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Inventory night

Let me start by saying ever since I can remember men have turned me on--hairy men more than anything. Also let me describe myself. I'm 5'6" about 150 lbs blonde hair blue eyes, glasses. I'm a bit nerdy too. That's why I never went openly gay until I turned 18. Throughout my pre eighteen days I had always been attracted to this guy Joe.

Joe was hot. He was about 5'10" 170 lbs, black hair and brown eyes. He always wore shirt that formed a 'v' at the neck and show wisps of hair on his chest. Whenever I masturbated I most often thought of him. Joe ran a convenience store with three of his brothers, and I won't lie, all of them were hot, but Joe was always the best looking to me.

My story starts after I turned eighteen. My dad had insisted that I get a job after school to help pay the rent and bills since I was an adult. So I decided to ask Joe if I could work at the store stocking shelves mopping floors, anything he needed. He hired me immediately.

Also I forget to mention, Joe was, in my opinion, straight as a board, he just had a kid and had a girlfriend. The weeks went buy and I kept working at the store. Throughout those weeks I couldn't help but notice that Joe hung around me a lot and found excuses to be near me. But I didn't mind, even if he was straight, he was still a stud. Then he asked me one Friday if I could do inventory the next night. "Sure," I said. This is where the real story begins.

I showed up Saturday for work, everything went normal then Joe said, "Well we better get started, we got a lotta shit to haul," and he winked. I couldn't help but blush. I followed him to the back, keeping a distance behind staring at his gorgeous ass in his tight Levi's, god he was gorgeous.

"You start doing those boxes over there," he said, "I'll start over here." So I started, but I didn't get much done, I kept looking over at him when he wasn't looking. Also I could have sworn he kept looking at me too. Needless to say it took awhile to finish. We had started at about six, and it was now nearly eleven at night. I moved the last box when I felt a hand on my shoulder, Joe's hand. I turned to face him and he said in the deepest voice, "Thanks for the help."

"No problem," I said softly and he hugged me. Our crotches touched and I felt his hardon pressing against mine through the fabric. He looked into my eyes and smiled and before I could do anything, he kissed me. I found myself throwing my arms around him cramming my tongue down his throat; he moaned, as did I. I broke the kiss and pulled my shirt off and he went to work on my nipples licking and biting them slowly.

"Oh Joe," I moaned and pulled his shirt off. He pulled me down to the floor and got on top of me kissing me all over, my neck, nips stomach. I fumbled with my pants and pulled them off, my six inches throbbing with pleasure. He quickly took it in his mouth while slipping his pants off, and then he stopped.

"I wanna 69," he growled. I quickly nodded and we assumed the position, his cock was at least 9 inches and it took a while to get my rhythm as he sucked me off. I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock as he did the same to me.

We came at almost the same time and I sucked him dry. But he wasn't done. He then rolled me over and began fingering my ass, I was moaning. He then rammed his again hard cock up my ass. I wasn't ready for it and screamed out, but he just went faster, thrusting harder and harder.

It was glorious, the pain was turning to pleasure and before I knew it he came up my ass. It was the most pleasurable feeling ever. He collapsed on my back and I happened to glance up at the door, which had just shut and saw Mike Joe's brother who had just seen the whole thing...




Marcus gains promotion

Anger and a dozen supporting emotions burst through me. I had been bitterly let down, let down by someone I considered special.

"Get him a taxi and get him out of here !" I ordered with a note of venom in my voice before going into my own office and slamming the door shut with such force that everything within a range of forty feet rattled.

My anger was so clear for all to see that nobody said anything and nobody dared to venture after me. "Sod you Marcus !"

Before the death of my uncle I had been following a successful career as a school teacher, a career I was moderately content with and one where I had gained early promotion to become a housemaster in a large comprehensive school. Today the politically correct would say it was a challenging school, back then we would say it was bloody tough !

On my appointment as head of house a colleague offered me some advice: "Discipline is like the choke on an old fashioned car, not enough and the engine wont start too much and it stalls."

Marcus had been one of he boys in my house, a likeable youth of sixteen with fair to good examination prospects and absolutely no idea what he wanted to do with his life. That had been five years, almost six, ago and now he worked for me in my business.

My uncle had built up a highly successful car sales company. He wasnt the usual car salesman who talked more bullshit than could be found on the cattle trail of the Wild West, he sold only second hand prestige vehicles and classic cars from decades gone by. If you wanted an Aston Martin DB5 or a Ferrari Testarossa then his was the place to go. When he died for some reason I never understood he left it all to me.

I expanded the business importing old Ford Thunderbirds and Chevrolet Impalas from America then in return exporting to them such classics as the Morris Traveller and MG sports cars. The company achieved a world-wide reputation and banked to my personal account ten times that I earned each month as a humble school teacher.

I took Marcus on as a salesman and he had undoubtedly contributed significantly to my business success. His youthful, pretty boy looks were popular with clients both male and female. The ladies fell in love with him and it was as if male customers felt they could emulate Marcuss charm and good looks by buying a car from him. You may think that we did not get that many lady clients but there was never a shortage of the rich and famous looking for something special as a gift for the husband or boyfriend. It was indeed to a lady buyer that Marcus had recently sold no fewer than ten vehicles to be used in a movie classic set in the 1970s. I had used Marcus in my advertising campaign, his face appearing in glossy magazines and trade press. Now I was going to have to let Marcus go, to sack him, to fire him. I had no choice, there was no alternative.

"Sod you Marcus !"

I didnt emerge from my office for the rest of the day and when all of the staff left at six I locked up and stayed inside. Tomorrow when Marcus came in I would fire him. If he didnt dare show his face I would call him and do it over the phone. I was determined and nothing would change my mind !

So angry was I that I wasnt in any hurry to go home and would probably remain in the office fuming with anger all night. Then the telephone rang. It was my private direct line. Picking up the phone I listened to Marcuss voice.

"Youre working late, I thought you would be. I know youre going to sack me so can I come in now and get it over with ?"

"Yes !" I snapped and slammed down the receiver.

Marcus must have been calling from the public phone box just down the road for in moments he used his key to let himself into the showroom. Id have that key back before he left.

Marcus smiled a little nervously but his eyes twinkled as they met mine. I refused to soften and drew breath in order to launch forth but Marcus held up his hands in an act of submission. I hesitated. I shouldnt have done that for with it I lost the initiative. He had changed from the way he had been just a few hours previously, now sober he was back to his every inch a pretty boy. He wasnt dressed in his usual salesman attire but casually in jeans, trainers and open neck shirt.

"What would you have done if a boy at school had returned drunk after lunch ?" Marcus asked.

"Were not at school now !" I replied curtly but before I could continue Marcus again held up his hands.

"Ill tell you what you would have done," he continued. "Youd have slippered him. No questions asked and no excuses accepted. I have no excuse, no excuse at all, for coming into work drunk this afternoon."

He paused as he kicked off his right trainer, picked it up and held it out across the desk to me. Instinctively I took it from him.

"I think what ever else you decide," Marcus continued, "that you sold slipper me now."

Initially the idea was preposterous but it did have some possibilities. As his suggestion played about in my brain I felt my dick start to harden. In my previous teaching career I had spanked the backsides of many a naughty boy using a tennis shoe known as "The Slipper". The duty went with the job and I thought nothing of it, it gave me neither pleasure nor displeasure and certainly there was never the remotest thought of anything sexual about it. But looking then at Marcus and considering his proposal I felt different.

"You never slippered me at school did you ?" Marcus said removing the other shoe.

"No," I replied quietly. My mouth was dry and the words croaked out.

"I think six of the best are called for," Marcus smiled, "and on a bare arse."

He began to unbutton his shirt exposing a perfectly formed chest with toned muscles in faultless place and proportion. His fingers then attended to the belt on his jeans which fell to the floor. As he stepped out of them I noticed how he had not been wearing any socks. My mind pondered this inconsequential yet strange fact at the same time thinking what a beautiful young man he was. It would be a shame to bruise that beauty by slippering him but I would do it. Yes I would do it. Marcus deserved it and for the first time ever I was going to enjoy giving out punishment.

The rumbling in my underpants had turned to a full explosion. I stood carefully behind the desk trying to hide the predicament. Marcus was smiling but I hoped he had not registered my thoughts or observed my dilemma. Time for me then moved into slow motion while for Marcus it proceeded at its normal pace of sixty seconds to the minute. I was hence able to extend the period and look fully at my young colleague. God he was beautiful, an artists Adonis turned into flesh. I rolled my eyes over every inch of that exposed flesh and speculated at that still concealed behind a pair of incredibly tight white briefs. My eyes focused on those briefs regarding a thick line of manhood stretching the tight material.

"Ready ?" Marcus said before hooking his fingers into the waistband of the briefs and hauling them down to hang at his knees.

My heart increased its already frantic drumbeat as it saw two low-hanging balls below a thick uncut cock. Marcus gave me time to take in the view then leaned forward and braced himself over the edge of my desk. I took up the trainer and weighed it in my right hand before crossing to stand behind him. At the sight of his two peach-like bums cheeks I had to strain in order to prevent my cock from exploding. I wanted to reach out and stroke such delicious beauty but summonsed every fibre of resistance to stand firm. There was a job to be done and I must not shirk my duty.

I never kept a count of the naughty adolescent behinds I had addressed with my slipper at school. They were of no consequence and long since forgotten, a job to be done and got rid of as quickly as possible. But this was a slippering I would take my time over and it would be one I would enjoy not only in that moment but also within the archive of my memory for a long while to come.

Being right handed there is a natural tendency to bring the slipper down on the right cheek where a maximum impact and resulting pain can be achieved. If ever I had cause to give a lad a single whack this was the manner in which it would be applied. Usually a boys crime would merit two whacks and for the second, by pushing the wrist hard back just before the moment of impact, the slipper would fall on the left buttock. Two whacks would hence be given, one on each cheek. It is possible, providing the slipper being used is large enough in proportion o the backside of its application, to lay a stroke simultaneously across both cheeks. To do this initial aim is made for the right cheek but as the slipper is brought down with force both rapid and hard it is moved with a lesser momentum from right to left. If the timing is correct the impact will slide across the behind and impact a stinging contact with both buttocks.

I rested the trainer on Marcuss rear end as I considered my options and planned the combination of stroked I would apply. Marcus tensed his naked body to take his punishment. His buttocks instinctively pinched together leaving a dimple on each side.

Slowly I raised my arm high above and behind my head, I leaned back slightly then pushed my body forward to add momentum as the slipper sped through the air. It landed square on its target of Marcuss right buttock sending an almighty crack echoing about the office. Never before had I used such force and Marcus was taking it bare arse, god it must have hurt him. He tensed and gasped audibly for air but did not cry out.

Part of the art of slippering is to get the strokes in as quickly as possible so the pain level can be increased with each whack and not allowing the victim to experience any fall off from one before the next hits him. My arm immediately raised back and my body taking up the needed stance number two began its descent towards that beautiful pretty boy behind. This time I twisted my wrist and applied the stroke to the left buttock. I looked to see any sign of bruising or reddening of the flesh but the two strokes had been delivered in just a few seconds without time yet for the body to react to its attack.

Slippering at school was always delivered to a trousered behind and it never crossed my mind what the lads cheeks would look like when my skilful work was concluded. When I had been a boy at school myself there was one particularly vicious PE teacher who would order a boy to drop his shorts before receiving a whacking. He was universally hated and no member of his class would have thought to do anything other than radiate sympathy towards his sorry victim and never stare to see what mark the slipper may make. But standing over Marcus I willed the results of the two strokes I had applied to show themselves.

Numbers three and four I had decided to apply to the right cheek and to lay them directly on top of where number one had hit. As the second stroke had struck pain to the left buttock that surging through the right would soon start to fade ever so slightly. By applying two more to the exact spot it would flare up like embers attacked with hot air from bellows.

When the third stroke cracked down on Marcus faint beads of sweat began to form on his back and his breathing became rapid and loud yet still he did not cry out. I have known sixteen year olds cry out as the pain surged trough them and even the toughest would have been shedding tears had they received the punishment I was now giving to Marcus.

After the fourth I wondered if I should stop but no I would continue to the end.

Marcuss whole body would have been racked with pain so the method used for the final two strokes would have done little to change the acceleration of hurt they could inflict. I had decided to see if I had lost any of my skill and to see if I could still apply the most difficult stroke by laying the slipper on both cheeks at the same time. I had not lost the skill and allowed the slipper to remain in place for a moment after its fifth shot in order to appreciate just how accurate my aim had been.

I felt a sense of disappointment that the next stroke I would apply would be the last, number six of six of the best. I would have liked to continue but any such thoughts were out of the question, few could have taken the degree of punishment Marcus had and his crime probably did not merit even this level. I considered also what would happen after the final stroke. At school the slippered boy would leave without too much ado and everyone get on with their daily tasks, the punishment soon forgotten in my mind and for the boy probably also forgotten as soon as his behind stopped stinging. But here I would be left with a beautiful, naked Marcus my friend and employee. Of one thing I was certain, he would remain my employee I had no intention now of sacking him, and I hoped he would also remain my friend.

The punishment finished with an expertly placed sixth whack landing exactly across the two buttocks where number five had struck. My heart pounded inside my chest and I realised it wasnt only the sound of Marcuss breathing I could hear but also that of my own. Marcus did not move for a moment, just a few seconds but they felt like hours. I wanted to speak but did not know what to say. I waited for a reaction from Marcus but nothing came. I dont know why but I flung the slipper across the room, it struck the water cooler and fell to the floor. Come on Marcus say something.

Slowly, ever so slowly Marcus pushed himself up from the desk and visibly winced in pain as the contour of his backside changed. He turned and I looked into his face using a sixth sense to transmit to him the inner emotions I was feeling. That face was white and showed pain yet smiled and then his eyes twinkled their usual sparkle and I knew all was well. He reached his arms about me and embraced his former school teacher. I had only looked at his face, I had not regarded the rest of his body but now I felt his rock hard cock press against me. Even though my clothing Marcus would have been able to feel my own which had remained erect and throbbing throughout the entire slippering.

Marcus whispered into my ear. "Thanks" he said.

He released his hold on me but as his arms unfolded themselves he took my right hand and placed it on top of his hot, erect cock. My head fell back and I gasped with delight. As I enjoyed the truly magnificent feeling Marcus took the tie from about my neck and unbuttoned my shirt. His hands moved to drop my trousers. What was happening ? What ever it was it was wonderful.

"Are you still planning to sack me ?"

"No," I stammered. "No way."

Marcus was on his knees kneeling in front of me my trousers and briefs were gone and my cock quivering towards him.

"Thank you," he smiled. "Can I see if I can persuade you to give me a promotion ?"

"Of course."

Marcus was given his promotion, it was well and truly deserved, but thats another story. Perhaps one day Ill tell it to you.




Trip money

I had become a regular at the gym on Tuesday nights, and this 40-something businessman named Clint, who was also a regular on that night, and I had gotten to where we regularly spotted each other through our bar bell work. He was in great shape for his age, leaner than I was, but with well-defined, ropy muscles and chiseled square-cut features. I'd been trying to save the money for some time to get out to the beach for a couple of weeks to cruise chicks with my friends, but emergencies kept cropping up and I didn't seem to be able to set money aside. Finally, I had gotten down to a week before my friends were going, and I still didn't have any money for that trip. I must have been moping around about that during my Tuesday night workout, because Clint noticed that I was withdrawn.

"What's the matter, Ben?" he asked, as he was spotting me on the weights. "You don't seem yourself this evening."

"Naw, I'm okay," I answered. "I just have this problem where I'm supposed to go to the beach with my friends next week, and I don't have the money to go."

Later, as I was dressing after my shower, Clint sought me out and said he thought he knew how I could get the money I needed for the trip. He invited me to stop by his house after I was finished at the gym and we'd discuss how maybe we could help each other out on a little business proposition. I said, sure why not. He gave me his address, which was in a swanky part of town, and I followed his car back to his place.

We entered the house and he suggested we go to the kitchen, where I leaned back into a counter, with my hands spread out on the surface, while he broke out a couple of beers and some chips. He brought the beers over, handed me one, took a swig from his while I did the same with mine, and put one his hands on the counter beside me.

"So, what's the possible business deal," I asked, a little nervous, because he was standing pretty close to me. Clint put his beer down and then placed his other hand on the counter. Both of his hands were closer into my body than mine were, so I was pretty much stuck there, facing him pretty close.

"You are, Ben. You are the business deal."

"I . . . I don't understand, Clint. What do you mean?"

"You want to go on this trip pretty bad, don't you, Ben?"

"Well, yeah. It's about all I've been thinking of for a couple of months."

"And you'd pretty much do anything at this point to get the money to go short of robbing a bank, wouldn't you? You sounded pretty desperate when you were telling me about it back at the gym."

"Well, yes, I'd work pretty hard."

"Well, I wouldn't work you all that hard, Ben. And I'm sure you'd enjoy it even though you'd be leery at first. But I'm sure you'd like earning the money."

"So, what's the business deal, Clint?" He really had me wondering here.

Clint paused for a minute, picked up his beer, took a swig and put the beer can back, and repositioned his hand. Then he posed the killer question in a low, husky voice. "Ever done it with a man before, Ben?"

I was shocked and getting a little shaky. But I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. Those workouts in the gym; Clint had looked me over pretty good and sometimes I felt he had his hands on me when he was spotting a little longer and more personally than I thought was necessary. I had never said anything about it, because I guess I found him attractive and I had gotten a little electric charge out of the attention and touches.

"No." I managed. "No, and if this. . . "

"We can make this very easy for you, Ben. I have no idea how much money you need, but we can discuss this in terms of levels, and you can stop it at whatever comfort and need level you want. Doesn't that sound fair and attractive?"

"Levels?" I said.

"Yes, levels," Clint repeated. "Say, $20 for each kiss for openers. $50 if you take off your shirt and let me do any feeling I want above the waist. Another $50 if you let me feel you below the waist through your pants, but $100 if you let me feel you skin-to skin below the waist with your pants on; $150 if you let me strip you down to the floor and feel."

"Uh, I don't know, Ben." He came in closer to me, up against me in front, and I could feel a hardness against my crotch.

"An easy $90 bucks with your pants on, Ben, and at least $190 just for harmless feeling. Neither a hand job or a blow job would be included in that. If you let me get you off by hand, that would be another $100, or if you let me blow you, that would be another $200. We're already up to over $400 with a few added kisses, Ben, and we haven't really done anything yet any straight man wouldn't do. I don't know how much money you need for this trip, Ben, but I do know you are thinking about this hard, because I can feel you getting harder. During any of this time, you can do what you like with me, no deduction for that."

I was betraying myself. I couldn't help doing so, and Clint could tell I wasn't totally turned off by this proposal. Indeed, the money sounded good, and I'll have to admit that I was both curious and attracted to Clint.

"And, then, if you fuck . . .," Clint started again. But I brought a finger up to his lips.

"Let's not go farther into the menu just now, Clint. Let's say I'll take it through to as long as I keep my pants on and then we'll see where it can go from there.

Almost as if he was afraid I might change my mind, without arguing Clint brought his lips to mine in a short, sweet kiss. And it was sweet. I didn't realize that another man's lips could be so sweet. He pulled away and looked intensely in my eyes.

"The first $20," I said, with a little grin.

"God, that's right," Clint said. Each of those is costing me. I'd better think more about getting my money's worth, don't I?"

With that, he came back in for another kiss. He got his top lip between mine and pushed my lips apart so that my mouth was open to a deeper kiss. It felt surprisingly pleasant. He gave me a little buzz and I felt both my cock and Clint's react to the intimacy. He hands went to my waist, and he pulled my T-shirt up to under my armpit. I wondered why he didn't pull it over my head, but then I remembered the ticking of the cash registers and figured he didn't want to end that second kiss too soon. The thought made me grin, which Clint took as affirmation of the kiss, and he pushed my lips farther apart and got his tongue in my mouth. I gave a little lurch not only from that, but from feeling his hands encase my bare waist. He slowly pulled his hands up my sides, his fingers stretch out so that he covered a good deal of skin on his way up. He stopped when he got to my pecs and worked his fingers through my chest hair until his hands felt both of my nipples, which he rubbed, sending little shivers through my body. His crotch was pressing into mine now, and I could clearly feel his desire through the multiple layers of material. His hands came back out to the side and went up to my armpits and then up to my upper arms, pushing my arms up over my head. He stood there momentarily, lessening the strength of his kiss, making it tender once more, while he held my wrists back against the upper kitchen cabinets with his hands and pressed his crotch into mine. He ended the kiss and brought his mouth down to nuzzle the artery running up the side of my neck. That gave me a little twitch down in the crotch.

"$90 already, I said, "Although I don't think the mouth work on my neck was included in the deal."

"The deal was that I could feel you as much as I wanted above the waist at this level; it didn't specify what I'd be feeling you with."

"Point . . . uhh . . . taken," I croaked. My stutter had been caused because his mouth had moved to a nipple and he was nibbling quite disconcertingly on that. He moved his hands back down my arms and around my biceps, and I started to pull my arms down, but he quickly lifted them back up and stripped my T-shirt off, and I got the message that he wanted me to keep my arms above my head. This served to stretch out my torso. His arms came back down and me brought his thumbs to my nipples and spread his other fingers up toward and into the hair at my armpits. His mouth headed south. With kisses, nibbles, and lickings, he came down my chest and belly. He stopped briefly at my navel but then continued down my lower belly. To his advantage, I was wearing low-riding jeans, so he managed to get to just the top of my pubic hair. Even at that, he got his tongue under the waistband and tantalized me with what he did at the crease at the upper edge of my pelvis bone.

"Whoa," I said. "Not below the pant line, per agreement." He had moved his hands down my body as he tongued his way down and now had them on my upper thighs.

"Ready to make some more money?" he asked.

"I don't know. I don't know if we should go any farther."

"You've already agreed to the next two levels," he said. "It would be breaking the deal to back out now. Nothing has really been done before we get to the end of that part of the deal, where you no longer keep your jeans on. You've just got some money and you don't have to admit to anything life altering." He had already brought his right hand up to where it was lightly covering my package. "So, are you ready to add to the cash register."

"Yes, I guess so," teased mightily by that hand covering my cock.

But at that point, he stood back up and backed off a bit. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off his body. Then he pulled his undershirt over his head. He was in great shape for a man his age, as I knew we was because I'd seen him work out shirtless before. The thick veins running through his pumped-up muscles gave me a slight thrill. His pants were really low-riding and must have been kept up by that tented bulge I could see right below the beltline. He leaned into me, our torsos skin on skin, and I felt his hand return to my crotch. He brought his mouth to mine for another lingering kiss. His hand at my crotch became more active. He increased the pressure, moved about more rapidly, and, when he had traced my engorging cock and found my balls, he began to clutch and rub in a way that was driving me crazy. I began to moan, and my pelvis seemed to take on a life of its own, moving in a slight grinding motion. He pulled away from the kiss, and his tongue traveled down along my neck and into my right armpit.

"$270, I squeaked."

"Doesn't get you too far, does it. You'll be wanting to know what big money is. And speaking of big . . ." he had the flat of his hand on my belly, and he was working the fingers of his right hand under my waistband and crawling through my pubic hair."

"Shit, these jeans are just too tight," he complained. And then he must have unbuttoned my jeans and quickly pulled the zipper down with his left hand, because suddenly I felt a release of the constriction at my crotch, and felt Clint's right hand slide down onto my dick. He wrapped his hand around my dick and then continued on down to the head, and then on down to weigh my balls. I could feel him catch and intake his breath, and found that this gave me a little thrill of pleasure, just as it did when the ladies got to the point of realizing what going to slide into them.

"Oh, God, Ben." Clint whispered huskily. "What a package you've got. What are you? Eight, nine inches?"

"Nine," I said, with some pride.

"And these balls. Like cannonballs."

"I'm glad you approve. But you know, you've just gone to $370 and beyond. You were supposed to stop with feeling what you could with the jeans on. You've gone beyond that. Uh, oh, God. Gawd!" His hand was flying all over my prick and balls, and his fingers played in my pubic hair. "Stop that, I said weakly. We hadn't gotten to hand jobs, yet, either."

"Technically wrong on both counts," Clint said breathily. "First, your jeans aren't off yet. I admit I miscalculated on being able to get between them and your cock, but between the tightness of the jeans and the gigantic proportions of your cock, I had little choice but to make some room. But technically, your pants are still on. And, second, this, Ben, isn't a hand job. You'll know when you get a hand job from me, and don't you think you want that now, especially because we're about to get into the big money offers?"

He had me panting. I still had my hands over my head, but it took effort to keep them there. I guess I thought as long as they were there, I wasn't really participating in any of that. But they were feeling like lead. I had the urge to reach out and touch him. And I knew I could if I wanted to. He had made clear that I was free to put my hands on him if I wanted.

He didn't misread my hesitation. He pulled back and unbuttoned his pants. "Here, maybe this will help you decide. This is all harmless. This doesn't mean you can't do it with the ladies; it just means you are one sexy guy; one sexy guy with a cock that any woman or man would love to get their handsand other body partsonto."

With that, he dropped his pants, and pulled off his briefs and his shoes and socks and stood there, naked, in front of me. He was magnificent. Wiry but perfectly ropy muscled and proportioned, fiery red hair at his crotch to match that on his head, and his dong wasn't his smallest of muscles. His might be as long as mine; it certainly was thicker and it had a slight curve to it when hard, as it most certainly was now. My quaking arms went out to him and our bodies crashed together. We went back into a lip lock, this time my lips spreading on their own volition and my tongue meeting his. His hands spread under my pants at the hips and he pushed the jeans down my thighs. His hands wrapped themselves around my butt cheeks. For the lack of originality, my hands went to his thin butt. His hands were roaming my more bulbous, but well-formed butt. When our crotches met, our dicks crashed into each other and were both forced up and between our bellies, side by side. Clint brought one of his hands between us and encased both of the cocks. We rocked back and forth momentarily and then leaned back into the counter.

Clint exited the kiss and buried his face in my neck. I heard him say in a low voice, "Up to $520 for dropping trow, even though we haven't finished that yet, and I'll give you a bonus for the kiss, so let's say $550. Do you want to move on to the hand job? $100 for that, but $200 if you let me finish it in a blow job."

"Yes, yes," I whispered. "That far. I can go that far." My hands were traveling along his back and shoulder muscles and then moving to the front and feeling his pecs and abs, admiring the work we'd done in the gym.

"Yes to what?" He whispered.

"Yes to it all so far. Suck me. You can suck me."

"There's a caveat," he whispered into my neck.

"What?" I said.

"We won't get to the big money unless you feel me too. My dick is aching for your touch. It would mean nothing to you, but it would make the money worth it all to me."

I tentatively moved my hand down to his waist, and he pulled his pelvis away from me slightly and moved his hand away from our cocks and down to cuddle my ball sack. I slid my hand across the top of his thigh and through his pubic hair to his cock. I'd never felt a cock before. It felt both hard and flexible at the same time. I slid my hand along it and to the knob, which I cupped in my hand. Clint sighed and, putting the heel of his hand under my balls, he spread his fingers to where they wrapped themselves between my legs, with the middle finger resting on the rim of my asshole. He was hunched over, licking and nibbling on my nipples. I pushed back his foreskinhe was uncircumcisedand ran my fingers around on his glans, rubbing and squeezing. He was producing precum, which I swirled around his dick head. He moaned and bit at my nipple, which caused me to moan in answer. I rubbed and stroked the length of his cock and then moved my hands to his balls and weighed and pulled at those. His middle finger had gone beyond the rim of my asshole; it has pushed its way in by a fraction of an inch.

"No, not that," I said. "We agreed to feeling on my body, not in my body."

"So sorry," he answered, as he pulled the finger away. "I'm getting ahead of myself; maybe later."

I was still contemplating this, as I felt both of his hands go to my cock. He firmly wrapped the fingers of one hand around the root of my cock, but his thumb applying pressure to the artery running into the cock, which made my dong harden right up. He wrapped the other hand around the cock, near the base and slid it up to the glans, which he played with much the same way I had played with his, and I also produced precum that helped slicken up the rubbing. Then he started stroking my cock. Slowly at first and then more rapidly, but always deeply and in a rhythm that felt both insistent and determined. I gave out little gasps and braced myself against the counter with my hands. This was a bigger high than I'd ever gotten from the ladies. Clint's tongue went to my right armpit, and then he slowly tongued his way down and across my pecs, giving my nipples a nip en route and then up to my left armpit and down my left side to under my pecs and over to my sternum.

He stopped here, and in a low voice said, "It's coming. It's coming to swallow you."

I shivered and he slowly worked his tongue down my sternum and across my abs. He stopped above the navel and whispered again. "Suck, suck, suck, I'm going to suck you dry." His tongue went into my navel and his teeth nipped at the rim. Both of my hand went to the back of his head and ground him face into my stomach. The tongue went down, circled the lower belly, running along the pubic hair line.

"Good, look at that cock," he whispered. "A gigantic tool. I'd love to have that rammed up my ass. Well, maybe later. Workin on the current deal now. Sucking you dry. Giving you no mercy. This is something no woman's going to do for you."

I was already shuddering in anticipation when he let go of my dick with his hands, and his tongue slid down the length of my cock and he licked around the rim of my glans. But then I felt his hands at my hips and he was standing and rotating my body around until I was backed up to a butcher-block topped island of a good size. With a sweep of his hand, he pushed all of the little doo-dads that had been on the top of the island off onto the floor and away from us and he lifted me and laid my back onto the island top. I heard him open a drawer and fiddle around in it, but then he reached back for me and off came my pants, my shoes and my socks and he was pushing my knees up toward my body. He had one foot in his hand and was giving it massage and his mouth was giving suck to the toes of the other foot. There wasn't much I could say. This would have been allowed earlier in the deal. He tongued his way up my legs, first doing the calves alternately and then the thighs, keeping a grip on my feet with his hands. His tongue went briefly between my butt cheeks and across my asshole, which made me lurch and try, unsuccessfully to free my feet, but he moved right on to my balls, which he tongued, sucked, and munched until my groaning and moaning was beginning to alarm me. He released my feet and his hands went to behind my knees in a strong grip, where he held my legs, still folded into my body, but pushed a little outward. Then his mouth moved up to my dick, taking it initial in only to the rim of the glans and playing with that with his teeth and tongue, and then he started swallowing my cock slowly. I went up on my elbows and watched my dong disappear down his throat. In, in, in. The double reference, both seeing it and feeling it, was deeply pleasurable. When he had it in all the way to the root, he held it there for a moment and then he started deep-throating me. Swallow to the root and withdraw to the glans, tongue the piss hole and then slide back down all the way to the root. He kept this up until I was going wild, clutching at his head, burying my fingers in his hair. He lifted his head once to ask.

"Any of your ladies do this for you, Ben?"

"No, no, no," I acknowledged in reply. "But, God, Clint, I think I'm going to cum."

"Isn't that the idea?" Clint said, and then he was back at my dick with a fury. And I did, indeed, cum, with a great spurt of relief, down Clint's throat. I flopped back on the island top, exhausted from the tension and the great relief. I threw my arm across my face and gloried in having had so much pleasure in earning $750 in a single evening. I need never tell anyone about this, but I wouldn't forget about it either.

But I was reveling in a false ending. Clint wasn't finished yet. His mouth had gone straight down to my butt. He was still holding me under my knees and he pushed my legs farther out and was kissing and licking my asshole. I came back to the real world in a hurry then.

"Clint, no. This was great, but we're at $750 and that should do me. I never intended to go this far even."

"Do you?" Clint raised his head until our eyes met. "Precisely. I want to do you, Ben. You're beautiful. You can't just break it off here."

"No, man. This is enough. I . . ."

"$250 for a fuck."

That almost took my breath away. "Another $250? Uh, sorry, Guy, but . . ."

"What's the problem, Ben? You've already been with a man now. It's nothing new. Thousands of guys do it. And thousands of guys continue doing women too. There's some pain, of course, especially the first couple of times. But the pleasure is beyond anything you can get from a woman. The worst that can happen to you is that you'll never again enjoy a woman as you do a man. Listen, $150 for a prostate massage and another $200 for a fuck. That's $350 more."

"No, sorry . . . what's a prostate massage?" This was probably a question I shouldn't have asked.

"There's nothing queer about that," Clint responded with a tone of irritation in his voice. "Doctors do it for guys all the time, and the guys pay, and it's all okay with everyone. They give prostate examines all the time by sticking their fingers up your ass. With a prostate massage they just leave it there for a while and get your nuts off. Don't you know that woman aren't the only ones with G spots. The man's prostate is the same thing; some men build up so much sperm that they have to be milked by a doctor routinely. Massaging the prostate eases the pain from sperm buildup, and the pleasure of getting yourself off this way can be greater than a straight fuck. Come on, it's obviously a new experience for you, one that you could get with a prescription, and it doesn't mean you're queer. Okay, last offer, both for an added $500."

I gulped. "Well, the prostate thing doesn't sound too . . ."

Before I had finished, Clint's mouth was back on my asshole and he was kissing and tonguing the rim. I squirmed a bit when the tongue pushed slightly into the asshole.

"Gotta loosen you up down here, Ben, so that it's all pleasure and no pain when I insert to reach the prostate. I'll have to use some lubricant. It will help friction and will help relax you. You're too tense, you need to relax."

"Okay," I said, "I'll try." It must have been lubricant that he'd taken out of the drawer earlier, because I felt a cold glob of jell at my asshole. Clint was spreading it around and rubbing it in with his fingers. Almost immediately I felt myself relaxing down there and loosening up. He tentatively penetrated the hole with one well-lubricated finger, and it didn't feel so bad. He held the finger there near the entrance, waiting from the lubricant to take its full effect.

"Here," he said. "Let's get in a better position. He hoped up on the island top with his left butt cheek and stretched my right leg up and behind him. He was leaning on his left arm above me. His heel of his right hand nuzzled up under my balls as it had done before, when I intended never to go this far, with his middle finger draped between my legs and at the entrance of the asshole.

"Can you get your other leg out to give your ass as full an opening as possible?" he asked. And I lifted my leg and found I could dig into the island counter edge with my heel. It was a good thing I had done flexibility exercises while I was in the gym. Clint stared intently into my eyes and I locked mine on his. He was giving me a reassuring smile. I wasn't all that reassured.

"Hands over head," he said. And I complied, stretching my torso out. His finger inched into my hole. At first I thought it was going to hurt, but it didn't. And when it didn't, my whole body relaxed. Feeling that, Clint's finger went in to the sphincter muscle, where there was an initial tightening up, but then I loosened again and it seemed that the sphincter was actually pulling the finger in until Clint could feel the hardness of my prostate. I could feel that he'd reached the goal as well, as a shiver of sensation went through my body.

"Found it," Clint said, with a grin. "First time. I'm a pro at this. It will take some time now, but you should start feeling something new. You'll feel like you have to piss at first and something will come out, but it will be sperm. You've had time to build some more up, young strapping stud that you are. Just let it flow and enjoy the ride." I could feel the pressure of the pad of his finger on my prostate and then he started the massage parta gentle rubbing, circular and up and down and back and forth, always with a pressure on the prostate. As he said, I began to feel like I needed to piss and I could feel precum dribbling out of my hole. But along with that came increasing waves of pleasure. Not quite the same sensation of pumping a woman with my cock, but somewhat the sameand perhaps even more pleasurable. And then I came again; this time quietly and in a soft flowing of cum rather than the usual fountain spurting. I felt weak and satisfied and fulfilled.

Clint removed his finger, took my leg out from behind his shoulder, and leaned over and sucked my cock dry. I let my other leg fall down over the side of the counter. Clint then stretched out beside me. His left hand went up to the arms I was holding above my head and he entwined both of my wrists in his. His other hand wandered around my torso, stroking and rubbing, while his face was buried in my arm pit. I began to doze. It had been a profitable night. I'd made what, nearly a thousand dollars? I couldn't quite remember what the total was, because it was a little confusing now what the deal was. I was lost so deeply in thought that I didn't pick up on Clint's next move quickly enough to do anything about it. The lubricant wasn't the only thing he'd taken out of the drawer. He suddenly had some sort of leather strapping in his right hand and he had pushed himself up and expertly lassoed my wrists that he'd been holding in his other hand and then tied the other end to some handles on the other side of the island. I was trapped then.

"Clint, what are you doing, man?"

"$500. Just keep thinking of that $500, Ben. You're driving me crazy. I've got to fuck you, man. I've got to have my cock in you. I've dreamed of this for so long. I'll keep to the agreement, but I'm doin' you. No more coy talk. If you scream, I'll gag you."

"Clint, no, no. I don't want the $500. Just what you already owe me. Let me loose." I would have tried kicking him, but he'd already strapped off my legs to the door handles on the near side of island. He'd used long leads, though, so that my legs had full maneuverability. He just wanted me to know I wasn't going anywhere soon with them.

"I don't want to hurt you, Ben. I want us to do this all again someday. I just have got to have you. I can be as gentle as possible. Just quiet down. He was stroking and rubbing me from belly down to dick and inside my thighs. I was beginning to calm down, when I saw the dildo in his hand. It wasn't as long and as thick as his own dong, but it looked intimidating enough. I looked on in horror as he lathered it up with the lubricant. Clint looked at my eyes and saw the fear.

"You mean you're lady hasn't even done this for you? Ben, Ben, Ben, you're going to want to switch over to the pleasure side now for sure. And don't worry," he added. "I'm not doing anything terrible with this. This is just to prepare you for the real thing. You definitely would feel the pain if I just went up your ass now. This will loosen and open you up." With I felt the head of the fake cock at my hole. It went in an inch or two and Clint stopped to let me accommodate it. He rotated it around a bit to help open me up. My hole complied, and once again my sphincter muscle picked it up as it pushed farther in and pulled it on end.

"Good. At least three inches. You should feel it against the prostate again. Stud like you should be producing milk again already." And he was right on both counts. I could feel it rubbing on the prostate, felt like pissing again, and felt the sperm start to rise. Clint's free hand went to my cock and he rubbed the cum around my glans and slowly stroked my piece. I swallowed hard as I felt the dildo slide in farther than Clint has penetrated with his finger.

"Four. No, now five inches. Very good, buddy." I was panting and felt like I had to take a shit.

"Six inches." My intestines were trying to reject the foreign object. Short pants. Clint stroked my chest and belly, calming me down. The lubricant was taking greater effect. The spasms in my colon died down.

"Seven inches." That's as big as this is. I'm afraid I'm a little bigger, but this is the best I can do for you. Needs to be wider too, though." And I felt him start to rotate the dildo around in my hole. It had a curve to it just as Clint's did, and I could feel the head massaging my colon walls as it rotated. The pain, pressure, and feeling of being stuffed began to subside, and Clint could feel me relax. He slow pulled it out in a screwing motion.

"Brings a whole new meaning to screwing," doesn't it, he said. Then the dildo was out, and Clint's hand was off my lower belly. He stood back from me, and then I saw him open a packet and rolling a condom onto his stiff prick. There was no doubt where this was leading. Then Clint stepped back up to and his hands were on both of my hips, pulling my butt down and over the edge of the island. He had kicked over a small stool and there he was hovering over me.

"No, Clint, no," I said weakly, all my defenses gone. But he wasn't listening to me. He took my right leg in his left hand on the calf and lifted and spread it. With his right hand, he positioned his dick head at my asshole. I felt him push in to the rim of the glans with a grunt. The dildo was a piece of cake compared to this. I was panting again and was bucking my pelvis trying to force him out. But that had the opposite effect. He just leaned into me and my bucking drew the huge tool inward, in to the sphincter muscle, which grabbed it and through his dick head right up against the prostrate. Sensing he was here, Clint rubbed his dick in and out ever so slightly, giving friction to my now-well-exercised prostate muscle.

"Found it again, didn't I?" he said with a big smile. I just groaned and turned my head. "God, I'm good," he said, "And you, Ben. You are one fine piece of ass." His dick well in now, he grabbed my other leg at the calf with his right hand and split me up and out as far as I would go. Then he walked another two inches into me. I shuddered, trying to make some sort of escape move, but not having any leverage.

"Please, please, Clint. You're splitting me apart."

"Gosh, I'm not even in as far as the dildo went, Ben. Although I guess I am a lot thicker." And he was, and I was feeling completely stuffed, and my colon was spasming again and he kept on coming.

"There, that's got to be the seven and a half. Oh, I love what your channel is doing. Oh, Gawd. There, Ben, You've done it. I'm up to the root."

Great I thought. Now it's about over. But, of course, it wasn't. He started to slowly pump me. At first all work with deep purchase, to get my canal to open to him as much as possible, and then longer strokes.

"There, we're all open and comfortable," he said cheerfully. Speak for yourself, I thought, but, indeed, he was all in and I was open to him, not feeling much pain and feeling at least a bit of pleasure.

"Next position," Clint said, as he pulled his dick out of me in one slide, pushed me up on the island counter and came up on the counter on his knees. Next position! What did that mean? He slid in under my thighs with his knees, sliding his dick head right up to my hole. Then, wrapping his hands around my sides, he pulled me toward him, his cock sliding into me as I was pulled toward him. I moaned. This was a tighter position. I threw my legs out as far as I could, opening as far as I could, but when he was in to the root, he gathered in my legs between his elbows. Closing my channel tightly around his pulsating cock. I thought he'd cum then and this would be over.

"Think I'm going to cum, don't you, Ben? Nope. I'm a master at that too." He held very still with his cock, fighting the need to shoot off. His hands went back to my hips and then ran over my belly and abs and down to my cock. I jerked my pelvis, trying to make him cum. He laughed and squeezed both of my butt cheeks with his hands.

"Nice try, Ben. But I do have marvelous control. Nice buns, by the way. Very, very nice." He held us there in that position for a moment, while the tension drained out of us both. When he was ready, he reached over and got a towel off the counter top and worked it under my back.

"Sweaty job isn't this, Ben. Here this will help you slide without catching." Slide?!

He wrapped his strong hands around my hips, and I watched the knotting and rolling of the arteries bulging on the muscles of his arms and pecs as he slid me back and forth, using me to pump myself. Again he stayed mostly buried deep so as not to lose purchase, but that left a good five inches of length he could use to pump me. He started slowly and then built and I was surprised that when he approached the point of no return this time he kept on going, his strokes getting closer together and his torso gyrating wildly. I watched in near fascination and a combination of pain and pleasure, as he threw his head back in triumph and screamed at the ceiling. I felt the cum ballooning up the head of his condom in waves of strong ejaculation. I had to admit that wasn't so bad. He just held himself there still for several minutes, his head thrown back.

"That was amazing," he cried, as he brought his head back up and looked down at me with great affection. "There, that was worth $300."

"$300" I responded indignantly. "You said $500."

"You've still got to work the other $200 off," he said with a grin. "I didn't say anything about how often I could cum for my money." he turned me on my left side then and strung himself along my body, and I thought he'd withdraw his cock which still was far up my ass even when tumescent. But he didn't. He stayed in me, folding my right leg up toward my body to help keep me open to him. He had his left arm under and wrapped around me, with his hand spread out on my belly. He buried his right hand in the hair and across the nipple of my left pecs and buried his face into the back of my neck and dozed. My panting and twitching slowly subsided until I slept.

The next thing I knew, Clint was biting my neck, had his left hand down and encasing the root of my cock, had my right leg lifted up in the air with his other hand, and somehow had his pelvis in motion and his dick moving in my ass canal.

"Arch your belly out and your ass back toward me," he commanded as I struggled for wakefulness and breath. I did as he commanded, and his re-hardened dick slid four inches farther up in me. How long had we slept, I wondered. He certainly reloaded fast for a man his age.

"This is called side splitting, in case you wondered," he said. "Useful information given for free here." Good name for it, I thought as I grunted through the new sensation. A few minutes of stroking like this, and then he surprised me again. Taking his left hand from under me, he reached up and somehow released my aching arms, and almost in the same movement, he released my right leg and pulled me up on his lap so that I was sitting in his lap, his dong about as far up me as it had ever been. We were sitting on the edge of the island, and both of us could reach the stool with our feet. He folded me tightly to him with one arm under my pecs and the other one just above my hips. He kissed and nuzzled the hollow of my neck.

"Got another of those $20 kisses for me?" He asked. I was too weary to demure. I turned my face to his and we went into a deep kiss. His hand went back to my cock and he stroked me, at first slowly and then he started beating me off with his hand. He broke from the kiss long enough to say, "I think we skipped this part earlier," and then he spent another $20 by reengaging in the kiss.

I squirmed on his lap under the insistent jacking of his hand, which made me bounce around on his embedded cock, giving me added pain and pleasure. I broke away from the kiss and begged him to slow down, which he did until we went into the kiss again and then he returned to the furious beating, beating, beating, until I had cum in three spasms of jizzim across his kitchen floor. He released me with his arms and I fell forward.

"Right idea," he said. "But arch your back toward me and rock back and forth. I did so, and felt the curve of his cock move the knob of his cock with that sack of spilled semen to the wall of my colon. I felt pleasure at that, but he felt more pleasure, and I could feel him twitching and moaning as I rocked back and forth. After a few minutes of this, he changed the command. "Lean forward, go up on your feet and grab your ankles."

I did as he commanded and his dick slid out of me. I had no illusion this was a signal of my freedom, however. I was now so open to him that he could do as he would and I'd feel no pain. He sensed this, because now he could move freely in me. He stood up on the stool behind me, grabbed my hips, slid right into, and pushed me back and forth, exiting wholly at each forward swing and then in up to the hilt with each swing back. He was huffing and puffing at this point. He stopped this motion after a while; let loose of one of my hips and, grabbing his cock rotated it around at several levels in me. Like the earlier movement, this brought his piss hole against the side of my channel and caused him to sigh and moan. After some of this, he sat back down on the edge of the island, extracted his dick and told me to turn around facing him.

I did, and he spent another $20 on a deep kiss. His hand went under my buttocks and, instructing me to wrap my legs around him; he leaned back and brought me into his lap, once again skewering my ass with his still very hard cock. Down, down I descended on his pole until I was sitting in his lap. He put his arms around me and drew me in. Then, with my hands on his chest, he moved his hands to my butt cheeks and rotated me around on his dick for a while. He was giving short pants again and had to stop for a few minutes, hold us both very still. The he told me to slowly arch my torso back. I did so, with him holding me at the side with his thumbs under my pecs.

Then he rocked me back and forth until he start to give short pants again. Again he held us in position until his urge to cum had passed. When he was in full control again, he told me to arch all the way back and grab for the floor as he stood. I did so and he stood on the stool, holding my hips firmly in his strong hands. I had my hand palms out flat on the floor, wondering what came next. My legs were still wrapped around his back.

"Legs on my shoulders," he commanded. One after the next, I swung my legs up on his shoulders so that I was supporting most of my weight on my hands, although he still had a grip on my hips. His head was in the air and mine was down toward the floor, my back was to his front, and his dong was plunged straight down in my ass, with the curve bringing his dick head up against my ass canal again. Slowly he brought his hand up until he had his hands under my knees. And then he split my legs out to the side again. All of my weight was on hands now.

"I know you are in great shape, he said, because I helped you get there. Now, for that last $100, do reverse pushups and, in the process, use my tool to fuck yourself. Do it until I cum and that will be the last of it. I figure, with a bonus that you will have earned $1,500. Now do it."

And I found that I could. I raised and lowered my body along his and stroked his cock with my ass canal until he shot off his wad once again inside me. With a shudder, he sat back down on the edge of the island, but in the process spun me around so that my back was to his front again, and we both just flopped back onto the countertop, me on top of him, my legs encasing his, his hands gripping mine and flinging our arms up and out, and his dong still up my ass, but receding into tumescence.

Then Clint slept. And when I could tell from his breathing that he was in deep sleep, I gingerly extracted myself from him and got off of the island. I was sore and felt like I was floating up to my eyeballs in sperm. But I had to admit that Clint was right about everything. This had been an incredible sexual experience, one that I had never come anywhere close to experiencing with a woman. I was glad I'd had this experience, even without the big bucks that came with it and in spite of Clint's bullying. I stood there and watch that beautiful, wiry body in repose. Clint turned onto his side in his sleep. He had said he wanted me to fuck him to, but he hadn't made that demand. I could show him that our relationship didn't have to be all about money.

I stood for a few minutes, thinking of that. I saw that there were still unopened condom packets on the counter, so I stroked myself down until I was hard again, and opened a packet and rolled a condom onto my dong. I reached over for the lubricant and took a dab into my hands. Then I came over to the island and climbed up on the stool. I ran my well-lubricated right hand up through his butt crack to his anus. I gently wrapped my left hand around his cock, which began to rise again under my gentle teasing and stroking. When I reached his asshole, I found that his opening was large. I gently lathered him up and inserted a finger in search of his prostate. He obviously thought he was having good sex in his dreams, because he sighed and moaned, but didn't awaken.

But he did slowly wake up as I found his prostate and he began to grunt with pleasure and produce precum, which I rubbed into his cock. He dreamily looked down at me, and cooperated and made no sign of protest as I turned him on his stomach and pulled him down toward me. His legs came over the edge and then his butt. I positioned myself on the stool, took my cock in my hand, and rubbed and slapped it gently on his butt cheeks and against his crack, making it get harder. I slid it into his butt crack and pushed it up and down, through the crack, which he must have enjoyed, because he sighed and moaned quietly. He reached back and pulled apart his butt cheeks with his hands.

"Do me, do me now," he whispered. "Put it all in me, straight up to the root. Now, now."

I positioned my dickhead at his hole and smoothly slid into him up to the root in one stroke. His channel was wide and he had no trouble taking me in. I plowed him for several minutes, and then reached over and took the dildo he had used on me. Pushing my dick to the bottom of his channel, I started working the dildo in on top of it. Clint took much interest in this, and produced much grunting and groaning as I double fucked him. When I had done and shot off my load, I rolled the condom back off my penis, cleaned myself up with a paper towel and water from the sink, and perched up on the edge of counter. Clint sat up then and, turning toward me, gave me another long, lingering kiss.

"And what had we agreed you'd be paid for fucking me?" he asked with a quizzical smile.

"Nothing that I know of," I replied. "That was a freebee. It was a symbol that it isn't all about money, and it's a gesture of appreciation for this evening and for making it possible for me to have my beach vacation."

"We can't have that," Clint said. "I wouldn't want to get a freebee. For that magnificent double screwing, I'll drive you to the beach myself. But we'll take three days to get there. Three afternoons driving and two evenings and mornings screwing in a nice hotel room. I think I still have some arguments to show you on why men can give you much better sex than women can."




Uncle ralph

I arrived at uncle Ralph's place and noticed that the kitchen door was open, his wife, my aunt Joan was with my mom shopping like always on Saturday's. I entered the house and thought it was very quiet except for the sound of water running. I walked to the bathroom on the first floor and noticed voices, I knew those voices and crept quietly to the door which was ajar. It was uncle Ralph and my dad. There they were showering together, I could see there bodies through the glass door of the large shower stall, both where obviously enjoying each other.

My uncle ralph was going down on my dad, giving him a blow job. I did not know much about all this stuff at the time and was both scared and fascinated by it all. I mean I was only 16 and was not suppose to be there in the first place. I was spying on them. The grunting noises made me crazy with desire, I knew I wanted it too, but was unable to see how I would get it. I was also scared of being discovered spying on them. Would they not be mad at me if they found me there? But my eyes were glued to the sex between the two men who were so close to me.

I could see Uncle Ralph slurping my dad's cock and hear my dad encourage him to go down on him. I was excited by it all and wanted it too. I wanted my Uncle ralph to do the same to me. I really was hard, my cock wanted attention and my head was spinning, I also was feeling really hot by watching all this sex between the two men. I heard my dad say take it, take it all and then scream has he came and came in Uncle Ralph's mouth. I thought I would pass out, I just had to get out of there.

I went to Uncle Ralph's bedroom to lie down on the bed for a minute to recover and while I was on the bed, lying there look up into the ceiling mirrors, yes guys, Ralph and aunt Joan have mirrors on the full ceiling, I noticed something under the bed just at the edge, it was a copy of Handjobs. Again another discovery which I could not imagine nor understand at the time. However I made my mind up that whatever happened I would get Uncle Ralph to suck my cock the same way he was sucking dad, it was just too great to miss. But I had to plan this carefully. So I decided that a weekend at Uncle Ralph and Aunt Joan was required to get to the bottom of this thing. I would have to convince my parents to let me stay over, maybe on one of those times when they wanted to get away for some days in the country.

However while I was planning all this Uncle Ralph and my dad were still in the bathroom. I was wondering what they were doing. So I went back to have a look and was I ever in for another discovery. There was my uncle shaving my Dad's balls and with his clippers cutting his pubic hair short. I remember my Dad saying that at the Y he would go swimming in the nude and so would the other guys. This was a very erotic scene and seeing my Dad's big balls being handled and shaved, with his big cock standing erect and proud made me feel very happy. I wanted the same thing, I wanted someone to worship my cock and balls in the same way. I understood then what it meant to be a man and how proud you should be of your cock. To this day when I see a shaving scene I get hard and often come without touching myself, just looking at the action.

Thinking about all this makes me hard now and I have got to relieve the tension. I wonder if uncle Ralph can help me, he is in the other room, might as well ask him to suck me off. He has one great mouth and tongue. I hope you guys won't mind too much if I go and have him lick me. Maurice are you writing to the guys at Handjobs again. Yes I am and please uncle Ralph help me with my hard cock. Can you please suck me off. Well since you are being such a polite boy, I don't mind sucking that beautiful cock of yours. Oh, yeah thank you Uncle Ralph, yes please, suck me. Your tongue is really hot, it feels fantastic. Spread your legs a little let me get to your beautiful ass, yeah lick my balls too. See how nice and smooth I keep my balls for you, uncle Ralph. You are a good boy, do you do this yourself or do you get help from your cousin Jerry?

Well Jerry does like to shave me and he is such a pro. I know he also shaves you and Aunt Joan. Yeah he does keep her bush nice and trim. I am getting really hot uncle Ralph, I am leaking precum, you are making me hot. Oh yeah, please make it wet. Here taste you precum, lick it off my finger, that's right take a good lick of my finger so I can shove it into your hot little hole. What a good boy you are Maurice. Uncle Ralph I am going to come, please not so fast. Ahh! oh! yeah, ahh, shit, ok Maurice let it spurt, ahh................




Joggered

"Open to me. Open to daddy."

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

It had been that big, beautiful cock that had melted my defenses and inhibitions and that opened me to him. I had been jogging the wooded river trail three days a week for several months, drawn there by its beauty and isolation and ever seeking to lose that last pound and bring pure definition to that last muscle. I was usually all alone out on the trail in the early afternoon. But in the previous week my schedule had coincided with that of another jogger, someone who also attended the same gym I did. We had never spoken to each other, but he had always had a ready smile for me, and I always took pleasure in seeing him work out. His body was the one that I sought. He was nearly two decades older than me, probably pushing 40, and was graying at the temples already. But he was handsome and had a body to die for.

I have no idea how we wound up on the same jogging trail, but suddenly one day, there he was. We'd pass each other going and coming from the two ends of the trail, and he'd give me that wondrous smile, which I would return with a smile of my own and a wave of my hand.

Then on the fourth day that our runs overlapped, he made his move. At the half-way mark in the three-mile jogging course, a sturdy wooden picnic bench was positioned right beside the trail where joggers could take a rest. As I ran the trail the first time, he was sprawled out on the picnic table, cooling down from his run. He'd taken off his T, and his perfectly cut torso muscles glistened in the sun. We exchanged our customary smiles. When I jogged back on the return stretch, he was still sprawled on the top of the table, his feet up on the bench toward the trail, but now he was fully naked. I stopped dead in my tracks, as surely he intended me to, and his eyes willed mine to go to his pelvis, which I couldn't have avoided doing even if I'd really wanted to. There, dangling between his legs, was a magnificent long, thick cock, half hard and uncut. I gasped, and he smiled and pointed his hands at his manhood, making me an offer. But I was too shocked to respond. I just smiled weakly at him, resumed my jog, and quickly got in my car and drove off when I'd reached the parking lot.

If I wasn't tempted, I should have changed my jogging trail or at least have changed my running schedule. But I didn't. The next day of my normal routine, I was back on the jogging trail, doing my regular run. It was my routine to stop at the picnic table in the middle of my return run and to use the table to do some stretches.

I was doing a leg stretch with my right heel on the rim of the picnic table, when the jogger came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. One of his hands went up under my T-shirt and latched onto one of my nipples, while the other covered my basket, tracing my engorging cock through the fabric of my running shorts. His pelvis was pushed into my butt and I could feel the power and urgency of his manhood. His lips went to the side of my neck.

I should have said something, made some countermove, pushed him away and run off. But I did none of these things. I just threw my head back and enjoyed what this rock-solid, experienced older man was doing to my body, arousing my senses, making me very, very horny in a very, very short time. These were all new sensations to me; I'd never done this before.

I turned my face toward his, and we went into a long, wet kiss. I could feel the tension draining out of my body, and so could he. He could sense me becoming compliant to his wishes and needs. The hand at my basket withdrew, and he must have pulled his shorts down in front, because I suddenly could feel his ram rod coming up between my thighs, and began dry humping me between my butt cheeks. The hand came back, but this time, it went beneath my waistband and encircled my cock, bringing me to life there.

We disengaged from the kiss, and I found my voice at last. "No, we shouldn't. Someone could come along and find us," I croaked.

The jogger's response was to virtually frog march me back behind the table, through a wooded area, and to a small glen carpeted with moss. He gently pushed me down on my knees in front of him, stepped out of his shorts, and rubbed his cock against my closed lips. His foreskin was pulled slightly back from his huge cock helmet, and I could see a small dab of precum on his piss slit.

I opened my lips slightly to him, and he opened them wider by pushing the helmet of his cock into my mouth. I used the inside edge of my lips to push his foreskin back behind the rim of his helmet, and he grunted for me in pleasure, putting his hands on my head and helping me to work his dick into my mouth. I let my cheeks glide down the sides of his cock, taking him a bit farther into me with each slow stroke. I encased his well-rounded butt cheeks in my hands, and we became an efficient face-fucking machine.

The stroking picked up in rhythm, and I was having increasing difficulty accommodating his length at the back of my throat. Before he became fully engorged, however, I had deep throated him to the point where my lips were being tickled by his pubic hair, and I just held there for a long moment, while the jogger trembled and groaned his approval. When he was fully engorged, however, there no longer was any hope of deep-throating him, and I took him at the root in one hand and ran my tongue up and down the sides of his cock, tracing bulging veins, while the other hand rolled and pulled at his low-hanging ball sack. I alternated the side tonguing with brief passes of my tongue over his piss hole to collect the precum bubbling up there and an occasional intake of the upper half of his cock into my mouth and vigorous stroking that slid his loose cock skin up and down.

When the jogger couldn't take this anymore, he pulled my T-shirt off and gently pushed me onto my back in front of him onto the moss. He pulled my shorts off and threw them to the side and stood there, hovering over me, his smiling face peering at me above the gigantic battering ram of his. I smiled back weakly, both fearing and anxious for what was likely to come.

"Open to me. Open to daddy."

And I spread my legs for him. I was his. He came down on his knees between my legs and started running his hands over my torso, belly, and thighs. He was murmuring to me. "Sweet boy; Such a sweet boy. Daddy's going to be good to you."

One of his hands went to my cock and encircled it and began to gently stroke it. My cock answered by quickly engorging.

"Ahh, sweet cock; big, luscious cock," the jogger whispered, and I saw his head dip down and felt his lips part over my cock and travel on down to my root. I felt warm and wet down there, and I lurched and gasped as his soft mouth ran up and down my cock. After a while my cock came out of his mouth and he encircled my dick with his hand and gently squeezed and stroked as his tongue went to my balls. I felt my balls, in turn, drawn into his mouth with a sucking sound and sensation, and I moaned and sighed my pleasure.

I turned my head and took in all of the life of nature around me, as I enjoyed being sucked off and used my hands to travel up and down my own torso and to pinch and pull at my nipples. My hands were pushed aside by the jogger's tongue, though, as he moved his head up to my chest and tongued my torso and nipples, slowly working his way down to my belly and navel and then back to my cock very briefly.

This time when his mouth left my cock, though, he said in a very hoarse voice, "Open your legs wider. Open to me."

I lifted my legs and opened them as wide as I could, holding them open with hands under thighs. His lips and tongue went to my asshole now, and he was wetting me down there and opening me up. At length he tongue was joined and then replaced first with one finger and then with more. They were going deeper and deeper, and pushing my canal walls apart more and more. The pad of a finger found my prostate, and I trembled and grunted, as I felt the precum bubble up and over in my cock. I had never felt such sexual pleasure before.

"It's time. It's time for daddy to do his little boy."

"No," I whimpered, remembering the size of that cock of his.

"You want me to stop right now?" the jogger asked in a low voice. "You want me to just get up and walk away right now?"

"Yes . . . No. Oh, no. Do it, but slowly, please. I don't know if I can . . ."

"Well, I know I can," the jogger answered. And then that bulbous helmet of his cock was at my asshole, rotating around and sinking deeper with each revolution. I cried out in pain, and he stopped momentarily, waiting for me to open to him. And as I did, he pushed in deeper and deeper. Until eventually he was all the way in, and I was gasping for breath, sausage stuffed to the very edge of my endurance.

"There, you see that you can, don't you? Oh, that's nice," he whispered to me, "Such a nice, tight ass. I could hold it in this sweet ass forever." Although there still was pain, it now was being mostly masked with the pleasure of being filled with that big, beautiful cock.

The jogger started to pump me deep in short, slow strokes. He took my legs in his own hands, as I was trembling too much to keep them spread myself, and stroked away inside me. I felt his loose foreskin sliding up and down my ass canal, giving me added pleasure a loose membrane working back and forth over a thick, long, solid rod. His knees must have gotten tired, because, after a short time he pulled out of me and told me to come up on my hands and feet and turn my back to him, and he entered me from behind, and unrolled that long, thick hose of his to the very center of me. Now he was taking longer and quicker strokes, and I was widening to accommodate him to the point where all I felt was the pleasure of being fucked deep and fully. He reached a depth I'd never yielded before, and he tarried there, his dick motionless in stroking but throbbing in a rhythm that matched the throbbing of my heart. His hands went to my pecs, and he pulled my torso up to his chest. I turned my face to his, and we engaged in another long, wet, tongue-probing kiss as he held his dick still, deep, throbbing inside me. One of his hands went to my cock, and he stroked me off. My ejaculate arched out over the green moss in front of us.

He pulled me down to the ground after that, not losing purchase of his cock up my ass, and gently side-split me, one hand holding one of my legs up in the air to allow a close fit of his groin against my butt and the other hand wandering all over my body. He came deep inside me with three separate floods of warm, lubricating semen, and then we just lay there, drowsily listening to the wind in the trees and the birds on the fly.

I slept, and when I awoke he was gone. I lay there for several minutes, savoring the totally fulfilling fuck, calculating when my next scheduled jog was, and wondering if the jogger, that amazingly experienced daddy, would return then as well.


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