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My jock pa

Jockstraps have been special to me since I was a kid. My dad would strip down to his jock when he got home. It was all he wore round the house. After my folks split, I went with my old man. He said he was gonna raise me like boy should be. Rule one was to work out with him every day in the basement. Since I was just a kid, I had to wear gym shorts, but pa wore nothin but his jock. It had a cotton n rubber pouch that molded itself to his manhood, and bounced when he moved around. He said when I started to become a man, I could wear one too. I hated wearin shorts with no strap. Specially when doin stuff like squats my balls, and even the knob of my dick, would sometimes come hangin out. I would turn red, but my pa just laughed and would even swat my butt, which humiliated me even more. I loved my pa, and dreamed of the day when I could jock up with him.

My dad believed that washing ruined a jockstrap, so after our workout he would just hang his sweaty jock on the bedroom doorknob to dry, and pull on another one of the jocks he had hangin there. He would spawl out on the bed to watch the football game or wrestlin, n I would fetch him his beer. I would kick back on the bed next to him. Sometimes he would let me have a swig of his beer. Because I was still a little kid, my pa said I had nothin to hide, so when not workin out, my pa felt it was better for me to go bareass. I didn't have much between my legs, but often after a few sips of beer, my little ol' pecker would start standin up, stiff n hard. My dad said it was ok to sport a boner. It just meant that someday I would be a big burly fucker like him. That made feel a sense of pride, cuz I was so proud of how big and developed his chest n arms n legs n all the rest of him was. I asked him if I would have a hairy chest n belly like him. He would always say, "You can fuckin' bet yer balls on it, lil' buddy." He would then put his big arm round my shoulders, give me a bear hug, and laugh, "Someday yer gonna be as big a mothafucker as yer ol' man."

As I got bigger my dad and I became completely open with each other. My dad taught me all a young man can know about life, about buildin myself up, how to wear my clothes like a man, and how to handle myself in any sexual situation. We had no secrets. I gotta admit some of the sex shit I confessed to my pa embarassed the crap outta me, but I told him everything. In return, my pa gave me an education few boys ever get. Even though we always shared the same bed, pa would bring home his cunts n' fuck em on the bed right next to me. Times when he caught me watchin him plowin' away, he'd grin n' wink at me. My chest swelled with pride n' love for that big bad mothafucker. Cause I was still a boy, he didn't let me get in on it, but sometimes he let me lube up his slut's hole and his fuck pole, an' then let me guide his pecker right in. My favorite times were when he let me get between their spread legs, so I could see his big hairy butt pumpin' his fuck pole home. He taught me that when I heard him gruntin n' growlin' real loud, to shove a couple of my fingers up his butthole to help him blast off an extra big loada fuck juice.

The only secret I ever kept from pa was when I tried on one of his old jockstraps before he got home. Naturally I was too small to fill his pouch and the leg straps just hung on me. But I stood in front of the mirror and dreamed of the day that I would reach my manhood and jock up with my dad for real. Then I did something that made me feel really dirty and ashamed. I rubbed pa' filthy ol' jockstrap in my face. I breathed as deep as I could trying to smell as much of my dad's crotch funk as I could. I shoved pa's pouch in my mouth tryin' to taste it. I felt like a scum suckin' pig. I don't know why I did it. Maybe I thought it would make me feel like a man. It made me feel like a scumbag. I wanted to confess to my dad what I did, and take my spankin' like I deserved, but I kept my humiliation to myself.

I know my boyhood years living at close quarters with jockstrap wearin' dad, a man's man who taught me how to be as rough and rowdy a fucker as he is, made me the jockstrap lovin', jockstrap wearin' man I am today. And the respect for 24-7 strap wearin' my pa gave me, I learned when I began growin' hair round my dick, started for my dad when he was a boy, from my grandpa. Three generations of proud jock strapped men. But how when my dad found me sproutin' dick hair, and called in my grandpa to live with us, and help with my raisin' is another story.

Bryan teaches his brothers

We grew up in the large west Texas town of Amarillo. A family of boys --three brothers to be exact. Even though Amarillo is one of the larger cities in west Texas, there was still never enough to do--or enough women for the men of our family. We were known around town for having been around the block a few times with many of the hottest women in town. Age and ethnicity didn't matter a bit to us. We just liked the ladies who enjoyed being fucked good by some boys who knew how. But if you're reading this, you probably don't care that much about that part of our sexual history. As I said, there weren't enough hot women to satisfy our collected horniness. That's why we had such a close and open sexual relationship. As the middle son, I learned about the capabilities for pleasure that my body offered from my older brother, Bryan. He was never bashful around me and actually loved flaunting the fact that he was getting hair in really cool places and was developing a huge dick. He would often parade around the upstairs of our house when my parents weren't aware. I soon started looking forward to seeing his developing body and knowing that I was only a little less than two years behind him in my own maturation.

Finally the day came when I discovered the first short, curly hair in my crotch. I knew my dick would soon be growing and I'd be able to show off my equipment to my younger brother, Neil, and watch him envy what I had. Before very long, I had developed a full brown bush around my penis and had grown to a respectable 7 inches when hard. Bryan had told me that he could make himself cum and how great it felt and I couldn't wait to find out what that would be like. One afternoon during summer vacation, all three of us boys had been swimming in a local pond to help cool off from the intense west Texas heat. We were only wearing our boxers and were the only ones around this remote area. We were wrestling as we often did and I felt Bryan's crotch rub up against me and knew I definitely felt some hardness there. Before I knew it, he had jokingly pulled my boxers down and somehow managed to pull them off all the way and toss them to the shore. I reached over and grabbed Neil's and did the same thing. Neil and I looked at each other and at the same time said "Let's get him!" and attacked our big brother stripping him naked.

Now the three of us were romping around splashing each other and laughing. We somehow drifted back to shore and were only in water up to our knees and soon slowed down our play to stop and check out each other's dick. Bryan's was the largest and hairiest and was semi-hard, swaying down half way to his knees. I was next largest in size and the sight of my brother's semi-hardon had me growing too. Surprisingly, Neil's dick was already the same size as mine and even a little hairier, even though he is almost 2 years younger. We all shared the same fat, mushroom- shaped head and low-hanging nuts.

Bryan was first to move his hand to his dick and comment on how good it felt to be naked in the woods with his brothers with nothing to do but jerk-off. Neil and I looked at each other and grinned and he shrugged and said, "I will if you will - I haven't actually ever been able to cum, yet, although it always feels good to get my dick hard and play with it. Can you guys show me how it's done by professionals?" Bryan and I laughed and I said "Our big brother is the pro, let's watch him do it first and then we'll give it a shot, so to speak." Bryan winked and said he'd be glad to share his technique and expertise with us.

We moved up to the shore and under some willow trees next to the water and stretched out on the blanket we had brought with us. Bryan reached for the suntan oil and, holding it as high over his now very hard dick as he could, dribbled the warm oil over the entire length of his cock. Both Neil and I had our hands on our dicks, lightly stroking as we hardened. Bryan reached down and started rubbing his balls as his dick-head pulsed. Slowly, he brought his fingers up the length of his dick and wrapped his fist around the big mushroom head. He let out a low moan as he slid his fist down over the rim and stroked the entire thing slowly. His toes curled and his balls twitched as he started stroking faster, making small circles over the head with each stroke. Neil and I couldn't stand it any longer as our cocks throbbed. I was the first to grab the oil but decided to help out my little brother by squirting the oil on his hard, hairy dick. He moaned as the hot lube ran down his balls and made his pubic hair glisten in the sunlight. "Wail on that thing, bro", Bryan said and Neil started matching him stroke for stroke, watching his big brother pounding his dick.

I dribbled the hot oil on my dick and closed my eyes to savor the feeling as I wrapped my fist around my head and started sliding my fist up and down on my raging hardon. All three of us were totally into our dicks and sharing the pleasure we were feeling. It was a very liberating experience, knowing that your brothers were feeling exactly the same extreme pleasure you were. We felt no shame or embarrassment as we boldly watched each other and mimicked each other's techniques. Bryan seemed to enjoy working on his balls while he jerked off. I like to spread my legs and bring my feet together while masturbating. Neil seemed to enjoy trying both of these techniques and my leg position allowed him to have easy access to his hairy, low-hanging balls.

We continued this mutual pleasure for quite a while, with occasional moans and comments like "work it man" braking the sound of our slapping fists on hard dick. Bryan started sucking air in his lips which made Neil and I zone in on watching him and his dick getting very close. His toes were pointing straight down and his rock hard stomach was pulsing as the first stream of cum shot out of his dick and hit him in the shoulder. This was followed by at least a dozen more blasts of his jizz.

The sight of this sent me over the edge as I felt my orgasm build in my balls. I can't remember a stronger or more pleasurable orgasm. Everything around me seemed to be involved in the spasms I felt and I covered my stomach and chest in a huge load. Bryan and I gave each other a slippery high five with our cum covered hands. Then we turned our attention on our little brother, experiencing his first orgasm. His head was thrown back and his fist was feverishly pounding over his dick. His legs were spread in my fashion with his feet together about a foot below his balls which he was squeezing with his other hand.

"Let it go, bro," Bryan said.

"Yeah, man, get into that dick. You can do it, dude," I said.

A low moan started in Neil's throat as his first orgasm started. His head started shaking and he opened his eyes and looked disbelievingly at Bryan and me. "Oh, my god, shit, fuck, I'm cumming," he gasped. Strings of thick, white cum started pumping out of his dick and his whole body convulsed with ecstasy. His fist continued to slide over his cum-covered dick as we kept rooting him on. "Yeah, shoot that shit, man. Get into that dick."

Finally, Neil collapsed and could do nothing but breathe as he descended from his orgasm. Bryan and I lifted him up and gave him a slippery hug between us. We all laughed as we realized what had just happened between us. Sharing our little brother's first orgasm had totally bonded us even deeper. We knew this would be the first of many pleasurable afternoons we would share that summer, and always.

Grandpa and the train station


I'm not gonna talk into this thing, Grampa. Yeah, I see the red light. But you said bad things about daddy.

Yes, you did. You said daddy was a missy skinflick. `n I don't know what that means but it doesn't sound nice and daddy wasn't a messy, missy nothing.

There. Now Grampa's laughin' at me. You can hear him, too. Well, if you're listenin' to this record thing Grampa says we're making that's gonna make us a lot of money.

"Okay, men. This is Joe talking now. Big Joe. My son, who went away about a year ago, is Little Joe. The little one who doesn't want to talk right now is Joey. He's five. My grandson. I guess I better give you some background.

"I was sixteen and dumb when I went on a date with Linda. I already knew I preferred boys and men. Hell, I'd been on my knees often enough sucking dick or on all fours with my asshole oozing and ready, to know what I wanted. But my mother said I had to go since my dad worked in the mill for her granddad and it wouldn't do to upset her. I didn't tell her Linda was just slumming `cause she was pissed at her fancy college boyfriend. She woulda been pissed even more if she knew I'd fucked him. Twice. Anyway, things were okay until Linda and her friends hauled out the booze they got from some speakeasy, we got drunk, and somehow I lost my girl virginity to Linda. Knocked her up, too. Little Joe was born the day of the Crash. Same day her old man jumped out of a window. Big window to go with his big office in the big building with the big money that made him so much better than the teenager slob who got his daughter pregnant. He didn't look so big I guess after he hit the sidewalk.

"The day after her father's funeral, she always called the snob bastard "father," like daddy or pop was too common or something, she comes to my house with Little Joe, tells me she doesn't want him or me and walks away. Never saw the bitch again. Never wanted to. Things were kinda rough for a while. Mom died. The mill closed. But we got by. Little Joe had to sleep with me, though, when we lost the house. That's when I learned I didn't like just older men. I liked little boys. Very little boys. Like my own. So by the time he was three, Joey's daddy was sucking my dick just like the pro his old man is. Fucked him on his fourth birthday.

"Took him to the YMCA when he was five to teach him how to swim. That's when I found out there were others out there just like me. Of course most of them were older, fuck, lots older. Christ, half the naked men at the Y wanted to sex Little Joe. I found out the hard way. Well, the hardon way. I told Little Joe to wait for me and just sit real quiet on the bench while I went to take a shit. Trouble is, when I got through with the dump and washed my hands this kid comes into the toilet. Not a young kid like Little Joe. Maybe eleven, twelve, but small, hairless. He comes up to us, there was this white-haired guy at the sinks next to me, and then just stands there looking at our dicks. I got hard, just like I did when Little Joe looked at my dick and the white-haired guy laughed. `Go for it,' he said. `The kid's a good fuck. Had him last week.' And then he left.

"Shit, I was twenty-one, not ninety one. I'm alone in a toilet with a young kid with a small hardon, maybe two, three inches, and the kid turns around and bends over, and his little hole is kinda puffy, and there's white stuff, fuck, there's cum, oozing out. I knew this had to be quick, but apparently kid-fucking was okay at the Y, but still, Little Joe was out in the changing room alone. On the other cock, my dick was hard and leaking.

"I grabbed the kid, pulled him into the nearest stall, got him up on the toilet seat, and told him to bend over, brace himself against the wall and kind of bend his legs. He was just the right height, and it sure the fuck wasn't his first time doing this. I dropped spit on my dick, nudged his little hole with the knob end and then shoved home. I guess he squealed, but I'd already put my hand over his mouth so just this `mmph, mmph, mmph' came out. A few hard and deep strokes and he was moaning and it wasn't pain. A couple more fast ones and when I let his mouth loose he was begging me to fuck him hard. So I did. Fuckin' turned on by fucking in the Y in a toilet stall, hoping that the kid's dad wouldn't just show up, hoping that if he did he'd been the one to turn the kid into a fuck toy. I'm not a fast cummer with my kid, but I sure the fuck was that day. But not so fast the kid didn't whip himself into a frenzy just from my meat goin' in and out of his hole. I came quick, came hard, and then yanked my meat out, lifted the kid up, turned him around, plunked him down on the toilet seat so he could empty if his guts if he wanted to, and then fed him my cock. He was kinda dazed but he did a good job of cleaning.

"I sorta strolled out of the toilet, trying to look like I wasn't a young dad with a still half-plumped-up prick who'd just fucked the cunt of some other daddy's precious boy. I don't think I fooled anybody. At least, not the men who liked other men or boys. You know, half the fucking men at the Y. I saw the white-haired guy in the hall. He just winked at me, and groped his meat. Fuck me if I didn't wink back.

"Then I got to the changing room, and instead of Little Joe sitting by himself, quietly waiting on the bench where I'd left him, there was nobody there. First I panicked and then I saw red. He couldn't have gone off by himself, he was naked, five, and he always obeyed me. So someone took him. And now that I'd got a quick education about what the Y was really all about I knew what had happened. Some motherfucker was using my boy's holes. I was gonna kill the bastard. That's when this guy walked around the corner from behind the row of lockers. He was looking down, wiping his half-soft dick off so he didn't look up at me when he glanced toward me. He musta just seen my dick, which was all the way hard for some reason, and said, `Nice dick, man. You lookin' for the kid?'

"I guess he took my grunt for a "yes," `cause he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. `Kid's in the showers. Great cocksucker, but I don't know if he can deep throat that dick the way he's done all the others. That's one fuckin' large piece of meat.'

"All the others? I'd only been gone long enough to shit and fuck one boy and my son was sucking all the fucking others? I grunted at the man who'd just molested my little boy and headed toward the showers, not quite understanding why I was so goddamned hard. I didn't just go charging in, though. I kinda peeked around the corner. Couldn't see Little Joe, though, not with all the men standing in a group, most with their backs to me, and the showers goin' so the room was kinda steamy. And there was a guy walkin' away from the group toward the entrance, so I ducked away, hoping he hadn't seen me.

"He had. I was standin' just out of sight, but he stopped by me, looked at my hard meat and looked up at me. Then he sorta whispered, `Man, you gotta try that kid in there. Shit can he suck dicks.' He shook his head and looked away like he was embarrassed. I guess he musta been.

"The guy's voice got kinda thoughtful and far away. `I've been coming here for years. Yeah, I knew about all the queer stuff goin' on. How the fuck you gonna avoid it unless you're blind? Didn't like the perverts hanging around and doing stuff in showers and the rooms. Watched my boys like a hawk when I brought them; made sure they were never alone with any of the faggots. And then I walk in the changing room and there's this little boy, sitting on a bench, bobbing his head up and down underneath this old man's belly. The kid was suckin' cock! Like one of those French postcards. And a couple more men standing around watching, jacking, like they're waiting a turn.

"`The guy getting' the blowjob says maybe we ought to take things in the shower, the others just nod, the kid jumps down and holds the old man's hand and they all head off to the showers. I'm so fuckin' hard I can't stand it and I just follow along. I mean, I never thought of kids doin' men. Not really. Yeah, I'd seen some guys trading blowjobs here, and once I walked by a room and I saw this guy getting his ass plowed by one guy while he was blowin' another one. But still, a kid. And one this small?'

"And all the time this guy is talking about what I guess he just did to my Little Joe, he's playing with my dick! Like he don't even know what he's doin'! `They make a circle around the kid and one of the men sees me and my hardon on and moves so I can join in. The kid is just moving around the circle, sucking on each guy in turn. When I squeeze in he's back to the old guy and he's holding the kid's head and fucking his mouth and the kid's loving it and then the guy is cumming. When he's done he turns the kid around and tells him to open his mouth so we can see what a good little cum slut the boy is.

"`Don't know why the kid picked me for next. He just walked over with his mouth full of the old man's cum, holding it all in and then he leaned over and slicked my dick up with the cum. Then he pulled off and I looked down at my slimy dick and his cummy lips and he asked if I wanted to fuck his face. Shit, I don't think the cops coulda stopped me. My first blowjob. >From a little boy who said he was five. I just held his head in place like the old guy did and fucked his mouth. His mouth and throat are tighter than my wife's pussy ever was, even on our wedding night. Fucked him hard and fast and he took it all and then drank down every fuckin' bit of my cum.'

"The guy shook his head again and let go of my dick. He was still lookin' kinda dazed. `What the fuck do I do now? How do I go home to my wife, and my boys, when I just mouth fucked a kid who's practically a baby?'

"I told him I had an idea. Asked him how old his boys were. Nine and thirteen. Asked him if he was afraid now that he'd had one boy he'd want to do the same stuff with his own. He didn't answer but it was still a "yes" in his eyes. So I told him I thought it was a real good idea. Shocked the shit outa him. Told him that after all, since he'd just mouth-fucked my little boy, it was only fair if he brought the nine-year-old to the Y so I could fuck his kid's mouth hole, and with the size of my dick, maybe he'd better learn on some daddy dick first.

"Fucker looked like he wanted to deck me but then he got this funny gleam in his eye and just walked away. Didn't see him the next time I went there, but a couple of months later I did. With his boys. Dead ringers for their dad. The thirteen year old was in a room pulling a train. The younger one was kneeling on a towel in the hallway outside the room sucking off whoever stopped by. Guess dad was grateful to me or something. He let me fuck `em both. It got kinda crowded in the hall with me fucking the boy right there, and all these men jackin' off over us. The older one, well, dad said he lost count after thirteen. Still, it's fuckin' hot to slide your dick into a cum slut's hole that's full of other men's still hot cum. At first he just laid there, but after a few really hard shoves up his ass he started coming to and whimpering and then moaning and by the time I was at full speed with all that cum spurting out of his teen cunt around my dick and onto my pubes he was practically screaming his `fuck me mister, fuck me mister!' right until we both came.

"Oops. Sorry. Lost track there. Anyway, that first day at the Y I used a half-angry, half-scared dad voice right outside the shower to ask if anyone had seen my little boy. Almost cracked me up to see the way they scattered when I walked into the shower room. All except the guy who was getting blown by Little Joe. And Little Joe just kept on sucking, although he did pull his mouth off the long thin dick long enough to grin at me and say, `Hi, daddy.'

"The guy asked me if I was really the kid's dad, especially since my big stiff dick was kinda hard to miss, and when I said I was he winked at me and told me I'd trained my boy well. Then he lunged deep in Little Joe's throat and came. Some of the men were too scared to stay and they'd pretty much hauled ass out of there when I called out. But four men hadn't. So Little Joe got to suck off eight strangers that day. Plus daddy, of course.

"When we were all out of cum, showered, and back in the changing room getting dressed, the man who didn't run away came up to me and quietly asked if I'd ever had my dick up my little boy's cunt. My grin told him the answer. So he told me that he didn't have any kids of his own, but he had an altar boy he could bring in to trade if I'd be interested. He was kind of apologetic that the boy was eight, but I told him that was okay. And it was. We met at the Y the next Sunday, I guess about an hour after mass. It was a real turn on to watch my boy getting fucked by another man for the first time, and a priest, too. Of course, the fact that I was dicking a young boy who obviously had never had a cock my size up his boy pussy before, from the way he was squealing when I first rammed home, was a big help, too.

"Anyway, things were great for me and Little Joe for a long time. But then he, well, he started growing up. Getting hairy like his dad, his balls dropping, his voice changing. So I figured maybe it was time I had a grandson to help raise. Except Little Joe wasn't interested. I mean, he was too big for his age after his first growth spurt, and too strong, for anyone to mess with him, but no one could mistake him for anything but queer as a three dollar bill. But by the time he was eighteen I still hadn't gotten him in bed with a girl.

"Until Mary Lou, Joey's mom. Still don't know why he finally agreed to lose his girl virginity with her, but he did. Like his dad, Little Joe needed to get liquored up before they got started. Fortunately, Mary Lou didn't mind that I was in the room with them, fucking my son hard so he could stay hard enough to fuck her. Not surprising. The friend who found Mary Lou for me also told me that she had a brother in his teens who liked getting fucked by the family German Shepherd, and a father and uncle who fucked any hole that was available any time they got horny.

"It took a couple of tries, but eventually she got pregnant and had Joey here. And that's where the `missy skinflick' thing comes in that Joey was talkin' about.

"See, Little Joe wouldn't let me do anything with Joey. It wasn't because Little Joe got religion, which he did, Catholic of all things, and I sure the fuck know he was surprised that the priest he chose to confess all his lifelong sins to turned out to be the priest who fucked him in the Y. No, it was because Little Joe turned real selfish. You know, like Scrooge in that movie that just came out, with that Sims guy. A miserly skinflint who just wanted Joey all to himself. Which he did for almost four years. Teaching his baby boy how to suck cock, just like I did for him. Finger fucking the toddler's cunt. And eventually fucking little Joey here.

"Only Little Joe got in trouble with the law, and I nearly bankrupted myself tryin' to keep him out of jail, with no fucking luck, and Mary Lou just disappears, so now it's just me and little Joey. With not a lot of money. So I figured a way we could make some. Maybe some big money.

"C'mon, Joey, now be a good boy and come back to the microphone. Yeah, that's right. I'm sorry, Joey, I didn't mean to say anything bad about your daddy. He loves you, but he's gonna be gone for a while so we have to help each other out. Now you can be a real big help to me and your daddy if you just talk in here, and tell the nice man with the machine the stuff we talked about. Go on, boy, tell him about Wednesday afternoon."

I guess since Grampa said he was sorry it's okay.

Wednesday is the day Grampa has his friends come over to visit us. I love daddy but he didn't have any friends I guess, `cause none of `em came to visit. But Grampa has lots `n lots of friends, and they like me, too. We get to play games. I like the game we played last Wednesday best. Five of Grampa's friends came to the apartment. I already knew three of them, but two were new and Grampa said they were all Grampas, too. Let's see, there was Grampa Nick, `n Grampa Sam, `n Grampa Jim, `n Grampa Izzy, that's short for `zeekul or somethin', `n oh yeah, Grampa Joe. I have two Grampa Joes, one real and one pretend.

My Grampa has me stand in the middle of the living room and he puts a blindfold on me. `n then the Grampas walk around and around me like we're playin' musical chairs, `n when Grampa says stop, they do. I can't see `em but I know what they're doing. They're pulling down their pants and their underwear around their ankles and sittin' down. One of `em in Grampa's big chair, and three of `em on the couch. It's kinda crowded with three men on the couch and their legs wide and knees touchin' but Grampa says they don't mind. Then the other two sit on the chairs Grampa brought in from the kitchen.

Then I get to turn `round `n `round `n round `til I get kinda dizzy. Grampa says that's so I don't know where anybody is. Next I start walkin' with my hands out while they whisper "hot" `n "cold" until I find one of the grampas. Their dickies are always hard when I find them. I kinda like suckin' a soft dick and makin' it get all stiff in my mouth, but Grampa says it's all my fault they're hard. On accounta because I'm naked with my own little stiffie, and my grampas like looking at naked little boys with hardons.

I found Grampa Nick first. He's my black grampa. He's got a big dickie, too. Bigger than Grampa's. I always know who he is `cause he's got a special smell around his balls and his hairs. I licked where his pee comes out `n said, "This is Grampa Nick!"

The other grampas `plauded me, `n Grampa Nick put his hands on my head and said, "You know what I want, little Joey?"

I giggled. `course I knew. "You wanna fuck my face?"

"Oh, yeah, baby boy," he said, `n then he pulled my mouth down on his cock. Grampa Nick is a real good face fucker. But see, when the grampas and the daddies and the others come over on Wednesday at lunch time, it's all over so fast. I like it when Grampa fucks my mouth pussy real slow and for a long time before he gives me his grampa juices. Grampa says I'm one of those sluts who likes a, a, leaderly? lizardy? Now you stop laughing, Grampa.

Grampa said to tell you I like a leisurely fuck. In both my holes.

So I just held onto Grampa Nick's knees while he moved my head up and down real fast `n then I could feel his dickie getting even fatter `n then he was shootin' out all his thick hot juice. I swallowed all of it, just like a good cum slut. When Nick let me pull my head up one of the new grampas said, "You sure weren't lyin', Joe. Your kid just swallowed all that cum."

Grampa Nick was in one of the kitchen chairs. I moved to my right `n there was another kitchen chair. It was one of the new grampas. I kinda tripped on his feet but he caught me and moved me between his legs. Then he started feelin' me up. New grampas and daddies did that a lot. They also sounded, worried or somethin', afraid, maybe. `least `til I gave `em a good suck.

"Can't believe I'm doin' this, Joe. The guys would kill me. Yeah, it's one thing to get a quick blowjob from you on the site, or that nelly faggot from the store across the street. But shit, man, face fuckin' a little boy? Your grandson? With all these guys watchin'? No way. Sorry, Joe, I can't."

Grampa snickered. So did I. Lotsa new grampas `n daddies said like that. I reached out my hand. Yep. His dick was all hard and sticky wet. `n real close to my mouth `cause he was half out of the chair like he was gonna stand up and pull up his pants and leave. So I just held onto his dick and sucked him into my mouth. He froze.

Grampa says a man thinks with his dick. I guess this grampa's dick was telling him if he sat down he'd pull out of my mouth, `cause he sorta braced himself on my shoulders and stood up. I kept my mouth on his dickie. He was all smelly and his balls were kinda sweaty. I liked his smell. He smelled like some of the daddies that Grampa said worked down the road where they were building some big old place. Guess grampas worked there too.

He just held onto my face real soft life and held me steady and started pumping my mouth cunt. I like playing with a man's balls while he's fucking my mouth hole. This grampa had big balls. I wiggled one hand between his legs. Oh, wow, he had a really hairy ass, `n his butthole was way deep inside his butt cheeks. Grampa likes me playing with his asshole when I'm sucking him. This grampa did, too. `specially when I shoved two fingers up inside his smelly hole. "Oh Christ, Joe, your kid's got fingers up my ass. Never had, oh jesus fuck I'm cummin'!"

`n he did. Real good. He kinda dropped back in the chair when he was done.

Grampa was next. My real grampa. He was in his chair, and he pulled me over in front of him. He lifted my right hand, sniffed my fingers and then sucked them in.

"Jesus, Joe," my new grampa said. "You're one fuckin' pervert, y'know. Your boy's fingers been up inside my dirty ass and you're suckin' him off?"

Grampa licked one more time, took my fingers out of his mouth. "Sure am, Sam. Just like my fuckin' foreman, who just got through mouth fuckin' my grandson. And you're gonna be back for more, too."

Grampa Sam laughed, kinda shaky, `n said he would.

Grampa always said that the grampas and daddies and the football player from the high school really got off on watching a grampa get a blowjob from his tiny grandson, so that's why he fucked my little mouth, too, on Wednesdays. Even though Grampa gets off on watchin'. But the Wednesday guys don't have a lot of time, so Grampa was just as fast as the others. `cept when he was close he stood up, and had me open up real wide, and then he rested the knob end of his dick on my tongue and spurted and spurted until my mouth was full. I got to show off my mouthful of Grampa cum to the other grampas and then swallowed it all.

Grampa Jim was next. I could tell `cause his dick was so small. The first time he came over he almost left, for real, `cause he didn't want the other men to see how little his dickie is. But Grampa told him that I liked a nice small dick, too, just like Grampa did. They made real nice mouthfuls, and sometimes, like with Grampa Jim, you can get their dickies and their balls in your mouth at the same time. `sides, Grampa Jim has the sweetest cum there is, and he really makes a lot of it.

Grampa Joe, the pretend grampa, was in the middle on the couch. I could tell him, too. Grampa says boy sluts need to know who they're sucking even if they can't see, `nless the dick is new. This Grampa Joe has a bear dick, I told him the first time I sucked him. Just right. This Grampa Joe likes to talk to me while I'm blowin' him. Real dirty stuff. I like dirty talk. He came real hard and fast.

So the last grampa on the couch was Grampa Izzy. I wished I could see his dick. He didn't have any skin on it, but it was thick, and all these ropy kinda things runnin' up and down it. He was almost as long as Grampa and really, really, really sticky wet with his juices. He pushed on the back of my head and I leaned over and swallowed him all the way down, into my throat.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh, Joseph, you were right. I have missed this." He held my head in place while I breathed slow around his meat and felt more juice oozing out of his slit. "Is he a true slut like his father, Joseph? Can he be fucked hard?"

Wow. This kindly old man with the soft hands and the soft voice was talkin' about a hard fuck. `n he used to fuck my daddy, too!

"Go ahead, rabbi. He likes it rough, too, just like his daddy."

Grampa Izzy was my first rabbi. I sucked off the Baptist minister a few times before he moved away. And Father Alan likes to have me come to the church and suck him off in the confessional. Grampa Izzy was the best of all.

Grampa, don't be mad, but Grampa Izzy fucks rough better'n you or daddy. He talked to me, too, but well, it was even dirtier with his voice so soft. Callin' me all sorts of filthy names, tellin' me what a whore I was for taking money for letting him fuck my face, how he wanted to be around when my boy cunt got used to pull a train. I just started driftin' off or somethin' the harder he fucked my mouth, `n the way he was holding my head so tight. `n just when his dickie swelled up so big I thought I was gonna choke, I started cumming! I'd never cum before while suckin' somebody. `n then he's cummin' too, `n I'm twisting and turning and whining around his cock `n shiverin' `n he's just holdin' my head tight and pumpin' my tummy full of really really hot cum.

When he was all done he kinda yanked his dick out of my mouth. I was still holdin' onto his knees real good `cause I don't think I coulda stood up by myself. He tilted my head up to look at him and said in this soft, mean voice, "You are a filthy little boy slut. A dirty cum whore who has no use except for having holes for men to dump their cum in. That is precisely what you are, aren't you, little Joey?"

I just said real quiet, "yessir."

His voice changed when he wiped away a tear from my face with his thumb. "So if you're going to be a filthy cum slut for men to use, men like all of us and your Grampa, then you're going to be the best boy whore ever, aren't you, Joey?" `n then he kissed me real gentle and used his tongue to get some of the cum, mostly his, that was still in my mouth.

I went `n sat on Grampa's chair while my grampas pulled up their pants real quick, and fixed themselves up so they didn't look like they just got through sexing a very little boy. They were always in a hurry to leave when they were done. Grampa let them out the door, and each one handed him a five dollar bill as he left.

Grampa, is that enough about Wednesdays?

Grampa is nodding, so I guess it is. Now I'm s'posed to tell ya about, about, oh yeah, about Grampa and the train station last Friday.

I like to go there. Sometimes we just watch the trains and the people. Grampa says the trains are takin' people everywhere. Some of `em just take people to work and back again. And some trains are goin' all over the country. And on every train there's at least one man who likes little boys like me. `n sometimes lotsa men.

Every time we go, Grampa takes me to a special toilet place. We have to walk really far to get there, `n sometimes Grampa carries me. Sometimes it's empty and we wait around for a while to see if of the grampas and daddies show up. If they don't Grampa helps me practice. He says if I wanna be a really good boy slut I gotta practice my sucking every chance I get.

Last time, I got lots of practice. We went early Friday morning. Real early. I was kinda sleepy `cause it was still dark outside when Grampa made me get up. Then he made me clean myself real good.

There were lots of men in the special toilet on Friday morning. There were four men standin' real close together at the place where you piss. I could tell they weren't pissin' `cause I could see their arms moving and `sides I didn't hear any piss. There were two men by the sinks, and another one was looking through the crack at the edge of the door in the middle toilet stall. All three doors were closed. I like the smell of toilet places. Grampa says they smell like shit, piss, cum, and dis, dis, disfecting something. He likes the smell, too. He always breathes real deep when we go in one, and we both did that time.

One of the men with his back to us at the piss place looked over his shoulder and then grinned real big at Grampa and me. It was Grampa Nick! "Hey, look who's here!" he said, kinda loud. He sorta shoved with his shoulders and turned around. Yep. He wasn't pissin'. His big ol' black dick was too hard. He was the only one with his dick out of his pants, though, at least that I could see.

This guy behind me says, "Christ, man! This here's just a little kid, put that thing away."

Grampa Nick just shook his head and shook his dick at me. "No need," he said, kinda loud again. "The kid here likes cock."

Wow. It got really quiet all of a sudden.

"Wh...what?" the guy behind me said.

"Yeah, just ask his Grampa Joe here."

Two of the other guys at the piss place turned around. The really old guy with the white hair and the skinny dick asked Grampa if that was true. Grampa said it was and then said his little grandson really needed a toilet. That was a fib. Grampa says lying is bad, but fibs are okay if you're gonna make somebody feel good. I didn't have to pee or poo, `cause I went before we left home. But I knew what Grampa really wanted so I didn't say anything.

Grampa went to the middle stall. I like that one best. He tapped on it and asked if his grandson could use the toilet. The guy inside asked if there really was a kid out there. Grampa smiled at me and said "Show him."

So I got on my hands and knees and kinda half crawled under the door. There were two men in there! That was the first time I saw that. I was lookin' up at this man with his back to the door. His pants were on the floor and the man sittin' on the toilet was holding his butt cheeks and sucking his dick. The standing guy looked real funny, all wide-eyed and his mouth was open. He kinda shifted so that the guy on the toilet could see, too. He was funny. He had his mouth full of the man's big cock and his eyes got all wide. Guess he hadn't seen a lot of five year old boys on their knees half way under a toilet stall door. He twisted around, leaned way over even though his dick was still in the man's mouth and unlocked the door. I kept my head down and it swung open.

I stood up and moved closer. I put my hand on his naked ass and put the other on his cock right where it went into the man's mouth. "You've got a nice dickie, mister. Can I suck it?"

I guess I shouldn't have asked. He just sorta shouted out somethin' about oh Christ oh fuck and then shoved his dickie real hard in the man's face. I could tell he was cumming hard. Guess he didn't want me to suck him. When he was done he pulled out of the man's mouth and leaned back against the wall. I looked at the other man. His dick was standing up real straight between his legs. I asked if I could suck *his* dickie and he just nodded, so I rested my hands on his knees, leaned over and sniffed real good. He smelled all sweaty and dirty and sorta cummy. I love that smell too. So I just swallowed him down like daddy and Grampa taught me.

He musta been real horny too. Grampa said sometimes men getting sucked off by pretty little boys like me have a hairy something, uh, something about a horse. Oh yeah, Roy Rogers' horse. Musta been a really hairy one, I guess. I just got my mouth up to his knob and started to play with his pee hole with my tongue and he grabs my head and pulls me down real hard, kinda squashing my face in his belly and getting his dick in my throat and then he's giving me lots `n lots `n lots of real hot cum. I like it. It's all slimy and gooey and smelly.

When he was done I tried to clean him, but he just said, "Enough, kid, enough" and pushed my head away. Grampa says sometimes I do such a good job on a man's dickie that he just can't take any more. Well, not until the next time. I `member Grampa telling me about daddy sucking dick in the shower when he was my age so I turned around and opened my mouth so all the men who were watching could see what a good cum slut I was. Then I swallowed. His cum was kinda bitter, but it still tasted good. I guess all cum tastes good. The men liked that. I could tell.

Then Grampa asked them about me using the toilet and they kinda scrambled to get their pants up and squeeze past me `n Grampa. I like these toilets. Grampa says a queer musta designed them, `cause the stall doors stay open unless you shut `em, and the big holes in the wall that I get to suck dick through are just right even if the door is open.

Grampa left it open so the men could watch. He never did that before. I liked the men looking at me. He sat down on the toilet and had me stand between his knees facing the men. He pointed at the man in the middle, down on one knee so others could see, I guess. "You want to help him get undressed?"

I `spose the men thought I had to pee or poo when Grampa said about me usin' the toilet so they kinda gasped. But the grey haired man just dropped to both knees and scooted in to me. I held onto Grampa's knees while the man lifted my right foot, rested it on his leg, untied my shoe, took it off, took my sock off and then rubbed my foot. He did the same with my left foot. Grampa pulled my tee-shirt out of my pants, I raised my arms and he tugged it over my head. He dropped it on the toilet floor. He says it doesn't matter if a boy slut's clothes get dirty.

The man's hands were kinda shakin' when he undid my belt, unbuttoned my jeans and then tugged them down to the floor. He just stared at my hard little dickie and licked his lips. I held onto Grampa's legs as the man lifted my feet up again and pulled my pants all the way off. Grampa took the jeans and dropped them behind the toilet. Then he stood up. I stepped forward so I was standing between the kneeling man's legs. Grampa told him it was okay to play with me if he wanted to.

He did. He rubbed his hands all over me. Played with my titties. Squeezed my dickie and my balls. Ran his hand between my legs and rubbed his finger over my boy cunt. He stopped and said real surprised, "The kid is lubed!"

"All the better to fuck him with," Grampa said as he dropped his trousers to the floor. His big Grampa dick stood straight out.

"Holy shit! You're gonna put the fucker up inside the kid's butt?"

"Damn right. But I gotta get slicked up a bit first, myself. You want to help out?" Grampa moved his dick past my head, right up to the guy's face.

He pulled his head back. "Hey, man, I don't...."

"Guess you don't," said Grampa. "Probably means some other guy here will be okay with sucking my dick to get it wet so he can play with my little grandson." Everyone said something like "fuck, yeah" and the guy gave in real quick. He wasn't real good. I'm a better dicksucker than him. But he slurped and slobbered all over Grampa's cock and got it pretty wet.

Grampa sat down again with his legs spread real wide. He picked me up and laid me on my back on his chest and belly, holding my legs up high and spreading them real wide too. Grampa told the guy he wanted him to hold Grampa's dick in place right against my boy cunt, but first he thought the guy oughta get his own dick out so he could enjoy the fun, too.

The man was in a real hurry to do what Grampa said. He unzipped and pulled his dickie and balls out of his fly, without even getting off his knees. His hands were shaking again, too, when he grabbed hold of Grampa's big fat dick, and he moaned when Grampa wiggled me into place so that his wide piss slit was nudged up against my hole. Grampa told the guy to lean a bit to his left so the others could see, and he did.

Then Grampa started to push me down real slow while the man held onto Grampa's dick. I tried to relax but Grampa's dick is real big and so he pushed harder and his dickie just popped inside. I squealed kinda loud but Grampa says that's okay when a little boy's cunt gets cock head inside it. `n I didn't even get soft. Grampa says only really good boy sluts stay hard when they first get a dick in their cunts.

I'm a really good boy slut.

Grampa says so. See. Oh. Well you can't see, but Grampa's nodding right now. And he's playing with his dickie. It's leaking. Okay, okay, Grampa, I'll go on.

The man is playing with my little dickie `n Grampa asks him if he wants to do the, the, oh, yeah, the honors. Thanks, Grampa. The man says yes and then he takes hold of my legs right under my knees and asks Grampa if I like it slow or fast. I tell the man I like it fast.

I do. Really. It hurts, `specially with a dickie as big as my Grampa's. But it's a good kinda hurt and it makes me yell real loud. Grampa likes it when a boy yells when he's getting his little pussy filled hard `n fast with a man's big ol' dick.

The man did it harder than Grampa ever did. It hurt. A lot. But Grampa said that was the best boy pussy yell he'd ever heard. `n he asked all the men if it made their dicks hard to hear a little boy slut yell like that, n' they all said "yeah" or somethin' `n that made me feel good. Grampa said I was the best little boy cunt ever, too, on accounta my dickie was still hard. Grampa moved me up and down a little and that made me feel good. I like Grampa's dick movin' around in my boy pussy. The man helped too. He put his left hand on Grampa's knee, and leaned over and started sucking my dickie, and playin' with Grampa's balls, and licking his tongue all around my ass lips `n all over Grampa's dickie.

Then Grampa said to all the men, "Okay, gentlemen, my grandson is open for business." He lifted a hand off my tit and waved at the two big glorious holes in the wall `n said, "Two holes. No waiting. Well, at least not long once Joey here has those pussy lips around your dick."

The men who were watchin' through the holes stood up `n all of a sudden there were two dickies for me. One wasn't very long but it was real fat. The other one was real thin. I kinda laughed and Grampa asked me what was so funny. I pointed to the thin dickie `n said, "That's Jack Sprat's dickie, Grampa."

The men all laughed, and Grampa said, "Well, Mrs. Sprat doesn't have a dickie. I guess that's her daddy's." I nodded and then sat up which made Grampa's dickie feel real good way up inside me, and leaned over and sucked on the fat dick. He was lots wider than Grampa, but Grampa said I had a real special talent that not many little boy cum sluts had. I could sorta wiggle my jaw and then I could open it real wide. So that's what I did.

The fat dick guy sucked in air real loud `n said, "Holy Christ, the kid's got my whole cock in his mouth."

I didn't say nothin' `cause my mouth was full of dick, but I looked up `n saw the man's fingers were holdin' tight on the top of the wall. Grampa says if a man's holding tight on the wall he's really enjoying what's going on with his dick.

I put my hands on the wall and Grampa held me steady with one hand while he played with the thin dick. Fat dick musta liked my sucking, `cause he came real fast. Not a whole lot, but okay. Weird. His cum kinda tasted like coffee. He pulled out `n I shifted around and went down on thin dick. I was just getting' started when this man says, "Well, well, well, your honor."

The man sucking my dickie stopped real sudden and lifted his head and looked over his shoulder. He got all funny kinda white. "D...Davis."

The man standing in the open door wasn't very good looking. Dressed in a fancy suit, but his face was kinda round and white and he had a belly. "Y'know, judge, you've fucked me over in the courtroom lots of times, so I guess this is payback."

He squatted down, dropped to one knee and then reached both arms around the judge on the floor and started undoing his belt. He was quick `n rough, `n then he unzipped the judge's pants and yanked them back over his butt and down to his knees so the judge's naked butt was showing. The judge tried to move, but it musta been kinda hard with his pants holdin' his knees together, `n bein' down on all fours `n stuff. "Davis, I swear to God, I'll...."

"What, judge?" the man said as he unzipped his own pants and hauled out this mean lookin' fat dick, nice `n hard. Grampa's right. It doesn't matter what his face is like, just what his dickie is like. "Who you gonna tell that you were down on your pedo knees in a dirty toilet suckin' a little kid's dick when the mean old lawyer fucked your virgin ass? It is virgin, isn't it, judge? Christ I hope you haven't had dick up your hole before."

The lawyer dropped spit on his dickie, made the judge put his legs together, got up close, used his right hand to hold his dickie in place and kinda nudge it inside a little. The judge groaned, `n then the lawyer put his hands on the judge's shoulders and shoved real real hard.

Wow! I guess the judge is a great man slut. He let out this really big howl, and all the men laughed.

"Damn, guys, either this hole was virgin a second ago or it's so well trained you think it's virgin cunt."

He moved his hips back and forth a couple of times and the judge moaned loud again, his breath real hot on my dickie and my balls. "Hey, granddad, you think your little one will mind suckin' off a dick that's put a load up this manhole here? I'm gonna have a second load just for the boy, if that's okay."

I could feel Grampa's dick twitching inside of me. He said it was okay, and then told me to start sucking Jack Sprat's dick again. So I did.

That was really fun. Grampa was fuckin' me kinda gentle, I was suckin' this thin dick, the judge was slobberin' all over my dickie and slurpin' my cunt hole and Grampa's dick, `n Grampa was playin' with the new dick through the hole, and this lawyer was fuckin' the judge really hard. Then the lawyer shouted somethin' about cummin' up a judge's cunt and the man I was sucking musta liked that `cause he started shooting in my mouth.

The lawyer pulled his dick out of the judge's hole and stood up. He was still hard `n his dickie was all slimy and a big drop of cum was on his pee hole. He was kinda pantin'. "Fuck. Can't believe I just emptied my balls in a fuckin' judge's ass and I'm still ready to go." He scooped the cum onto his finger. He looked at Grampa with a kind of beggin' look on his face.

Grampa said with this kinda smile in his voice, "Why don't you suck the nice man, Joey? Get all that nasty judge slime off his big hard dick?"

"Oh, yes! Grampa," I said.

The lawyer lifted his leg over the judge's back so he was kinda backed up to the wall. It was gettin' real full of people in the stall. But I leaned over and started sucking him good. I like butt slime too. Grampa said, "Any of you gotten fucked over by a judge? Or a lawyer?" He kinda snickered at that. "There's a judge cunt on the floor, freshly fucked, lubed with lawyer cum. You can use him, or use little Joey's mouth, or if you've got enough cum, both." The men all laughed.

So I sucked off the lawyer, who gave me a really good cum. And then I sucked three more dicks through the glorious holes, `n a couple more men fucked the judge. One of `em stayed hard like the lawyer, who kinda squeezed out after cumming down my throat, and the second guy gave me an okay load.

Then this big black dick comes through the hole. Grampa Nick! I was just leaning over to suck on him when some guy says, "Damn, will you look at that nigger's dick!"

It sure got real quiet. Grampa Nick is real big, not just in his dick, so I guess that's why the men just kept their mouths shut. But Grampa Nick just laughed and said, "Yeah, big nigger dick, the kind you white pussies wish you had and the kind you keep begging me to shove up your white man cunts. Now it's gonna sex a tiny little white boy and you're gonna go out of your fuckin' minds jackin' off while I do it."

Grampa reached up stroke Nick's fat leaking dick. Then he said with a smiley voice, "Nick, how'd you like to shove that nigger dick in Joey's ass? Big man cock sliding through a glory hole into a little boy's tight cunt."

"Fuckin' hell," said Grampa Nick. I knew that meant "yes."

Grampa told the judge to just stay where he was, and then he shoved hard in and out of my little cunt a couple of times `n then lifted me up `n off his meat. My hole always feels so empty when Grampa leaves it. He stood me up on his left thigh and bent me over so Grampa Nick's really fat knob was pressed up against my pussy hole. Then he kinda scooted so he was half on the toilet, with his leg up against the wall and then real gentle he moved my pussy toward the wall. Grampa Nick just slid right in. He felt soooo good. Then Grampa Nick started to fuck me.

Grampa, can Grampa Nick fuck me again? I liked his dickie in my hole. Oh goody. Grampa is nodding again. Okay, okay, Grampa, I'll tell them the rest.

I clamped my ass walls down tight around Grampa Nick, just like daddy and Grampa taught me. I tried to keep `em that way, but he was just fucking me real steady `n it felt so good `n I got all tingly and I couldn't help myself. I started shaking and cumming real hard `n then I passed out. `cause I woke up all limp and slumped over, but Grampa was holding me up still and Grampa Nick just kept right on fucking me. The judge was sucking off Grampa and another man was fucking the judge who musta been enjoying it this time the way he was moaning around Grampa's dick. And Grampa Nick just kept on fucking me, but when Grampa said "Hey, Nick, get your ass movin', we got trains to catch," all the men laughed and Grampa Nick started fucking me real hard. I came again, screamin' and shoutin' and that made Grampa Nick slam his dickie up inside my hole real hard and I could feel lots `n lots `n lots of his hot stuff in my cunt. I guess that's when the man fucking the judge came, too.

We were all real quiet. Tired, I guess. Grampa pulled the judge's mouth off of Grampa's dick. The judge looked kinda funny. His eyes were like he wasn't really seein' anything. Grampa asked him if he'd cum yet and the judge just shook his head. I was kinda sittin' in Grampa's arms and he got this real wicked smile.

I like Grampa's wicked smiles. They mean I'm gonna have fun. `n I did.

He told the men to move back and give him room, he was coming out of the toilet stall, and they shouldn't put their cocks away just yet. Even some of the limp dicks, the guys who fucked the judge and fucked my mouth started twitching.

We looked funny getting' out of the stall, didn't we, Grampa?

Can you hear Grampa laughing? I like Grampa's laugh.

Anyway, we musta looked funny `cause the men were sorta chuckling. When the judge stood up he couldn't stand real still and his pants dropped down to the floor, so he did this funny walk out of the stall. Grampa did the same thing, only making it kinda fun. Two men with these funny walks `n a naked little boy. Grampa told the men to clear a space and then he had the judge get on all fours again on the floor. Grampa got down in front of him and the judge just started sucking on Grampa without Grampa saying anything at all. Guess the judge liked sucking dickies after all.

Grampa told me to get behind the judge and asked me if I wanted to play with the judge's hole.

I like playing with a man's butt. Only most of the time I don't get to `cause by the time they're through fucking one of my cunt holes they're not interested any more. I got on my knees and felt up his hole. It was slimy and greasy with all the cum up there and it was leaking out and dropping down over his balls. I put two fingers on the bottom of his hole and rubbed it, but, well, it was kinda like when you put a finger at one of the glorious holes to let the guy know you wanna suck his dick? He was just kinda wide open. Then I got this idea. If a man's big dick could go up another man's butt, maybe he'd like having a kid's hand inside?

I kinda rubbed my hand all around the judge's hole getting it kinda slimy `n slicked up, and made a fist and pushed it at him, but nothin' really happened. Then a man's hand reached out from behind my and pulled my right hand back. I looked over my shoulder. It was the lawyer who fucked the judge first. I looked down. His pants were all messy but he was hard and leaking again.

"Here, kid. This is the way you get in." He showed my how to make my fingers all pointy with my thumb tucked up, and then he held my wrist and leaned over me as he put my fingers back at the judge's hole.

"Now, you know how it feels when a man's dick is pushin' at your boy pussy waitin' to get in your hole?" I nodded. "Well, this is just the same. So what you do is just ease them in a little, yeah, like that, kid. Now when you're gettin' fucked, what happens next?"

"The man shoves until his knob is inside."

"Okay, so do it." `n I did. `course he helped a little and my whole hand went inside and the judge's ass lips just clamped down real tight. He kinda yelped and struggled like he was gonna try to move, but Grampa had his dick way down the judge's throat and he was holding tight on his shoulders.

Wow. A man's cunt is really hot and tight. Just like all the men say mine is.

"Now, real carefully, make a fist inside of his cunt."

Double wow. This was great.

"Now move your arm up inside him real slow, until you feel a kind of bump or lump."

Oh, yeah. There it was. `n the judge jumped and moaned when my fist moved over it.

"Next thing is, you move your fist and your arm back and forth inside his hole."

So I did. It felt really, really good. I guess the judge thought so with the way he started moaning around Grampa's meat. I liked it when men fucked me fast. I wondered if the judge would, too. So I started moving my arm faster. I heard one of the men kinda whisper, almost like he was prayin', "Hoooooooly shit, the kid's fist fucking the judge."

Fist fucking. That sounded good. Now I knew what I was doing. But the more I fisted the judge the more his asshole relaxed, just like mine does, and I was pretty soon half way to my elbow, and then all the way to my elbow. I *like* fist fucking.

Grampa, can I fist fuck you?

Grampa just gave this big sigh then. Did you hear it? He said "maybe." Sometimes when Grampa says "maybe" he means, what is it you like to say, Grampa, oh yeah, he means "like when fucking hell freezes fucking over." But this was one of his good "maybes." The kind that really means yes. Oh wow. I get to fist fuck Grampa, I get to fist fuck Grampa, I get to

Sorry, Grampa. I forgot. I'll finish telling the men what happened.

I was pretty much just watching my arm go in and out of the judge's man cunt, but I still kinda saw all the men standing around us playing with their dicks, and Grampa face fucking the judge kinda hard, and then the lawyer says, "Sir, can I *please" fuck little Joey?"

Jeez. I didn't think lawyers begged. But he sure was. Grampa just laughed `n said if it was okay with me it was okay with him.

Well, yeah, like I'm gonna say no to a dick in my boy pussy.

He whispered to me, if he could shove it in hard `cause he was so horny `n I whispered back he could. So he did. But Grampa Nick had me loosened up so I didn't scream very loud.

Friday was one of the bestest times ever, Grampa. The lawyer was bent over me, holding me around the waist with one hand, the other one on the floor while he shoved his hard hard dickie inside my wet little hole, `n he coached me on how to fist the judge, `n when to do it hard and when to do it slow, `n how men who were being fisted liked to have the fist pulled all the way out so their holes were big `n gaping open and then punched back in again, real hard. `n then he told me to keep on doing that `n keep on fisting the judge's sloppy man cunt faster, while the lawyer was fucking me `n Grampa was fucking the judge's face.

`n all of a sudden the judge starts this screaming kind of "MMPH! MMPH!" around Grampa's dick, and the bump thingie inside him swells up and then I can feel him pumping cum out of his dickie, `n my own bump does something `cause I start screaming and twisting around and the lawyer shouts out he's coming and Grampa starts cumming down the judge's throat. And then there's all this moaning and grunting and gasping and all the men are shooting cum all over us.

When everybody was done it got real quiet again. `n then Grampa pulled his dick out of the judge's mouth, and I pulled my fist out of his ass, and the lawyer pulled his soft dick out of my bottom hole. Grampa says that sometimes men get all `barrassed after bein' bare-assed with a little boy. That's the way they were all lookin'. Nobody was lookin' at anybody else while they looked around for coats `n hats `n clothes `n stuff.

Then Grampa said so everyone could hear, "Well, men, looks like we missed our trains. Think we better call in and say we're all cummed out? Or maybe just sick?" The men kinda laughed and all that funny feeling in the air went away.

The lawyer and the judge were the last ones in the toilet, `sides Grampa and me. The judge was a real mess. Cum all over his suit, dirt, cum in his hair. The lawyer said, "Tell you what, you keep your mouth shut, and so will I."

The judge gave him a funny little smile. "I think I'd prefer our mouths open. Around each other's cocks. Maybe at the same time?"

The lawyer looked like one of the cartoons where the cat gets hit on the head with a hammer and he gets this goofy look on his face. He groped his dickie. "Shit, judge...."

"Harry. You just fucked my, my cunt and helped a toddler fist me, so I think that makes us on a first name basis. At least here. Right, Ben?"

"Uh, yeah, uh, Harry. As for the 69, shit, I've cum four times already and I'm hard again. Where, when?"

As they walked out the door, I heard the judge say, "It looks like you're pretty good with kids. How do you think you'd be with *my* grandson? He's nine."

Grampa laughed, took me back in the stall, found my messy clothes and put them back on me. When we left the toilet there was this policeman outside. He had a big bulge in his pants, and said that Grampa really owed him one. So Grampa told me to unbutton him and give him one of my best blowjobs. He sorta stuttered `cause we were out in the hall with all the lights, but he shut up once I swallowed his dickie. I like cop dickies. He tasted good, too, but just like the Wednesday grampas and daddies he came real fast. But lots of it.

Then Grampa took me home. So that is the story of Wednesday and Friday.

Did I do good, Grampa?

"Big Joe here again. That grunt you just heard was Joey sliding down on my hard meat. Yeah, Joey, you did real good. Now fuck Grampa's dick for a bit while I let the men know what's going on here.

"Now, one of Joey's daddies from Wednesdays works for a record company. So we're gonna start making records of little Joey's stories, like this one. Long-playing records. That way men like us can hear little Joey right in the privacy of our own living rooms and jack off to little boy fucks whenever we want. Hey, it's 1950, so we're gonna use the latest technology. And then there's this queer I know, well, hell, he has to be queer since he's doing a woman's job as a secretary, he's gonna transcribe Joey's stories and then we're gonna get `em printed up for sale so if your wife is likely to hear if you play Joey's LP, well, you can always read quietly and beat your meat that way. And this artist is going to make some drawings and tell Joey's stories that way so we can sell those. Can't wait to see the drawings of little Joey with a lawyer's dick up his ass and his own tiny fist fucking a judge's cunt.

"Aw shit, listening to Joey tell the stories has got me too fuckin' worked up. Oh fuck, oh shit gonna cum up my baby boy's hole, uh, the, the number to call for all this is on the record label, oh Christ my little boy has such a hot tight cunt. Hear him squealin'? Joey's cumming for you guys, clampin' hard around my cock, oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, I'm gonna CUM


About five years ago, when I was an undergraduate, I had to visit the Humboldt University in Berlin to attend a conference on medical research. I must say that I've never been a big fan of medical conferences - my interest in research generally amounts to "if it's that good, I'll hear about it on the news..." - but for some reason I was unable to get out of going along to that one.

Only three or four other students went along to it, none of whom I knew directly, accompanied by one of our lecturers, a guy called Dr Richard Powell. I didn't know Dr Powell very well until that conference and I didn't see him much afterward, but on the second night of our stay in one of the University's student residences, we became a lot better acquainted.

I think I knew just three things about Powell, other than that he lectured us in anatomy and cardiology. First, I knew he was a demon at squash. One of my mates had accepted his offer of a game, thinking that a guy in his mid-thirties wouldn't be much competition for an undergraduate who'd played for his school, and had been quickly and effortlessly humiliated. Second, I knew he was married with a wife and two kids; daughters, I seem to remember. And third, I knew - everyone seemed to know - that young guys of a particular type appealed to Powell and would be offered extra tuition in return for easily-imagined favours.

This last fact made Dr Powell somewhat notorious, not as an object of ridicule or disgust, but as someone whom everyone seemed to be curious about. I suppose people couldn't figure out why a married man, straight-acting in every sense of the term, would repeatedly indulge in brief, clearly primarily sexual, relationships with younger men.

As a guy sitting next to me in one of his lectures once said to me, "He's got all those nurses just about throwing themselves at him, and yet he goes screwing around with any young lad who'll have him. What's going on there, then?"

I'd shrugged; I hadn't known. These days I know exactly what was going on there - know all too well what the attractions are - but at the time, I'd been just as clueless about it as everyone else was.

A friend of mine - a guy called Dave - once claimed that Powell had offered him some "additional attention", as he'd put it. Dave loved to tell the story about it when he got pissed. I must have heard it a dozen times.

I guess it was true, though, because, apart from being just about as straight as they come, Dave had all the appearances of being Powell's 'type'. He had short brown hair, for a start: there were no stories of guys with any other hair colour or length having liaisons with him. He had an angular, academic-looking face; Powell didn't seem to like guys who looked rough or thick. And he was slim: Powell never seemed attracted to chubby guys.

So there's a pretty good chance that Dr Powell really did, as Dave claimed, make a pass at him after an anatomy class one evening.

It seemed, though, that he was a guy who could take 'no' for an answer and maintain his integrity. After Dave's mouth had fallen open and he'd - as he put it - ran from the department leaving only a trail of diarrhoea, Powell had never made any further attempt to develop things further. He'd always been civil with Dave, and Dave's marks hadn't suffered a jot afterwards; he just seemed to gracefully accept that the younger guy wasn't interested in the two of them getting together.

I knew a few guys who hadn't been so reluctant, though. Not personally; just by reputation. Guys who fancied a quick roll in the sack with an older man who clearly had no intention of jeopardising his marriage or his daughters for their sake.

And in Berlin, I met one more.

I happened to be walking back to my room with Dr Powell during the second night of our stay at the University. There was about to be a dinner, supposedly fairly formal with a free bar afterward, and people were heading off to get dressed up. Powell was criticising the medical ideology behind some of the talks he'd heard delivered that day, and I was, as a third year medical student who had found himself way over his head pretty much since getting off the Channel ferry, making pitiful attempts at intelligent responses.

When we got outside my room, I said, "Well, I'll see you later, maybe..."

He'd smiled idly. "What's your room like? I'm quite impressed with mine..."

I unlocked the door with my key. "It's okay, I guess. I'm sharing with a guy from Czechoslovakia..."

He said, "Yeah, I've noticed that all the rooms seem to have two beds in them... it must be pretty standard here..."

I opened the door and switched on the light. The other guy hadn't returned yet.

Powell glanced into the room and said, "You get a scenic view of the car park, then..."

I noticed that someone - maybe a cleaner, maybe the Czech guy - had left the window wide open and that it had rained heavily that afternoon, soaking my bed.

I walked over to it, feeling how sodden the duvet, sheets and even the mattress were. "Oh, shit! Who'd be so stupid as to do that..."

Powell took a few steps into the room, looking seriously at my bed. "Oh dear... that's not too good..."

I glanced at my watch. It was ten to six. "Do you think anyone will still be here to sort something out?"

He shrugged. "I don't know... you could try, I guess... someone from catering might have a key to spare linen and stuff..."

I looked over at him, feeling pretty helpless. Smiling weakly, I asked him, "Do you know the German word for 'mattress'?" I thought it best not to admit that I didn't know the German for just about every other word I'd need to be able to arrange fresh bedding.

He smiled. "Look. There's a spare bed in my room... why don't you just bring your stuff through and sleep in that for tonight...?"

I guess my face betrayed my initial sense of apprehension, even though I knew that I wasn't the kind of guy he'd normally be interested in. Powell's smile quickly faded and he asked, curtly, "What's the problem?"

I blushed at his directness. "Sorry... I mean, it's very kind, but..."

His eyes were suddenly cold and distant. He stared at me for a few seconds, and for a moment I thought he was going to challenge my hesitation, but eventually he said: "In that case we can drag the mattress and stuff from my room into yours... it's just down the end of this corridor..."

I didn't know what to say. I felt like I was being childish for refusing to share with him. I mean, I'd been camping with guys I knew to be gay and had shared a room with a gay friend of mine a couple of times; what was my problem now?

I said, "Look. I just don't want to put you to any trouble... you know... I might mess your room up..."

I tried to smile but he looked irritated by my attempt to hide behind my pretence that I was refusing merely out of politeness. He shook his head. "Come on, Sebastian. I'm offering you the bed because yours is wet. No other reason. I know what you're worried about, and you're wrong..."

I blushed and looked down. "Sorry... it's just -"

He interrupted me: "Now let's drag the mattress and bedding into here. And forget about it..."

I felt ridiculous; like I was a little kid having to be given a stern talking to by an elder.

I slunk out of the room after him and followed him to his. Neither of us said anything.

When we got there, he started to gather the duvet and bedding together from it.

I said, "Look. I'd sooner stay here. If you don't mind and if there's no hard feelings... I'm sorry..."

He glared over at me, clearly deeply hurt by my treating him like a leper. He snapped, off-handedly, "I don't mind either way..."

I realised that Dr Powell must like to be seen as being one of the lads. I suppose his interest in squash must have been part of that: he likes to assert his authority on younger upstarts by thrashing them at squash from time to time. As well as the fact that sometimes he'd appear in the pub to get a round in after lectures, complaining that he can only have one because of his wife waiting at him, but enjoying the feeling of being part of a group of guys like he used to be when he was a student himself.

And I realised that the idea that another guy might not want to share a room with him, just because of something he clearly saw as a bit of a hobby, was deeply insulting to him.

I thought I ought to grasp the nettle. Apart from anything else, this guy was going to be one of my lecturers for the next couple of years.

I said, "If you want me to be honest, I thought you might want to... you know... bring someone back with you. I'm sorry but I really wasn't assuming anything else..."

He bristled at first at my own directness but then his eyes softened a little as he appreciated the reason I'd given.

He threw me a cautious smile. "It seems that my reputation among you undergrads doesn't do me much credit..."

I shrugged, smiling back. "I've probably been listening to too much tittle-tattle..."

"Well... I suppose people are going to notice things and talk. But, regardless of anything else, do you really think I'd bring someone back if I was sharing a room...?"

"I wouldn't mind if you did... it wouldn't bother me... I just wanted to... you know... give you your space..."

He said, "Well, thanks for being honest. You're very welcome to stay and sorry for getting shirty with you... I just thought you were being a little... I dunno... judgmental... and I really hate that..."

I smiled. "No worries... I didn't exactly articulate myself too well back there..."

He went on, "And if you're not bothered who I'm friendly with, the same goes for you if you meet a girl you like..."

I shook my head. "There's not much chance... I've just started dating someone..."

He nodded. "Well, go and fetch your stuff. We'd better get changed..."

To show that I really wasn't worried about sharing with him - even though, at the beginning, for some irrational reason, I had felt a little concerned by his offer - while we were getting changed I acted like I would if I was sharing with any of my mates. There was no emerging from the shower with a towel around my waist and going through the ridiculous performance of pulling on my briefs on beneath it; no, I just strolled around in the buff like Dr Powell was as familiar to me as my brother. I bent over to get stuff out of my rucksack as though I was totally unaware that I was flashing him views of me that left nothing to the imagination, and pulled on a pair of white briefs that my new girlfriend, Rachel, had said made my crotch look 'delicious'.

And Powell didn't throw me so much as a glance. He got on with shaving and then spraying himself with deodorant and stuff, at first wearing nothing and then putting on a pair of tight-fitting dark blue briefs.

I think I looked at him more than he looked at me, actually. I was a bit surprised that a guy who spends most of time lecturing or in surgery would have such a well-built, nicely toned body. I was also impressed by his hairy chest - for some reason, I've always kind of wished I had one myself - and liked the way his circumcised cock looked with its pink mushroom head permanently exposed. When he turned away from me, I found myself finding his arse quite attractive, at least as far as my limited knowledge of guys' arses went at that stage, being as firm and round as I hoped mine would be when I'm in my thirties.

As we parted company, to go down to the dinner, he said, "If you come up to bed before me, find me and I'll give you the key. I won't stray too far..."

I smiled and nodded.

And then he said, "And thanks again, Sebastian. Thanks for being honest with me..."

And I nodded sagely like I really had been.


After I'd rapidly exhausted conversation with the people I vaguely knew from Southampton, and grown bored hearing people from elsewhere boasting about how wonderful their dreary-sounding lives were, I decided to head up to bed.

It was about eleven thirty; a bit of a pitiful time to be leaving a post-conference dinner offering unlimited free drinks, but it was really the best I could manage.

I found Dr Powell at the bar talking to a young guy; a guy who fitted exactly his usual 'type'.

When Powell saw me, he urged me to join them and introduced his friend as "Adrian from Imperial College."

I nodded the lad an acknowledgement, telling Powell that I was tired and asking him for the key to the room.

Powell didn't seem to hear me. "Adrian's in his first term of his first year," he droned. "He's from Ipswich..."

I smiled politely at Adrian. I wondered if he knew the reason he was inspiring Powell's interest. He seemed to be a quiet, unaffected guy. When he spoke, to pointlessly tell me the name of the village he was from near Ipswich, his voice sounded deep and his tone authoritative.

I was surprised: I'd assumed, for some silly reason, that he'd sound camp.

I asked him, disinterestedly, why he'd chosen to study at Imperial.

"My father went there, and of course London's in commuting distance of Ipswich so I wouldn't have to leave home, so it seemed the most logical choice... there's a very reliable train service running from Ipswich to King's Cross, you know..."

I nodded and smiled, thinking how he made the people I'd been speaking to earlier appear quite enthralling.

I wondered what signs Powell looked for when perusing young men. This one seemed a no-hoper to me, as far as action in the bedroom was concerned; he was far too stuffy and formal.

I turned back to Powell. "If I could have the key, then..."

He jumped down from his barstool to get the key out of his pocket and walked forwards a little, away from Adrian.

He said, "I won't be long, myself, actually..."

I nodded and glanced at Adrian who was swirling his drink around and staring into it, as though trying to read tea leaves in it. "The company's not exactly rivetting then, is it?"

Powell smiled and raised his eyes as though in exasperation. He whispered, "Jesus Christ... I was hoping you'd rescue me..."

I grinned and grabbed the key. "Too late, mate. He's all yours!"

And I left him, chuckling, as I headed up to bed.

I was awoken an hour or so later by someone moving around in the darkness of the room.

I clicked the light on and found Dr Powell pulling his shirt off. He said, "Sorry, Sebastian... I was trying to be quiet..."

I smiled, admiring again his well-built hairy chest. "It's okay... I'm a light sleeper..."

Then he surprised me by saying, "You know you said you wouldn't mind if someone stayed over..."

I nodded.

He went on, "Well - you won't believe it - the same thing happened to Adrian's bed as happened to yours... it was soaked..."

I nodded again.

"So I suggested he should sleep here for tonight. I hope you don't mind..."

I shrugged. "No, of course not... it's your room... where will he sleep?"

Powell looked around as though the idea hadn't occurred to him. "Oh I dunno... maybe on the floor... or he can squeeze into my bed, if he's not too fussy... we'll work something out..."

I smiled. "Well, if you like, he can share my bed. It'd be only fair, since you let me share with you. Tops to tails... you know...." I had no intention of honouring the offer, but I couldn't resist making it.

Powell smiled hesitantly. It took him a few seconds to think of a reason why that wouldn't be advisable. Eventually, he tried: "No... it's okay... really... you're already half-asleep... I wouldn't want to disturb you..."

I was going to be insistent but thought better of it. Powell had let me use his room, and in the highly unlikely event that any fun was coming his way, I didn't want to spoil it.

Adrian came through the door from the bathroom and glanced over at me, clearly surprised to find me awake and the light on. He said, "Hello again." That deep voice again.

I nodded. "Sorry about the bed..."

He looked confused.

Powell quickly interjected, as he sat on the bed taking his shoes and socks off, "I was telling Sebastian about how your bed got soaked... why you'll have to spend the night here..."

Adrian nodded, unbuttoning his shirt. "Oh right. Yeah."

I threw them both a broad grin and told them I'd get back to sleep.

Powell went to turn the light off but I said I didn't mind.

Then I turned to the wall and listened to them undressing.

Even though I didn't especially want to stay awake, I found it impossible to get back to sleep. I guess, despite the signs to the contrary, I was expecting Adrian to react badly to what I suspected was coming. He just didn't seem the type of guy who'd knowingly get into the bed of a man in his mid-thirties who had homosexual interests. He seemed too square; too straight.

I wasn't sure of the lad's motives, but I suspected he'd realised Powell was flirting and had gone along with it, wondering what he could get out of it or too polite to reject his advances. Now he thought a shared bed was all he had to pay to satisfy the older guy's attentions...

I knew from their whispers that they got into bed wearing only their underpants. Powell made some comment about Adrian not suiting boxer shorts, which was followed by the reply from the lad that he knew but that his mum chose them for him, and then Adrian said that Powell's briefs were "well fitting". Powell had chuckled and said that his wife had bought him them.

Adrian hadn't seem to flinch at the mention of a wife. Powell's marital status had clearly been raised earlier in the evening.

Powell moved over towards my bed and clicked the light off. The room was instantly pitch black..

The two of them clumsily got into Powell's bed.

There were very few sounds for the first few minutes and I began to think that - maybe, however improbable - the two guys really were just going to go to sleep together. That perhaps snuggling up to the sleeping form of an eighteen-year-old lad would be enough for Powell.

But then, after what seemed like an eternity of the three of us lying there in silence, I heard a muffled whisper. It sounded like Adrian.

Powell replied, softly but more clearly, "Well, what does it matter if he's awake?"

Another muffled whisper from Adrian and then the clearer reply, "Come on, he knows the score..."

Then silence for another few minutes.

The room was eerily dark; there seemed to be no lights outside the window as there had been in my old room, and nothing crept in beneath the door from the strip-lights in the corridor.

I began to wonder if they'd gone to sleep, their arms wrapped around each other. The room was so utterly quiet that I began to half-believe it as I lay there, staring up at the ceiling I couldn't see.

But then Adrian chuckled and called out, "Not there! I'm ticklish!"

I smiled into the darkness. So much for my idea that they'd spend the night innocently snuggling together.

Powell whispered, "How about this, then? Is that any better?"

Adrian sighed. "Aah... yeah... that's nice..."

A gentle, slightly wet-sounding, clicking noise started up. Going fairly slowly, but with a steady, regular beat.

Adrian moaned softly.

Powell must be wanking the lad off, I thought. And Adrian seemed to be enjoying it. It looked like Dr Powell had chosen a winner after all; it showed what I knew about how to pick up eighteen-year-old young men.

Powell whispered, "Do you do that to yourself sometimes?"

Adrian sighed, "Sometimes... but it feels nicer the way you do it..."

They fell quiet for a minute or so and the clicking sounds increased in pace and became wetter; they were beginning to sound more like soft, slurping sounds.

Then Powell asked, his voice a little louder, "Is that hurting?"

Adrian replied, "No, it feels good..." Then he chuckled, "I can take a lot more than that..."

Powell laughed. "I bet you can..."

The older man's rhythm continued to increase and the rhythmic noises became wetter; they began to sound like chewing sounds.

Adrian sighed more loudly.

In their pleasure, they were both forgetting that I was lying a few feet away from them.

Powell said, "Do you want me to suck you while I do it?"

Adrian replied that he did.

I was thinking, "How can you suck a guy and wank him at the same time?"

But I didn't dwell on it; my attention was diverted by Adrian's groan of pleasure as Powell took him into his mouth.

Now there was two rhythms: the sucking and slurping of Powell's mouth on Adrian's cock, and the munching sound of Powell's hand on Adrian's... er... well... where was that noise coming from, actually?

Adrian kept groaning, his breathing speeding up so fast he was almost panting.

Then both noises stopped.

Powell said, "I've got some lube... I'll just get it..."

And then it dawned on me where his hand had been.

My cock, which had been semi-erect in fascination at the sounds I was hearing, stiffened quickly to full size at the thought of Powell's fingers sliding in and out of the younger guy's arse. I wasn't too sure why: I guess it was just the sheer novelty of it.

Powell clicked the light on.

I winced at the brightness of it and peered over at them.

Powell was still wearing his briefs, but his cock made a fat, hard rod inside of them, making a diagonal ridge from his balls to his left hip. He looked surprised when he saw me looking over. He muttered, "Er... sorry, Sebastian..."

I smiled, trying to appear relaxed about it. "No worries, mate..."

I suddenly realised I'd just called a senior medical lecturer 'mate' but, before I could correct myself, he grinned back at me.

He went over to his bag and fished around in the side pocket for his lube.

Adrian stared over at me, perhaps suddenly remembering that I was in the room with them, or maybe wondering why I wasn't politely pretending to be asleep. He pulled the duvet over him, so that just his chest, hairless and a little thin-looking, was exposed. I tried to smile at him, but that seemed to make him even more uncomfortable; like he thought I was leering at him or something.

Powell said, "Sorry about the light, Sebastian... I'll turn it off in just a second..."

I was about to say, "No problem", when it suddenly occurred to me that I didn't want him to turn to the light off. I wasn't sure why I wanted to see what the two of them were doing, whether I was just being pervy or something, but I really wanted to watch them.

I said, trying to sound casual, "I don't mind if you leave it on..."

Powell looked up at me from his bag. "Yeah?"

I smiled. "I mean, if you guys would prefer it..."

Powell grinned at me. "Finding ourselves a little intrigued, are we, Sebastian?"

I chuckled. "I dunno... maybe... kind of..."

Then Powell said, "You're welcome to come over here and get a closer look, if you like..." Then, as though suddenly remembering Adrian, he glanced over at him and added, "If Adrian doesn't mind...?"

Adrian shrugged, clearly unsure about all this.

I smiled at Powell. "I'm okay over here... I just thought you guys might like to see what you're doing..."

Powell found his tube of lube and stood up, grinning at me. "And you wouldn't mind watching us seeing what we're doing...?"

I chuckled. "Yeah... maybe..."

He looked back over at Adrian. "Are you okay with that?"

Adrian looked wary; he seemed less than happy about the idea. I thought he might be wondering if I was going to go around spreading gossip about him.

I said, "It'll stay between the three of us guys... I mean, I'm hardly likely to broadcast the fact I suggested you leave the light on, am I?"

Powell added, encouragingly, "True... and you know how it is, Adrian... it can get a bit difficult in the dark..."

Adrian shrugged. "Okay... if you agree that you're not averse to him watching..." His voice sounded formal again. I had to stop myself from smiling, hearing a guy about to put on a sex show with a man nearly twice his age sounding so stuffy about it.

Powell grinned and looked over at me again. "No, I don't mind having an audience... I kind of like the idea..."

He got back into bed with Adrian, peeling the duvet back to expose Adrian's semi-erect cock and his light blue cotton boxer shorts which had been pulled down to the tops of his thighs.

Adrian looked over at me, still a little uncertain about having me watch them. His cock was about four inches long, floppily nuzzling into his pubic hair with the pink bell-end exposed.

Powell gently stroked the younger man's cock, rubbing it slowly to coax it back to full size. It seemed a little odd to see them like that: they were both so straight acting and, I guess, so straight-laced. I suppose it was because I knew Powell only from academic contexts and Adrian seemed the kind of guy who'd regard anything other than the missionary position with a girl as deviant, and yet here they were; one of them stroking the other's cock as casually as if he was correcting an assignment.

Powell called over to me, "Feel free to... er... enjoy yourself a little, Sebastian..."

I smiled back at him but didn't commit myself; I wasn't sure how I was going to feel about what I was about to see.

Adrian's cock reacted quickly and dramatically to Powell's fingers. I guess the older guy had had enough practice to know exactly which buttons to press on a guy's cock. It stiffened to about six inches and the head became a deep red colour. It wasn't terribly thick - in fact, it was probably just about as thick as mine is when it's limp - but it curved gracefully from its base to its tip and the skin of it was an unblemished milky white colour. It was, I guess, quite a pleasant-looking cock.

Powell said, "Let's pull these bloody shorts off..."

Adrian chuckled, as the older guy pulled his boxer shorts down his legs and over his feet. His cock, stiff and arching upward, bounced around as Adrian pulled one foot up and then the other.

Powell squirted a little of the lube onto his middle finger and said to Adrian, glancing over at me with a small smile, "Now... let's move you around a little... give our straight friend over there a better view..."

He pushed Adrian around so that he was directly facing me. I could see his balls between his legs, hanging right down almost to the cleft of his arse.

Adrian looked at me and seemed uncomfortable again.

Then Powell said, "Now why don't you open nice and wide..."

He pulled one of Adrian's legs open and Adrian did the same with the other. I could see his arse crack open a little beneath his balls, and some of the coarse black hair inside it.

Powell pushed Adrian's upper body backward, "Just lie back... that's right... as you were..."

Adrian lay back against the mattress and his arse crack opened a little wider. Powell applied his moist finger to it; inserting it in and rubbing gently to find the lad's opening again. He looked over at me, smiling. "What do you think of this, Sebastian?"

I shrugged. "I dunno..."

Powell eased Adrian's legs a little further apart and began penetrating him with his finger, as he had been before he'd put the light on presumably. The soft, moist clicking sound started up again.

Powell said, "Have you ever done anything like this before?"

Adrian tried to say something, thinking Powell had been asking him, but I interrupted by replying that I hadn't.

Powell's hand started fingering the lad in earnest; sliding in and out of him with a fast, noisy rhythm.

He turned to Adrian: "Is that nice?"

Adrian smiled up at him and said, "I liked what your mouth was doing too..."

Powell ignored his request for the moment. He kept pumping the boy's arse with his hand, opening his legs wider and pushing his finger - or maybe a couple of fingers - as deep into him as they'd go, and used his other hand to gently masturbate his cock.

Adrian sighed.

I realised that the lad was being wanked in two places. Kind of like having a double wank.

I said, "Actually, that's pretty cool..."

Powell beamed over at me.

He said, "Well, what do you think of this then..."

Abruptly, he consumed the lad's cock with his mouth, taking his full six inches into him in one fell swoop. He started masturbating it with his lips and tongue, driving his mouth up and down its length as though he were drinking from it.

Adrian groaned and began bucking his hips to fuck Powell's mouth faster and push his arse more firmly against Powell's fingers.

It looked like Adrian was in an extremely pleasant position. I was very much undecided about what I thought of having my own arse penetrated back then, but I could see the enjoyment that Adrian was getting from it. The lad was panting and making grunting "uh uh uh" noises.

I suppose I was wondering what it would be like to try having something like that done to me.

I thought about suggesting something like that to Rachel but remembered how she'd responded when I'd asked her, after her 'delicious' comment, what my arse looked like in the briefs. She'd looked horrified; had said something about that being a 'dirty place'. I think I'd blushed and apologised for mentioning it. The possibility of persuading her to finger me while she was blowing me, wasn't too hopeful.

But Adrian looked like he was having the time of his life.

He opened his legs as wide as they would go and began fucking Powell's mouth and slamming himself down onto Powell's hand with frantic, powerful strokes. Powell just held his face and his hand steady, letting the younger man do all the work.

Adrian began making loud grunting noises as he enjoyed the pleasure from his cock and arse. I wondered what the people in the next room would be thinking.

Then he pulled away from Powell and said, panting, "Let me crouch on the bed... you on the floor in front of me..."

Powell looked delighted that the boy was using some initiative. He said, climbing off the bed, "Just tell me how you want me..."

Adrian crouched on the edge of the mattress, his legs open wide with his balls dangling between his thighs and his cock arching upward, slicing the air like a curved dagger. He said, "How about like this...?"

Powell grinned. "Yeah, that looks pretty good..."

Powell pulled down his own briefs, which were still struggling to confine his throbbing, swollen cock. "Don't suppose I'll be needing these anymore..."

His cock bounced out, immediately putting the boy's to shame. It was a similar size to my own, being about eight inches long and as thick as a good-sized salami. It throbbed upward, the head of it purple and demanding.

Adrian looked at it with interest. He licked his lips and then, as if suddenly remembering that I was watching them, glanced over at me, blushing slightly again.

I couldn't help myself smile at his reaction: despite his earlier appearances, he clearly had a mouth that knew its way around a man's cock.

Powell got down on his knees in front of Adrian and began sucking at his cock - smaller and thinner than Powell's, but no less insistent - while pushing his fingers back up inside the lad's hungry anus.

Adrian grabbed his head and started fucking the older man's mouth roughly and rapidly. He bucked his body up and down on his knees, like a parody of a policemen saying "'Ello 'ello 'ello" in fast forward, feeding Powell his cock with each up thrust, and forcing his arse onto his hand with every downward push.

He began grunting again, making those rapid "uh uh uh" sounds, as his cock and his hole were simultaneously pleasured.

I was marvelling at the boy's performance, I must say. He might seem a little straight-laced and square, but he wasn't ashamed to fuck like a buck rabbit. Maybe what they say about the quiet ones was true after all...

My cock was still throbbing beneath my duvet; I'd released it from my briefs and was gently playing with it while I watched Adrian go at it.

Adrian pulled Powell's head from his crotch and said, his voice breathless, "Will you rim me... I really love that..."

Powell stood up. His cock stood out from his body looking enormous.

He looked over at me and said, "We don't want to do anything that'd freak Sebastian out, do we? It's his first time seeing anything like this, remember..."

I shrugged. "I don't mind..."

Powell smiled. "But you're just starting to enjoy it, aren't you?" He glanced at the bulge in my duvet, under which my hand was stroking my cock.

I smiled back at him. "I dunno..."

Powell surprised me by yanking my duvet away from me. I tried to grab it back, but he pulled it onto the floor.

He grinned down at my cock throbbing upward, the waistband of my briefs tucked underneath my balls.

I took my hand away from it and looked down at it, making a face as though surprised to find myself erect. "Well, fancy that... it seems like I am, after all, doesn't it?"

Powell chuckled.

I saw Adrian look over at me and, for the first time, smile slightly. He seemed reassured at finding I'd been aroused by watching him and Powell.

Powell said, "You sure you don't want a better view of things, Sebastian?" He walked over to Adrian and pushed his cock into the boy's face. Adrian adjusted his position to sit on the edge of the mattress, reached up and began rubbing his thumb against its head, clearly quite competent at handling circumcised cocks. Powell went on, "I mean, there's nothing like getting a bit of hands-on experience..."

I made a face at the pun and grinned at him. "I'm okay over here, thanks... enjoying the show quite nicely..."

After Adrian had rubbed Powell's cock to a state in which the veins bulged along the length of the stem and the head swelled to the size of a ripened plum, Powell grabbed Adrian's chin and eased his mouth open. Then he pushed the head of his cock into it as Adrian licked and kissed it. He called over to me, "Well, play with yourself or something. Show me you're enjoying it..."

I reached for my cock and began gently masturbating it, starting off slowly as I watched Adrian take more and more of Powell's large cock into his mouth.

Powell sighed. "There's nothing like getting sucked by another guy, Sebastian. If you try nothing else, try that... men know more about sucking cocks than any woman ever can..."

I smiled. "Yeah, I can kind of see that..." Adrian was doing things to Powell's cock with his mouth that was making my own throb. My hand began to speed up.

Powell grabbed Adrian's head and held it steady as he began fucking the lad's mouth. Adrian handled it expertly, allowing the large organ to almost penetrate him fully without gagging or showing any sign of discomfort.

I wondered where he'd had the opportunity to learn how to suck cock like that, living at home in Ipswich with his parents. Perhaps he'd put a few smiles on his school friends' faces over these past few years...

Powell said, "Grab my arse..."

Adrian obliged, reaching up to firmly hold Powell's round, muscular buttocks as the older man thrust his cock deeply in and out of his mouth. His fingers pushed their way into Powell's arse crack as if searching for the hot pink hole that lay deep inside them.

My hand was really beating at my own cock by now.

Powell was panting, "That's it... that's it..."

His cock began making long sweeping thrusts into Adrian's mouth, withdrawing almost completely before plunging back in right up to the hilt. His balls swung into the younger guy's chin, slapping against it with every thrust, and his powerful-looking buttocks flexed and strained.

After Adrian's right hand found what it was looking for, he drove the fingers of his right hand into Powell's arse cleft, right up to the knuckles.

Powell gasped, "Yeah... ah..." and Adrian started fucking the older guy's arse with his fingers.

I noticed that Adrian's cock curved upwards, unattended, between his legs. Its red head was throbbing and the skin of the stem was now looking pink from Powell's earlier ministrations.

Suddenly, Powell pulled away. "That's good... too good... but I'm not ready to cum just yet..."

Adrian's fingers slipped out of his arsehole with a slurp.

Powell went back over to his bag and pulled out a packet of condoms. He took one out and went over to Adrian.

He asked, "Which way round do you prefer?"

Adrian shrugged. "I don't mind..."

Powell tore the condom wrapper open and removed the rubber sheath. "What about going on top...?"

Adrian said, "However you want it..."

He moved forward like he was going to unfurl it down Adrian's cock but then, at the last minute, applied it to his own. He laughed at Adrian's surprise. Adrian smiled and shrugged.

I was incredulous to find the two of them so flexible about who was going to penetrate the other. No matter how many times I'd heard that a lot of gay guys like both to give and to receive, I still hung onto the notion that some guys prefer to give, and some to receive.

I guess I'd assumed here that, because he was the older of them, the automatic way of things would be that Powell would penetrate Adrian. But now I saw that it might just as easily have been the other way around; Powell would have willingly let Adrian fuck him if that had been the lad's preference.

Adrian got on the bed, kneeling on all fours with his arse sticking out. Powell jumped up behind him.

He smiled over at me, still wanking myself. He said, "And if ever you get the chance to do this, either way, it's something else I'd recommend..."

I grinned. "I did it already... with a girl..." I suppose I don't need to add that it wasn't Rachel.

He said, squirting lube onto his rubbered-up cock, "Oh yeah? And did she pull herself off your cock, get behind you, and give you the same back? And then turn you over and fuck you like a girl? And then did the two of you take turns on each other half the night?"

I smiled sheepishly. "Er... not really..."

He rubbed the lube onto the condom, sweeping his hand up and down his length to cover it completely. "I like women, Sebastian. Don't get me wrong. I just also like sex in all its many, many varieties. In my experience, sex with another guy offers just about as much variety as you can get..."

He squirted some more of the lube onto his finger and worked it into Adrian's anus.

I said, "Doesn't it affect your relationship with your wife?"

He shook his head and grinned at me. "No matter how much you like women... how straight you regard yourself... and I regard myself as pretty high up on both counts... sharing sex with a member of the same gender is... well... something totally different..."

So that's how he justified it to himself: 'sharing sex'. As innocuous as 'sharing a chat over a pint' or 'sharing a game of darts'.

I was getting really turned on by the noises his fingers were making inside Adrian's arse. And the sight of his cock, hard and swollen just inches from the lad's opening, was almost too tantalizing to take my eyes off.

I said, "I think I might like that better view you mentioned..."

He chuckled and gestured for me to sit on the pillows at the head of the bed, swirling two fingers inside Adrian's rectum to make it as slippery as he could.

I got up and pulled my briefs off.

Then I went to their bed, climbed onto the pillows with my back against the wooden headboard. Adrian was kneeling with his face in front of me. He smiled slightly at me as Powell prepared his backside to be fucked.

I began wanking slowly and Adrian stared at my cock, no doubt pleased to have found himself in the company of two men with pretty generously proportioned cocks.

Powell said, "Would you be really disgusted, Sebastian... would it put you off... if I rimmed him?"

I shrugged. "No. Not really..."

Powell smiled. "I just remember the first time I saw it, or someone suggested it or whatever." He laughed. "I was appalled!"

I smiled back. "I don't mind. It's not something I'd ever do myself, but seeing someone else do it doesn't bother me..."

Powell threw me a sceptical look like he was thinking, "Oh yeah - you'll have your face in some guy's arse by Christmas". Then he knelt forwards and applied his mouth between Adrian's buttocks, level with his anus.

Adrian gasped and his face contorted in intense pleasure. He pushed his upper body upward slightly and began masturbating his cock with fast, hard strokes. He was grunting again.

Powell's mouth made chewing, slurping noises as he pushed his tongue deep into Adrian's rectum. It sounded like he was eating the younger man's insides.

I began wanking myself rapidly: seeing this was turning me on in ways I would never - not in a million years - have expected. If you'd have said, "You're gonna be watching one man eating out another man's arse, Seb," earlier that evening, I'd have thought it disgusting, but now it was happening - well - let's just say that if I hadn't have been wanking, my cock would have been so desperate it would have demanded my balls to leap up and play with it!

Adrian was loving it too. His hand was a blur against his cock and sweat was pouring in rivulets down his chest and arms. His eyes were closed tightly.

After a minute or so, perhaps sensing Adrian's climax nearing, Powell withdrew his face from the boy's arse suddenly. He pushed himself upright, grabbed Adrian by the chest, and slid his cock quickly and deeply into the younger guy.

Adrian's eyes flashed open and, staring at me and with his mouth in a kind of snarl, he let out a long, panting sigh as he was penetrated by the older man's large cock.

Then, maintaining eye contact with me and with his mouth still in that pained grimace, he started gasping, "Uh uh uh..." as Powell started fucking him.

I desperately wanted to join in. I understood what Powell meant about this being so different - so incomparable - with the sex I'd experienced with women. This was something else.

I wanted to walk around behind Powell, kneel down at the foot of the bed, and to stick my tongue between his ripe, round buttocks just like he'd done to Adrian. To fuck him with my tongue while he fucked the younger guy with his cock. To have his hot, sweaty anus on my lips as he pleasured himself inside the other man.

Then, maybe to stand up behind him and ease myself into him. Feel the three of us fucking together in a way that men and women never can.

My hand was frantic at the thought of it; I was ready to discard my hang-ups and my cautions and to give Dr Powell a surprise he'd probably never forget.

But it wasn't to end like that.

Adrian fell forward, propelled by Powell who was grunting and panting as he thrust into him, and I - without thinking - grabbed his head and pushed it onto my cock.

He sucked at it eagerly and energetically; perhaps he'd wanted this all along.

Powell grinned at me as he towered over Adrian's back, His cock made squelching sounds inside the boy's anus and his hips made slapping noises against his buttocks.

I let out a loud gasp, rapidly pushing Adrian's head up and down on my cock as though I were using it to wank myself. "Oh fuck... yeah!"

His mouth felt fantastic, his tongue doing things against my swollen bell-end that I wouldn't have thought possible.

Powell laughed, "I told you it was good..."

I smiled up at him, hearing myself panting and feeling sweat dripping down my forehead.

I realised Powell was soaked with sweat: his hairy chest looked sodden with it and beads of trickled down his sides from his hot, hairy armpits.

And Adrian was pretty sticky too.

I realised the three of us must stink: the room must literally hum with the stench of our exertions.

Adrian's hand crept underneath my balls, through my wide-open thighs and into the hot, murky forest between my buttocks. I think he just managed to touch the ring of my anus with the tip of his finger when he felt his throat filling with warm jets of liquid from my cock.

I almost doubled over, grabbing onto his head as I breathlessly climaxed, and his finger forced its way into me, filling my arsehole as far as the knuckle.

He was gulping down what he could of the eruption of semen that I was pumping into him.

I felt his hot breath from his nose against the stem of my cock, coming in quick short pants, and realised he was cumming too. The duvet bore the brunt of his explosion.

And then Powell withdrew from him, yanked off the condom, and masturbated himself onto the younger guy's back, spraying semen so powerfully it hit the wall behind my head.

After we'd all caught our breaths, I expected - perhaps naively - a little tenderness and affection between us. In my experiences of sex up until then, I was used to having to supply hugs, kisses and caresses after climaxing. Girls generally demanded it: whispers of how good it had felt; how much I loved them.

It wasn't like that with men, if Dr Powell and Adrian were anything to go by.

Powell stood up, scratched his wet armpits, and declared: "I bet it stinks like a shit-house in here..."

Adrian got up and grabbed his boxer-shorts to wipe his arse and back. He said, "You should have cum inside me... I'd have liked that..."

Powell shrugged, picking up the discarded condom and its wrapper from the floor. "Most guys go tight after they've cum... I didn't want you to be crapping blood..."

Adrian opened his legs to wipe further into his arse. "I'd have told you if it had hurt..."

I got up, wondering if I should join in with the talk about smells and shit and stuff; whether this was the normal conclusion to all-male sexual encounters. The conversation would have seemed more at home in the changing rooms of a rugby game than it would in a post-coital bedroom. I figured that when men get together purely for sex, with no pretence of anything more than that coming from it, they felt able to be brutally honest with one another about less pleasant aspects of the aftermath.

I got back into my own bed, feeling like I needed a shower but noticing that I had little over three hours to get some sleep before the alarm would go off

Powell got back into his; Adrian got dressed and returned to his own room, thanking us both in his stuffy, formal way for what he called 'a pleasant evening'.

Before we put the light out, Dr Powell looked over at me, smiled and said, "I suppose now you're wondering what the hell you just did?"

I shrugged, suppressing a yawn. "I'm not having any regrets, if that's what you mean..."

He looked a little surprised. "No? I remember I was so screwed up the first time I did anything with another guy, I couldn't sleep for two nights..."

I smiled, feeling my eyes starting to grow narrow at the brightness of the light. "There's not much chance of that..."

He chuckled. "Is it something you'd do again?"

"I dunno... maybe... if the opportunity arose, I guess... I mean, I wouldn't go looking for it..."

"Maybe by the time you're thirty-four you might."

I smiled. "Maybe... I dunno..."

The next morning he made it clear that from then on, back at Southampton, it would be as if this had never happened.

He said something like, "I've never done anything like that with a straight guy before, Sebastian. I've always been afraid they'd get screwed up and mess things up for me."

I tried to reassure him that I wasn't like that; that if I had any issues about what we'd done, they were born more of curiosity than of self-recrimination.

He went on, clearly unconvinced, "I trusted you enough to show you something I enjoy last night... something I thought you might enjoy too... don't forget you were the one who - voluntarily - joined in with us..."

I kept trying to tell him that I was thankful, not upset, that he'd left the light on and that I was under no allusions that I'd been the one to involve myself in it.

But he kept interrupting me. "Just don't shit on me for it, that's all I'm saying... if you get screwed up, that's your own fault. Don't come trying to draw me into it..."

We left it at that. I think I thanked him again for letting me stay in his room, but that was all.

I suppose he intended to sever the emotional tie between us, so that I didn't complicate the fairly cushy life he'd set up for himself, working his way through a succession of brief encounters with some of the attractive young men he was lecturing. I wondered if he ended all his liaisons this way, claiming to be distancing himself for the sake of his career or marriage or whatever he'd been implying, but really wanting to clear the way for his next encounter.

Like I said at the start, I didn't see much of Dr Richard Powell after that night. I handed him the odd assigment, which was marked fairly and annotated neutrally, and shadowed him on a couple of ops as part of my training, but we didn't say another word socially to one another.

I'm glad that I did it, though: like I'd told him, even as early as the following morning I had no regrets about it.

One day, maybe I'll walk up to him, grin broadly and say, "Hey, Dr Powell. You know that night we shared a room... well... thanks so much! I owe you one... I owe you a big one!" Smile at him so he'd know I was being genuine.

Just so he knows I'm pleased he opened a door for me; helped me understand that sex shouldn't just be experienced within the confines and conventions of a boy-girl relationship; that men have their own pleasures to discover with one another.

I haven't plucked up the courage to do it yet. Maybe I will soon...

Assassins after dark

The banging on the door worked its way into Haken's head like a rotten, throbbing tooth. "Alright!" he bawled out, throwing back the matted, filthy furs he slept in. Where the hell was the bitch? "The World ain't ending is it?" he said, drawing on his trousers.

The banging got louder, like maybe the man on the other side had decided to dance on the door. "You fucking better have a Gods-cursed good reason for -", Haken said, yanking the door open. The words died on his lips when he saw Diogo and Valak.

"Bright morning to you," Diogo said, smiling cheerily and walking past Haken. Valak followed, tall, silent and deadly.

"Find the bitch," Diogo said to Valak.

"Right," he said, disappearing into the darkness beyond the tiny room.

Diogo sat on a chair, tilted it back on two legs and put his black boots up on a rickety wooden table. He looked Haken up and down, a tall thick man whose bloated belly showed the ale he packed away every night. His sleep bleary eyes were squeezed down to tiny points in the bright morning sunlight streaming in from outside. His scent filled the small room, stale liquor, piss and a nearly overpowering odor of sweat. Great oily drops rolled down the sides of his face as he stood looking at Diogo.

There was a thud in the other room, followed by a small, yipping cry, then Valak's low, grating voice saying, "No you don't, bitch."

Haken stood perfectly still as if to say, You're not here. This is a nightmare and soon I'll wake up and take a piss. You're nothing but a full, aching bladder, mister.

"Your payment's late," Diogo said, looking at the sack of shit in front of him.

"I been meaning to come by," Haken said. He licked his dry lips and tried a smile. He didn't quite make it and ended up bearing his teeth in an idiot grin instead.

"Yeah?" Diogo said, looking him up and down.

His dark brown assassin's eyes bore into Haken. Diogo's thickly muscled body always gave him the look of a crouched tiger, poised and ready to strike, even when he was sitting with his feet up and his arms crossed against his chest.

Valak came back into the room, dragging a pale, frightened slave boy by the arm. He backed the frantically struggling boy into a corner and let him pull away, afraid that if he held his frail arm too tight, he would break his thin bones. The boy cowered in the far corner of the room, and looked from one man to the other with green eyes round with fear. His hair, honey brown in the shaft of sunlight that stabbed into the dank rooms, fell across his pallid face, giving him the wild look of an animal caught in a trap.

"You hear that Valak? He's been meaning to come by," Diogo said to his friend. He'd taken out a knife and now he used it to clean his nails.

"Right," Valak said, looking down at the boy in the corner.

His hard, angular face, nearly lost in dark shadows, showed no emotion. In the small room, he towered over the slave boy, tall and built hard and compact somehow. He had a deadly air about him, like a cross bow always cocked and ready to deal death at a moment's notice.

He pulled the boy from the corner, dug his long fingers into his hair and pulled his head back hard. His other hand moved eerily fast, and a knife appeared from nowhere. He pressed the cold, wickedly sharp blade to the pulse in the boy's throat, and looked at Diogo, waiting.

The slave boy tried to pull back from the knife, but Valak paid no mind. He pulled the boy's hair tighter to keep him from cutting his own throat in panic. Unshed tears glistened in the boy's soft green eyes and hung like gems in his long lashes. Tiny desperate sounds came from the slave boy, but no words escaped his lips.

"Where's my fucking tokens?" Diogo said, looking at the tableau of Valak and the boy.

Diogo wasn't smiling anymore. His hard eyes had gone a cold shade, the color of freshly turned grave dirt. Haken, a one time farmer, had turned into a veteran gambler and a long term loser. He was a battle hardened veteran of every Poker table in Emyhr and far beyond. He'd spent endless summers in dark corners of shit hole taverns with whores so filthy, a man didn't know if his cock would rot after he fucked them. And he'd come to know the look in Diogo's eyes a deadman's eyes.

He read the message in those inhumanly hard eyes with a kind of perfect clarity that spoke of death and bloody things to come. Pay me or die you fucking shit sack, those eyes said. And they would kill him too, just to make an example--especially that one holding his boy, who looked like a man itching for a reason to dig his knife into hot, steaming guts. Or maybe he'd do it for no reason at all.

The veteran gambler, turned long term loser, looked from one man to the other and wished mightily that the earth would open and swallow them both.

"My friends," he said, in his best let's-be-reasonable voice. He smiled broadly, and this time it lit up his whole face, like sunshine coming out from clouds. He looked like the young man he used to be before he found his true calling at the bottom of a mug of ale. "I can work this out, give me time."

"Cut the bitch," Diogo said in a low, irritated voice. He didn't look up from his work on his nails. "Make him scream."

Valak increased the pressure on the knife ever so slightly. A drop of blood formed on the boy's throat. He was used to using knives on men, that's why what happened next took him completely by surprise.

The slave boy went purely crazy, thrashing and screaming, begging Valak not to kill him, to please have mercy on a worthless slave boy, please. Valak was forced to drop his knife, or the boy's struggles would have cut his throat from ear to ear. Valak slapped the boy's face hard, leaving a brilliant red mark on his too pale cheek.

"Quit it, you stupid bitch," Valak yelled into his face, "or you'll fucking kill yourself!"

He grabbed the boy's too thin arm again, Gods, nothing's right about this bitch, he had time to think, and bent to get his knife, but the boy kicked out a scrawny leg and the knife went twirling across the warped, wooden floor. Valak looked at the boy. He wasn't stupid then, just afraid.

Valak gave his arm a rough shake and the feel of the boy's bones just beneath his skin damped his anger. The boy grimaced in pain and cringed from the blow he expected.

Valak did something he never did. That's what kept him alive in his line of work. He acted without thinking. Without realizing he was going to do it, he swept the boy up into his arms and slung his impossibly light weight over his shoulder like the world's lightest sack of potatoes.

The boy immediately beat his tiny fists on Valak's back, but he was ready for that. The boy's tunic had pulled up and his naked ass stuck out over Valak's shoulder. He brought his big calloused hand down on the boy's naked ass, with not even half the force his hard, muscled arm could have given the boy. But it was enough to make the slave boy yelp and scream, until his white ass turned beet red.

"Behave bitch, or I'll lay into you real good," Valak said in his hoarse voice.

The boy's struggles stopped as if a switch had turned off and Diogo saw something that gave him a bad feeling in the pit of his belly. A tiny smile touched the corners of Valak's mouth. He looked from that hint of a smile on his friend's face to Haken, who stood with his mouth hanging open like a door that's come unhinged. Oh Gods, I don't need this shit, Diogo thought.

Beads of sweat stood out on Haken's oily forehead. His hair was scattered helter-skelter from sleep, like grass grown wild. He brushed at it, as if neatness counted.

"If you got a stash Haken, now's the time to dig it out of whatever filthy hole you got it in," Diogo said. "Down your pants, up your ass, I don't care. Get my fucking tokens. Now!"

"I got half," Haken said, inching around Valak and the boy. "Half Diogo. I'll give you the rest come Temple Day. Someone owes me." Haken's voice was desperate and somehow whiny at the same time.

"Nobody owes you nothing, you stinking drunk. You owe half the town and you're in hock to the other half."

"I swear. This sailor, he'll be back in town come Temple Day. He owes me."

Diogo dropped his feet to the floor, and let the chair slam to the ground. The sound was loud in the silence. The only other sound was the slave boy's sniveling whimpers.

"I don't want half you lying shit sack. You got 'til Temple Day to get me all of it. Any later and I take it out of his ass," Diogo said, pointing to Haken's slave boy. "Bring the bitch, Valak."

"Hey, wait," Haken said. "The bitch's worth five no--ten times what I owe you." He started to go after the men and his boy.

Valak put the boy down and pushed him toward Diogo. He headed for Haken and both men met in the middle of the darkly shadowed room.

"No!" Diogo cried out. "Valak, back off him!"

But it was as if Diogo had said nothing. Valak grabbed Haken's shoulders and jammed his right knee viciously into the other man's crotch. Haken doubled over, screaming. Valak grabbed his hair and whispered into his ear, "Don't pay shit sack. I'll enjoy coming for you." He let him go and stood back as Haken crumbled to the floor, holding his balls and gasping for breath.

Valak turned to the boy and grabbed his skinny arm. He bent low so he was eye to eye with the boy. "You going to fuck with me?"

The boy shook his head back and forth slowly, watching Valak warily, like a lion that might pounce and eat him. He looked past Valak to his Master, still squirming on the floor, then tore his eyes away and looked at Valak again. The tears in his eyes slipped down his cheeks. Valak wiped the boy's wet cheeks with the back of his hand.

"Do what I say and I won't hurt you," he told the scared boy. He picked up his knife and held it up in front of the boy. "Fuck with me, and I'll cut on you just for fun. You got me?"

The slave boy nodded enthusiastically. Valak thought if the boy shook his head any harder, it might fall right off his body. He held out his hand and after a moment's thought, the boy took it obediently and went with Valak out into Emyhr's bright morning sunshine. Diogo marveled at that. He could have never gotten the boy to take his hand. He would have to take him by force. Just before they left, Valak gave Haken a sidelong look that Diogo knew better than he wanted to cutter's eyes. Haken was too busy writhing on the floor, trying to catch his breath, to see his coming fate in Valak's furious eyes.

"Siri," the boy had said in a kind of "Oh Gods, I'm fucked" voice when Diogo asked his name. He sat on the floor beside Diogo's writing table in the back room of the whorehouse. It was a grotto like room, with a low ceiling, carved out of the dark stone behind the whorehouse. Two torches burned on the wall behind Diogo. The dark walls and ceiling had a fine dusting of soot from countless torches.

Besides the massive table, the only other furniture in the room was two cherry wood straight back chairs that matched the table. The dark red wood glowed with a mellow gleam that made the stark black walls look more like a room and less like a stone crypt. Diogo slid a beat up leather pouch from a drawer, pushed aside the papers on his desk, and started rolling a smoke.

"That shit will kill you," Valak said.

Diogo shrugged. "If you got a point, make it." It was an old joke between them.

Valak, who didn't hurt slave boys for the sake of it, had bought the boy a plate of sausages, bread cakes and scrambled eggs. Siri shoveled the food down his throat, with hardly a pause in his mouth, with almost alarming speed. Diogo and Valak exchanged a silent glance.

"For the love of the crops boy, when's the last time you ate?" Valak asked.

The boy paused a moment, a thick bread cake wrapped around a sausage that dripped oil poised at his lips, thinking. "Yesterday Sir. Master had meat last night," the boy said. "He gave me bread and gravy." His face brightened. "All the gravy." He popped the sausage and bread into his mouth, making his cheeks bulge comically.

"Well slow down. You're not worth anything dead, you know," Valak said with a rough edge in his voice.

His boys were used to Valak's rough ways. They knew when their Handler was mildly annoyed, and when he was about to whip some serious ass. But Siri wasn't one of his boys. A shadow of fear crossed the slave boy's pale face. The memory of Valak's cold knife pressed to his throat haunted his eyes.

"Go on boy, eat," Valak said in a softer voice. "I'll bring you more if you gobble it all."

The boy looked at him, unbelieving. "You would do that Sir?"

Valak nodded. "Yeah. So slow down, I mean it."

Diogo saw a look on his friend's face that he had come to know and dread. "No," Diogo said, making the word two syllables. He shot up his forefinger, ticking it back and forth. "Don't be thinking of it."

"What?" Valak said, his eyes wide, his hands spread, palms up.

"Don't be looking at him like a stray pup. Our stable's full."

The soft stray pup look vanished from Valak's face and that hard, dangerous look that was never far, came into his eyes. Cutter's eyes, Diogo called them. That's how Valak looked when he was carving up a screaming man like a Gods- Blessed Feast Day bird.

"Haken's scum," Valak said.

Diogo let it go. Countless summers of friendship had taught him not to argue with those cutter's eyes.

All this seemed to go by the boy, who went on eating without looking up at the men. Outside, seven bells rang.

"Call them in," Diogo said. "Let's take care of this. Daylight's wasting."

The boy spared Valak no glance when he left. Diogo sat back with the air of a man at a particularly good magic show and watched the boy stuff another tremendous bread wrapped sausage into his mouth.

The moment the boy swallowed the last of the food, he looked afraid again. He wiped the crumbs from his soft lips and knelt between Diogo's legs looking more scared than ever. "You going to sell me off, Sir? To Tooth n' Claw?"

The boy misread the surprise on Diogo's face and started apologizing. "I'm sorry Sir. I didn't mean any disrespect Sir. I know it's your decision Sir. Please Sir, I - "

"What makes you say that boy?" Diogo said, studying the boy close.

Siri squirmed under his hard gaze and shrugged and looked down at Diogo's boots. "Master's always saying he'd sell me if I was worth anything. Always says a place like Tooth n' Claw is where a useless slut like me belongs." Tears slipped from the boy's big green eyes. "Is that where you're selling me?"

Diogo was no good at handling slaveboys. Anything he said or did made things worse. He wished like hell Valak would hurry up. "I'm not selling you anywhere boy. I'm giving you back as soon as your Master pays me."

The boy's tears began in earnest. Gods-damn it, Diogo thought, where the fuck's Valak? "Softly boy. You'll be home before - "

"He won't pay you," Siri shouted in a high screechy voice that grated on Diogo's ears. "He probably left town already. He'll be on the first ship out."

"You're wrong boy," Diogo said quietly. "No one would do that to me. He'll pay, and come Temple Day you'll be back home."

"Yeah," the slave boy said, and sat at Diogo's feet and cried into his hands.

Valak walked in. The relief on Diogo's face was ecstasy, salvation. "They're coming," his Handler said. He was about to say more, but he caught the look on Diogo's face. "What's up?"

Diogo told him. In a few minutes, by some magic that made Valak the best Handler Diogo knew, he had the boy smiling. It was a small smile, but it was better than anything Diogo could have done. Siri knelt at Valak's feet, fiddling with the man's trousers in a way that would have annoyed Diogo beyond all reason. He didn't know how Valak did it. Slave boys all over him all the time, with their petty nonsense this one took that, he said this, it wasn't me, he got more cake than me - bawling, laughing, noisy. He cringed inside at the thought.

Valak watched over the whores with a savage passion that was nearly frightening. The boys adored him. They obeyed Diogo out of fear, but they followed Valak's least command out of gratitude.

With men Valak was a murderer, a torturer and a ruthless enemy. With slave boys he was a benign God who ruled fairly and whipped ass like the Devil Man himself. Every time Diogo thought he had Valak figured out, he'd see him with some new pretty he'd bought for the whores or a silly scrap of rug they'd begged him for.

Yet it was Valak who had talked him into the Kathara cut. The whorehouse had become rich because of it. Valak didn't seem to mind the look of fear and suffering that came into whores' eyes every night when it came time to serve. If anything, he seemed to think the horror in their eyes belonged there, that they would be somehow incomplete without it. Diogo talked a lot of shit about selling off the whores, but he knew Valak would skin him alive and boil him in oil if he sold even one of the boy whores. In the way of men whose friendship was born in the bloody brotherhood of the battlefield, the men had split the business between them without speaking of it. Diogo managed the money side, Valak managed the whores.

His Handler was a deep one. After nearly half a lifetime of friendship, Diogo was still never sure what dark thoughts went on behind those cutter's eyes.

The whores came trooping in, quiet and nervous, as they always were around Diogo. He leaned against his desk, watching them walk in and kneel in front of him in a half moon. He didn't know why they were so afraid of him. He rarely beat them. He left that to Valak.

In the small room, Tashir came too close to Diogo's desk and brushed some papers off. The boy tried to save them and an inkwell went toppling to the floor, spilling across Diogo's trousers. The boy whore looked up at Diogo, horrified. He tried to clean the ink and succeeded only in making bigger stains, leaving handprints all over the trousers.

"I'm sorry Bahari," the boy kept saying. "Sorry."

The boys never called Diogo by name. Bahari was from the High Speech and translated roughly to 'Great Sir' or 'Lord'.

Diogo jerked his leg out of Tashir's reach. "Get off me bitch," he said through clenched teeth. The boy paled and shoved his hands behind his back like Diogo's trousers had caught fire.

"Yes Sir," Tashir said miserably. "Sorry. I'm real sorry Sir, about your trousers and all." Valak watched in silence. This kind of thing always happened to Diogo around the boys. Once, a whore spilled cold soup into Diogo's lap. It had taken Valak hours to coax the boy out of hiding. He took pity on his friend, who looked ready to slap Tashir into roughly the middle of next week.

"Tashi. To me," Valak said, snapping his fingers and pointing to the floor beside him, opposite Siri.

The boy hurried to Valak. Anything was better than the look on Diogo's face. Even the beating Tashir knew was coming.

"You whores, like the life I give you?" Diogo said.

All seven of his boy whores knelt on the floor in front of his desk. He sat behind his desk. Valak sat on the opposite side of the desk in the corner, watching over his boys, as always.

"Yes Sir," Yahsi said softly.

"You treat us good Sir," Reya said in a soft murmur.

The boys never spoke much above a whisper in front of Diogo.

"You hear that Valak? My whores think I treat them good."


"What about your Handler? He treat you good?"

The boys all nodded. Taj slipped a trembling hand into Yashi's hand. Diogo leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk, trying to ignore the ink stain soaking into his trousers.

"You're bathed, clean and fed everyday. That's more than some men in this town have."

Taj stole a glance at Valak, who looked right back at him. The boy dropped his eyes; sorry he'd ever looked up. Valak was seriously pissed. This was bad--very bad.

"You're all prime slave flesh," Diogo was saying. "We paid a wagon load of tokens for every one of you!" Diogo put his feet down with a hard thump that made the boy whores stiffen and huddle closer together. "You're all the kind of whores that make a man dig deep into his pockets, then sell what he don't have to fuck your ass." All the boy whores were looking down at the floor. None dared raise their eyes to him. Diogo looked at his Handler over their bent heads and winked. Siri, silent and watchful beside Valak, saw it.

"Valak, there's one thing I don't ever do. I never force a boy to be a whore for me."

"It's not worth it," Valak said in his low, raspy voice. He always sounded like a man on the edge of losing his voice.

"No," Diogo went on, "I like my bitches to be happy." Diogo looked at the slave property that he and Valak owned, half and half, all of them beauties that had cost them dearly. Not one boy would fetch less than five thousand gold tokens at auction.

"There's always Tooth n' Claw," Valak said.

A gasp of horror passed among the boys. Taj, the slave whore closest to Diogo said softly, "Please Sir."

"Who gave you permission to speak bitch?" Valak interrupted, his voice soft and dangerous.

The boy cringed at the sound of Valak's voice as though he'd been slapped.

"Tooth n' Claw, down on the docks." Diogo went on, as if Taj had said nothing. "It's the first place sailors hit to get some ass."

"He keeps his whores chained up in the day, but I hear he takes them out every three or four moons," Valak said.

"You think Kadiz would buy one of my whores if they weren't happy here?"

Valak shrugged. "I don't see why not. He's always looking for fresh slave meat." He looked over at his boys. "You think they should get another chance?"

Diogo shrugged. "That's up to you and good thing for them. If it was me, I'd sell the bitch. Teach the others not to fuck with me."

The boy who had spilled the ink crawled to the front and knelt at Diogo's feet. "Please Bahari. It was my fault. I refused him. Don't sell me," the boy said. He cried at Diogo's feet. "Please, let me stay."

"Why did you refuse a man?" Diogo said in a low voice that betrayed none of the anger that boiled in him.

"I had already served four men, Sir," the boy said. He wiped tears from his eyes.

"So you refused a man your ass?"

The boy nodded, twisted the front of his tunic into a bunch. "It hurts so much Bahari," he said in a small voice.

"No one gives a fuck how much it hurts you whore," Valak said in that same soft voice. "You pissed me off bitch, that voice said. I'm going to whip you raw!"

Tashir said nothing. It was safer to keep your mouth shut when Valak sounded like that.

"I hand picked--all of you!" Diogo swore. He leaned back against his desk. The boy at his feet took hold of his leg and wet his trousers with his tears, getting ink all over his tunic. Diogo let him stay like that, ignoring him. If he touched Tashir right now, he might beat his stupid face in. "I give you privileges most whores wouldn't dream of. In the day, you have the run of the whorehouse. You go out on the back balcony, instead of being locked in downstairs. On Festival Days, you eat sweetmeats. You don't have to kneel when I come in a room. You bitches live good here."

Diogo leaned down and grabbed the front of Tashir's ink stained tunic. "You see this tunic?" He shook the boy and let him go. "I have to pay for another one. You're whores," he yelled at them. "That's why we bought you. I'm generous. I tell you only four men a night. But if a man wants your ass, how dare any one of you refuse!

"Sir, please," Tashir said.

"Shut the fuck up!" Diogo shouted into the boy's face. Spit flew from his lips and landed on Tashir's cheeks.

You cost tokens last night bitch," Valak said to Tashir. "I'm giving that man your ass tonight, free." The boy hung his head and cried into his ink stained hands.

Diogo saw the mess and threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Whatever you do to them Valak, make sure you welt their whore asses good."

"I'll leave good marks," Valak said. "You done with them?" Diogo nodded."Go downstairs and bathe," Valak said. "I'll be down."

The boys all rose to their feet and hurried out as fast as they could without running. Siri looked up at Valak, unsure what he should do. "Go with them," Valak said. The boy followed after the whores, running to catch up to them. Valak closed the door behind him and turned back to Diogo. A smile surfaced on his hard face.

"Tooth n' Claw. I wouldn't let you sell a rabid dog into that slime pit."

"No. But they don't know that," Diogo said. He sat at his desk and pressed his tented fingers to his temples. "Refusing a man." He shook his head. "Who bought Tashir, you or me?"

"Doesn't matter," Valak said. "He's a good bitch. I'll take care of it before they go to sleep." The laughter left Valak's face. "What happened last night?"

"You sure they're gone?" Diogo said. He looked at the door the whores had left partly open.

Valak nodded. "I'm sure. No bitch wants to be near me right now."

"I told them about Nehad."


"You sound like Balir. And nothing! We'll meet again in two days. If a miracle doesn't fall out of the sky, we'll be out of time."

Diogo put his feet up again. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"You think Jaseer knows about Lessel yet?" Valak said.

"I'm sure his watchdog already told him," Diogo said without opening his eyes.

Valak paced the tiny room. His long legs covered the small open space between the dark walls in three or four steps. Before Emyhr, Diogo and Valak had been what Diogo called purveyors of information. Sometimes powerful men needed information. Or needed things done. Things they couldn't risk getting dirty with.

That's where Diogo and Valak came in. Diogo negotiated the deals and Valak handled the blood work. Diogo softened up men with words that conjured such horrors that men fell to their knees, begging to tell anything, give up any friend, yield any secret. The men who didn't succumb to Diogo's words, faced Valak's knife. His talent was carving up men like a roast of meat, one screaming piece at a time.

Between the two of them, they had made a fortune, selling their talents to the rich and powerful. Eight summers ago, the two friends came to Emyhr and pooled their riches and bought Black Horse and the whores. In two summers, they made all their tokens back. The whorehouse had made them rich. The gambling in the back room made them even richer. Now they were businessmen by day and assassins after dark.

Diogo opened his eyes and watched Valak pace the room. He had known his friend for too long not to know that something was eating at him. "Something on your mind?" Diogo said.

Valak turned to him. "Why'd you kill Lessel? I thought yesterday was just for talk."

"What? Sorry you missed out on it? I probably didn't carve him up as neat and pretty as you," Diogo shrugged, "but he gave me what I needed."

"Where does that get us?" Valak said. "Jaseer will be so mad, he'll be cross-eyed."

"When you're on the battlefield, what's the best way to distract your enemy?" Diogo said.

Valak stared at the wall, thinking. "Get him off balance. Hurt him, piss him off, make him - " he stopped. Diogo put his legs down, waiting for him to finish. "Make him so mad he can't see straight," Valak said.

"Angry men make mistakes," Diogo said. He yawned and stretched. "I need some sleep. Lessel yesterday, the catacombs last night, Haken this morning. I've been working like a bitch my friend."

"You think Haken will pay?" Back to that. "The bitch said he already left town, ran out on us."

"That's too bad," Valak said, sounding genuinely disappointed. "I was looking forward to slicing off a couple fingers."

"What's he done to you?" Diogo said, although he knew his friend well enough to know the answer.

Valak looked at Diogo like he'd turned suddenly stupid. "Did you see how he kept his bitch? The boy dirty, hungry and whip marks all over his back. What could a scared boy like that do to deserve scars on his back? Fucking drunk. Coward."

"If he ran out, we'll sell the boy at - "

But Valak didn't let Diogo finish. "No," he said.

"Valak, our stable's full. He's a worthless whore scared, skinny and all scarred up. We can't - "

"I said no!" Valak looked his friend in the eye.

"Be it," Diogo said, giving up. There was no use arguing with Valak when he looked at you like that. "But he belongs to you, not the business. I don't want any part of him."

"Agreed," Valak said.

Diogo stifled another yawn. "I'm going. Don't beat them too bad, I need them in the whorehouse tonight."

"I know how to take care of my boys," Valak said quietly.

"You got a name?" Yahsi said to Siri when the boys got downstairs.

"Forget his fucking name. Hurry up," Taj said. His voice was tinged with hysteria. "Don't let him come down here and find us standing around flapping our lips at the new bitch. We're already in it for thirty lashes."

"He never gives us thirty," Reya said, pushing his curly brown hair back from the tawny skin of his smooth face.

Taj whirled on the boy. "Shut up! He will if he hears you!"

The door opened and Valak walked into the slave quarters. Taj looked around at him, frozen in the act of taking off his tunic. Some of the other boys were already bathing. They all froze, their eyes riveted on Valak.

Reya's confidence crumbled like wet sand. Had Valak heard him? Oh Gods, please don't let it be. Fourteen pair of eyes watched Valak take off his tunic. He only did that when he planned to work up a sweat. His lean, muscled chest sloped down to his flat belly, ridged with muscle.

"Finish bathing," he said. "Take a bath Siri."

The slave quarters was basically a big square hole that had been carved out of the stone underneath the whorehouse. Valak had let the whores put up silks on the black walls and he'd bought them cushions that added bright splashes of color that did nothing to push back the gloom of the stone darkness the boys lived in.

Candles, lit by the whores when they came down, burned around the room, making more shadow than light. The room glowed with a soft yellow light that showed the nervous strain on the boys' faces as they went about bathing.

In one corner of the room, three round holes had been scooped out of the floor so long ago that the stone was worn smooth with age. A pump stood on the edge of each round hole. The baths were filled with cold water and the boys bathed quietly, taking turns. Bath time was usually noisy, filled with gossip from the night before and the boys' laughter. But today they were quiet and solemn. They shot quick glances across the room at Valak, as if they hoped he'd disappear like a bad dream.

The far corner of the stone room, opposite the door, was the Devotion Corner. A life size statue of Zah Nar stood there. A stone slave boy knelt on all fours, on a stone altar, in front of Zah Nar. The God's hands were clamped down tight on the boy's hips, caught in the act of thrusting his great stone cock into the slave boy's ass. The muscles in his arms flexed, standing out in thick cords of strain. The boy's mouth was stretched into a scream of agony. His face was a study in pain and fear. "To Suffer is to Serve"

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