranger’s cock in a bathroom stall! But as the person pointed again at his cock and twisted his palm upwards in a “what are you waiting for” fashion, I decided I’d already waited half an hour, what was a few more minutes?

I reached down and took hold of the dick at the base, moving my fingers up the shaft to push the precum out and watch it drip onto the floor. I could feel the man attached to the cock shake slightly, and the hand disappeared. As I began slowly stroking, the cock began moving back and forth to meet the rhythm of my movements. The hand appeared again, took me by the wrist and moved my hand down to his balls. I took them in my hand, wrapping my thumb and forefinger around the top of the sack and squeezed gently until both nuts were tight against the smooth bottom of the ballsack. I gave them a slight pull and the man jerked, his cock twitching and his voice moaning low in the next stall. I kept up the steady pressure for a bit longer — tugging, then releasing — then moved my hand back to his cock.

It was only a few strokes before I heard a low whisper tell me to “suck it.”

I looked at the floor, and it seemed clean, so I slid off the toilet seat and onto my knees. It took me a few minutes to figure out how to angle myself in the small stall so my legs weren’t obviously sticking through, but crouching on all fours, I finally managed to have my face inches from his once again leaking cockhead.

The smell coming from his crotch was a mixture of male muskiness and spices. It was intoxicating, and as I licked the precum bubble from his dickslit, I suddenly felt fuzzy-headed and sex drunk. It was a surreal feeling to be in the staff bathroom of a fancy restaurant, about to give head to a stranger. But as I took the length of his shaft into my mouth, that’s exactly what I was doing.

“Oh, damn!” the low voice from the other side hissed.

I suctioned my mouth around the base of his cock and slowly moved upward, pressing my tongue into his shaft and swirling it in a circular motion. When I reached the head of his dick I felt a pool of precum hit my tongue and I swallowed it. Making sure my suction was tight I sliped my mouth back down the shaft until the head of his hard meat was in my throat. On the other side of the partition, the man panted and whimpered, his knees trembling slightly. I continued this slow, tight-suction movement for several minutes, each time feeling his reactions telling me he was enjoying it.

Once he stopped reacting so intently, I began sucking him faster, and again was met with renewed sounds of moans and quiet sighs. I saw his balls begin to tighten and my hand once again gripped them tightly, pulling them downward. He let out a sharp noise that echoed off the stall walls and slammed his cock into my mouth several times in rapid succession. I went back to steadily blowing him, keeping his balls pulled tight, but I could feel his cock thickening and knew he was about to blast.

His hands suddenly appeared under the stall. One pulled my hand from his nuts and then both hands grabbed the back of my head while I still had his dick lodged in my throat. He began mouth fucking me like a wild man. His panting from the other side getting louder, I was prepared for him to blast his load in my mouth.As his cock thickened ever more and his nuts pulled tight to his body, I could feel him start to come. But not into my mouth. He drove his cock into my throat and I felt him start to unload his jizz. I couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move — I just rode out the sensation of having a man shoot his load into me farther than any man had before, and tried to stay in the moment.

When he pulled out, I couldn’t help but start coughing. His cock disappeared behind the partition and I rose from the floor, taking my seat back on the toilet. I looked down to see my cock swollen and pulsating. It was covered in precum. I took a sizeable wad of toilet paper from the dispenser and as I started to dry my cock, I tensed up, not having realized how close I was to my own orgasm. I gasped as I helplessly watched wad after wad of cum flying from my cock a good three feet or more in front of me. I sat there, trying to catch my breath and watching my sperm slide down the inside of the bathroom stall door.

When I could function coherently again, I cleaned myself up, straightened out my clothes and wiped the cum off the stall door and flushed it. I opened the door and walked out to the sink to wash my hands. A man was standing there rubbing a dry washcloth over his face.

“Baby,” he spoke in a low, deep tone, “I don’t know what got into you today, but you have never sucked that good before.”

I felt myself flush as I began lathering the soap I had just pumped into my hands. This was gonna be awkward.

He lowered the washcloth and turned to me, his grin fading to a look of shocked surprise. Yup, definitely awkward. He was an attractive, dark-haired man of about 40, with a thick dark moustache. I smiled politely at him as I began to dry my hands and wipe my mouth. As I threw the washcloth into the bin and turned to see him still staring at me, dumbstruck, I could only think of one thing to say. “It’s actually, ‘you have never sucked that well before. And thank you.”

I went back to the small office as quickly as I could, hoping to avoid the man once he got over his shock. As I entered, I found the manger I had been waiting for sitting behind his desk. He gave me an annoyed look.

“Sorry, I had to use the restroom,” I explained.

He glanced at my resume, asked me several questions about how to properly wait tables — which I answered correctly, thanks to Stefan’s training — and then said I was to report for training the next day. I stood and thanked him, and as we shook hands the door opened. The dark-haired man from the bathroom entered and then froze as he saw me.

“Roger, this is Chris. He’ll be starting tomorrow. Chris, this is the owner.”

Just then the door swung open wider. An effeminate man with red hair entered and without hesitation gave Roger a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry I’m late, honey, I was having lunch with Stanley.” He then looked at me and smiled, extending his hand. “Are you Chris? I’m Martin. I’ve heard so much about about you. Did you get the job?”

“Yes, thank you.” I shook his hand.

“I hope the boys took good care of you,” Martin said kindly.

I looked at his husband, my new boss, and as if the universe was getting in one last laugh at the situation, I quietly burped and tasted the backwash of Roger’s cum in my throat.


By Christopher Wyatt
(For Tom)

I was lucky enough to receive a partial scholarship from a university that was, sadly, not near any of my family. Though I was nervous about being so far from my support system, my parents had put two kids through college already and had three more to go after me, so I was willing to do anything I could to lighten their financial burden. That included taking a full class load and working a part-time job. My mother often joked that my older brother and I were born in the wrong order as I was always the overachiever.

I landed a part-time job in a small gay-owned coffee shop next to campus that catered to the artistic crowd and while there were plenty of guys to flirt with, between classes, homework and the shop, there was no time for playing around. As the months of the fall semester waned on and the weather turned cold, more and more people sought the comfort of a warm cup of coffee while out.

One weekend afternoon a man in his early 40s, wearing a stylish black raincoat, ducked out of the rain and came up to the counter. He ordered a small black coffee and paid with a $20 bill. As I started to hand him his change he held his hand up.

“Keep it,” he said. I started to protest, but he just grinned, telling me, “I remember what it’s like to be a working student.”

With that, he headed to a small table against the back wall with one of the free newspapers. Though the place was crowded with people noisily chatting or working on laptops and whatnot, this man stood out from them all. He was about six feet tall with an average build, handsome face and hair slicked back from the rain. His hair and goatee were a rich copper color, which stood out even more against the fair complexion of his skin — at least the skin I could actually see.

During my shift I kept finding myself looking over to his table, and more than once I found him to be looking back at me. As our eyes met, he would smile kindly and turn back to his reading. I wasn’t sure if he was attempting to flirt or just being curious about my coffee making. I, on the other hand, definitely found myself intrigued by this ginger-haired man and felt a bit disappointed when I looked again in his direction only to see a now empty table.

That night while studying, my mind kept wandering back to work — back to the red-haired man and his piercing eyes. The timbre of his voice as he spoke to me echoed through my mind until I began wondering how it would have sounded whispering into my ear, or panting heavily as he lay on top of me, or how he would sound while he was coming. I felt my cock stiffen inside my pajama bottoms. Unable to focus on the textbook in front of me, my hand found its way under the waistband and around the base of my dick.

I had barely started to stroke it when the door opened and Raheed, my dorm roommate, entered with a smile on his face and a bottle of beer in his hand.

“I brought you a brew. You’re missing the best party!” He set the bottle on the desk in front of me.

“Gotta study,” I shrugged.

“Yeah.” He looked down at my crotch. “Looks like it.”

I grinned at him. “I met this guy today –”

“Oh! Deets!” He leaned on the desk and looked at me earnestly.

“He was older. Had red hair. Great smile.”

“Great bod?” he asked.

“I don’t know; he was wearing a raincoat.”

“So did he hit on you?”

“No,” I answered almost sadly. “But there was something about him — so hot!”

Raheed made a quick look around and then knelt beside my chair, spinning me toward him. “Well, I ain’t no redhead,” he said. “But I’m in the mood to help a brother out.” He pulled the waistband of my pajamas down and hooked it under my balls, exposing my hard dick. He leaned forward, sucking the head of my cock into his mouth without hesitation.

I leaned back, my hands now laced behind my head, and let my roommate milk my cock with his mouth. I looked down at him, my eyes moving from the tight kinky curls of his short black hair, down his mocha-colored skin to his dark brown eyes which looked up at me as he took the length of my cock down his throat. I let out a long sigh. “Fuuuck,” I whispered as I closed my eyes and enjoyed his continued deep throating.

My mind’s eye found myself face to face with the ginger-haired man from the coffee shop. He was on his knees in front of me, matching Raheed’s sucking stroke for stroke. I moaned as I felt fingers begin to lightly rub the area just under my nuts, slipping ever closer toward my hole. I was breathing hard, every inch of me on fire as I felt my balls begin to tighten and my orgasm build faster than I was expecting.

I barely got the words “I’m coming” out before my hands gripped whatever they could to steady myself in the chair and I was pumping a load of fresh jizz down Raheed’s rapidly gulping throat. Though my vision was blurred between the older white man and my hot black roommate, I was happy to feed them both my load.

Raheed licked every bit of cum from my cock and stood up, taking the beer and downing it as a chaser. “Don’t say I never do you favors,” he quipped and headed back to the party. Quickly becoming drowsy, I flopped down on my bed where I spent the night dreaming of the hot redhead.

That week I had hoped every day at work to see him walk through the door, but he never did. As finals approached, I had all but forgotten about the mysterious coffee shop man until one day I was in the quad waiting for class with a group from the dorm. We were discussing who was going home and how deep the coming snow was going to be when I looked up to see at the darkening clouds. As I did, my eyes caught a man looking out of one of the office windows on the second floor of the sciences building. Even against the gray sky reflected on the window glass, his red hair shone through.

“Who is that?!” I asked, staring at him.

The group stopped talking to look up to the window. “That’s Professor Ramble,” my friend Kelly said. “He’s smokin’ hot. Everyone thinks so!”

While the others went back to their conversation, I continued to stare up at the window, even after he was no longer standing there.

That night I asked Raheed if he knew anything about this professor.

“Duh! He’s head of the Queer-Straight Student Alliance. You’d know that if you ever bothered to show up.”

“So he’s gay?” I asked excitedly.

“We don’t know,” he said somberly. “He’s divorced, has two kids, but I definitely get a gay vibe — ya know what I mean?” He stopped what he was doing to look at me. “Wait, this ain’t that redhead you were goin’ on about a couple weeks ago?”

I shrugged, giving him a half smile.

“Ohhhhhhhh!” he howled. “Boy, if you land him, I want a video of it! That is one hot muthafucka.”

The next day on the way to work, I stopped by the professor’s office and checked his office hours, the last of which coincided with my lunch break. I hatched a plan to bring him a cup of coffee and do my best to be interestingly alluring and slightly mysterious, without coming across like a slutty stalker or an awkward teenager — which, even though I was 20, I still had the propensity to act like at times. Still, I was determined to have some sort of interaction with this hot redheaded professor.

At 12:15 I arrived at his office door and waited patiently outside as he was helping a student understand something sciency that I couldn’t follow. Apparently neither could the student, because he sucked up another 20 minutes while I became more and more convinced this was a bad idea. It was just as I was making up my mind to abandon ship that the student whizzed past me and the professor called out “next.” As I was the only one there, I took a deep breath, ran my fingers through my hair and stepped around the corner of the doorjamb.

When he looked up from the papers on his desk and saw me leaning against the frame of the door holding the coffee cup in front of me and trying desperately to appear cool, he gave me no sign of recognition whatsoever.

“Yes?” he asked sternly.

“I … uh … brought you some coffee.”

He glanced at the cup in my hand and back to me. “I didn’t order any coffee,” he said flatly.

My throat closed and my last bit of self-esteem drained from my body as fast as the color rushed to my face. “Uh … I know. I … uh … you had ordered some the other day … at the shop. And I … uh … just —” His unflinchingly stoic expression stopped me from jabbering. “I’m late back to work,” was all I could think of to say. I set the cup of coffee on the corner of his desk and exited as quickly as I could.

On my way back to work I relived the horrible moment over and over; each time the blood rushed to my face all over again. By the time I took my place behind the counter my hands were shaking from embarrassment, causing the owner to turn the heat up several degrees and make me drink a cup of hot cocoa.

I used my cell to call Raheed and tell him how I had just made the biggest fool of myself. All he did was laugh until finally he said, “Dude, the man is old enough to be your dad and who knows if he’s even gay. He probably has no clue you were tryin’ to get up on him. Stop trippin’ and forget it.”

“I wasn’t trying to get up on him,” I said quickly. “And you’re right.” As I hung up I poured myself into my work and did my best to erase the thought of the redheaded professor from my mind.

Several weeks had passed from that day and the constant rain had turned to a steady onslaught of snow. Finals were done and most everyone was departing one by one to celebrate the holidays with family. I, on the other hand, made the decision to stay and take on extra work hours at the coffee shop in hopes of building up my savings to buy a used car by the summer.

With the increasing snowfall and the lack of college students looking for liquid energy, the shop was a wasteland throughout the day with only a few hardcore customers braving the cold for their daily fix. I made use of the downtime to catch up on the leisure reading I had sacrificed for textbooks during the past four months.

Nose deep in an emo vampire gay romance, I was startled to hear someone on the other side of the counter clear their throat. I quickly put down the book and stepped up to the glass countertop, only to feel my face immediately turn crimson as I looked into the eyes of the ginger professor.

It took me a minute before I could speak. “Uh — what can I get you?”

“Hot chocolate,” he said. As I began to pour him a cup from the machine he added, “And I wanted to apologize for the other day.”

“The other day?” I asked, as if I’d already forgotten. I set the cup in front of him, securing the plastic lid. “Oh, did you want whipped cream?”

“Yes, please,” he said with a twinkle in his eye as he looked at me. “The other day at my office, when you very kindly brought me a coffee,” he said as I sprayed a swirl of cream into the cup, “I behaved quite badly and I wanted to apologize.”

“Oh, it’s cool. I was just passing by anyway,” I said, shrugging it off.

“Just passing by my office with a fresh cup of coffee?”

“Yes.” I avoided looking at him directly.

“The exact way I take it?”

“I —” As I moved the cup toward him, his hand closed over mine, both sending a shiver of excitement through me and making me fall into silence. I finally managed to look him full in the face to be met with a kindly smile and the most beautiful hazel eyes I think I had ever seen. We stayed that way for several moments, not moving, not speaking until — “Uh, this cup is really hot.” He took his hand away quickly and I shook mine several times to cool it off before putting a recycled paper heat ring around the cup.

“Taking the risk of coming off like a dirty old man,” he started, “would you have dinner with me?”

Despite myself, I couldn’t stop a nervous grin from appearing on my face. “Sure.”

“I’ll be in my office the rest of the day. Come by when you get off and we’ll go from there. Okay?”

I nodded, unable to look away from his eyes. “Right. See you then.”

He took his cocoa and with a quick smile he headed out the door.

I stood there grinning like an idiot and feeling my dick getting hard as my hand tingled from where he had touched it. The next several hours seemed to drag on forever.

When I finally was able to head out the door, the closer I got to his office, the more nervous I became. I kept checking my breath and straightening my clothes as I walked through the fresh layer of snow. Standing outside his office door for a good two minutes before finding the courage to knock, I was immediately told to “come in.”

I shut the door behind me and turned to find Professor Ramble sitting at his desk, lit only with a small lamp, casting a dim light over his main work area. He was leaning back in his chair with his hands laced together across his chest, his mouth curved into a warm smile as he looked at me. After several moments of silence, he spoke in a low tone, “Hello.”

The sound of his voice sent a pleasant shiver through me. “Hi,” I answered, unable to stop a goofy grin from appearing.

He motioned to a chair that was next to him, behind the desk. As I sat, I found it hard to take my eyes off of him. Now only a few feet apart, it was as if I could feel his energy reaching out and mingling with my own.

“This is going to sound frightfully bad,” he said, leaning forward, “but I just realized I don’t even know your name.”


He reached his hand out to me, and I immediately took it. But instead of just shaking my hand, he held it, his eyes looking directly into mine. “Hi, Chris. I’m David.”

“Hey,” I managed. Just the feel of his warm, soft hand was making my dick thicken. As I spread my legs slightly to give my swelling cock more room, his eyes moved almost instantly from my face to my crotch and back. He cleared his throat and looked away, obviously trying to be polite, but as the palm of his hand started to moisten, I could tell he was feeling the same nervous attraction I was.

He let go of my hand, hesitantly, but our knees were now touching as we sat face to face. He started asking me questions about my major and the reason I chose this university, and when he fell silent, I asked him questions about himself.

Through lots of nervous laughter, as well as a few awkward moments, I found out he had recently come out as bisexual. That had led to a divorce from his born-again Christian wife and estranged him from his two children, both of whom were college graduates and starting families of their own. When he talked about them, his eyes glazed over with a sadness that made me want to reach out to him, but before I could muster the courage, he cleared his throat and changed the subject.

We’d been talking for at least an hour, still facing one another with our knees pressed together, neither of us daring to move them apart, lest it be misconstrued as a lack of interest — and the way we kept eye-fucking each other during silent moments, there was a lot of interest.

He sighed at one point and asked, “So, am I a dirty old man for asking you to dinner? I mean, you’re younger than my kids — isn’t that a little … creepy?”

I chuckled. “I don’t think my generation is too hung up on age,” I answered. “It’s the connection that counts.”

He smiled, his eyes almost glinting as he looked into mine. “And do we have a connection?” he asked.

I grinned what must have been an incredibly goofy grin and said, “Well, we’ve both been sitting here for an hour with raging hard-ons. I think that’s a connection.”

He looked down, not having realized that not only was the outline of his hard cock visible through his pants but that he had a small wet spot from precum that had been getting bigger over the past 20 minutes or so. Instead of trying to hide it, he just smiled bashfully. “I guess that says it all.”

When our eyes met again, I took a deep breath as a jolt of sexual electricity ran through me. I leaned forward slightly, and when he mirrored my movement, my heart started pounding. My eyes darted back and forth between his deep, piercing eyes and his red, full lips moving slowly toward me. I nervously ran my tongue across the inner part of my lips, trying to add some moisture to them, as he was now inches away. I felt the tip of his nose press against the side of mine and our lips finally meet. His breath had a hint of mint.

His kiss was tender but firm as he pressed his mouth against mine. Almost in unison, our lips parted and our tongues tentatively met, exploring one another. It was everything I could do to remain in my chair, maintaining the illusion of calm, when all I wanted was to have him inside of me that very moment.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered breathlessly as our kiss finally broke.

Not able to form the words to tell him how attracted to him I was, I leaned forward pressing my mouth to his, and kissed him again as my hands found their way to his knees, sliding ever so slowly up his thighs. When our second kiss broke, his mouth trailed kisses across my jaw and to my ear where he began to suck and lick on my earlobe.

The office was now pitch black, save for the tiny desk lamp still dimly lighting the room, and his breath was the only sound aside from the low hum of the building’s heating system. His hands were firmly gripping my shoulders while mine had found the outsides of his thighs, even though I desperately wanted to move them to the middle.

Every time he bit into my ear, I found myself one step closer to forgetting about dinner and wanting to feast on the leaking sausage in his pants. But I kept pulling myself back. This was the first time I had been with an older man – the first time I had been asked out on a real date — and here I was acting like a sex-crazed college student.

It was moments later he pressed his face into the crook of my neck and opened his mouth, running his tongue hard against the tender skin. I let out a breathless gasp. He had found one of my major G-spots and apparently knew it from my reaction. He began working his mouth against my neck until I was shuddering continuously in his arms. That was enough to make me abandon any pretenses. I was a sex-crazed college student, and there was no point in trying to hide it any longer.

I rose from my chair, pushing him back in his own and straddling his legs. With my hands on the sides of his head, my mouth found his and with a push of my tongue, I parted his lips and poured every bit of my pent-up lust into one long, deep kiss. His arms circled my back, pulling me tight against him and pushing my swollen crotch against his. Only moments later his hands made their way down my back to firmly cup my ass. I knew he was as ready for this as I was.

As he continued to lick and suck my throat, I ran my hands through his mass of dark red hair, lacing my fingers through his ginger tufts and, despite myself, began to whimper at the sensations coursing through me.

His hands grasped my thighs and without warning, he stood, causing my legs to wrap around him as he carried me toward the office door. Steadying his hold on me with one hand, he locked the door with the other, then spun around and began kneeling. I quickly moved off of him, finding myself standing as he moved to both knees and began pulling at my pants. He popped the snap and without unzipping had my pants and underwear down to my knees in seconds.

Without stopping to even look at my throbbing, leaking prick, he took it into his mouth and pressed his lips all the way down into my pubes. My eyes rolled into my head as my mouth opened gasping for air and my body gave a quick shudder. It was everything I could do not to release my built-up cum into his tight, wet throat at that very moment. I rode the brink of orgasm as hard as I could, keeping myself from going over the edge. But once he came up for air, I had to stop him from going back down, or I would have come for sure.

Without hesitation he turned his attention from my shaft to my balls, sucking them into his mouth one after the other, pulling back, stretching the skin of my nutsack as his tongue ran counterclockwise circles around each one. I steadied myself by holding lightly to the back of his head. I kept running my fingers through his soft, thick hair and looking down at its deep red color, made even darker by the dim desk light.

After he got his fill of worshipping my tightening testicles, he stood, his cock already out and placed his hand on my shoulder, steering me to my knees. His dick was beautiful; a perfectly shaped bright pink circumcised six-inch member with a slightly large mushroom head. At the base of his shaft was neatly trimmed copper pubes and two large nuts hanging in an equally bright pink sack. I wasted no time pushing it into my mouth. Grabbing the back of my head, he pushed my face deep into his pubes. The calm, intellectual professor I had been getting to know these past few hours had now been replaced by a man filled with primal sexual desire.

Coming off his cock to take a deep breath, the smell of man-musk and cologne hit my nose and immediately made my prick jump. His hands still on the back of my head, he began pumping his meat in and out of my mouth in long but rapid strokes. His loud breathing turned into low moans, punctuated by the occasional high-pitched gasp. I was certain he was going to soon be coming in my mouth, and though I could almost feel my hole spasming with the desire to have this amazing older man inside of me, the thought of swallowing his jizz gave me a rush of lust that left me lightheaded.

He stopped suddenly, pulling his cock out of my mouth and dropping to his knees, replacing cock with tongue as he kissed me deeply and passionately. His arms held me tightly, almost desperately against him. We stayed like that for a short time, before he finally whispered, “Can I fuck you?”

“God, yes!” I said without hesitation. I wanted him inside of me so badly; I needed him to fill me! I couldn’t remember a time when I had ever felt such an incredible desire to be with someone — to have every possible inch of our bodies pressed together.

He pushed me back, hard, against the floor and lifted my legs. Quickly removing one of my shoes and pulling my pants and underwear off the one foot, he spread my legs open before him. He stopped, looking down at me, spread-eagle in front of him. His chest rose and fell with each quick, shallow breath, and his bright pink cock dripped a long, heavy strand of precum.

I rose up, grabbing my pants. Reaching into the pocket, I pulled out a condom. Though for the first time in my life, I felt the desire to have a man inside of me skin on skin, I handed him the rubber and laid back, waiting for him to make the next move.

He fumbled with the condom, spitting in it before unrolling it down his shaft. I gathered what saliva I could and spit in my hand, trying to make certain my hole was going to be slick enough for him to enter easily. He also spit into his hand and rubbed it over the condom. I felt a pang of nervousness, not having actual lube, but it wouldn’t be the first time.

As he lowered himself on top of me, our thighs now touching, and the feel of his hard dick now pressing into the crack of my ass, I felt a longing to grab him and pull him into me as fast as possible. The scent of him, the heat of his breath — the head of his cock now burrowing into my asshole — I had never experienced a desire so strongly before.

My dick pushed against his stomach as his cock slid deeper into me. I moved my hands up around his back and felt his strong musculature through the thin material of his shirt. With another push, I felt his hips touch my ass. He was all the way inside of me! He lowered himself flat against me, pulled his hips back and gave a hard deep push, sending his cock into me, filling me! My dick rubbing his stomach, his body completely covering mine — it was too much! My ass clenched around his cock, my back arched off of the floor and my balls tightened, sending a load of my cum spewing out of my cock between us.

“Did you just come?” he asked, surprised. I managed to groan a confirmation as I was still riding waves of orgasm. He raised up onto his hands, a smile crossing his face. “I’d better catch up, then.”

He then began pumping his beautiful rock-hard cock into me in a quick steady rhythm. I laid there, looking up at his dimly lit face, watching his eyes shut tight and reopen as he used me to pleasure himself. He was truly the most handsome man I had ever been with.

As his occasional groans turned into demanding grunts and his hips were slamming his phallus into me so hard I was starting to move across the floor, I was again feeling my body responding. I opened my legs wider to give him as much access to my opening as possible. My hands now gripping his biceps, I began to moan along with him. I could sense him on the brink of coming, and though I wanted desperately to watch his face while he came, instead my eyes rolled back in my head as my cum-covered cock — still hard and rubbing against him — began spraying once more.

He was unloading his jizz into the condom inside of me as I covered his stomach in more of my cum. Halfway through his climax, his arms buckled and he lay flat against me, his mouth finding mine and his tongue shoving its way deep inside. My arms encircled him, pulling him as hard as I could against me, never wanting to let him go.

It was in that moment I realized that even though I had barely even interacted with this man — even though I knew hardly anything about him — as insane as it was, I was falling in love for the first time.

3456345634563By Christpher Wyatt

It was almost 1:00 a.m. by the time I made it out of the restaurant one night. I knew I was going to be late and as my roommate had the day off, he let me borrow his car with the proviso that I fill the tank on the way home. Once outside of the city, I exited the freeway into a tourist pocket where the gas was slightly less expensive than most of the other stations around. Of course, it was also not the most pleasant area, set back just enough to be a prime place for drug exchanges, Craigslist quickies or whatever else.

I pumped the gas as quickly as I could, staying aware of my surroundings. The place seemed strangely vacant that night, save for several transient types lurking around. Sure enough, halfway through pumping the gas, one of them headed toward me. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, praying the gas would finish before he got across the parking lot.

He was a pale guy, probably in his late 20s and at least half a foot taller than me. He had several week’s growth of facial hair and was thin but obviously muscular — more so than me, anyway. He wore dirty khakis that barely came all the way down over his heavy work boots. He had on a button-up shirt that was open in front and a dirty, white wife-beater with several large holes toward the bottom. Had it not been for the dirt, he looked as though he could have been out of a ‘90s porn movie.

The nozzle to the gas hose finally clicked off, but not before the man was right beside me asking if I had any change.

“Sorry, dude,” I told him.

“You sure, man?” he asked, with a slight edge to his voice that sent a shiver through me. Before I could form a reply, he looked at the car window and, following his gaze, I saw him looking at one of the roomie’s rainbow stickers.

“Oh, hey, you like dick, huh?” he said, taking a step closer. “I’ll let ya suck mine for twenty bucks.”

My dick got instantly hard, though my mind could only wonder when he had bathed last and what smells might be lurking below.

“Thanks, but I need to get home,” I said, screwing the gas cap on.

“Yeah?” he asked, grabbing my hard dick through my uniform pants. “This says different.” He squeezed it, stroking it quickly a few times. “I’m eleven inches, man,” he boasted. “You ever see an eleven incher before?”

“Eleven inches?” I echoed.

“Eleven inches,” he repeated, emphasizing it. “Wanna see it?”

I did. Despite every rational thought that was telling me to get in the car and get out of there, I had never seen a dick that large. “Okay,” I said at last, wondering if he would whip it out right there.

“A buck an inch,” he told me.

I looked around quickly, a rush of sexual adrenaline and excitement making me feel almost drunk.

“There’s a place behind that building,” he said, as if reading my mind. “Pull your car over to the bathrooms. I hesitated. This was crazy; he could mug me or stab me or …

He started walking toward the building without even waiting for me. For a split second I thought about getting in the car and just leaving, but the waves of sexual intrigue coursing through me was stronger than my desire to flee.

I parked the car and got out, locking the door and pocketing the keys. I started toward the bathroom when I saw him at the side of the building motioning me to follow him. We walked around the corner to the back of the building where there were several weathered partitions blocking the view from the road, but letting in enough of the fluorescent lights from the parking lot to see fairly clearly.

Without hesitation, he unbuttoned his pants, lowered the zipper and, pushing down his underwear, he whipped out a fairly sizable half-hard uncut cock. He started to stroke it, making it grow inch by inch until, at full mast, I was staring at an honest-to-gawd 11-inch dick. It flared out toward the top, but wasn’t that thick. Fully hard, the foreskin was stretched tightly back revealing a bright red pointed head. He moved closer until it was only an inch or two from touching my stomach.

“You like that?” he asked me with a smirk.

“Pretty impressive,” I answered.

“Okay, pay up,” he demanded.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out several crumpled bills, the only cash I had. As I straightened them out, I quickly realized I only had $10. I offered it to him, but he didn’t take it.

“I said a buck an inch, eleven inches,” he barked angrily, “Where’s the other dollar?”

“It’s all I have on me,” I told him, feeling myself flush at the harshness of his voice.

“Lyin’ faggot,” he said angrily, snatching the cash from my hand.

My heart began to pound with fear at his sudden hostile attitude, and anger at his choice of insults. I started to leave, but before I even took a full step he countered, planting himself right in my path.

“Where you think you’re goin’?” he sneered. “You still owe me a buck.”

“I don’t have — ”

“Well, then, you’re gonna work it off, ain’t ya?”

“What?” I wasn’t even sure I heard him right.

“You fuckin’ deaf as well as a cheat?” he hissed through clenched teeth as he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me roughly into one of the shadowed corners. He grabbed my hand and put it on his cock.”Beat me off,” he ordered.

I didn’t move; my brain was spinning too fast, hurling insults at myself for being dumb enough to get myself into this situation. He pressed his mouth to my ear and in a matter-of-fact voice told me, you can either beat my dick or I’ll drop you and fuck your mouth. Which is it?”

Almost instinctively my hand started to stroke his long cock. He watched my hand move at a slow pace as I worked the top part of his dick just under the head. He let out several soft moans, his eyes narrowing slightly as he began reacting to my hand. He steadied himself, looking me in the eyes. “Yeah … you like my big dick, don’t ya, fag-boy.” As he spoke, I felt the side of my hand suddenly become slippery. I looked down to see him leaking a good amount of precum. “Fuck yeah,” he continued. “You like my huge cock, faggot?”

Though it made me cringe each time he called me a faggot, his dick would pulse and twitch in my grip as he said the word. I started to move my hand all the way down and back up, making long, slow strokes; each full stroke made him moan and start pushing his dick forward. Each time the head of it pressed into my stomach. “Tell me you like my dick, queer.” Again, I felt his dick pulse as he spoke.

“I like your dick,” I muttered.

He moved forward, pressing himself against me, his dick pressing up my stomach as I continued to stroke it. He began humping his hips against me as his hands grabbed hold of my hips. He smelled of BO and his breath reeked of cigarettes and cheap beer. He started making a growling, grunting noise with each breath, his cock now fucking my hand at a pace that made it almost impossible to keep up with.

Despite the fear of getting caught and the smell of his unwashed clothes as he now pressed against me, my cock was rock hard and leaking like mad in my pants. He had pressed himself flat against me, forcing my back against the cold cinderblock wall. Both my hands were covered in his precum and wrapped around his cock shaft as he fucked them in a steady rhythm.

He buried his face against my neck and began licking and sucking on my bare flesh like a hungry vampire searching for a vein. What he found was one of my hot spots and as I gasped, he began working it with both his tongue and his teeth, biting and suctioning as he rammed his leaking, uncut cock harder and faster through my hands.

When he came, it was with no warning. The first shot of his cum was crushed between us, the second covered the palm of my hand, and the rest of it covered everything: our shirts, our pants, my hand. He had both his arms wrapped around me, holding on as tightly as he could, his dick still thrusting and his body convulsing as his orgasm seemed to go on forever.

As his breathing returned to normal and his dick started to soften in my hand, I felt his body tense. He stepped back, grabbing his long semi-hard cock and shoved it into his pants. “Fuckin’ queer,” he sneered under his breath as he rounded the corner, leaving me standing in the dark.

I made my way to my car as quickly as I could. As I closed and locked the door I saw him standing in front of the bathrooms smoking. The smell of his breath and strong BO was still on me, and my hand was still wet with his cum. We stared at each other through the windshield as my anger begin to rise — anger at being made to feel afraid, at being called a faggot and a queer, and at his smug, self-righteous attitude, and even more that I was so fucking turned on by the bastard!

I quickly unzipped my pants and pulled my rock hard cock out of the opening. The cum still on my hand mixed with the slippery precum coating my dick and I began jerking myself off as hard and fast as possible. We never lost eye contact, staring one another down. He knew what I was doing, and with a half smile, he lifted the bottom of his shirt, exposing his tight muscular chest and large brown nipples. He rubbed his stomach with his other hand, while his cigarette still dangled from his upturned lips.

“Fuck!” I yelled as I felt the first flash of orgasm. “Fuckin’ whore! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as my ass rose off the seat, locked in one of the most intense orgasms I had ever had. My jizz flew everywhere like a sprinkler: the steering wheel, my pants, shirt, the floor and even the inside of the windshield. I felt like I couldn’t stop coming as I continued to stroke my throbbing cock until 30 seconds later I was coming again.

I sat there gasping for air and covered in cum. The smell I had found almost intoxicating moments before — the smell of him — was now an overwhelming stench making me sick to my stomach. I started the car, not even waiting to zip up. As I started to pull out of the parking lot I took one last look back at him. He was still in the same spot, now with a new cigarette dangling from his lips. He looked at me, grabbed his crotch with one hand and flipped me the bird with the other.

“Fuck you!” I yelled through the closed window, peeling out of the lot.

The next morning I woke to a knock on my door. I sat up gagging on the smell surrounding me. I opened the door to my roommate giving me a sour look. “What the fuck,” he asked sharply, “is all over the inside of my car?”


tumblr_mh7axx4kEL1rs15z6o1_1280From the Upcoming Erotica Collection by Christopher Wyatt

DJ had been my best friend since sixth grade. At first our friendship had been more of an alliance as we had joined forces to stand up to a particularly bully named Kent. Kent was a nasty child with a continuously running nose, no conscience, and had about 25 pounds on the rest of us grade schoolers. Our alliance formed when both DJ and I had been given black eyes by Kent on the same day. On the bus ride home, we griped about how something needed to be done about our class bully.

I spent the weekend at his house so we could devise our plan. I loved spending time at DJ’s house; he lived alone with his divorced dad and had no brothers or sisters. Coming from a large family with six brothers and sisters, DJ’s house was a respite from constant chaos. His dad was a chiropractor and was always impeccably dressed, though never seemed to be without several day’s worth of beard scruff. I remember even back then being completely enamored by him. By the end of our first weekend together, our friendship was cemented and our plans of revenge ready for implementation.

Though we had spent many hours over the weekend talking about how awesome it would be to punch Kent in the stomach until he barfed, we realized there was no way we could physically take on Kent, even with the two of us. Besides, neither of us were fighters. So we decided to instead to humiliate him into submission … hopefully.

Monday morning, I distracted the teacher before class while DJ spread super glue on Kent’s chair. We sat through the entire first period with bated breath, stealing glances at one another across the room and at Kent who sat slumped in his desk looking as mean and grumpy as ever. The clock seemed to be going in slow motion, but at long last the recess bell rang. Kent, as usual, was the first person to jump up. This time his chair came with him, causing him to lose his balance and sit back down. DJ and I fought to control ourselves as we watched him stand up again, trying to push the chair off of himself and the other kids seeing what was happening start to laugh at him. Soon the entire class was rolling with laughter as the teacher made his way to Kent, who was struggling to get unstuck. We were all ushered outside as the teacher had to walk a doubled-over Kent with the chair still attached to him down to the office. Success!

The next couple days Kent was even meaner than before, so we set our next plan into motion. Thursday was test day and as the stack of “take one and pass the stack” test papers came my way, I took two, making sure to hide the second one under the first. I raced through my test as quickly as possible, thankfully, geography was my best subject. Then, making sure no one was looking, I took the second test, wrote Kent’s name at the top and I began to fill in the answers. What is the chief export of Argentina? “Pussy.” Who sailed around Cape Horn? “Admiral Dick Fuckhead.” The answers got more vivid and vulgar from there. Since DJ sat right behind Kent, when the test papers were “passed back and to the left” he managed to keep Kent’s real test paper from going with the rest.

That afternoon, as we quietly solved fraction problems from our math book, we watched our teacher, as discreetly as possible, as he graded test papers from that morning. We didn’t need to even wonder when the fake test paper was being graded; the teacher’s expression said it all. At first he looked surprised, then almost amused, but by the end of the page, he looked positively red-faced. He picked up the paper, stood and crossed straight to Kent, tapping him on the shoulder and motioning him outside of the classroom. From outside came the sounds of muffled protests and angry accusations. Then silence. Minutes later the teacher walked back into the room alone. We found out the next day Kent had been suspended for the next week.

In retrospect, I feel a little bad for what we did to Kent, but as I remember the numerous black eyes, cement scrapes and bruises from that year, I don’t feel that bad. Still, DJ and I formed a friendship that defined much of my teen years. He was the first person I got drunk with, the first person I watched porn with and the first person I came out to. After all the time it took me to get my courage up to make this huge confession, he just smirked and said, “I kinda figured.”

During my final year at college, I was home on break and spending time at DJ’s house catching up. I had waited a year after high school to go to college, but he was already graduated and working full time at an architecture firm. Hearing I was home on break, he planned a visit to his dad’s house so we could spend some time together. He had told me there was something he wanted to talk to me about.

Sitting on his old bed watching cheesy movies and catching up, it felt like we were still in high school — except now we could drink his dad’s booze without sneaking it. After a few whiskey and Cokes and a bad ’80s movie, I asked him, “Wasn’t there something you had to tell me?”

“Oh, yeah, but it’s not important,” he said, taking another drink.

“What is it?” I pressed, shifting on the couch to face him. “You and Joanne gettin’ married?”

“Joanne? I haven’t seen her for months. And we never even … ”

“Oh. Well, what then?”

“It’s nothin’.”

I fixed him with one of my “just tell me already” looks.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I … I was just wondering … if you ever … thought about … me.”

My brow crinkled in confusion. “I think of you all the time.”

“I meant … ” he cleared his throat, his face turning red as he said, “like, sexually.”

I laughed.

“Fuck you,” he snapped, looking away.

I then realized he was serious. “Why would you ask that?” I asked.

He was silent a few moments before answering, “A couple months ago I met this woman at the bar. Actually, a couple, her and her husband. We hung out a few times and … ” He hesitated. “He used to like to watch.”

“Watch what?”

“Me fuck her.”

“Wow!” I exclaimed. I don’t know why it was hard for me to picture DJ doing something like that. He was often shocked when I told him about some of my sexual antics.

“Yeah, well, a couple weeks ago, we were messing around and while I was going down on her … I let him suck my dick.”

“No shit!”

“Yeah, it was weird at first, but he was really good at it,” he laughed. “They asked me if next time I’d fuck them both.”

“Whoa! Did you?”

“Haven’t seen them yet.”

“Well, are you gonna?”

He gave an exaggerated shrug. “I’m not sure. I mean, I think I’d be Okay with it, but …”

“So … wait, why did you ask if I’d ever thought about you that way?” I asked confused.

“I just thought … if I were ever gonna be, ya know, with a guy, I’d want you to be my first.”

“Dude, that’s twisted.”

“Again, fuck you!”


“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything!” he barked. He looked at me sternly. “I’m not gay!”

“Um, a dude sucked your dick and you liked it. That makes you, like, a little gay.”

“No it doesn’t!”

“Yeah-huh, you’re like 20 percent gay, dude. And you wanted to fuck me, so that’s like 30, maybe 40 percent gay. DJ, you’re almost Bi.”

He started to yell, but broke into a laugh. “You’re so fucked up!”

I laughed along with him, a warm feeling flooding over me as I looked at him. I remembered back to my early teen years when I had indeed, on occasion, fantasized about him while jerking off. But they had been nothing more than random overactive hormonal thoughts. Here at 23, in the same room where we had spent so much time together, I looked beyond my comfortable vision of my best friend and saw him, for the first time, as a man.

He was just over six feet tall, muscular but in a natural way — not stocky, but not twinkish either. His normally neatly trimmed light-brown hair had grown an inch or so too long and his red-tinted beard had grown slightly scruffy like his dad’s used to be. His blue eyes reflected the kind, gentle nature he had always possessed. Maybe it was looking at him from a new perspective, or maybe through a slight whiskey haze, but I suddenly found myself extremely attracted to DJ.

We had been looking at one another in silence for a good minute or two when he reached out and put his hand on my leg, above my knee, and squeezed it. I slowly placed my hand on his and as I held it, I felt a pulse of electricity surge between us. I set my drink on the nightstand and, leaning forward, I moved my face to his. I hesitated for a split second, then pressed my lips to his. His hand moved up to my face and I let him take the lead, his lips parting and his whiskey-coated tongue finding its way to mine. It wasn’t a kiss of long-requited, unleashed passion, but one of comfortable exploration. As his full, soft lips continued to work mine, our tongues finding one another, then pulling back every few seconds, his hand slipped from my face to my shoulder and down my arm, pulling it forward while his hand guided me back against the bed.

With little effort, most of his body now lay on top of mine. I moved my hands up his back as his mouth made his way to my neck. His tongue found the magic spot on my throat; the more I reacted, the more into it he got. I was practically panting by the time he lifted himself up to look down on me with his wide, pleased smile. I reached up and ran my hand through his hair, looking at the same face I had known for so many years and feeling so comfortable laying there underneath him.

“You wanna … go further?” he asked.

I shrugged, smiling, though inside I was already anticipating what he would feel like inside of me. He raised up to his knees and pulled his shirt off over his head. His skin was pale and flushed with an edge of pink. His shoulders were broad and strong, pecs large and round, but not hard like a bodybuilder. A smattering of brown-red chest hair made a pyramid from his collarbone to his large pink nipples and made a sporadic trail down his stomach, disappearing below the waistband of his pants. His stomach was muscular, but not tight, and shivered as I ran my hand over it.

He reached down and began unbuttoning my shirt, pulling it open to expose my chest. He immediately lowered himself onto me, his mouth suctioning to my left nipple, licking and sucking with passion. He moved to the right one, attacking it with just as much gusto — just as a straight man might with a woman’s tits. I couldn’t help but start to giggle at the thought.

He stopped, raising up to look at me concerned. “What?” he asked.


“You’re laughing at me,” he sighed, looking hurt and starting to move off of me.

“Dude!” I grabbed his wrist before he could retreat and pulled him back to me. “It’s cool. My nipples just aren’t that sensitive.”

“How am I supposed to know?” he said defensively.

I smirked, leaned up and kissed him and then told him, “It’s just me, Deeg, you ain’t got anything to prove.” With that, he kissed me even harder than before, pushing his tongue into my mouth and meeting mine with a newfound energy. He moved all the way on top of me, his bare chest pressed to mine, our arms wrapped tightly and protectively around one another. I felt his erection pressing against me which made my own dick begin to swell. Soon our crotches were grinding against one another with the same fervor of our tongues. His legs slipped between mine, forcing them apart; I wrapped them around his waist and he ground his groin even harder against mine.

Losing ourselves to the intensity, I cried out as his teeth sunk into my neck. Grabbing the back of his head, I dug my fingers into his hair, encouraging him to continue. His lips suctioning and his teeth pinching, his mouth made its way from one side of my neck to the other. After he marked his territory with several large bite marks, he raised up, wasting no time in popping the button on his jeans and unzipping them. His cock flopped out, pointing straight ahead — straight at my head. As he struggled his way out of his pants, I watched his cock bounce from side to side. It was about 7 inches, thick, cut and with one of the most beautiful heads I had ever seen. Several large veins ran widthwise on the side of the shaft, one disappearing into his ample ballsack, which had a number of long, red-brown hairs growing out of it. Somewhere between bright pink and red, it was slightly darker than the bulk of his skin.

He stood on the bed, fully naked except for a pair of tube socks, looking down on me. His expression caught between lust and apprehension, he moved one leg over me, straddling my chest, and squatting, he brought the head of his cock to my mouth. As it brushed my lips, a bubble of precum leaked out and dripped onto my lips. He used the tip of his dick to smear it over my lips like he was applying lipstick. When he stopped, we looked at each other; his eyes seemed to ask me if we were doing the right thing. My mouth answered by opening and sucking the length of his hard cock into it.

“Oh — my — fuck!” he gasped, his left hand finding the back of my head and pushing me down on him another inch. He held me there until I gagged, then eased up. I took his balls in my hand and as I went back down on his leaking fuckpole, I pulled his balls straight down. He yelped, gasped and let out a long, low, guttural moan of pleasure. His hands still on my head and my lips tightly wrapped around his shaft, he began slowly, casually face-fucking me as I played with his balls. When his balls began to tighten and I knew he was close, I moved off of him. His tongue replaced his dick, giving me several long, probing kisses before his hands began to pull at the waistband of my pants.

I raised up, slipping out of my pants and underwear, feeling suddenly awkward as I lay there naked before him. My dick, half an inch shorter than his and not quite as thick, was every bit as hard. He reached his hand out, grabbing my shaft and squeezing, pushing out more of my already dripping precum. I gasped, tensing, then relaxed as he began stroking it, almost inspecting it with his hand. His hand moved lower with each stroke, his fingers moving past my balls and toward my crack. As his precum-covered middle finger slipped into my crack,, and with no further pretense, pressed against my hole, I drew in a quick breath as my body jerked in response.

He pulled away quickly. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I answered. “You, uh, got any lube?” He pulled out a small tube of K-Y Jelly, which almost made me laugh. He also produced a packet of condoms.

With some K-Y on his fingers and a reassuring look from me, he again made his approach. This time he rubbed the outside of my hole for a few moments before he slid his long middle finger inside of me. As it pushed far into me, I spread my legs even more, letting out a soft moan as my eyes closed. As he began fingering me, slowly, methodically, I took hold of his cock, stroking it in time with his fingering. When he started using the second finger, I shifted again, letting go of his cock and finding his free hand. Our fingers laced together, he waited only a short while before adding a third.

I let go of his hand and raised my legs to my chest, watching him probe me with his first three long fingers. The deeper he went, the more I moaned. I looked up at his face, seeing him mesmerized by my ass. He gave me a look and I nodded quickly, letting him know I was ready for the main event. He removed his fingers and positioned himself so that his cock was now laying across my hole and my lower back was resting on his knees. He opened the condom, placed a drop of K-Y inside, then rolled it onto his hard, leaking dick. Then rubbing more K-Y over the condom and my hole, he pressed his shaft into my crack and rubbed it back and forth a few times.

I was shivering; everywhere he touched me my body tingled. Every time our eyes met, I yearned to feel his prick inside of me. When the moment came, it took us both by surprise. He raised up ever so slightly, pushed the head downward against my opening and slid his meat all the way inside of me. Both of us were so close to coming, neither of us could move. We remained motionless, barely breathing, not wanting to lose ourselves to orgasm before we’d had a chance to fully experience one another.

It seemed like eons until our bodies calmed enough to move, and when they did, DJ laid himself on top of me, keeping my legs pinned against me and his thick cock pressed all the way inside. He kissed me, first softly, then harder. My hands moved to his shoulders, feeling his strong back tight with restraint.

He looked at me with a serious expression in his face. “How you want it?” he asked.

“Go for it,” I answered with a cocky grin.

His smile turned slightly evil as he pulled his dick almost all the way out of me, and in one quick, hard motion plunged it all the way back in.

“Ah! FUUUCK!” I yelled, still smiling. “Yeah! Nail me, Deeg!”

He did just that. His thrusts were long and deep as he used his entire body to propel his dick into me. I grabbed on to his strong, flexing arms, needing something to hold onto as he wailed on my ass. Our eyes only left each other’s gaze for seconds at a time as the intensity of our pleasure rose in waves, then evened out. Each time he sank his dick into me, he began holding it in for a few seconds, moving his hips up and down or side to side and making my body shudder as I gasped for air. He was hitting all the right spots, doing all the right things, and this was the first time he had ever had his cock up a man’s ass.

After one long plunge inside of me, it was evident neither of us could hold out much longer. DJ began rabbit-humping my hole, slamming his thick meat in and out at lightning speed. I grabbed my cock and started jerking it, my hand flying over my dick, matching his speed.

“Come,” he gasped. I moaned a protest, but he countered, “I wanna make you come. I wanna see it!” He raised up, grabbing my hips and using them as leverage to slam his cock into me with an even greater intensity. My balls were pulled tight to my shaft, my hole gripped his dick, and his cock rubbed hard against my prostate. He looked away from my dick long enough to meet my eyes and flash me one of his amazing smiles. Seeing my best friend enjoying my ass while giving me pleasure with his pistoning prick, sent me over the top. I let out a desperate cry and a shot of cum that flew up past his chest and into his beard. The next shot did the same, and each one that followed trailed down his chest.

“Fuck!” he gasped. “Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!” He was coming. His cock still inside me, his cum filling the condom, he continued to thrust into me, his eyes glazed over in post-orgasmic bliss. He laid flat on top of me, his cock slipping out of my ass as his tongue slipped into my mouth, then down my neck, and finally we laid quietly as our breathing returning to normal.

His slid off of me, but pressed himself tightly to my side, wrapping his large arms around me. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, you?”



Though we’ve seen each other many times over the past few years, we haven’t had sex again, nor have we felt any awkwardness when together. In fact, nothing has changed. Well … almost nothing. His hello kisses occasionally include a little tongue and his goodbye hugs are tighter and longer. But our friendship has never been more solid.