Hard Sell Part Four - Morning Wood

Mark awoke face down to the feeling of Oliver's warm body pressed against him, his dick between his cheeks. Mark reached down to his own dick, rubbed it down between his thighs, tickled the head. Oliver's warm breath against his neck. He felt Oliver kiss and press against him more until he was atop him, his hand trapped under his own body. Oliver kissed down his spine, ran his fingers along his sides.

Pressed into the bed, his head turned against the pillow he felt the weight of the man who kissed down between his cheeks, then his tongue came out and teased his hole. He rubbed at his dick, parted his cheeks. Oliver reached between his thighs, took hold of his dick, and tickled the head with his fingertips that became slick with ejaculate. Mark reached out with his free hand and took hold of the metal frame bars.

Oliver licked and kissed, pulled him up a little to get deeper. Mark felt the pleasure run up through his spine to his heart. His skin felt tight, sweat formed on his back. He pulled away, rubbed his dick against the bed, but Oliver wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him back up onto his knees. He followed the spit from his mouth as it ran down over his younger lover's balls. He took each one into his mouth and sucked on them before running his tongue down the shaft. He took Mark's dick in his mouth and pulled him up higher until his knees were under his chest, his throbbing dick between his thighs got trapped. He reached back with both hands and pulled on his cheeks. Oliver licked back up, sucked each testicle again, then up to the pink hole. He licked and sucked at the wrinkled opening, he touched his fingertips to it and continued to pull as he stuck his tongue inside. He loved the feeling of Mark opening to him.

"Oh my god." The words escaped Mark's lips. He felt a pleasure like never before as if his hole and his dick were the only parts of his body. Oscar continued to lick and suck, saliva ran down his thighs, over his balls. He was wet. He moaned and begged for more as fingertips begin to probe at his opening, his most sensitive part, his weakest part now vulnerable to another man. Mark writhed against the bed as he lifted his hips. His dick stuck down from his body in desperate need to feel anything, anything would do. Oscar gripped it and used it like a handle as he got up to his knees and pressed his own dick to the younger man's pink hole. He pushed inside until he was as far as he could go. He ran his free hand up Mark's sweaty back to his shoulder.

Mark felt like he was in pieces. Oscar's hand on his shoulder, another hand on his dick and his balls hung down against it, his stomach tightened, Oscar was inside him too. He could feel the muscles pried open, held open, every effort to close merely rubbed the invader, encouraged the invader. It was big and deep, tickled at that sensitive nerve in his body that made him feel like he was going to wet himself, shockwaves of pleasure that ran to the very top of his own dick. He bit at the pillow as he felt the other man begin to move. Oscar's balls slapped at his skin, his own balls, that's how low they were hung, his pubic hair tickled at the end of each thrust. He moaned and tried to speak but each time he felt his prostate get tickled the sounds could form because he was holding his breath. His face turned red, his lips and ears burned like hot coils. His legs strained to keep himself up. And he heard the headboard knock against the wall. His eyes tightly shut.

Then it happened. A rush of pleasure and pain, his dick that felt like it would never be satisfied twitched and it was the best orgasm of his life. He gulped and dug his fingernails into his thigh. Ejaculate shot out, thick at first then thin and watery, he was sure he had made a mess. Oscar kept at him though, kept pounding away as he pinched the bulbous head of his dick. He worked himself to his own orgasm, held himself inside until everything drained out. He leaned down against Mark. Their two bodies felt as if they had been melted together.

They eased down onto the mattress. Oscar kissed and nuzzled at Mark's neck until he regained his strength and began to pull away but Mark held onto him. He loved the feeling of the man on top of him, their warm bodies pressed together, his own body squashed against the cool sheet, his dick shriveled in a puddle of his own ejaculate.

"Stay like that. I don't want this to end," Mark said.

"What about work?"

"I'll call in sick," he answered.

"Me too," Oscar added.

Hard Sell Part Three -Hard Ride

What kind of punishment is this, Mark asked himself. Naked with his wrists bound to his ankles on his knees, he breathed through his nose because his own cum soaked briefs had been stuffed in his mouth. He watched as Oliver stripped out of his clothes.

Over six foot tall, broad shouldered, a flat muscled stomach, bald with glasses, handsome and confident. He sat on the couch directly across from him, spread his knees. His limp cock hung down over two large balls, hairy balls. He remembered the smell of the man, the taste of his dick, and he began to drool. The spit soaked the underwear, allowing the flavors to run out over his tongue and down his throat.

The man ran one hand up his own thigh to his dick, the other hand over his chest to play with his nipples until each of them were hard. He stroked his dick and Mark grunted with desire, pulled a little at his bonds. Oliver smirked. He ran the hand from his nipples to his dick, gripped it with both hands. Mark could still see the head sticking out. It was big, long, the biggest he had ever sucked, the biggest that could possibly be inside of him that night. He moaned and struggled. Oliver got up and moved to him, pulled the underwear from his mouth.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes sir."

"Do you want to suck my dick?"

"Yes sir."

"How about eat my ass?"

"Yes sir, anything you want sir."

Oliver turned in front of the younger man and bent over with his feet wide, one hand reached back to help part his cheeks, the other grabbed hold of the ring on Mark's collar and pulled. Mark found himself quickly pulled into flesh. He stuck out his tongue and felt the man's anus, probed at the soft flesh as he was held there. The hand that had helped part his cheeks grabbed at Mark's hair to pull him deeper. He licked and sucked at that man's hole as he listened to him moan.

At first the other man's anus felt like a wrinkle of skin, a tight opening. He continued to lick over it, worked his tongue in a little at a time until the flesh puckered. He strained against his shackles, felt his muscles tighten. The man held him tight between his cheeks. He moaned and stuck out his tongue as Oscar groaned and dug his fingers into his scalp.

"Eat my ass," Oscar demanded.

Mark continued to lick and kiss until his jaw ached, then Oscar pulled away from him, turned and aimed his dick for Mark's mouth. He pushed against his lips, slid between them, along his tongue and to the back of his throat until he gagged, until he couldn't breath. Mark struggled with the mouthful of dick. He felt his stomach tighten, his own dick the hardest it had ever been, a sensitive probe that could even feel the air. It waved around as his ass cheeks flexed, it tried to find anything to rub against. Oliver pulled his dick out and Mark gasped for breath, spit ran out from his mouth, his lips felt swollen, saliva landed on his heaving chest.

Oscar slapped him with his dick on either side of his face, then pulled at his hair until Mark looked up into his eyes. His mouth open he didn't expect spit, Oscar's spit, to slowly descend into it. But he swallowed.

"Please, can I have some more?" he begged.

Oscar slapped him across the face with one hand as the other continued to pull his hair. He spit again into Mark's mouth, then stuck his dick back inside. His lips were smooth sailing, his tongue a fine texture, and his throat warm and moist. He stroked in and out several times until he didn't think Mark could withstand anymore, then he pulled out and held him with a hand on each shoulder so he wouldn't fall.

Mark wanted more, begged for more but his voice was weak. Oscar put an arm around his throat as he undid the restraints. Mark found the release was like a new weight as his body gave in to the pain. Oscar helped him to the ground, face down, and gasping for air. Oscar got down on his knees, lay down on Mark's prone body, his dick pressed against his backside. Mark begged to be taken, his own drooling dick pressed into the carpet felt like a new part of his body.

"Do you want it?" Oscar asked.

"Fuck me," Mark answered.

He slid down, pressed between his cheeks, right to his hole. Mark felt the intruder, the pressure at his ass and he tried to lift himself up to greet it. His left leg contracted up towards his body, his right was limp and extended. He felt Oscar's fingertips run up his back, down his spine through sweat. He held his breath as he felt the other man push inside, a pain ran through him and out his throat in a guttural scream. Oscar put one hand to his mouth to cover it but his fingers slipped inside and Marked sucked at them. He tasted the salt of his own body, but it wasn't the flavor. It was the pressure against his lips. He tightened around the fingers. He tightened around the dick.

The pain turned to pleasure and his sphincter loosened, stretched as he felt Oscar move inside him. His own dick strained, a nerve ran from the head down the shaft between his thighs to his hole where Oscar's dick held him open, the nerve continued inside to his stomach. His belly tingled from the rough fabric of the carpet. He felt like he as was in pieces connected by fibres of nerve. He reached out and dug his fingers into it, the leather cuffs were fixtures of reality.

Oscar continued to fuck him, in and out until he was in a rhythm as his low hanging balls slapped against Mark's. He felt his own muscles strain, sweat ran down his back. His sensitive dick encased in a warmth that he loved. He battered away at the younger man who groaned against his fingers. He felt that rush, that sting, a moment of bliss and pain of an orgasm.

Ejaculate shot from him and deep inside Mark. He held him close, their bodies felt like one breathing entity. Their skin was hot and felt like they bonded. He lay for a moment before reaching down between the younger man's thighs to his dick and took hold of it. He pulled it back between his thighs, his tight balls strained under the pressure. He tickled the engorged, bulbous head that was slick with pre-cum which made Mark squeal with pleasure until his legs spasmed and his buttocks tightened. He shrieked as he felt the best orgasm approaching.

Every part of his body felt like it was pulled together and out his dick. He closed his eyes and felt it all drain out, spasm after spasm until it was gone. Oscar massaged out every last feeling of pleasure and pain. Oscar sat back on his thighs, playfully slapped Mark on the ass.

"Was it good for you?" Oscar asked.

Mark groaned a response, rolled over onto his back. His dick bent back up against his belly, ejaculate leaked out over it. He struggled to catch his breath. Oscar lay back down on top of him, chest to chest. He kissed him, touched him, then pulled away and lay next to him on his back. Their two naked bodies side by side.

"That was so fucking good," Mark said.

"Give me fifteen minutes and we can go again," Oscar replied.

Mark pulled his knees up one at a time to stretch his muscles, flexed his arms, and rolled over to Oscar, put his head on the man's shoulder. He reached down with his left hand and took hold of the man's dick. He tugged and stroked at it, as it hardened he lingered more around the head amongst the foreskin. Oscar reached down to Mark's dick and pulled at it. They kissed and snuggled against each other until they were both erect.

Oscar rolled over on top, kissed and rubbed his way down the younger man's body until he got to his dick which he took easily in his mouth and sucked clean. He licked down to his balls, sucked on each of them, then went lower along the rippled trail as he pushed Mark's knees up to his chest. He licked down and at his leaking hole. He tasted his own cum, then maneuvered up, let the back of Mark's knees rest on his shoulders, pressed his dick to his hole. He pushed inside slowly. It was easier but still tight. He slid to the base, pulled out then thrust back inside.

He pushed Mark's knees to his chest and kissed his red, sensitive lips. Mark grabbed back, took hold of the man's shoulders, dug his nails into skin. Oscar continued to pump, stroke after stroke. His balls slapped each time. He pinched the younger man's nipples until they were points, then ran his hands down over his muscled stomach to Mark's dick. He stroked with one hand and pulled at his balls with the other. They groaned and touched everywhere they could reach. Oscar felt the strain in his muscles but pushed through it. He rolled Mark onto his side, fucked him some more, then rolled him onto his stomach and found a renewed determination. He pulled him up onto his hands and knees while keeping his dick inside. He wrapped his arms around him, his balls swung freely until they tightened, and it happened.

Another orgasm, he bit at his lip as he reached for Mark's dick. He quickly stroked him to his second climax. They paused for a moment in their embrace before falling back to the floor. Oscar pulled out and rolled onto his side beside him. He ran a finger down his spine to his ass, between his cheeks, and inside. He felt the looseness, the wetness of a used hole and he smiled. It wouldn't take much more, he thought, to turn him out with his friends.

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Hard Sell Part 2 - Humiliation Games

That night when Mark got home he went to the bedroom of the apartment he shared with another guy, closed the door, and began to strip off his clothes but when he pulled off his pants, his underwear gone, he came to terms with what he had done. He locked the door, dug his wallet out of his pile of clothes, and went to his bed and sat on the side of it. It was after eight, most people had gone home from work, so he found the card where Oliver had written his number and called. Three rings and he heard the voice from that morning.

"Hello?"

"Hey, this is Mark. Are you alone? I need to talk."

"Yeah, just me and a glass of red wine."

"Good, well, I've been thinking about what you said and I don't think I can do it. It'd be too embarrassing. I mean this morning that was fun but with others..."
Oliver let the moment of silence pass before speaking.

"Embarrassment? Are you afraid?"

"Yes, very," Mark said.

"Would you be willing to come over tonight?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to alleviate your fears, don't worry, it'll be just me. Would you be willing to have some more fun?"

"Yes," Mark admitted.

"What are you wearing?"

"Actually, I'm naked. I just got home from work and was about to take a shower."

"Is your dick hard thinking about me and hearing my voice?"

Mark looked down to his stiffening erection.

"Very," he said.

"Good, this is what I want you to do. Go into you hamper of dirty clothes and find a used pair of underwear, put them on then get dressed in the clothes you wore today. Pack an overnight bag, toothbrush and anything you need along with clothes for work tomorrow including those white briefs you wear. Tonight I'm going to strip you of your shyness. I'm going to show you more about the fun we can have. Are you willing to do this?"

"Yes," Mark blurted.

Oliver gave him the address, then they said goodbye and hung up. Mark set about his tasks, packing was easy but when it came to dirty underwear he found two soiled garments. One had a few marks of urine, the other had urine and cum stains from using it to jerk off. He almost put on the first but changed his mind and chose the second. Then he dressed in his clothes from the day and went out with his bag. His roommate on the couch in front of the television barely noticed.

Half an hour later he was at Oliver's home in suburbia. It was the type of place where a family was expected to live. Maybe, they did at one time, he thought before getting out of his car. He walked the few feet to the front door and rang the bell. Moments later the door opened and Oliver waved him inside. Mark stepped in and looked around.

"Is it just us?" he asked.

"Just us," Oliver replied. "Set your bag by the door and strip out of your clothes. I want you naked."

Mark set his bag down where he had been told them turned back to face the man as he stripped off his clothes. The man watched him carefully, appreciated each revelation. The jacket, the tie, shoes and socks, his shirt then his pants, his undershirt then his briefs. He dropped them on the floor and cupped his hands over his dick.

"Hands at your sides."

Mark obediently put his hands at his sides. He looked to the man as he sipped from the wine but he couldn't make eye contact and instead looked to the hardwood floor.

"From now on it's yes sir or no sir. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Mark answered.

"You've made a mess. Did I tell you to drop your clothes on my floor?"

"No sir," Mark said.

"Pick them up and hang them on the coat rack except for your underwear, put this on your head like a crown then come find me."

He walked away and Mark set about his new tasks. He hung everything as best he could except for the underwear that he placed on his head. He started to walk into this stranger's home but paused when he heard voices. Please, he said he was alone, he said to himself. After listening for a second he realized the man was watching television, the voices of actors in some dramatic movie, so he kept walking. There wasn't much of the house to explore, most of it was dark so he just followed the light and sound through a dining room and kitchen to a living room where he saw Oliver on the couch and alone. He started to breath again as he walked into the room.

"I like your crown,"Oliver said.

For a moment Mark thought to thank him but stopped himself from replying as it wasn't something that could be replied to with yes sir or no sir. He moved towards the man but was stopped with a gesture of his hand. There was another to turn around so he did. Mark turned around twice at the man's order and when faced him again the man leaned forward as if to look closer.

"Do you like your crown?"

"No sir," Mark said.

"Would you wear it as long as I told you?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, now get on your knees."

Mark knelt, thankful it was carpet and not more hardwood. His hands rested on his thighs, his balls and dick atop them too. He gulped at the feeling of being naked in front of the man, not just naked, but wearing his briefs on his head. He could feel the cool air of the air conditioner and looked to the windows. The blinds were open and anyone could see him.

"Don't be ashamed of your body. Don't be ashamed of your desires. Are you worried about your dick being smaller than mine?"

"Yes sir."

"Don't, it's nothing you can control. What you can control is what we do tonight. Anytime you want to stop we will. Anytime you want me to slow we will. To slow down you say, yellow. To stop you say, red. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"I'm going to watch the rest of my movie while you sit there on your knees. I want you to masturbate while I do. But you can't have an orgasm. If you do you'll be punished. But if you can't stop yourself use your underwear to catch it, then put them in your mouth and suck them clean. When the movie is over you'll get your first punishment for dropping your clothes on the floor, a nice spanking. After your spanking I'm going to drain your balls then fuck you silly. Are you getting turned on by this?"

"Yes sir."

Mark stroked his dick, tried to keep a steady rhythm, but it wasn't long before he felt his orgasm approaching. He took the underwear from his head and climaxed into it, careful not to spill. He cleaned his dick with the fabric and looked to Oliver with an apologetic face.

"Twelve minutes, longer than expected but not good enough. That's another punishment."

Oliver got to his feet and walked over to a chest under a window. He pulled out a few things then walked over to Mark and dropped them in front of the young man. Mark looked down and made out strips of leather with buckles and rings. The older man picked out a wrist cuff then put it on Mark's right wrist, another cuff on his left wrist, a third for his left ankle, a fourth for his right ankle. Then he secured Mark's wrist to his ankle, moved to the other side and did the same. Mark pulled a little and realized he was tied like that and couldn't get free. He couldn't free himself if he tried. Oliver picked up the last piece of leather and wrapped it around Mark's neck, fastened it. A collar around his neck, naked and bound, his underwear on his lap, soiled underwear. Oliver picked that up, sniffed at it, then placed it back on his head. He could feel the wet, cold spots in his hair and against his forehead. He was surprised when he felt his dick betray him by stiffening. It usually took longer to recover. And the humiliation of it, that had been a fantasy of his sometimes but he never thought he'd experience it. Oliver smiled at him before taking hold of his pectoral muscles. He squeezed them, massaged them, worked his fingers to Mark's nipples and pulled until the young man moaned.

"Do you want me to stop? Do you remember the color code? Red means stop. Yellow means slow down."

"No sir, don't stop," Mark said.

He pulled at his nipples again but with less force, massaged them back into the young man's flesh, then pressed into the muscle until he got comfortable then pulled again.

"Please sir, I'm new to this."

Oliver pulled again until Mark groaned. He worked the flesh back into his body, pulled again. Mark felt his own sweat running down his body. He bit his lip. Oliver took the underwear off his head, reached down to his dick and teased it a little before stroking him to another orgasm and caught it with the fabric.

"Open your mouth," Oliver ordered.

Mark obeyed. His own briefs were stuffed inside. Oliver stood up, stepped away. And began to strip off his clothes.

"It's going to be a long, hard night my friend but don't worry. You're safe with me."

Hard Sell - Part 1

Nothing was going right for Mark as he sat at his desk in the car dealership of that early Monday morning. Twenty-three and he had made salesman of the month three months in a row but he was starting to feel the drag of hustling for sells. He thumbed through his rolodex trying to think up a customer but no one came to mind. His two voices were in discussion when he spotted the man walking from the service area, forties, bald and glasses but fit and there was a look in his eyes like he had a unfortunate morning too. Mark made eye contact with him as he stepped into the sales floor, but the look made him nervous and they both looked away for a moment but then the man made his way over past the other desks.

"Excuse me, but is there a nearby place for breakfast?"

Mark looked to the man's feet, then worked up his body. He couldn't help but notice an ample bulge. He looked up over the man's flat stomach to his designer tie, and then his face. They looked each other in the eye.

"There's a place down the road but it's over a mile."

"Maybe I'll just get something from the machines," the man replied.

He walked away, back to the service area, and Mark had an instant feeling of regret. He should have gotten the man's name, should have introduced himself. He looked around at the other sales people trying to look busy. Right, he said, I'm going to make a sell. He pushed himself from the chair and walked to the waiting area of the service department, a hallway with plastic bottomed chairs. There the man sat with a bag of candy, his knees spread wide letting Mark get another view of his bulge. He swallowed hard at the sight, felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment but he kept walking. One foot in front of the other until they were only a few feet apart.

"Actually, if you'd like we could take a demo car," Mark said.

"Sounds good," the man replied.

"My name is Mark."

"My name is Oliver."

They shook hands and Oliver got to his feet. Mark walked back to the sales floor and Oliver followed him to the keys. Mark picked out one of their sportier models and flashed the keys before they went out to find it. When they got there the man was impressed but started to move to the passenger side.

"Actually, why don't you drive," Mark said.

Oliver took the keys and they walked around to the appropriate sides of the car. Mark looked back at the dealership before getting inside. Oliver sat in the driver's seat and pushed it back as far as it would go. The man's cologne was musky with a hint of cinnamon and Mark liked it. Oliver started the car and pulled out of the lot with ease. They drove away and passed the diner.

"I thought you said you were hungry," Mark said.

"In a little bit. I just like this car so much. I have the previous year but this is nice."

"Good," Mark said, just reel in the line, he told himself.

Oliver pressed down on the pedal and they were easily ten miles over the speed limit, Mark noticed and warned him cops liked to patrol here to catch people on a test drive so he slowed to the speed limit. When they got to the next right hand turn he made it and soon they were getting farther from the dealership. Mark felt excited by the risk of it. Oliver turned off on another road, then another, and they were in the woods. He saw signs for a park and soon they were there in the lot, an empty lot. Oliver pulled into a space, put the car in park and turned off the engine.

"Have you ever been here before?" Oliver asked.

Mark looked around at the place but he had never seen it before. He smiled at the man who spread his knees farther apart. He looked to his bulge and he thought he saw a twitch.

"This a known spot for cruising," Oliver said.

"People drive their cars around here?" Mark asked.

"No, I mean... never mind," Oliver said, "it's not important. You look like you were having a bad day. Me too, my car wouldn't start. It's a good thing I own my own business or else I'd be late."

"My sales have been down and I know my boss is going to ream me out," Mark said. "I've just about used everyone in my rolodex."

"Well, I know you took me out to try and get a sale but honestly I'm good right now. My car is still under a warranty I bought at the dealership. But I could tell my friends about this one and what a nice guy you are."

"Really? Thanks," Mark replied.

"I know we have to get back but there is a way to improve the day," Oliver said.

Mark looked to him, looked him in the eyes, and he felt his cheeks warm again. He noticed a movement down in the man's lap, a twitch, a pulse that strained the fabric.

"Would you be interested? Just a little bit of fun so the day isn't terrible."

Mark looked out of the car windows but there were no other cars, no signs of human life. He had been thinking about the man's dick since the moment he saw him. He wanted it. He wanted the feeling of risk, the rush of the act, and the reward of it, of having transgressed his role. He licked at his teeth and gulped before nodding.

"I want to hear you say it," Oliver said.

"I want to suck your dick," Mark blurted out.

The man reached across and put a hand on the back of his neck as his other hand massaged the fabric around his lengthening dick. Mark felt a slight pull but it didn't take anymore for him to put his face down there. He reached for the man's zipper and pulled it open. He started to reach in to get it when Oliver stopped him. He could smell it, sweat and cologne, almost taste it.

"Wait, I hate the feeling of the zipper teeth," he said.

He took his hand away from Mark's neck allowing him to sit up. He watched as the man undid his belt and the catch of his dress pants before pushing his boxers and pants to his ankles. There it was, inches of dick and it still had more to grow. Mark licked his lips at the sight. It was half inflated across the man's left thigh with ejaculate leaking from the head and foreskin over mushroom head.

"If we're going to do this we might make a mess. You should strip down and throw your clothes in the back."

Mark looked around again and when he didn't see anyone he said, "fuck it" then began to strip. First his shoes, then his socks, his tie, then his shirt. He shucked his pants leaving him in his underwear, white briefs and white undershirt. His own smaller dick already created a wet spot in his briefs.

"Leave em," Oliver said.

Mark reached down inside at his own slippery cock before leaning down to man's lap. He licked at his dick, sucked at his balls, and it stiffened with the sensations. He licked along the length of it, nibbled at the foreskin until it retreated. He licked at the glans, pushed the skin back with his lips until they wrapped around the head. He sucked at it. His own hand slipped around his own dick from the premature ejaculate filling his briefs. He could taste the man's skin and his ejaculate, it was earthy and tingled but he kept at even as his own balls tightened. He pushed his tongue against the bulbous head, slid it along to the back of his throat and started to gag. Oliver ran his fingers through Mark's hair.

"Don't get greedy, just take it slow. It's a lot to handle."

Mark pulled away to catch his breath through his nose before plunging down again. He felt Oliver's dick slide past his gag reflex to his throat. It was warm and filling like no other before him. Oliver grunted and groaned with pleasure, his feet slid along the mat.

"Oh yeah, you like that dick. Oh, yeah, you're good. I was worried you'd be a virgin but you're a little whore aren't you. Yeah, you like that dick. Let me feel your ass."

Oliver reached, slid his hand under the back of Mark's briefs, his finger went straight to his hole. He poked inside with an eagerness that told Mark he was wanted at both ends. He moaned with the pressure causing a vibration that ran through the man's balls to his brain. Mark felt the finger invade him right to the knuckle. He sucked until he was choking before he pulled off. Spit ran from his lips, a string lingered between them and the other man's dick. He looked at it, hard and pointed at the man's belly. He went back at it, put the head in his mouth and sucked. Oliver's free hand grabbed at his head to encourage him to go farther but he was out of breath and his own dick was on edge.

"If you can't take it again just get under the balls," he ordered.

Mark pulled off, licked down the man's dick to his balls. They were tight and ready so he went lower. He licked under them and the man kept pushing more, along the taint and almost to his asshole but he paused for a moment. He had never gone there before. His own ears burned, and a second finger pushed inside. He was doing a lot he had never done before so he went deeper between the man's cheeks.

"Oh god, I'm going to cum," Oliver said.

The man groaned, ejaculate shot out uncontrolled and random, some of it landed on the back of Mark's head. He could taste the man, a man, like he never had before. He sat back as Oliver pulled out his fingers and started to jack himself with more force until he felt that familiar sensation of pleasure and pain. His ejaculate shot through the cloth to the floor, then was held by it. He stroked a few more times to get every last sensation. He sat back and looked to Oliver who smiled with satisfaction.

"You're good," he grunted.

"Thanks, I've never done anything quite like that," Mark replied.

"Take off your underwear, wipe up the mess then give them to me."

Mark peeled them down over his thighs, wiped at his cock and balls before wiping up the mess from the floor with an unspoiled piece. He handed them over to Oliver who cleaned up the steering wheel, then held them to his nose.

"You smell so good," he said.

"Thanks."

"Can I keep these?"

"I can't wear them back to work so sure."

"Oh god, that was good, you were good. Would you want to do this again? Maybe more?"

"Okay," Mark said.

"I'm hosting a poker game tomorrow night. I have some friends who could show you the ropes and so much more. What do you say?"

"Any of them interested in buying a car?"

They laughed at the thought and sat there until the pleasure wore off, the fantasy ended, and they were just two exposed men in a public place, then they pulled on their clothes and figured out how to move on with their day.

Brat in the Frat Ch 03 - Saturday Friend

The next morning Peter awoke to the sound of the door closing to his room. For a moment he thought he was alone until he felt motion behind and he turned to see Kevin there with his back to him and he realized he felt like he wasn't wearing much clothing. He reached down and felt his briefs, then lifted his covers to look over at Kevin who was in his boxers. Kevin stirred and rolled to face him.

"How drunk were we?" Peter asked.

"We barely made it back. Eric took my bed and we doubled up."

"Did we? I mean did I, you know."

"It's all good. You could barely move after you stripped out of your clothes and got into bed. Is Eric still here?"

"I think he just left. Aren't you worried about, you know, him thinking you're gay?"

"Fuck it," Kevin replied before rolling onto his back and making himself comfortable.

Peter did the same. They stared at the ceiling each feeling a bit sick and sleepy but not able to sleep and not hungry enough to get out of bed.

"So like, do you have a boyfriend now?" Kevin asked.

"What, no, I mean why. Are you interested?"

"No, it's just last night, you went to look for someone. I thought it would be the guy from the night of the pool party. He was cute."

"No, well, yeah, I mean different guy but we sort of met in the locker room. It's kind of a weird story. I don't know what to expect."

"Do you date?"

"Not really, I guess I've never been on like a proper date. In high school I went out with this guy for a while. We'd go places together but it never exactly felt romantic. We didn't hold hands and we didn't kiss. It was kind of like being with a friend, then we went back to his place and did it."

"I guess that's why gay guys hook up so much easier. It's difficult to date so it's just like, well we know what we want and what we're not going to get, you know, like a long term relationship."

"Gay guys are in relationships."

"That's not what I meant. I just mean it's different than when a man and woman date or hook up, there is like a social pressure to get to know each other and see if it will work. I guess the risk of pregnancy and all, then there's the whole pay and job thing with inequality so a woman might want to get ahead or at least start a family or something. With guys, most guys, they have a job and good pay so it's like fuck it let's just have sex. Is it like that with you?"

Peter looked to Kevin then back to the ceiling. It was partially true, two guys in two weeks and they barely had a conversation. Did either of them have relationship material? What was he looking for in a man? Did he want to make a commitment? He looked over to Kevin who seemed to have fallen asleep so decided to keep thinking it over as he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.

Two hours later he awoke to the feeling of Kevin's hand and foot touching him, he slid away and got to his feet, looked back to his roommate who was still asleep. He decided he would get breakfast so he pulled on a new shirt and his shorts from the floor. It felt weird walking away from his room. He didn't know if it was the hangover or the threat of ruining and emotional connection, the emotional connection of two guys sharing a bed. It was the first time he had ever awoken with someone, a guy, in his bed. He smirked to himself as he made his way across campus to the store.

There he bought two muffins, two bananas, two smoothies, and two coffees. He headed back feeling rejuvenated. There was barely anyone else around. He got back to his room and pushed his way inside only to find Kevin awake still on his bed with a phone in hand.

"You got your phone but your still on my bed?"

"I peed too. And your bed was a mess. My bed is still made."

"Okay, well I got breakfast."

"Oh thanks, I'm starving, come on take a seat."

"I'm not getting undressed to get back in bed with you."

"What? No, just come on and take a seat."

Peter slid off his shoes and got onto the bed. He placed the food in front of themselves. Kevin grabbed a banana. Peter immediately thought of making a bad dick joke but stopped himself. He didn't want to ruin the moment of being in bed with someone, a guy, a friend.

An hour later Kevin had moved to his own bed to stretch out, a half eaten banana in his hand he groaned in frustration. Peter sat in his own bed reading a book for class.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked.

"I think I drank too much. I know I drank too much."

Peter looked over to his roommate then back to his book. He still felt a little sick but not nearly as bad as Kevin seemed to feel. He wasn't sure if the guy was truly worse off or just complained more. It didn't matter, Kevin was a nice guy. But he also didn't want to sit around all day and listen to him so he pulled out his phone and found Ted's number, then dialed it.

"Hello," Ted said.

"Hey uh, this is Peter. Would you want to meet up somewhere?"

"Right now? Yeah sure, my roommates all went home for the weekend so you can come over to my place, K312."

"Be right there," Peter said.

He ended the call and set about getting dressed. Kevin moaned some more.

"I'm going out. I'm not sure when I'll get back tonight."

"Good luck," Kevin replied.

Peter was out the door, a quick check to make sure he had everything he needed he remembered condoms. The store was closed and he didn't want to go off campus but if Ted had them everything would be okay. If not and they couldn't get some they'd just fool around, no penetration, he thought.

It was a quick walk from the dorms to the apartments where older undergrads lived. He found the place easily and made his way up the steps. Everything was strangely quiet, more than Ted's roommates must have gone home for the weekend. He knocked on the door, moments later Ted opened it. He was buck naked. Peter took a moment to appreciate the sight, a muscled chest and dick hung loose amongst a nest of black pubic hair, properly thick thighs.

"Hurry up before someone sees me," he said.

"You should be proud. Besides no one is around."

Just as he said that the neighbor's door opened.

"Hurry up," Ted said.

Peter darted into the apartment, brushed against Ted as he did. They closed the door and started to laugh as they walked to Ted's private room. Just inside Peter stripped out of his clothes. Ted moved to his dresser and pulled out a small leather bag.

"Do you have condoms?" Peter asked.

"I got that and more."

Ted opened the bag to reveal a trove of condoms, lubricant, and a slim dildo. He grinned to Peter whose ears and cheeks turned pink. He took off his underwear and started to stroke his dick as Ted moved to the bed with the bag. Peter moved to him, picked up the condom and tore open the package. He pinched the reservoir, rolled it down over his dick. Ted squirted some lubricant on his finger, pulled his knees to his chest and rubbed it over his hole. Peter looked between him and the dildo in the bag.

"What's the dildo for?" he asked.

"Have you ever tried it?"

"I'm strictly a top."

"It's not about top or bottom. It's about pleasure. Give it to me."

Peter picked it up, looked it over then handed it to him. Ted set it on his chest then motioned for Peter to get closer. He did. They grabbed at each other's bodies. Peter pressed against Ted's hole, slid inside easily but moved slowly. Ted grabbed at his arms, grabbed at his chest. Peter pinched the other young man's nipples, then went down to kiss at them and suck on them. He slid out, slid back inside. Ted's anus gripped and pulled at him, deep and warm. He worked himself into a rhythm as Ted moaned with pleasure. They grabbed at each other.

Harder and faster, Peter's balls slapped against Ted and the bed squeaked. He kissed at Ted's chest, his neck. Ted ran his fingers up and down Peter's arms, sweat covered their bodies. Ted picked up the lubricant and dildo. He rubbed it all over then handed it to Peter.

"Here, put this in your ass," he said.

Peter gripped it, it almost slipped out of his hand. He maneuvered it back between his cheeks right to his hole. He pushed it inside slowly, pulled it back a little then back inside as far as he could. He felt multiple sensations, multiple waves of confusing stimulation. He was open and deep. He was cold and warm. Ted began to jerk himself. Peter twisted his own nipples. He felt like he was in pieces yet one part of him was all he could think about as Ted's hole tightened in a final orgasm. Ted's ejaculate shot up over his head to the wall, some of it landed on his face.
Peter felt the dildo inside of him as he continued to pump. And then it was there, a moment of bliss and pain, it was the hardest orgasm of his life.

He pulled himself from Ted and fell sideways onto the sheets. Ted picked at the ejaculate on his chest and licked it from his fingers. He let out an appreciative laugh as his feet finally touched the floor. They looked to each other as Peter pulled off the condom and tied a knot at the end of it. He dropped it on the floor. The dildo between his cheeks felt like an awkward invader. He pulled it out and got up to his feet. He opened the bedroom door, went to the bathroom and dropped it in the sink. Ted was right behind him in the same condition.

"Shower?" Ted asked.

"Yeah, why not?"

Peter moved with him to the shower and got inside. They washed each other and joked about feeling intimate parts. He wasn't sure if it was the beginning of a relationship or just another fun opportunity but he appreciated it and was thankful.

The Brat (Act Your Age sequel)

Free Book

September 30, 2016 - October 3, 2016

What are the limits of a firm hand?

Shane has moved in to Mr. Grant's house but not everything about their relationship is easy and they find themselves, as any couple, having to figure out what living together means and how they relate to the rest of the world.

After Shane has an embarrassing encounter with his mother where she learns of his involvement in a relationship that involves spanking he falls back into old, self-destructive habits. 

Mr. Grant struggles with how far to take the discipline. Can he save Shane from himself?

Ethan, a previous participant in one of Shane’s disciplinary encounters, may just have found a boyfriend who shares his interests.

Brat in the Frat Ch 02 - Frat Party

By the second week of classes Peter had gotten a student job working the entrance to the college's gymnasium. It was an easy task that could have been done by a card reader, just check an ID then buzz the person or persons in past the gate. Three hours a day after class, he could do homework or read a book when things were slow. By Friday he was bored and playing games on his phone as he sat there watching other students pass through. He was vigilant about checking ID's so when he saw Brad coming his way he gave a little satisfied smirk. Brad sighed as he stepped to the desk with his ID in hand. Peter scrutinized it enough to read and memorize his last name, Gallagher, then he pressed the button to let him through.

Two hours later Brad was walking out the exit in shorts and a muscle shirt. He passed without looking his way but stopped outside and turned back. He walked up to the desk without his card in hand.

"Did you forget something?" Peter asked.

"No, well, yeah, I mean, look I'm sorry about last week at lunch and that night at the pool."

"Uh, okay, apology accepted."

"It's just things have been stressful this year. I'm supposed to be graduating but things got messed up, anyway, I just wanted to apologize."

"Yeah, okay, you're forgiven."

"Hey, uh, my fraternity is having a party tonight. Would you like to come?"

Peter looked around nervously. He had never been the party type. He didn't hang with those people, at least not jock frat type people. He gulped at the question. Was he being set up somehow? He was starting to have his doubts but Brad looked at him with sincerity in his eyes, at least he thought it was sincerity.

"Yeah, I'll see if I can stop by. What frat house is it?"

"It's the Alpha Cum Omega House. It's the old Victorian one just off campus. Here let me write down the address."

Brad took a card from its holder and picked up a pen. He scribbled down an address and handed it over. Peter could make out enough of it that he thought he knew what it said. I probably won't go but just be nice, he told himself. He smiled at Brad and tucked the card in a book he had been reading. Brad slapped the desk in excitement and said, "see you there" before walking out. Peter bit his lip at the sight of the young man walking away, a brief or jock outline evident under his sheer white shorts.

After work he stopped at the vending machines for a snack before making his way back to his dorm room. He was surprised to find his roommate there on the bed, back against the wall with a beer in hand and a stranger beside him. Both guys were shirtless, Kevin smiled but the other guy barely acknowledged him.

"What's going on?" Peter asked.

"This is my friend Eric. We were bored and he brought over some beers."

"I wish we knew about some parties or something."

"Why don't you just walk around campus? There's bound to be parties happening," Peter said.

"Some of them you can crash but others you have to be invited to, like the good ones at a frat house where chicks run around topless."

"I heard they have the most beer," Kevin added.

"Well, I've been invited, the Alpha Cum Omega House. Do you want to go?"

"Really?" Kevin asked.

"That would be awesome," Eric said.

"Were you really going to go?" Kevin asked.

"Well, not really, but I mean I will if you guys are interested. But we make a deal that no one gets abandoned there."

"Yeah no problem," Kevin replied.

"Yeah," Eric said.

Peter felt like he could trust Kevin but was leery of Eric. He shrugged off his doubts and started to strip out of his clothes. He picked out a comfortable pair of shorts and t-shirt. They watched him get dressed before pulling on their shirts, finishing their beer, and leaving the crumpled cans in the trash. They walked out with a naive, optimistic feeling.

Somehow, for some reason, Kevin and Eric knew the way. Peter followed along behind them trying to memorize everything he saw. Before they got there they could hear the music, there were parked cars up and down the streets. When they got to the house they walked inside without being questioned. Each room of the house was crowded with people, men and women. Many guys were shirtless, many of the women in revealing shirts. And they were talking to each other. Peter rolled his eyes at the dilemma before making his way through the people to look for Brad.

Kevin and Eric moved with him because he seemed to know where he was going but when they spotted the beer keg they signaled they wanted to stop. He moved to it with them and took one of the offered beers from who he guessed was a frat brother.

"What's the plan?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah, what's the plan?" Eric asked.

"I don't know," Peter said and they started to turn away in annoyance but he grabbed them to get their attention, "look, I should find the guy who invited me. Go talk to some girls and we'll meet back at the front door in an hour. Kevin has my phone number so call me if you need to but let's try to make sure we get home safely."

They agreed to his plan and he headed off into the party, alone. He moved through the crowd with a casual walk, turning sideways to get between people when needed. He rubbed up against a few cute guys on the way accidentally and they glared back at him but he shrugged it off. He looked all through the first floor and was double checking rooms when he finally spotted Brad on a couch in the game room, shirtless and a cup of beer in hand. He walked to him and was greeted with a drunken smile as the other young man got to his feet and moved to hug him. Peter was shocked by the display of affection so he just stood there and accepted it.

"I'm glad you came. I was getting so bored. Did you just get here?"

"Yeah, I hope it's okay I brought some friends."

"Are they as cute as you?" Brad whispered.

"Not really," Peter replied.

Brad gave a mischievous laugh before putting his arm around Peter's waist. He ushered him out of the room to the hallway, then to the kitchen. He bit at his lip nervously as he looked around at the guest partiers.

"Where are we going?" Peter asked.

"I thought we could use some privacy to talk."

"There's too many people," Peter replied.

"Hey, let's go up to my room."

"Okay," Peter said.

They made their way up to the second floor through the people to a bedroom door that Brad pushed open with a casual hand. Peter looked around, then into the room as Brad flicked on the light. It was a little messy inside with stacks of paper plates, crushed cans of beer and pop, and underwear hanging out of a laundry basket. He spotted a bottle by the bed half full with yellow liquid and looked away. He had a guess about what was inside.

"Take a seat," Brad said motioning to his partially covered bed.

Peter sat and looked to Brad who moved to the desk chair and sat. He started to talk but Peter barely listened. He was still wearing his sheer white shorts, every part of his upper body was covered in muscles like he had been carved from stone. His nipples were hard and nearly symmetrical. His abs barely lost form as he sat there. When he moved his arms Peter studied the way his biceps moved.

"So how about it? Do you want to pledge?"

"Uh," Peter said as he looked around the room, "maybe."

"I couldn't stop thinking about you after the swimming pool. You're not shy. I thought you were a nerd but we probably would have been friends in high school huh?"

"Maybe, I was on the swim team. I was kind of a preppy."

"Me too, it's just the way it was. I was on the wrestling team."

"Do you still wrestle?"

"Only in the bedroom," Brad said.

Peter rolled his eyes.

"But listen, I know I can joke with you but I'm not really out to my frat brothers. I don't really go in for all of that gay bullshit. I mean I'm not against it, just, I don't know it's hard to relate."

"No, I understand," Peter said. "I guess I'm kind of a stereotype but I don't exactly relate either to gay pop culture."

"So uh, are you interested in, you know..."

"Is it safe? I mean should we lock the door?"

"I'll do it," Brad said before walking to the door. He locked the handle by pushing it in and twisting. He turned back to Peter who pulled off his shirt. Brad made his way over to him, pulled down his shorts to reveal a hard dick trapped behind a jockstrap.

Peter reached out to the waistband, pulled it down to let Brad's dick stick out. It was easily over six inches, but not as long as Peter's. It curved a little to the left and up. He reached around to his buttocks and grabbed them firmly, pulled him closer until he took his dick between his lips. He sucked at the bulbous head, then sat back and looked up into Brad's eyes.

"That was just a tease," he said. "Now get down and suck me."

Brad sunk to his knees, grabbed at Peter's belt. He quickly undid it and pulled down Peter's shorts to his ankles before looking up to his hardening dick trapped beneath his white briefs along his thigh.

"I used to think the size of the dick was because of how masculine a guy was, how tough. All I had seen was other jocks. Then there was this one guy, the toughest guy I knew and he had the smallest dick. Last year I sucked off this nerd. He had a big dick, not as big as yours, but I thought it was so unfair."

"If you're going to keep talking then I want to hear you say something nice."

"Like what?"

"I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you want to suck my big dick."

"I want to suck it."

"What?"

"I want to suck your big dick."

"What does that make you?"

"A cock sucker," Brad answered.

"Go ahead, pull down my underwear and suck it."

Brad grabbed hold of Peter's underwear, his fingers under the waistband and pulled. When he got down to the ankles he pulled off Peter's shoes, his shorts, and the briefs fell off. He started his way back up and Peter stopped him, pulled Brad up as he stood. Their hard dicks pointed at each other. Peter leaned down and put his dick alongside Brad's. There was an obvious difference. Brad stopped breathing. Peter grinned before moving in to kiss him on the lips. Brad pulled away.

"I don't kiss," he said.

"Then let's get to it."

Peter sat back down. Brad got on his knees beside him on the bed. They leaned towards each other's dicks, made sure they were safely on the bed. Peter on his back Brad put his knees on either side of his head. They sucked and licked at each other. Groaned as their sensitive skin warmed to the beat of their hearts. Peter felt his ears turn red, his lips plumped as Brad thrust down into his mouth. Peter felt Brad struggling to take his dick. He signaled for them to change positions. Brad moved to his side, Peter pushed himself up on one elbow. They went back to sucking at each other. Their hands roamed over each other. Brad pulled away first. Peter did the same and they looked to each other.

"I want to fuck you," Brad said.

"I don't think so. Most guys are satisfied when I do it."

"Most guys?"

"All of the guys," Peter said.

"I've never, I've never been, you know penetrated before."

"We can just stick with this," Peter said.

"Okay," Brad replied.

They went back it, stroked and sucked. Brad came first. Peter pulled off in time to let the ejaculate shoot up over his abs and muscled pecs before falling back onto the bed. Brad stroked his dick with both hands until he felt the familiar twinge of an orgasm and his ejaculate shot up into the air only to land on his belly and in his pubic hair.

"That was good," Peter said.

"We should get back to the party."

Peter moved to the end of the bed and picked up his briefs he wiped at the ejaculate on his belly and in his pubic hair. Brad crawled to end of the bed and stepped off. He picked up his boxers and pulled them on before getting an old shirt and wiping the ejaculate from his chest. They looked each other in the eyes. Peter smirked before tossing his briefs to Brad who caught them in one hand, half the fabric hung loose.

"Something to remember me by," he said.

"I won't forget you any time soon, but really you should pledge."

Peter stood up and pulled on his shorts at the same time. He carefully tucked his dick into safety before zipping his fly closed. He looked to Brad who sniffed at the briefs.

"I'll think about it," Peter said.

He finished dressing and walked out of the room. Surprisingly no one was around. He checked his phone before making his way to where he was supposed to meet Kevin and Eric. He wasn't surprised he didn't find them but he was surprised when he saw them still amongst the crowd, both were shirtless and drunk. Peter made his way to them.

"Hey Peter, glad to see you. We're going to pledge the fraternity, Eric and I. You should too. They're very accepting of homosexuals. I asked."

Peter rolled his eyes at the comment and hoped no one from the fraternity had heard. He looked to Eric who put an arm around his back.

"I'm having a great time," he said.

Peter licked the taste from his teeth, for once he felt lost in the crowd.

Brat in the Frat Ch 01 - At the Pool

The first week on campus there's a tendency to see the same people in different places because everyone is doing the same things: registration, financial aid, housing, etc. And for Peter there were a few but the one who stood out to him was a tall jock who always wore sunglasses. The guy was over six foot, broad shouldered, and had a strong jaw line. Peter saw him everywhere that first week so by the time of the first day of class as he sat down to lunch he was surprised to see him at the next table with a group of similar looking guys who acted as if they had been friends for years. It was on that day, at that time, he got the impression the big jock had noticed him too, but didn't like what he saw. The guy returned an icy stare when Peter looked his way.

"See something you like," he quipped, then as an afterthought, "nerd."

Peter looked back to his food. Some things don't change, he thought. So he tried to forget it. He ate quietly, never looked back, then headed out. The first class was a bit of a trip, a new way of doing things with a syllabus and a bit more enthusiasm but an hour into the lecture he got comfortable. And by the time he got back to his room that night he had forgotten the whole thing. He pushed open his door to find his roommate, Kevin, in a pair of trunks with a towel over his shoulder, not the most athletic of guys, a little bit of biceps and soft belly. Peter tried to not look, especially not his eyes.

"What's going on?" Peter asked.

"They're having a pool part tonight. I'm headed over. There's free pizza and bound to be some cute women around. And there's guys too, some might be gay."

Peter sighed at the stupidity of those last words but he was grateful he could be out and that Kevin was okay with it, at least that's what he said. There'll be guys, no really, but gay, here in a small liberal arts college, that are confident in their bodies to go swimming.

"I don't know."

"Have you eaten today?"

"Lunch, but I didn't make it in time for dinner, not like I was looking forward to it. They try too hard with the food, can't even make a good quesadilla."

"Tell me about it, I had a tuna sandwich today with celery in it. I hate celery."

Peter's stomach rumbled. He was hungry and a noodle cup and snacks from the vending machine sounded less appetizing by the second.

"Um, I'll go, but the only thing I have to wear is my old Speedo from swim team."

"Oh that'll be too good. I bet you're the only one but hey don't worry about it. I mean look at me."

Kevin held out his hands and Peter did look. There's something about an offer, can't be refused. He sighed and thought over what he'd need. He put his books away, grabbed a towel, found his suit in the back of a drawer. Kevin stepped out into the hallway and saw a few others from the floor who were going. He said they should all go over together. Peter looked to Kevin in the door.

"Sorry did you want privacy to change?"

"Do you think I'm going to walk all of the way over in just my swimsuit?"

"Yeah, I mean no. Are you ready?"

"Yeah sure."

He stepped out into the hallway with his towel and suit in hand and was surprised to see the other guys were already in trunks, most of them shirtless. They greeted each other before taking the elevator down. Peter fell to the back of the group as they walked over. Everyone else went straight to the pool but he went to the locker room. It was surprisingly empty. He picked an empty locker in the back and stripped off his clothes.

Naked, he scratched at himself lazily as he felt comfortable in a locker room. He picked up his swimsuit and stepped into it, pulled it up around his firm buttocks. He adjusted his dick along his left thigh and tried to determine if he was showing too much. He shrugged off his doubt and walked out to the pool where the guys from his floor stood by the tables eating pizza. They all laughed and grinned at the sight of him. He blushed a little as he made his way over to them.

They joked with each other, the guy wearing a shirt said he felt like he was wearing too much. Peter picked up a piece of pizza and a napkin as he turned to look out at the rest of the swimmers. There were about twenty-five women, thirty men, most of them stood in the shallow end or clung to the sides talking with each other. He spotted three guys doing laps, competing really. He finished his piece, wiped his mouth, and threw away his napkin before making his way over to where they swam. He sat down on the edge, slid into the water nearby and waited.

The guys were good, strong, and quick with turnabouts. If there weren't any gay guys then at least there might be someone to swim against. He waited for them to finish. Three heads popped up and his stomach sunk at the sight of one of them, the guy he kept seeing around, the jock from lunch. He sighed and looked away to pretend he wasn't interested in even saying hello.

"Hey man, are you looking to do laps?" one of the other guys asked.

Peter looked to him. He seemed sincere. But the jock just looked away and the other guy looked off to a woman in a bikini as she walked by.

"Actually yeah," Peter said.

"I'm getting some pizza," the jock boy said. He turned away and pulled himself out of the water. Peter looked to him for a moment, long enough to inspect his firm back muscles and round butt. He looked back to the stranger who had been talking to him. The guy stretched out his arm and Peter shook his hand.

"I'm Ted."

"Peter."

"Do you want to swim a couple of laps to warm up?"

"I'm good. We could go right now if you like the competition."

"Let's do it," Ted replied.

They started off with their strongest burst, each looking to show up the other. They swam as hard as they could. Peter had the lead at one point, managed to touch the wall first a few times but on the last lap the other guy had a reserve of energy Peter didn't. He still popped out of the water with a smile on his face.

"That was a lot of fun," he said.

"We should swim together some time."

"Definitely," Peter replied.

"But actually I'm turning into a prune. I was going to head out. Would you like to come along?"

Peter looked to his roommate and guys from the floor. They were still dry, perpetual wall flowers. He looked back to the guy who smirked at him.

"I came with some guys," Peter said.

"Tell them you made a new friend," Ted replied.

"Really? I mean, yeah, okay."

Ted moved to the wall and Peter followed after him. Ted got out first and Peter smiled at the sight as someone else was wearing swim briefs, then he got out and they looked each other over. They smiled at each other before heading to the locker room. They stepped under the shower and washed off before heading to the lockers. Peter was surprised to see the jock boy there, shirtless but otherwise dried off and dressed.

The jock boy looked to him, stared really, then looked away and back again as if he couldn't keep his eyes off of him. Ted was a few feet away as he stripped off his suit. Peter noticed his buttocks then looked to the jock boy who blushed at the sight.

"See something you like?" Peter asked.

The jock boy gulped, then slammed the locker door and turned away. He walked out of the locker room and they looked to each other. Ted grinned.

"Did you know him?"Peter asked.

"Not really, he said his name was Brad. He was kind of hitting on me but not my type."

"Not your type?"

"Bottom boys have too much in common," he said.

Peter laughed at the joke before stepping out of his suit. He dried himself carefully before getting dressed. Ted did as well. They checked each other out, had gotten comfortable, then two strangers walked in from the pool so they got dressed and walked out together. Ted took the lead and went to the community center where he picked up a free sex packet that was left out for anyone. It contained two condoms and a packet of lubricant. He handed it over to Peter then started to walk again.

"Where are we headed?" Peter asked.

"My place to see if my roommate is out."

"Why don't we go back to my place? I know my roommate is out."

"Will he be okay with that?"

"He saw me leave with you. We'll hang a tie on the door."

"Sounds good to me."

They walked back to Peter's dorm with him in the lead. He swiped his access card for the elevator and with a brief jolt they ascended easily. The building felt quiet and empty even as they walked to his room. He unlocked the door and pushed his way inside hoping nothing embarrassing was out. Thankfully there wasn't. Ted closed the door behind him and Peter turned on him. They looked each other in the eye before looking over each other's bodies. Ted was several inches taller and muscled. Peter was slim and cute.

Peter moved closer, grabbed at Ted's shirt and pulled him into a kiss. They kicked off their shoes. Peter pushed his tongue between Ted's lips who tried to kiss back in equal measure. They went at it for several minutes as they groped at each other's bodies. Peter undid Ted's belt. Ted pulled off Peter's shirt. First Ted's pants hit the floor, then Peter's. They stepped out of their pants and made their way over to Peter's bed. He pushed Ted onto his back, then remembered the tie. He got an old one from his drawer and tied it to the handle to get into the room.

When he looked back over to the bed Ted stripped off his shirt and his underwear. Peter got the sex packet from his jeans pocket, then got onto the bed on his knees. He grabbed at Ted's knees as they stuck up in the air. He maneuvered himself between them before going down on his dick. It was already hard and leaking as Peter took it into his mouth. He sucked until spit ran down over Ted's balls, then he licked them too as he stroked his own dick through his underwear. He got himself hard before pulling his underwear down below his balls. He tore open the condom packet, stuck it against the tip, and rolled it to the base, then opened the lube as Ted rocked away and grabbed the backs of his knees. Peter stuck some lubricant on his fingers, on his dick, and finally Ted's asshole. He rubbed at it for a minute before getting closer and sticking his dick against it. He reached out to Ted's body as he pushed inside.

"Have you ever done this before?" Ted asked.

"Yeah," Peter said.

"This is my first," Ted replied.

Peter stopped. His dick halfway into Ted he felt his asshole almost close shut so he pulled out. He looked the other young man in the eye as he still gripped at his flesh.

"Do you still want to do this?"

"Yeah, before classes start and I'm too busy. I think you're really cute."

Peter placed his dick back at Ted's hole and slowly began to push inside. He took it easy at first so that he could get comfortable but then after Ted's body relaxed he started getting faster and rougher. He pushed at Ted's thighs with his shoulders, sweat ran down his back down over his ass and to his thighs. He heard the slap of his balls and the squeak of the springs. He felt Ted's heartbeat, the way he gave to the penetration, and he grabbed for the other man's dick. It was still hard and leaking. Peter worked himself into a rhythm until his heart was racing. He grabbed at Ted, sunk his fingers into his flesh as the orgasm happened. He faltered for a moment before pulling out. He grabbed at Ted's dick and stuck it in his mouth. He sucked until he felt him buck up from the bed and the man's warm ejaculate hit the back of his throat. Ted fell back to the bed. Peter pulled off the condom, tied it, then threw it in the trash.

"That was really good but your roommate might be back soon. I don't know how long that took."

Ted sat up on the bed. Peter looked to him, then the clothes on the floor. It was over. They were over. They barely knew anything about each other. But then again that was the plan, a one night thing, release stress before classes start. He slid across the bed to the cold wall. His limp dick between his thighs.

"How big is it?" Ted asked.

"Big enough," Peter replied.

"Is everything okay? Did I do something to offend you?"

"No, you were great."

Ted felt uncomfortable, got off the bed and reached into his clothes and took out his phone.

"What are doing with that?" Peter asked.

"I just wanted to get your number," Ted replied.

Peter told him and it looked like he punched it in, a moment later Peter's phone rang.

"Now you have my number," he said.

"Cool," Peter said. "Maybe we can hang out sometime."

"I know I'll have a lot of stress. Call me sometime."

"Hey, that guy at the pool. How did you know he was a bottom?"

"Just the way he flirted with me. It's like how I was with you. I only had my eyes on one thing. We cool?"

"Yeah, we're cool," Peter said.

Ted pulled on his clothes in a few seconds then headed for the door. He opened it to find Kevin on the other side in the hallway still in his trunks with a dry towel over his shoulder. They walked past each other. Still naked, Peter looked up to see Kevin who spotted his dick before looking away and letting out an excited yell.

"Damn man, put that monster away," Kevin said.

Peter got up from his bed and retrieved his underwear from the floor. He pulled them on and looked to Kevin who was still shielding his eyes.

"I mean away, away, like put on some pants."

Peter stepped into his pants and pulled them up. He fastened his belt, then picked up his shirt.

"You gay guys operate fast. I mean not the sex, but hooking up. I heard you guys going at it. I wasn't sure who was doing what but after seeing your dick I hope you gave it to him good because if not that's just a waste."

There it was, everything awkward had been acknowledged and said. For a moment Peter felt offended yet there was no hostility to it, at least not consciously. Polite people wouldn't have said anything, he thought, but fuck polite people. It was said. It was done. Get over it.

"How was your night?" Peter asked to change the subject.

"I finally worked up the courage to talk to a few girls, even got their numbers, but none of them wanted to hook up."

"You didn't swim?" Peter asked.

"I don't know how."

"Well maybe I'll show you sometime, while wearing my little swimsuit you and the guys laughed about."

"Hey it wasn't you. It was us. We were all talking about how we looked like dorks and here you come like a fucking professional. That's why we were laughing I promise."

"I barely thought about it."

Peter moved across the room to his chair and looked to Kevin who sat on his own bed, the towel beside him. He asked Kevin about the girls but really his mind was on something else, someone else, that jock boy from the pool, Brad.

Breaking the Texan

Friday afternoon, Clay stepped into the casino if only to get away from the heat but really he had come there to gamble.  A silver belt buckle, tight blue jeans, a tucked in button down shirt, 10 gallon hat, and boots, Clay was the icon of a cowboy as he sat down at the poker table. 

He looked around at the other players, most of them were there to lose and drink complimentary drinks except for one, a short man with dark skin, black hair, and dark eyes.  Clay guessed he was from the Middle East, maybe Pakistan or India, probably Saudi Arabia.  The man noticed him in return, their eyes caught in an uncomfortable recognition of two men on a mission, to win.

They played a few hands, both of them won in turns, piled up their chips.  Others came and went but they were at it for hours.  Clay nursed two drinks but the man always waved away the cocktail girl.  Probably doesn’t drink, he thought, keeps him sharp.  When seats emptied between them the man moved closer but didn’t say anything until there was a change of dealers.  They talked over their shoulders in not quite whispers.

“You play big,” the man said, “I like your style.”

He had a bit of an accent but Clay couldn’t place it, not that he had anything against foreigners, not really, it was more of a curiousness, a desire to know.  He liked the way the man played as well, a kind of confidence that made him difficult to read.

“Thanks,” Clay replied.

“I’m going to dinner soon but maybe you’d like to meet up later.  I’m hosting a private game up in my room.  There are some big whales who can’t play, they just don’t like to lose big so their conservative players but I think they’d like you.  Would you be interested?”

“How much do I have to have to get into the game?”

“Two thousand should do it,” the man answered.

The dealer eyed them suspiciously.  The stranger waved away his interest and said that he was leaving.  The dealer looked to Clay who began to count his chips.  It would be a bit of a hustle but he could come up with two thousand.  Why not?

“Okay, I’m in for tonight.”

“My name is Raj, let me give you my phone number.  We start after eight o’clock, make sure you get something to eat.  There will be drinks if you’re interested.”

“I like to keep an even head so I don’t indulge, too much.”

“Good, a worthy opponent,” the man replied.

He pulled a matchbook from his jacket and wrote down his number with his name, then handed it over.  Clay took it and thanked him as he watched the man walk away.

Fleece some whales of their cash, he thought, easy money.  He turned back to the dealer and indicated he was ready to continue playing.  He played a few more hands, but found he had lost his interest in trying to hustle the money.  He had a few hundred in the bank, a few favors he could call in, he thought.

Besides he didn’t want to wear himself out.  He stopped playing after a winning hand and walked away with his chips.  He cashed out and went back to his apartment after stopping at the bank, a simple dwelling, a studio apartment.  He called his friends, took a shower, picked out his best shirt and jeans, then headed out to his friends.  He drove all around town to bars, casinos, and homes to get the money but by the time he made it back to the casino he over two thousand dollars.  He had two bulges in his pants as he walked into the place.  He stopped at the reception to call up to the room.

“Hello, yes, come right up,” Raj said.

Clay walked with his shoulders high to the elevators, but noticed the regular elevators didn’t go to Raj’s room.  He smirked as he turned to the other elevator bank, a special elevator to the largest rooms.  He passed a few women headed to the pool, athletic women, and tipped his hat, watched their butts after they passed.  He stepped onto the elevator, pressed the button for the floor and put his thumbs in pockets. 

Moments later he was there.  He stepped off with a renewed commitment to win.  Everything made him feel like this was going to be his lucky night.  He strutted down the hall to the room where he knocked as cordially as he could, soon after Raj opened the door and invited him inside. 

There was a mix of men and women of different ethnicities around the room but he could tell easily that he was the poorest of them and for a moment his two thousand dollars didn’t feel like such a big bulge, but he steadied himself as Raj took him into the bedroom where he placed the wad of bills in a safe with piles of cash.  Raj was quick to take him by the elbow and usher him back out to the bar to introduce him to a few of the guests.

They made small talk for a few minutes as people began to move to the poker table set up by the window.  There were only six players, five men and one woman.  Raj continued to guide him by the elbow over to the table.

“Listen, I’m sorry for telling you the wrong amount.  The other players wanted to raise the entry limit.  I’ll cover you for another three thousand,” he whispered.

“Thanks,” Clay replied.  “But-”

Raj was quick to stop him by planting him in a chair.  Clay looked around at these other players and felt he could take them easily, it would be too good.  He’d make up the three thousand easily and maybe roll them for another couple of grand, he thought.  He decided to play.

And it was easy, except for Raj, but nearly everyone had a tell except for the Japanese man but he liked to drink too much so he bet more as the night went on and lost it all.  Like Raj had said the old men didn’t mind losing they just bet small so he had to slow roll them to get them betting more, feign weakness.  By the end of the night he was up twelve thousand and the game ended, not because they were out of money, no, but because most of them were drunk.  Raj walked them out in turn, thanked them for their time but really he was thanking them for their money.

Somehow, for some reason, maybe it was just to collect his winnings without anyone else around, Clay was the last as Raj made his way back to the table.  Two men, they looked across the table at each other and smiled.

“You did very good tonight,” Raj said.  “What will you spend your winnings on?”

“Steak, lots of steak, and maybe a woman.”

“No girlfriend?”

“No, couldn’t afford one, but now I can,” Clay said.  “Thank you for inviting me up for this.  You were right, they didn’t care about losing.  Just how rich were they?”

“I don’t like to gossip,” Raj said.  And for a moment Clay felt like he had asked the wrong question, but then the man grinned at him.  “Filthy rich,” he replied and they laughed a little, “they can afford to lose it.  I’d rather it be in your pocket then theirs.”

Clay groaned with relief as he sat back in his chair.  He stretched out his arms.  It was over.  He had won.  But Raj barely moved, in fact he stared at him.  Did he want to play another game, one on one?  He rubbed at his face, readied himself to quit.

“Would you be willing to play another hand?”

“I don’t know.  I’m tired,” Clay said. 

That’s good, he thought, be polite, just banter a little then get the money.  He could imagine himself walking out the door with all of that cash.  It probably wouldn’t fit in his pocket.  He’d need a bag.  Maybe Raj had one he could borrow, maybe even buy, he laughed at himself for the last thought.

“What if we don’t play for money?” Raj asked.

Oh no, Clay thought, the guy is queer and is making his move.

“Sorry, I don’t go in for strip poker or anything like that.  That’s for kids, college kids who want to see each other naked.”

“I’m not talking about strip poker,” Raj replied.

“What are you talking about?”

“I win your money.  You win my money.  We break even.  It doesn’t say much about us as men,” Raj said.  “But we could play for something else, something that could tell us about who we are as men.”

“You’ve lost me partner.  I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Wait right there,” Raj said.

He didn’t have much choice, Clay thought as he watched the man walk away from the table.  He went into the bedroom and moments later returned with a long, ornate box that looked like it could hold a pool cue.  I’m not playing pool, he thought, besides it doesn’t prove much about being a man.

Raj opened the box carefully and revealed that inside on a red velvet lining was a long, thin almost plastic looking stick.  Hell of a box for a stick, Clay thought.

“I don’t get it,” Clay said.

Raj returned to his seat at the opposite end of the table.  He leaned on his elbows, looked deep into Clay’s eyes.  It was an intense, unyielding look.  Clay curled his toes.

“When was the last time you were spanked?”

Clay gave out a nervous laugh, uncurled his toes.

“Is that what this is for?  Do you want to spank me?”

“I want to see how brave you are.  How brave are you?”

“I’m brave.  I’ve been spanked.  Hell, I’ve even cut my own switch for my mother to whip my ass but that was decades ago.  I was a bad kid.  This barely looks like it will hurt.”

“We set aside our earnings.  The money you won is all yours.  We get new chips, a hundred each, but this time the loser collects.  The number of chips equals the number of times we get whipped.”

“We?”

“I’ve played this game a few times and no one ever ends up with all of the chips.  Eventually someone gives up when they start to lose.  The person with the lowest number gets it first from the other player.  It’s easier that way.”

“I don’t know man, this is some weird shit,” Clay said.

“Are you scared?”

Clay laughed him off with a push of his hands, then looked to the stick between them, not a stick, a cane, something like the British used to have before corporal punishment became illegal.  A cane, on his bottom, he shrugged at the thought, but as he looked at Raj looking back at him so eager he couldn’t help but think of winning and taking it to the man, really laying into him with it, maybe he’d stop playing.  He could teach this man a lesson, he thought.

“Okay, let’s play a few hands,” he said.

It started in jest, the chips were set aside and new ones put in their place, a hundred each.  Raj started the blind low, made small bets.  Clay tried to prod him into committing more, hand after hand they pulled the chips back and forth at nearly even amounts until Clay started to notice his pile was getting larger and Raj was winning more hands.  He was difficult to read, especially now as he had a new, almost sadistic intent.  The stick became more ominous as Clay found himself betting more trying to intimidate his opponent but Raj stuck with him and a few losing hands later Clay doubted his strategy and thought to change it up.  But that stick was in his mind even when he closed his eyes, it was almost like he could feel it striking his bottom.  Finally he lost his nerve as he collected a pile of chips and looked to Raj who had twenty-three piled neatly in front of him, and threw in his cards.

“Okay, you win, I lose.  You beat me fair and square, but I’m still not sure about this whole thing.  I mean I don’t think I’m going to let you hit me with that thing.”

“Are you going to welsh on a bet?”

“You know, I don’t ever, I mean, I ain’t ever, but this is just too much.”

“Don’t you want to give it to me?” Raj rippled his chips a few times, twenty three chips, he picked them up and dropped them one at a time a few times as Clay looked to his own collection.  Maybe, just maybe he could hurt the guy enough to give up, maybe even if he wanted he could refuse when it came to his turn.  He’d get his money and just leave, he thought.  But a bet is a bet, he thought, hell he’d done foolish things before because of a bet: strip poker, run naked through the streets, and even dry hump a stuffed animal on his girlfriend’s bed.

He could strike Raj a few times, try to get an idea of how it felt, and make his decision later, he told himself.  He bit at his lip as he leaned over the table and picked up the cane.  He sat back and swiped through the air a few times.  It had a distinct swish that raised the hair on the back of his neck.  Twenty-three and this guy is toast, he thought, especially if it’s on the bare.

“Okay, let’s do it,” he said.

“Good,” Raj replied.

Good?  Clay was starting to have doubts but Raj was quick to get up from his seat and move around the table.  He looked to Clay with vulnerable eyes.

“Where?” Clay asked.

“Anywhere,” Raj replied.  “The person wielding the cane gets to decide.”

“Okay, lean against the poker table,” Clay said.

Raj first undid his belt, opened his jeans to reveal silk briefs, then turned to the table.  He lowered the back of his underwear to below his cheeks, leaned against the table and pulled up his shirt at the same time.  Clay got up and moved behind the man.  He looked at the man’s butt, firm cheeks with a few scars.  Were they scars from this cane?  Some of them had to be, but maybe some of the scars were from other canes, he reasoned.  How much did this man play this game and how much did he win?

Clay practiced a few swings in the air and he noticed Raj tense with each swish.  It was the man’s idea but even this cane made him nervous.  Just how much did it hurt?

“Sorry, I’m not messing with you,” Clay said.  “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“Yes, do it,” Raj replied.

And like that Clay landed his first blow to the man’s buttocks.  It was a soft one, partly held back by Clay’s own hesitation to cause the man pain.  He struck him a few more times, tried to move up and down over his flesh, never hit the man’s spine or kidneys, he thought.  Raj took each hit with a determined grunt until fourteen and then he began to whine a little as Clay saw the marks he was leaving were crossing over each other.  He swallowed hard at the thought of being on the receiving end, but fifteen and he realized he was running out so he began to strike the man harder and harder trying to get him to break.  Maybe he’ll give it up, Clay thought as he got to twenty, but the man had a renewed breath with the hit.  He had been counting too, just three more, so Clay made them good ones but the man didn’t falter.  The final blow and Clay set the cane on the table and stepped away as he watched Raj steady his breathing.

The man turned on him, smirked a little as he pulled up his underwear and his pants.  He tucked in his shirt, fastened his belt buckle, and zipped up his fly.  He looked to the cane then to Clay who stepped back again.

“There’s no way I can take one hundred and seventy-seven,” Clay said.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Raj said, “just seventy-seven and that’s it, all you have to take and then you’ll get your cash and you can be on your way.”

“That’s still, I don’t know...” Clay said.

“You made a bet.  Are you going to honor it?”

The man was questioning his honor?  No, no way, Clay thought.  He stepped forward and undid his belt, set the buckle on the table as Raj picked up the cane and stepped behind him.  Clay unbuttoned, unzipped, and pushed his pants down to his ankles.  Why had he chosen white briefs?  He shrugged off the thought as he pulled them down around his butt just like Raj had done.  He leaned against the table, puled up his shirt, and readied himself.

“Just do it,” he said.

Raj was quick with the first strike.  It hurt but Clay tried to shrug it off like a bug bite, just don’t think about it he told himself, but the second one was in the exact same spot.  Raj wasn’t being as merciful as he had been by moving up and down, a few more and he’d break skin.  The third and fourth were succinct and in a different place, but still close, two more and Clay balled his fists.  Seven, eight, nine, and ten were all in different places but they bit into his flesh with a kind of sting that lingered. 

Another three and he felt a pain that was building up in the middle of his cheeks.  By the time Raj got to twenty the pain moved up his back to just above his butt, another five and the pain ran along his spine to his chest.  He congratulated himself for taking more than Raj had and still not crying.  Five more lines and his skin began to turn against him, his butt twitched, one cheek then the other, a pain in his lungs.  He refused to cry out in true pain, refused to ask for mercy.  Thirty-five and the pain was in his throat, a throbbing sensation that ran back and forth between his shoulders and his butt. 

Forty and the pain that had stopped in his throat sunk down to his knees, his ankles and his feet, but he refused to let himself fall.  Another five in quick succession. He tried to hold himself more steady but as he pushed himself up his elbows ran against felt and the sensation confused his nerves.  The pain in his throat pushed up behind his eyes and that was all he it needed as he began to cry salty tears that ran down to his lips.  He could taste himself.  He grabbed at the table but the man struck him again, five more times, lines that crossed over lines.  Was that blood?  Did he break skin? 

Just twenty-seven more, he told himself, but oh god even those first twenty-seven had hurt.  It was only going to get worse.  He felt his cheeks twitching uncontrollably.  He had lost control of himself.  His feet wouldn’t move, it felt like they were stuck in cement.  He continued to cry as Raj seemed to have stopped.  He cried until he felt as if he had run dry and his body felt like it had come under his control.  Raj watched him carefully, one hand gripped the bottom of the cane as the other stroked it maliciously.  It wasn’t over, Clay thought, but he had come this far.

“Are you ready?” Raj asked.

“Yes,” Clay croaked.

“How many are left?”

“Twenty-seven,” Clay said.

“What if I decide to call in all of my bet?”

“No, you said...”

“You made the bet, but I’ll tell you what, I’ll think it over if you strip off your clothing,” Raj said.

And there it was.  The man had plans for him, further humiliation, and yet there was no stopping it.  Clay pushed himself up and tried to unfasten a button, he tugged at it to pop it loose and Raj stopped him.  He set the cane down on the table and with steady hands he undid the buttons of Clay’s shirt, even helped him get it off.  Clay let it drop to the floor but Raj wouldn’t have it and picked it up, set it on the table.  Clay felt like putty as he bent over to let the man pull off his undershirt.  It fell from his fingers and he felt so much cooler as if he had shed his skin.  He leaned back carefully and for the first time he realized just how much he had sweated, just how much his muscles had tensed.  Raj pulled a chair in front of him and sat, then picked up each of Clay’s feet in turn to pull off his boots and jeans. 

All that was left was his underwear, a pouch really, that covered his dick and balls.  Raj stood and with a gentle hand pushed him backwards until he was staring up at the ceiling.  Clay looked down to Raj as the man pushed his feet into the air.  His bare butt stuck out.  Was that all he wanted?  No, Raj gripped his white briefs and pulled them down across his thighs, over his shins, ankles, and his feet and then they were gone.  He was bare, on his back, in a stranger’s hotel room on a poker table and the man wasn’t done with him.

Fifty, Clay told himself, fifty and there’s twenty-seven left, less ahead than behind.  Raj placed his arm along the back of Clay’s knees and pushed until his thighs were against his belly, his dick and balls trapped.  Raj was careful to line up for the next swing as he appreciated just what he had done to the man.  Caned and crying, naked and on his table in the most vulnerable of positions, his asshole on full display and exposed the man didn’t know just what he was letting be done to him.

Clay felt the shift of his skin, no longer protected by the meaty flesh his asshole seemed like an unlikely target.  By the second strike of this new round he realized just how wrong he was as he felt a blow across his hole.  It was a new kind of pain that went directly along his spine, through his lungs, and to his brain.  He began to cry again, sobs really, through five more strikes, not all of them across his hole but when they landed it felt like the pain had doubled.  Two more to his taught, vulnerable skin, the inside of his ass cheeks and he kicked out, his thighs fell against the end of the table and he reached for his butt as the man stepped away.  He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hands but it was little help.  He felt his bare chest rising up and down, the small of his back not quite making contact with the felt, his butt felt like it had spread out into impossible shapes, his nipples in the cool air, and his dick limp over his hairy balls.

“How many more?” he asked the man.

“Seventeen, or maybe a hundred and seventeen, I’m not sure,” Raj answered.

“Please, I can barely take one more, there’s no way I can take a hundred.  I’ll do anything, anything, just please let this be over.”

“Stand up,” Raj said.

“What?”

“I said stand up,” Raj ordered.

Clay pushed himself up to his feet, his skin twisted and reformed in new ways made it feel like he was ripping apart his own butt cheeks as he did but he got to his feet but his eyes fell to the floor.  He saw his own bare feet, felt his own bare dick hung down over his balls, the way his chest filled with air.  And then he saw it, the cane, low in one of Raj’s hands but right there in sight.  He cringed at it.

“I’m not done with you,” Raj said.  “Down on your knees, hands and knees.”

Clay fell to his knees, his hands and knees, as ordered.

“Crawl forward,” Raj said, and he did.  “Ten more like this.”

Raj struck him across the butt, his own body felt incredibly heavy, his knees burned and his hands felt like they would give but he held himself there for the rest of the blows despite the tears falling from his eyes.  Then Raj walked away, across the room to a couch where he sat.  Clay looked across the room to him.

“Crawl to me,” Raj said.

Clay did.  He crawled across the floor to the man until he ended up in front of him, at his knees, at his feet.  He looked up to the man’s eyes but when he looked back Clay broke away and looked to the man’s chest.  His chest, his belly, his thighs, anywhere but the man’s crotch where he saw a bulge.

“Take down my pants and underwear,” Raj ordered.

Clay reached up quicker than he really knew what he was doing.  He grabbed at the man’s belt, undid it, undid his pants, and with one tug had both his pants and underwear down around his ankles.  He went back to all fours and looked to the man’s impressive dick that stuck out along his left thigh, ejaculate leaking from the tip.

“Suck my dick,” the man said.

Clay pushed himself to it.  He grabbed at the man’s thighs and his dick, stuck it between his lips.  He suckled at it, licked at it, and gagged as he tried to stick it all of the way into his throat.  Raj pushed him away at the sound.

“Don’t be so greedy.  A good blow job should take time and I know you’ve never done this before so I don’t want you to choke.  Just suck on the tip of it, lick it up and down a little, tongue my balls, suck on my nuts, let that tongue get under them, really in there almost to my asshole but if you get that far you get more of the cane.”

Clay nodded with each thing the man said but as he actually considered it he felt repulsed a little until he shifted and felt his butt against the heels of his feet.  He’d do anything for a little reprieve, anything not to feel a hundred more strikes.  He went back at the man’s dick and did exactly as he had been told.  He sucked at the tip, licked the shaft, tongued the balls, even sucked on them a little, and ran his tongue as far as he could stand along his taint.  Did he reach the asshole?  He hoped not.

But the man’s dick was easier to stroke and as he felt it swell he sucked at the head some more hoping to push him over the edge to true satisfaction.  Raj grabbed hold of the back of his head, fingers in his hair, he pushed Clay down onto his dick as he felt his orgasm.  Ejaculate hit the back of the his throat, ran down it, into his stomach.  Clay pulled away and Raj let him go.  He pushed away to the floor and looked up to the man who grinned back at him.

“Not very skilled but damn that was hot,” Raj said.

Clay felt his own nakedness, his own vulnerability.  He looked up to the man as he pushed himself up on one elbow.

“Am I done?” Clay asked.

“Just seven more,” Raj answered.