I broke the internet.

Okay, well I didn’t break the whole internet. But I sure blew up that page. I’m so disappointed. All that work. I was really proud of it. Maybe I’ll be able to recover some of it and then just put like 5 foto captions on one page. Some of those were really cute. I thought the one for you smiling on the beach is hysterical. I feel so weird. I mean, it just feels like I spent days with you. So I guess in that respect it wasn’t a total loss.
I was able to throw together a few pics and the transcription of the story at least.
Happy Birthday & (consider this your) Merry Christmas (too)!

JRP flower (1)

The Man is naked within moments of entering the bedroom. .

The only thing that has happened is him seeing the Boy’s milk-white bubble ass, jockstrapped and visible, waiting for him and his eight thick inches of cock that are already stiff at just the anticipation. The Boy wears a rugby shirt with the sleeves ripped off and the chest insignia cut out revealing a light pink nipple. The Man notes the shirt is almost backless, with just the collar, neck, and shoulders—he’ll use this later. He climbs into bed, laying on his back with a sigh. The Boy climbs up on all fours, his hand reaching out for the Man’s chest.

“Now that’s where you belong,” he purrs. As he runs his hands along the Man’s naked body, the Man moans. This ritual doesn’t usually happen before but rather after, so while the attention doesn’t surprise him, this sort does. The Boy rubs the Man’s cock and balls.

“Feel how full my balls are.”

The Boy stretches up to the Man’s face, kisses one cheek, then the other, then moves to the Man’s ear, brushing his lips against it, causing that rippling, tingling sensation along the back of his neck. He treats his ear like a mic, rock singer lips just touching it everso gently.

“Can I suck your cock?” he asks breathily.

“Suck my big fucking cock,” the Man orders in a full voice, a stark contrast to the Boy’s. Just another way the Man establishes his dominance. It will not be the only time he does so.

The Boy kisses the Man’s stomach briefly and then takes the Man’s cock into his mouth prompting an inevitable, long, slow, low moan from the Man. It’s a moan of recognition, of memory, of days of thinking about feeling the Boy’s mouth on his meat, with intense concentration on the sensation for the last ninety minutes. At last…his moan says. He moans again as the Boy’s mouth envelopes his dick. And another as he consumes it. And another as the Boy moves his mouth slowly up and down the entire length of the Man’s cock.

“Can you taste that precum? There’s so fuckin’ much. It woulda been so easy to fuck my husband this morning but instead I’m here fucking you.” With that, he pushes his hips up, shoving his cock into the Boy’s mouth. The Boy, reflexively, follows the motion of the Man’s hips. “Put that fuckin’ dick back in your mouth.”

He continues to lift off the bed, fucking the Boy’s face. The Boy comes up for air.

“Jesus.”

Put that fuckin’ dick in your mouth,” he says with a hint of anger.

The Boy swallows the Man’s dick again and this time the Man makes certain the dick stays in the Boy’s mouth by taking his hands and grabbing the Boy’s head, holding him in place while he fucks his throat. He moans. The Boy gags.

What are you? You’re my fuckin’ hole that’s what you are,” he hisses. He follows this with commands but they are redundant because his hands never leave the back of the Boy’s head and he directs his subject’s head where he wants. “Put your nose in my bush. Smell that. That’s what a real man smells like.” He starts fucking the Boy’s mouth again. “Yeah,” he says over the muffled sounds of the Boy gagging. Finally he releases his grip and the Boy’s head jerks off the Man’s dick with a gasp.

“Fucking hell,” he says, but his mouth returns immediately and the Man moans his approval.

“Service that big fuckin’ cock!”

The Boy takes his hand and sucks and strokes at the same time. Then he licks the Man’s swollen balls.

“Feel all that cum in there. I’m gonna put such a big load in you. I haven’t shot a load in five days.”

The Boy starts at the bottom of the Man’s balls, flattens his tongue wide against the Man’s dick and licks up to the swollen head, layering his cock with saliva.

“Put those fuckin’ balls in your mouth, faggot.”

The Boy’s cock leaps at the slur. He doesn’t know why this turns him on so much, but it does.

“Suck my babymakers. But ‘em both in your mouth. Yeah, real men don’t shave their balls, do they?”

“No,” he whines. Then the Man slaps his hard cock against the boy’s forehead several time.

“That’s right.”

After lapping his full balls, the Boy returns to the dick.

“That’s right. Yes. That’s it,” the Man says and then pumps his hips several times faster and harder than he did before. The Boy takes it. After the Man stops, the Boy slowly takes his mouth off the cock, then back down, sucking just the head. Then slowly, slowly down, almost to the base. “Yesssss.” But here he struggles. The girth keeps the Boy’s mouth full, the length hitting the back of his throat. “That’s it. You can do it. Take it all the way down.”

The Boy obeys. The Man watches.

Has anybody fucked you since me?”

His tone is challenging. After a moment, the Boy takes his mouth off the Man’s cock, but keeps stroking it with his hand.

“What answer should I tell you?” he asks.

“Be honest.” His tone tells the Boy he really does want to know. The Boy wonders briefly what answer is best.

Would he like it that another man’s cock was inside him?

Would he not?

Does he think the Boy waits for him? That he’s devoted only to him?

Or does he fantasize about other men fucking him?

“I wanna know.”

The Boy answers quickly.

“Yes.”

“Was he good? Was it good?” The Boy can’t quite catch what the Man says, he’s distracted now, thinking about the other man. But this Man says he wants to know about the other man, so he tells him.

“He actually rivals you for first place,” the Boy says, barely concealing his smile. The Man sighs and, strangely, turns his head away, breaking eye contact with the boy.

“That’s a lie.”

“No, it’s true…”

But he doesn’t get to finish his sentence, the Man has placed his hands back on the Boy’s head and shoves a mouth full of cock into him.

“Do you have any video of him fucking ya?”

This, too, throws the Boy off. Does he want to see it? The Man said he wanted the Boy to have porn playing in the bedroom, a strange, new demand.

The Boy comes down from all fours and lays on his stomach, still between the Man’s legs, still stroking his cock while he talks. He stutters to answer, eventually stammering that, “I’m not that good with the camera.”

“I’d love to watch you get fucked.”

The Boy pauses, knowing that the Man has watched video of the two of them fucking. He flirts.

“It’s pretty hot. As you saw.”

“Stroke me too much I’ll cum,” he warns.

The Boy immediately stops stroking, but still maintains a grip on it, his fingers barely touching around its fat shaft. He laps the head like a cat laps up cream.

“Not yet, Daddy.”

“I want to watch you in a threeway,” the Man growls.

“That guy doesn’t share,” the Boy tells him wondering how this will land.

“Get someone.”

“You’re the one with all the friends.”

“Not tops,” he says casually. “I don’t play with tops.”

His feet planted on the mattress, he pumps his crotch into the Boy’s face. Then he grabs his hard dick with his right hand and slaps the Boy’s face with it. The Boy makes winces. Then, with his left hand, he slaps the Boy’s face. Once. Twice. Three times. The Boy gasps. The Man shoves the Boy’s head on his hard dick, clamps his powerful thighs on his head, then rolls to the left, fucking his face. He keeps a firm grip on the back of the Boy’s head, speaking with each thrust.

“Don’t…tell…me…I’m…not…number one…”

The Boy escapes his grip. The Man wrestles him back onto his cock.

Put your mouth on my dick!” He pumps the Boy’s throat. “Ah that’s it. That’s it right there.” He laughs, “That’s so fuckin’ hot! Jesus fuck!”

“You’re precumming so fucking much,” the Boy says, his words garbled by the bath of saliva in his mouth.

“I’m gonna cum, like, fast,” he says, repositioning.

“Then slow down.”

He puts his foot in the Boy’s face.

“Suck my fuckin’ toes,” he commands.

Like every command, the Boy obeys. And like everything about the Man, his feet are pretty, pristine.

“Like this?” the Boy asks, tongue on his toes.

“Yeah. You’re a fuckin’ bottom,” he says as if this is one of his many duties.

“I am.”

“Show me you’re fuckin’ worth it.”

Astros celebrating on the field after winning the world series
Astros celebrating on the field after winning the world series

The Man ambles up and places his foot on the Boy’s face and presses it down into the mattress. Then he steps over the Boy and with two hands, spreads open the Boy’s cheeks, and tongue thrusts his clean warm hole. The Boy groans and moans. The Man moans. The Man told him once, that eating ass was his second favorite thing to do—the first being fucking, of course. And this Boy’s ass tastes incredible. Every time the Man goes down on him. The Boy speaks but his words are muffled, as the Man’s weight is pressing him facedown into the bed. But as the Man moves from ravaging his hole, sucking the Boy’s pussylips violently to lovingly tonguing it, kissing it, the Boy’s protests turn to low moans, his arms gripping the Man’s marble calves as if he was falling.

“Oh…” he cries. “Oh…God…oh…!” And the Man takes his worship of the Boy’s hole.

I love it when you get into it!” And with that, he returns to devouring the Boy’s hole.

“Oh God. Oh fuck! Oh God. God!

“Gimme that pussy,” he says as forcefully as he takes it. More moaned words escape the Boy’s lips.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh, Daddy!

The Man moans and says loudly, “Your cunt tastes so fuckin’ good!”

“Oh my God. Oh my God.”

The Man takes his arms, wraps them under the Boy’s legs, and pulls his boycunt into his mouth and mauls his hole.

“Oh God. Oh Jesus. Oh God.” Then the Boy falls into whimpering.

“I do not believe,” the Man tells him, briefly taking his mouth off his lover’s boypussy. “That you’ve found a better fuck than me.” Immediately, right back on.

“Oh! Oh! Ohhhhhh.”

“I do not buy that.”

“Oh fuck…Oh fuck…Oh…”

“Because I am always told I am the best fuck in this town.”

“You know you are.”

“Because I am always told I am the best fuck in this town,” the Man boasts with a growl. At last he takes his mouth off the Boy’s hole and the Boy heaves with the release of the weight, the pressure, and the pleasure. The Man crawls behind the Boy, leaning his head near the Boy’s wet hole and spits on it for good measure. Just spit. The Man’s preferred lube.

“You know you are,” the Boy says brightly, but still breathing heavily. “I have an embarrassment of riches.”

“What?” the Man grunts, now rising up on his knees planted on both sides of the Boy’s legs, rigid cock at attention, held in his fist just inches above the boy’s pale butt.

“But you don’t see me enough,” the Boy says, lifting his upper body up from the bed. “And I can’t wait for you.” He cranes his neck to look at the Man, who has one hand on his dick and the other hand ready to finger the Boy’s hole. “Hey. Look at me.” He does. “You gotta go in slow first.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he asks, doubting.

He puts two fingers in the Boy’s hole causing the Boy to cry out, then gasp. The Man works his fingers inside.

Gimme that pussy,” he implores. More gasping. “That feel good?” he asks, the Man’s voice a little higher now.

The Boy knows this voice. It’s a deception. A tease. A distraction.

“Uh-huh,” the Boy whimpers.

“Yeah?” he asks in a voice even a little lighter.

“Yes, Sir.”

But his touch is anything but light. The Boy groans and grunts as his hole is pried open by the Man’s forceful fingers. He briefly takes his right hand from stroking his own cock—never letting the fingers on his other hand cease their work—and hits a button on the iPad where the Boy has cued up porn, as requested. Then, deeper fingers, hand back on cock, more stroking, more exploring.

“I’m so tight,” the Boy says through grit teeth. The Top leers.

The Top’s lips curl into a sly grin.

“No, it just means your other top isn’t as big as I am.”

To illustrate his point, he takes his now-positioned arm closer to his target.

Knee seq 1
Knee seq 2
Knee seq 3
Knee seq 4

“No,” the Boy shoots back. “It just means I recover fast.”

The Man thrusts in two fingers and fucks the Boy’s tight hole roughly, stroking his own cock with his other hand. The Boy’s heaving, the force of the Top’s fingers turning breath to grunts.

Preferring to believe his own theory, the Top presses like a lawyer leading the witness. He’s not as big, is he? “Huh?”

“He’s not as big as you, though,” the Boy admits and then the Man’s fingers cause him to pant, long and lengthy.

The Top listens to these sounds a moment. Then the fingerfucking slows, and his hand recedes. The only light in the room is from the window and even this is dimmed by the shut blinds. Mostly the two are in shadow. But the Boy’s upturned ass, skin whiter than milk, is illuminated. He never tires of this sight. He leans over and kisses the boy’s left asscheek, swiftly on his way to changing position.

“Nobody does to me what you do,” the Boy says and it sounds mystified yet matter-of-fact. Or perhaps neither. It has all the sincerity of a confession. But is it really a confession when a god already knows your sin? But gods don’t answer men. Or boys. So the Boy states the obvious. “You know that.”

Still on his knees, the Man withdraws his left hand and straightens his back erect, just like the cock in his right. The Boy, still on his stomach, arches his back to look at the Man, reaching his hand out and up and feels the Man’s muscled chest.

“You know it,” he says.

“I’m so tempted to take a marker and write MY PROPERTY on your ass.”

This, too, sounds strangely like a confession. It’s telling that right after this is uttered, the Man swats the Boy’s hand from his chest.

“I have a Sharpie,” the Boy teases but doesn’t provide any marker.

The Top stands at the side of the bed.

“Come here,” he orders. The Top looks down at his hard cock. “We’ll use my precum as lube.” This is a point of contention between them. Only rarely does the Man allow lube which, of course, makes the experience more painful than pleasurable for the Boy. Maybe that’s part of the attraction, that the Man doesn’t give the Boy what he needs. He gives him what he wants. And that makes one of them feel good while the other thinks it does.

JRP my hand his chest

Once again, the Boy’s hand reaches out for the Man but this time he brings his fingers to the Man’s hair. Both like this. It feels good to the Man and to the Boy as well, the Man’s hair thick, wiry, immovable, coarsely flowing between his fingers. This is more of a post-coital move and it’s unclear whether the gesture is ill-timed or merely getting in the way of the agenda but the Man tilts his head away from the touch.

“Get your legs up in the air.”

He lies on his back. Thin legs separate and spread wide. The Top’s eyes fall immediately to the sight and he freezes for just a second. He smiles in…recognition? Appreciation? Is it the look of a flower you’ve found or a flower you’ve picked? The Top shakes his head as in disbelief: bewildered at his fortune? Does he realize how lucky he actually is?

“That’s just beautiful,” he says still smiling, his gaze still locked at the Bottom’s open hole. The Top moves forward, positions his cock, and presses.

“Ohhhhhh…” His Bottom moans. Like most of the noises the two make, this one is duplicitous. Another aural Rorschach. It sounds like pleasure. It sounds like dread. It sounds nervous. It sounds anticipatory. And perhaps that’s what part of the attraction is. That each believes they’re saying one thing or sounding one way, but the meaning interpreted may be entirely different. Are the sounds being misread? One man’s music is another man’s noise and all that.

The Top’s cock goes deeper into the Boy.

The Boy grunts once. “Easy, Daddy,” he begs. “Please.” Twice. The Boy lowers his legs.

The Top moves closer, his hands folding into fists that he presses on either side of the prey, leaning over him, looming larger. His hips arch forward, deeper. He pauses and glares at his Bottom.

“Gimme that fuckin’ asshole!” the Top commands forcefully. The Boy’s legs now lowered, he emits the tiniest grunt and immediately the Top’s shoulders relax—almost imperceptibly. Really, nothing one would notice at the time. But what has occurred is clear.

His handsome head moves left and right: shaking “no” as in I can’t believe it was this easy. The Boy gives him exactly what the Man wants—his asshole—not “as if” on command but actually by command. Then, his head still moving back and forth, his eyes no longer narrow, instead now closed in ecstasy, his grit teeth, once concealed by tight lips are now visible and gleaming as his face displays an enormous smile. This is the Top’s reaction to the feeling of his hard dry cock suddenly allowed entrance inside, into warmth, into wet, into the Boy. For an instant, the Boy senses a fortress vanished and the Man is no longer black iron, but something reachable, touchable. Maybe it’s by accident but it’s as if by the Boy opening up his hole to him, the Man opens to the Boy. It has all the galactic enormity of a black hole and the intimacy of a keyed lock. And while it has its beauty, nothing escapes a black hole. And locks aren’t just meant to keep someone out. They also keep dangerous things from being freed.

The Top pumps slowly for just a few moments, the Bottom’s body moved back and forth from the force. Never stopping his rhythmic thrusting, the Top gives another command.

“Tell me you love me.”

The Boy says nothing.

“Tell me you love me,” the Man implores.

“I love you,” says the Boy. And it sounds like he means it. Does he? Or is that how he’s hoping it to sound, to give the Man what he wants?

The Man laughs, “I’m such a sick fuck.”

The Boy’s voice is barely a whisper. Now that the Boy has said what the Man wanted him to say, he asks him: “Does that make you feel good?”

Hearing the Boy say he loves him? Laughing at the Boy for saying it? His cock inside the Boy’s warm ass?

The Top whispers, tilting his head back, “God, you’ve got me so hard.” Then an enormous sigh from his chest, the chest the Boy is caressing. “Your ass feels so fucking good.”

“Your cock feels good.”

The Boy’s hole almost relaxed, the Top presses his granite cock, inch by inch, deeper, not all the way, then withdraws taking his time.

“Nice long slow strokes,” the Bottom says. “As slow as you possibly can.”

“Shhhhh,” the Top replies. But he does just as his Bottom asks.

“That’s what I meant,” he whispers. And the Bottom’s moans begin. Four of them, building. “Fuuuuuck!” he says in a low voice and he sounds less like a Boy being fucked and more like a man being fucked. The Top keeps his cock in rhythm and his eyes on the Boy’s face. “Fuck,” he moans again and his hands move from caressing the Tops beefy arms and float back above his head resting on the bed. No longer needing to be leaning up, no muscles to stroke, his back lays flat and his head falls slowly.

He’s surrendering. He closes his eyes. The Top shadows above him.

JRP looming over me

“Look at me,” he says evenly. More request than demand? No. Everything he says is a demand. And the Bottom obeys every one.

He lifts his head up. The Top comes a little closer.

The Top spits in his Bottom’s face, Holy water. He leans back slightly—again, never stopping fucking the Boy—and summons more silken spit from his mouth. He leans closer this time.

The Top spits again.

And he starts to fuck harder.

The Bottom’s body moves back with each push, returning with each withdraw.

The Top nods.

“Wipe it,” he tells his moaning bottom. “All over your face. Smear it.”

The Boy sees the muscles on the Top’s neck bulge and tense like cables.

“Anything that comes from me should be fucking sacred to you.”

“It is,” the Boy insists. His hands press against the Top’s chest flesh once more.

“Anything,” the Top says quietly. But firmly. As is everything with him.

The Top takes his right hand to the Boy’s ass, then sticks his fingers in the Boy’s mouth. He starts to lift the Boy’s legs up as a lead. “Hold your fuckin’ legs up,” he commands when the Boy’s legs don’t rise quickly enough. Freckled legs lift high into the air. The Top looks at the Boy’s foot, just about at eye level and seem satisfied with this. So he fucks harder. Every time he speaks to the Boy, he leans over him, threateningly, his muscled chest, tight torso, armory arms all so much bigger than the Boy and the Boy seems so small. Pliable. Vulnerable.

“You’re a fuckin’ bottom,” he says matter-of-factly.

“I know that,” the Boy says, his voice the sonic equivalent of rolling his eyes. The Top’s ever deeper thrusts fuck the attitude out of him. Or the Boy realizes this way of speaking is too much Man. And everything the Top does proves he is the only Man in the room. The Boy concedes.

“Your bottom.”

But it’s too little too late. The Top spells out their arrangement.

“You have one role.

“To make you happy.”

“That’s right.”

“You have one role,” he says, shades of a disappointed boss.

“To make you happy.”

He nods. “That’s right.” But the Bottom knows. That’s exactly what he’s doing.

“How’m I doin’ so far?” the Bottom says with edge. He clamps his hole tighter on the Man’s cock. A reminder he knows what he’s doing just as the Man does. And this is something they never really talk about. How well matched they are. How the Top lifts the bar and his Bottom overs it every time. And he nails the landing. The Top rarely acknowledges this. And it’s precisely because he doesn’t say it that the Bottom knows how true it is.

JRP amazed at my as
JRP smiling while entering
JRP fucking leaning in
JRP making muscles
JRP making muscle
JRP spit 3
JRP spit 1
JRP spit 2
JRP pube grab
JRP sideglance
JRP my legs wide

The Man’s cock enveloped by his Bottom’s tight, wet hole, he has to admit:

“You’re fucking fantastic.”

He powers into his Bottom, each shove forcing a moan from his fuckslave, each one louder than the before, raising in pitch, sounding more and more like a boy. And when the pitch is high enough, when it pleases the Top, his hips stop moving. This abrupt interruption causes the Bottom to gasp. Immediately the Top begins fucking his Bottom how he likes, slow, sensual, smooth, deep.

“Yeah,” the Bottom sighs. “Yesssss.” He moans, “Oh my God. You fuckin’ wield that dick.” It is a serious compliment. It makes the Bottom wonder. “How?”

“Because I’m the best fucking top in this town.”

“You are,” the Bottom says casually.

“And I’m consistently told that over and over again.”

“But nobody treats it like I do.”

“That’s why I keep coming back to fuck you.”

“And why I keep letting you in.”

The Top turns his head to the right, to the wall of mirrors.

“Look at that hole gettin bred,” he says, And says it again. “Look at that fuckin’ hole gettin’ bred. That is so hot.” Captivated by what he sees in the mirror only causes him to want to see more. So he turns his face back to his Bottom and shoves his dick in hard and deep.

The Bottom gasps and the Top turns back to the mirror.

“Love a little femme bottom gettin’ taken over like that. It’s so—”

“A wolfman bottom?”

“A femme little bottom.”

“That would be me.”

And the Top fucks his femme little Bottom.

“You know for you I see a trainer three times a week.”

“That tiny waist?”

“You got it.”

He takes his hands from the Boy’s thighs and grabs the metal top bar of the four-poster bed. His wedding ring clangs on contact. This new position brings new leverage and he plunges his cock deeper. He turns again to the mirror. He smells his armpit, inhales deeply, and groans. He turns to smell the other. The Bottom caresses his chest.

“I fuckin’ love that,” the Top says. Then he brings his arms down at his sides again and his thrusts become more fluid, silkier.

“Oh fuck yeah,” the Boy breathes. “There ya go.”

The Top looks down, watching his hard swollen cock fucking the Boy.

“Hows that look?” he flirts.

“Beautiful,” the Man whispers. “My cock goin’ in and out of that little bottom boy hole? Feels amazing.” The Top grabs the Bottom’s ankles, keeps them high, maybe even a little higher, and brings them together. Then he puts his arms around the Bottom and bends him forward.

New sensation.

And he pounds the Bottom harder. The sound of muscle slapping flesh. Grunts. Moans. Gasps.

The sounds of animals. The sounds of men. The sounds of pain and pleasure and satisfaction and hunger and lust.

And power.

“Fuck! God!” the Bottom cries out. But the Top maintains. “Bad angle,” the Bottom announces.

The Top repositions his captive. He lowers the Bottom’s legs. Again the Top reaches for the bar to grab on to. His ring is silent this time.

“Put your legs in the air.”

The Bottom’s legs rise high, spread wide. Both moan. The Boy’s high, the Man’s low.

“God, look at your body,” marvels the Bottom.

He fucks the Bottom but then pulls his cock out without warning. Thinking this means a change in position, the Bottom sits up. The Top bends down and retrieves his baseball cap and puts it on the Boy’s head. Father & Son. Daddy & Boy.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Your little hat.”

The Man’s cock enveloped by his Bottom’s tight, wet hole, he has to admit:

“You’re fucking fantastic.”

He powers into his Bottom, each shove forcing a moan from his fuckslave, each one louder than the before, raising in pitch, sounding more and more like a boy. And when the pitch is high enough, when it pleases the Top, his hips stop moving. This abrupt interruption causes the Bottom to gasp. Immediately the Top begins fucking his Bottom how he likes, slow, sensual, smooth, deep.

“Yeah,” the Bottom sighs. “Yesssss.” He moans, “Oh my God. You fuckin’ wield that dick.” It is a serious compliment. It makes the Bottom wonder. “How?”

“Because I’m the best fucking top in this town.”

“You are,” the Bottom says casually.

“And I’m consistently told that over and over again.”

“But nobody treats it like I do.”

“That’s why I keep coming back to fuck you.”

“And why I keep letting you in.”

The Top turns his head to the right, to the wall of mirrors.

“Look at that hole gettin bred,” he says, And says it again. “Look at that fuckin’ hole gettin’ bred. That is so hot.” Captivated by what he sees in the mirror only causes him to want to see more. So he turns his face back to his Bottom and shoves his dick in hard and deep.

The Bottom gasps and the Top turns back to the mirror.

“Love a little femme bottom gettin’ taken over like that. It’s so—”

“A wolfman bottom?”

“A femme little bottom.”

“That would be me.”

And the Top fucks his femme little Bottom.

“You know for you I see a trainer three times a week.”

“That tiny waist?”

“You got it.”

He takes his hands from the Boy’s thighs and grabs the metal top bar of the four-poster bed. His wedding ring clangs on contact. This new position brings new leverage and he plunges his cock deeper. He turns again to the mirror. He smells his armpit, inhales deeply, and groans. He turns to smell the other. The Bottom caresses his chest.

“I fuckin’ love that,” the Top says. Then he brings his arms down at his sides again and his thrusts become more fluid, silkier.

“Oh fuck yeah,” the Boy breathes. “There ya go.”

The Top looks down, watching his hard swollen cock fucking the Boy.

“Hows that look?” he flirts.

“Beautiful,” the Man whispers. “My cock goin’ in and out of that little bottom boy hole? Feels amazing.” The Top grabs the Bottom’s ankles, keeps them high, maybe even a little higher, and brings them together. Then he puts his arms around the Bottom and bends him forward.

New sensation.

And he pounds the Bottom harder. The sound of muscle slapping flesh. Grunts. Moans. Gasps.

The sounds of animals. The sounds of men. The sounds of pain and pleasure and satisfaction and hunger and lust.

And power.

“Fuck! God!” the Bottom cries out. But the Top maintains. “Bad angle,” the Bottom announces.

The Top repositions his captive. He lowers the Bottom’s legs. Again the Top reaches for the bar to grab on to. His ring is silent this time.

“Put your legs in the air.”

The Bottom’s legs rise high, spread wide. Both moan. The Boy’s high, the Man’s low.

“God, look at your body,” marvels the Bottom.

He fucks the Bottom but then pulls his cock out without warning. Thinking this means a change in position, the Bottom sits up. The Top bends down and retrieves his baseball cap and puts it on the Boy’s head. Father & Son. Daddy & Boy.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Your little hat.”

JRP pube grab
JRP puts cap on
JJRP cap
JJRP shirt in tatters

And he shoves his cock right back into the Boy’s hole making the Boy cry out and whimper. The Top hulks over him.

And here comes that command again. Forcefully this time. More demanding.

“Tell me you love me.”

And the Boy says what his Top wants him to say. And he says it sincerely.

Hearing it makes the Man smile. It’s a wicked smile. The kind of open mouth smile that slides along the face of a conman watching his mark realize he’s just been hustled. He is the gunless gangster to the Bottom’s Country Boy, someone born to be taken. The Top is the sharp-toothed shark. The Boy the open wound bleeding in the water, too red, too delicious to pass up. But the Bottom plays a card the grifter never sees coming.

“You are sick,” the Boy slices. “But I get you.”

The Top throws his head back as if he’s going to laugh. And it may be true. Again, it must be because there’s no real denial. The Top just turns around to the mirror behind him, sees his own reflection and smiles. Then he looks back at his victim Bottom.

The Top takes his Bottom’s legs, lifts them high and crawls on the bed, pushing the Boy’s body into a curve, legs over his head, his lily-white ass turned up from the bed. He muscles the Boy into the position he wants—Bottom never really has any choice, the Top is always willing and more than ready to assert his dominance. Pinning him down, he plunges his thick hard meat into the Bottom’s broken-in hole and jackhammered the Boy. Doesn’t matter how loud he cries out, the Top keeps ramming, hard and deep. Or maybe it does matter. Maybe it makes him fuck harder. That he likes the noises the Boy makes. Maybe each gasp is a compliment to the size of his cock, how skilled a top he is, each whimper a spoken dog collar. The Man is his Master. And the Boy is his pet. And the Man plays with him when and however he wants.

The Top wraps his hands tightly around the Bottom’s neck as he rapes him.

“You like being choked, don’t you?”

“Yeah!” the Boy croaks. Does he? Or is he just telling the Top what he wants to hear? Does he ever really mean yes when he said yes? The Boy isn’t complete clay. He resists being molded at times, his voice a bit deeper, stronger. He can be cocky. Sly. And sometimes the things he says seem to imply that he is the one who has the real power. The Top remembers what the Boy told him once.

They had just finished their session. The Top was in the bathroom wiping cum off his cock with a hand towel and he heard the Bottom say:

“Maybe I let you think you have all the power,” he smiled. ‘That ever occur to you?”

But they both knew the answer to that.

Strong hands on the Kid’s neck change the sound of moans, gasps and whimpers. They are now gravelly outbursts. It’s like the point of origin is his now forced-wide open hole, and the energy travels up inside him—belly, chest, throat—and bottlenecks inches behind his tongue. Only when there is enough force or pressure to break out of the Top’s cagelike hands, does any sound escape the Boy’s mouth. To the Top it is music.

The Top moves back, plants his feet on the low metal bar of the bed, gripping the top bar with his hands, maneuvering his cock into a new position and he bangs the Boy’s ass from there. Then his hands grab the Boy’s ankles, forcing them into the position that best suits him. He holds them like ski poles. And he is racing. The Boy’s moans, grunts, and gasps a sexual score composed by the size, speed, and force of the Top’s iron cock.

Then Top leans forward and pulled his Bottom’s legs farther apart, forcing the the Boy’s ass open even more so the Top can shove his dick in as far as it can go, so his blond crotch hair surrounds the Bottom’s hole on impact. Then he pulls his cock completely out of the Bottom’s boypussy and for a few seconds the Boy’s hole gapes open. Then reflex cause the hole to close and just before it does, the Top shoves his dick back inside and inside deep.

“Gonna tear that ass up!”

The Top fucks him for a few more moments like this and then he shoves the Boy’s legs to his left and disengages his cock from the Boy’s swelling, punished ass. The Top lays down on the bed.

“Get on me,” he grunts.

 

JRP on back 1
JRP on back 3
JJRP bouncin

The Boy rises to his knees and turns around to face his Top. The Top wraps his fist around his dick and positions it straight up, like a missile on a launch pad. The Bottom looks at it and though he’s seen the cock countless times, it looks different now. It is different. It’s impossibly thick and relentlessly hard. The Boy is suddenly aware of his asshole. He knows he’s staring at the cock, but he almost swears it’s still inside his ass.

He crawls onto the Man, up on his knees. He spits into his fingertips—the only lube the Top allows—but he doesn’t need much. Not now. The fucking has made the Bottom’s hole wet. The Top’s enormous dick slides in easily. The Bottom lowers completely and the Top lets out a long moan.

Suspended on his hands, the Bottom rides his tiny hips up and down on the Top’s cock and the Top moans with each deep plunge. All sensation is different now. The Bottom controls the rhythm, depth, force, timing, and duration. And that tiny waist his Top likes so much gyrates easily up and down. The Bottom swirls his hips in a circle, lifting his hole up the Man’s shaft until only the purple mushroom head remains in the Bottom’s wet, boypussy. The Bottom pauses, teasingly, and then slowly envelopes the whole of his Top’s girth and length and the Top moans deep and loud.

Their eyes lock on each other.

“I’m gonna make you my little Nine 1/2 Weeks,” the Bottom teases. “Gonna call you one day and tell you where to be in an hour.”

Both know this will never happen.

“Fuck that dick,” the Top tells him.

So leaning back on his hands, feet planted on either side of the Top’s chest, he does.

The Top moans louder, continually. It’s like there’s nothing there but his cock and the Bottom’s hole. Like there’s no gravity. When the Boy’s ass comes down, the Top feels the Boy’s weight, of course, but the way his Bottom rides his cock, he only experiences weight for a second, so the feeling is just cock, all cock, just hole, all hole. The moans continue as the Bottom makes love to the Top’s throbbing dick.

“Oh fuck yeah!” the Top says, lustily as the Bottom joysticks his dick. “Oh yeah! Ride that big fuckin’ dick!”

The Bottom moves faster.

“Be a good wife!”

He lowers his hips at an angle, then pushes forward, so the Top’s dick tilts slightly in his hole, making the Bottom’s ass grip harder as he picks up speed. He’s almost rolling with his dick.

“Take care of your fuckin’ man!”

His arms weakening, the Bottom lowers his ass completely onto the Top’s cock and wraps his hands around the back of the Top’s neck, using this for leverage to force the Top’s meat as far inside him as it can go.

“Deeper,” he orders in similar voice. But all this makes the Top want is his control back and without letting the Bottom’s hole free his cock, he pushes the Bottom backward and he curls up and forward. He fucks him for a few thrusts but this doesn’t satisfy him. He leaves the bed, shoving the Boy’s bent legs away from him.

“Get on your stomach,” he says standing on the side of the bed. “Face that video.”

So the Boy turns toward the iPad playing porn. It’s the first time they’ve had sex to video of men having sex. They’ve barely glanced at it until now.

“I like the cap I think I’ll keep it.” The Boy says this so casually as if the cap is going to be his. He knows it wouldn’t be. But oh how the Boy wants it. And while the Top has managed to walk out of the Bottom’s home with at least one cock ring, silver metal circling his still-swollen penis, he never gives the Boy any tokens. The only thing the Top gives the Boy are a load of cum and feelings he doesn’t know what to do with. The Top smiles and shook his head.

“Nobody gets that cap.” His hand grabs his dick. “That cap belongs to me.”

JJRP bouncing
JJRP footballs
JRP hand between my legs
JJRP cap
JRP into it

The Bottom’s head is at the foot of the bed, his thin white body stretched out before him. The Top scans the Bottom’s bare legs, resting his gaze upon the two round white mounds of flesh. The Boy’s ass is so small, one entire cheek fits in the Top’s hand. He’s seen his handprint perfectly tattooed there more than once, bright pink made even brighter by the alabaster white of his ass.

The Top pulls the Boy’s leg closest to him off the bed. “Put your feet against my balls. Rub ‘em,” says the boss. Then a quick whisper as the Boy’s foot makes contact: “Oh yeah.” Back to full military cadence again. “Play with ‘em.”

“Oh, fuck,” the Boy moans.

“You like the feel of that, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“It’s nice being fucked by a real man for a change, isn’t it?” This prompts the alternative and he rolls both his head toward the ceiling and his eyes likewise at the mystery. “Why do you keep letting these fags fuck you?”

He doesn’t wait a beat before he snaps an answer to his lover.

“No fag ever fucked me.” The Bottom is deadly serious.

The Top shoves his dick against the boy’s foot.

“He’s even straighter than you are,” the Boy says. He sounds like he’s trying to keep from laughing.

“I doubt it,” the Top replies and turns his head away. If it’s a tell, the Boy doesn’t see it, his eyes still looking the other way. Then the Top looks at the Kid’s ass and puts his hand between his legs. The Bottom moans and his ass lifts and circles at the touch and the Top’s eyes are locked.

“Yeah,” he growls. “Seduce me with that asshole. That’s so fuckin’ hot.” He leans toward the Bottom’s ass and targets a dart of spit right on the Bottom’s hole. “Yeahhhhh,” he whispers, his cock stiffening at the sight. “Say you wanna get bred,” the Man coos.

“Yes, please,” he surrenders quietly. This is incorrect and correction comes swift in a loud voice.

Say it! SAY, ‘I wanna get bred!’”

“I wanna get bred,” the Bottom pleads. The Top nods.

“Seed me.”

“Seed me,” the Bottom begs.

“That’s right,” the Top says, well pleased.

“Breed my ass.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Say, ‘I’m a worthless bottom.’”

“I’m a worthless bottom,” he voices back, sounding resigned to the fact.

“That’s so fuckin’ hot,” he whispers, his eyes still locked on the Boy’s tight ass. “You are a worthless bottom, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I’m a worthless bottom,” he says sadly. Is this just the Bottom fulfilling a role? Or an admission?

“You want my alpha cum?”

“Yes, please.”

“How does it feel when I cum in you?” the Top asks, sounding more like another demand. “Huh? How does it make you feel when I cum in you.”

Is he wanting some porn-worn line? Or is he legitimately wondering?”

“Like I’m your fuckin’ slave,” he answers robotically.

“That’s right.” His hand returns to the Boy’s asshole.

“Like you own me,” he says wistfully. Then he moans.

“Take my fuckin’ hand,” he commands. “I never fisted you before but I’m about to. You ever had a fuckin’ hand up that ass?”

“No,” the Boy says as if at last now the thought of it had some appeal.

“Why not?”

The Boy waits a beat before saying as matter-of-fact as he does sexy.

“Because I haven’t lost my car keys.”

Instead of laughing, the Top shoves harder.

“Ah!”

The Top takes hand away and places three fingers in his mouth. As soon as he takes his fingers out, though, he shakes his head, makes noise that sounds like wonder, then puts his fingers back into his mouth and sucks the taste, moaning. The Bottom smiles.

“I have the cleanest ass in town,” he muses. The Top nods.

“You’ve got the cleanest ass in town.”

The Top thrusts his hand forward and the Bottom rises up from his lying position and moves his ass away from the Top’s invading hand.

Easy, cowboy, easy!”

The Man withdraws his fingers and sucks them again, taking them out with a smack. He watches the Boy’s gyrating ass and grabs the ankle closest to him and pulls the Bottom so that his legs are hanging down and his ass is bent over the bed’s edge. Realizing the talking is over, the Bottom brings his fingers to his lips and spits. The Top hears the sound of the Bottom spitting and before the Bottom can bring his wet fingers to his hole, the Top tells him:

“No.”

Then he slides his massive cock into him. He raises his head, looking at the Bottom’s ass. It’s the same way men look at cars, cattlemen at livestock, bullies over the kid they just tripped. The Top starts pumping.

“Look at the camera.”

 

JRP holding collar
JRP cap muscle
JRP cumming

The thrusts move the Boy’s body forward and the Top’s firm hands on his Bottom’s waist pull him right back and the camera captures every grunt, grimace, and wince the Bottom makes as well as the approving look of his Master.

“Watch yourself getting bred.”

“Fuck yeah,” the Boy purrs.

And now is when the Top makes good use of the Bottom’s urban lingerie. He grabs what is left of the collar, spins the fabric around his fist, tightening around the Boy’s throat like a noose. The Bottom groans sensually.

“Oh, yeah!” he chokes out. Then the strained request, “Fuck me!” which makes the Top fuck harder, pull the collar tighter.

“That’s it,” the Top smiles. “BEG!”

“Fuck me! Fuck me please!”

“Yeah,” he says, pleased with the Bottom’s volume. But not pleased enough. “That’s right.

I want your neighbors to hear. I want your neighbors to hear you get fucked.”

“Fuck me!” he screams.

The Top leans over, pressing his back against the Bottom’s, his forehead against the back of his own cap, and stops pounding for a moment.

“He just moved in,” the Bottom says in a pained voice. Then plainly: “So this should bring him right on game.”

His strong arms wrapped around the Bottom’s small middle, embracing him, pressing his own flesh against the his.

“Fuckin’ cum in me,” he pleads. The Top kisses the back of his Bottom’s neck.

“Shoot in you,” the Top whispers.

“Fuck me. Fuck me, Daddy. Fuck me,” comes the small, starving voice.

“That’s it!” Daddy is pleased. And he stands up, presses his palms down on the small of the Bottom’s back, and starts fucking him again. “Look at how hot that looks,” he says, barely audible over the Bottom’s noises of pain and resistance, pleasure and pressure.

“Look at you fuck,” admires the Bottom. The Top glances to the porn on the screen to the right.

“I wanna cum when he cums.”

This sobers the Boy immediately, 50% sexy and 50% technician.

“Well, you got a ways to go then,” he almost laughs.

The Top ceases his thrusting. Then he shoves inside the Bottom, deep, pulls out, holds a beat. Then back in and repeats the sequence Each shove forces a new noise from the Bottom. Then the Top eliminated the pauses, fucking his Bottom in long smooth strokes. The noise from the Bottom changes.

“You like it slow, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” he confesses.

“You like feelin’ it.”

“Yes, Sir,” he moans. “Every fuckin’ inch of you. Every fuckin’ inch.”

“I get off when you are,” he says quietly. Then he snaps, “Spread your fuckin’ legs apart!” But before the Bottom can obey, the Top takes his foot and kicks the Bottom’s legs wide. The intensity increases.

“Oh yeah. Fuck yeah. Fuck. Oh God. Yeah, Daddy.”

The Top smiles. Then the smile is replaced by a scowl and he rips more of the blue fabric from the Boy’s shirt, exposing more of his naked back. He bunches up the what’s left of the bottom of the shirt with one hand and shoves the Boy’s face down to the mattress with the other. He holds up the shirt like he’s holding the knot on a pony’s reins. And he rides his horse harder. Then he slows, pulls his cock all the way out of the Boy’s ass, watches it gape for a second and then, his hole closing, stabs inside deep. The Top uses such force, the Bottom is shoved forward, the bed inches forward, the Bottom’s grunts become louder, accompanied by the loud slapping of meaty thighs against skinny legs, of a muscled waist colliding with fleshy cheeks. After several punishing minutes, the Top slows down almost to a stop. In the respite, the Bottom cries out.

“Fucking hell!”

“If I fuck you, I’’m gonna cum.”

“Oh my God, fuck me,” the Boy moans.

“Is that what you want?” threatens the Man.

“Fuck me.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, please.”

“You want me to fuck you some more?

the Top teases in that singsong voice.

“Cum in me!”

“You ready?” he growls,

“I want you to cum in me.”

“You don’t want me to fuck you some more?” he toys with the Boy.

“I want you to fuck me while you cum. I want you to do both,” whimpers the Bottom as the Top starts into him again. “Oh yeah. Yeah. Oh fuck. Fuck!”

The Top keeps his eyes on the violence of his granite dick tearing into the Boy’s small hole. He glances at the pornography on the screen but he immediately returns to watch what is happening in real life. He moves forward, slides his arms under the Bottom’s chest until each hand has curled up and clamped down on the Bottom’s shoulders. The Bottom’s hands cover the Top’s hands, fingers entwining with fingers.

This is it.

And just before the Top continues his assault, the Bottom quotes the words the Top commanded him twice earlier. It was unbelievable when the Man said it earlier, forceful and challenging. He said it in the cadence of someone daring someone. So does the Boy.

“Tell me you love me.”

Instead of obeying his Bottom, the Man wordlessly just starts ramming the Bottom’s ass, hands wrapped round the Boy’s wrists now, pulling his arms back, flesh and bone handles for the ride.

Faster and harder, meat slapping against flesh, the rhythmic grunting of the Boy filling the room until the sounds of the Man beginning to climax quiet the Boy.

“Uh! Uh! Uh! UH!” yells the Top as he rapes his sub Bottom’s ass harder and harder. Then he thrusts his cock balls-deep several times, these punches a bit slower but instead of ending the attack, the Top picks up speed and force again, filling the Boy with hot milky sperm, seeding him deep, planting his manhood far inside the Boy. Rarely did the Bottom’s ass leak the Top’s man juice. It would remain inside him, become part of him. Pretty poison that didn’t kill him. But made him long for it to.

Still he pumps, the rushlust of orgasm still electrifying the center of his huge cock. And he stares at the sight.

Is it the show of his fat cock inside such a small ass? Is it the color of his cock—rich flesh tone—contrasting with the cloud-white cheeks of the Bottom’s butt? Whatever it is, it holds the Top’s attention completely and he keeps fucking so he can watch it some more. Indeed, he can watch it all day. Which reminds him, now that he’s cum.

He stops and withdraws his weapon. The Bottom lifts himself up off the bed with a wide pushup.

“Oh my God,” he moans, sobering.

The Man walks to the nightstand and the Boy climbs up onto the metal of the bed, holding onto the top bar with his right hand, reaching out with his left to run his fingers through the Top’s thick mat of blond and gray hair. Then he moves his hand down to his Man’s neck, stroking his shoulder, and smoothing down his chest as he climbs down.

“Fall on the bed,” Ste7en tell Randall, having seen this condition countless times before. It sounds like advice. Advice the Man takes. “Fall on the bed.”

His shoulders slump. His energy is spent. This the only other real “command” the Man obeys from the Boy, besides “Fuck me.” But while “Fuck me” was so sexualized it is almost like a mating call, “Fall on the bed” has an inevitable quality to it.

“Oh God!” sighs the Man. “This feels so good.”

“What?”

They are both slowly drifting back to who they are apart from each other. It’s like putting on obligatory clothes. Or what they are becoming now is some caricature. As if for the past hour or so, their actual souls were able to come forward. This was the real Man, this was the real Boy. It is the men they are out of the bedroom, those are the ghosts. And now the ghosts are coming back to take up residence once again, each of their flesh houses now haunted by people they either aren’t or don’t want to be.

The Top smiles, allowing the Boy to guide him to the bed where the Man falls onto his back with a grunt and a sigh and the Boy takes his position beside the bed and begins the ritual of slowly smoothing his fingers over every inch of the Man’s naked body.

“You have to see me more than every several weeks,” the Boy says softly. The Man sighs.

“My schedule is so fucked up.”

“Whatever,” the Boy says, the sonic equivalent of rolling his eyes. “You made time for Whoever five days ago.”

Wheels turn.

“You said you came five days ago. With who?”

“I’m trying to remember five days ago,” he says.

“You do have a big rolodex.” The Boy lays on the Man’s chest. “How was it?”

“It was okay.”

“Not great? I have a hard time believing you have mediocre sex.” He’s toying with his ego now, a little challenge to his prowess which the Man cannot resist correcting.

“I have great sex. He didn’t have great sex.”

The Boy continues caressing the Man and the Man moans and sighs his approval. Still standing on the bed, he lays his upper body on the Man’s chest. His feet are planted there. He wants to climb up on the bed and lay with him but he can’t bring himself to do it. Why?

He presses his cheek against the Man’s, caressing him with his palm and fingers, up and down, smoothing him, worshipping him. The Man throws a sigh into his offering plate.

The Boy stands up and gives the Man’s skin one last quick stroke, chest to thigh. He looks at the Man’s still large cock.

“That’s a monster,” the Boy says playfully. The Top looks down at it.

“It’s a big fuckin’ dick,” he boasts proudly.

“It’s a big fuckin’ dick,” the Boy parrots back.

“What’s it like to have a big fuckin’ dick?”

“It’s awesome,”

he crows and the Boy bursts out laughing.

“I’ll bet it is. You are absolutely unashamed,” the Boy says, shaking his head. “I love it.”

It isn’t a lie. His arrogance, something the Boy would usually think repellent, even bourgeois, here charms him completely. All the Man’s missing is a turban, a basket, and a cobra.

“And you,” the Man says, his voice warm with sincerity, as kind as if he was talking to a boy he was playing catch with. “You wrote a very nice review of my company on Facebook yesterday.”

“It was awhile back.” What? This old thing?

“It was really nice of you,” he says tenderly.

“Well, I didn’t mean to. I actually hit the wrong button and was like, Fuck!

And the Man sees how the Boy tries to disavow it, to push him away. He just doesn’t have the right reason he was doing it.

“Well, it was really nice. I appreciate it.”

“Your work is really good. And I’m a dick of a critic,” the Boy says, desperate in his attempt to trivialize it, to get it away from the very feelings he wanted. Narcissus looks away and he keeps handing him a mirror.

“God damn, you such a good little baby bottom.”

“I’m really glad you liked your review. It’s nice that you noticed.”

“Well,” the Man said grandly with a sigh. “I thought I’d reward you by tearing your ass up like there’s no tomorrow.”

“You’d do that if I gave you a failing review,” the Boy growled.

“If you write a failing review, I might have to destroy you.”

“You destroy me daily,” the Boy said and kissed the Man’s pecs.

“Ohhhhh, fuuuuuuuck,” the Man groans, already in his car going to the office.

“What’s your day like today? Ugly?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you enjoying…I mean you enjoy what you do, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re very lucky. Not a lot of people get that.”

He groans.

“Travel’s getting a little…”

“Yeah, it seems glamorous at first but then you’re like, Not another fuckin’ bag check.”

“It’s just these day trips that are the problem. It’s like Florida for a day…”

“Yeah, why do you do that?”

“It’s just because I take a whole staff…” the Top explains.

“How many do you take with you?”

“Three.”

“Jesus, you have an entourage.”

“Well, I have to take a draftsman. And then if there’s any form of accounting, I have to take my office manager. Or my bookkeeper. One of the two.”

“You gotta put four people up in a hotel?” The Boy feels something. Warm. Wet.

“Yeah. And then everybody just…

“FYI…”

“…has to stay in their own room. And I don’t wanna share a room.”

“There’s cum dripping down my leg.

On the inside of my thigh. It’s down to my knee right now.”

“Oh wow that’s hot. I came a ton so you should have a nice load.”

“Look, right there.”

“Oh wow!” the Top says when he looks at the Bottom’s leg. Then he pauses and sighs. “Ohhh fuck.”

“Yeah,” the Bottom says. “Day trips blow.”

“I mean the Aspen trips don’t… They’re not day trips. But the Florida trips are day trips. New York was a thirty-six hour trip. That’s…nothin’.”

“Yeah, you didn’t call me before you left you dick!”

“Well I left at fuckin’… I woke up at four. To get outta the house at five. To make a six-thirty…”

“You get up at four every morning.”

“…that didn’t leave Houston until eleven.”

“You’re a masochist,” the Bottom laughs.

“Well, I don’t like a wasted day. I like a full day in New York. And fuckin’ United fucked everything up comin’ and goin’.”

“Were you delayed comin’ back?”

“Of course!” he scoffs.

“How bad? That’s the worst.”

“Ninety minutes late coming back and then thirty minutes on the tarmac because there wasn’t a gate ready.”

“No!”

“Going two hours late because they had fuckin’ engine problems. Like they didn’t know that. The right engine they said,” he raises his fingers for air quotes. “‘Broken.’”

“That’s comforting.”

“Yeah.”

“Um…”

The Top looks at the porn to see the actors in a reverse cowboy.

“Oh that’s hot. Look!

We’ve done that before!”

“Yes, we have.”

The Top picks up a small jar.

“What is this?” he asks unscrewing the top.

“Lip balm a friend of mine is making.”

“No, what site is this?”

“Pornhub, I think? I don’t know. Could be Xvideos. I just pulled it up. You said rough and bare and this fit the bill.”

“Yeah, but he’s also high as a kite,” the Top informs him, stretching his back and his words.

“How can you tell?”

“Look at his eyes.”

“You’ve got really good vision,” the Bottom laughs.

“He’s cracked up. Nothin’ turns me off more.”

“The top or the bottom?”

“Top is. Look at him.”

They watch the video.

“I thought he was just Greek,” the Bottom muses. “Okay, yeah, he looks a little tweaked out.” The Boy leans over the bed and continues rubbing the Top’s naked body. He looks to the armoire behind him.

“I can see your little ass in the mirror.”

The Bottom turns around to see this.

“That is a nice little ass.”

“Mm-hmm!” the Top hums enthusiastically.

They watch the porn.

“Here he goes,” the Man says as the pants and the moans from the tablet grow louder.

The Boy turns back to the Man.

“I can’t believe you put seven loads in that guy.”

“Mm-hmm. Seven.”

“Was that like three at one time…” the Boy asks. “Or was it seven individual?”

“Seven in one day.”

“How long were you there?”

“Half a day.”

This, of course, is not what the Bottom wants to hear, but he plays it off like it’s nothing.

“Oh well I thought this was in a two hour period.”

“Seven times in a half a day. He was pissed because I couldn’t get to ten.”

“Well he’s a good slut.”

“He’s…I blocked his ass after that.”

“Why?” the Bottom laughs. Because he’s happy the competition is blocked? It’s not clear.

“Oh because he’s a nut job.”

“He’s a nut job?”

“He’s a fuckin’ nut job.”

“Why is that?”

“He’s a bossy bottom.”

“Well, fuck that. That’s bullshit.”

“Oh my God,” the Man groans. “There are so many of those guys in this town.”

“Do they not get that that’s a turn-off for tops? Why don’t they get that?”

“Well, especially for an alpha top,” he yawns. “Don’t tell me how to fuck.”

“He told you how to fuck?” the Bottom asks, a little surprised anyone would try.

“Oh yeah.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“If he wasn’t so little, I probably would have left. But he was little.”

“Is he Hispanic or White?”

“No, he’s White.”

The Bottom remembered seeing the guy’s picture. 7X written in black marker on his right cheek.

“He has a nice ass. Too bad it’s attached to crazy.”

“Oh yeah. Nut job.”

The Boy caresses the Top’s legs.

“He’s so little he has to buy his clothes in the children’s department.”

“I used to have that problem,” he nods.

“It’s so fuckin’ hot to me,” the Man whispers. “But he’s full-on crazy. He used to live here but he moved to Florida. Now he’s back. But I’ll never see him again. Not interested.”

“You have high standards.”

“I just know what I like.”

The Boy’s hands travel over the Man’s muscled body. The Man offers up small moans. Then the Boy comes face-to-face, kisses the Man’s cheek, his ear, then is rewarded with a loud moan.

“You always smell so good,” the Boy says dreamily.

“I do? I haven’t showered. Overslept.”

“What time did you go to bed.”

“Nine. Late.”

“Does your husband go to bed early too?”

“No, he stays up late and watches porn.”

“And watches porn?” This bewilders the Boy. “You have the oddest marriage.”

Sighing, the Man says, “It’s because I won’t fuck him.”

“Why won’t you fuck him?”

The Top’s answer is barely audible.

“Because you don’t want to? Is that what you said?”

“Just not into it.”

“But he wants you to fuck him?”

The Top rolls his eyes and the Bottom bursts out laughing.

“Okay. Okay, Eyes. Sure I got it. Okay.” Then he says quietly, “You’re a mean man.” Then his voice turns childlike.

“Why are you so mean?” 

“I just am.”

“He’s your husband. Be nice.” No. The husband is the farthest thing from his mind. The Boy pinches the Man’s stomach. And the Man pats his stomach loudly. Smack smack!

“I’ve gained weight!”

“That was a Mean pinch that wasn’t a You’re fat pinch.”

“I’m fat.”

“You don’t have any fat on your body.” He rubs the Man’s thigh lightly. “You’re gorgeous. You’re a whole slice of beautiful. You know you are.”

The Top yawns. “I don’t feel it.”

“Yeah, I know. The curse of the Beautiful People.”

“My day is a curse.”

“What’ll be the best part of your day?”

“I’m gonna get my truck.”

“Is it in the shop?”

“No, I just keep it at my parents’ house.”

“Where’s your parents’ house? Are they in town?”

“Yeah.”

“How many cars do you have? Four?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I hope your mother charges you rent,”the Boy laughs. “A parking charge.”

“I don’t even think she knows I park there.”

“You’re a dick,” he laughs again. “She has to know. Or do you just keep rotating them so fast she never puts it together?” He imitates the Man’s mother, who he’s never heard or seen. “Was there a convertible…here….no?”

“I can’t wait. I’m gonna go to the farm today. Get my truck washed.”

“What are you going to do at the farm?” The Boy knows this farm. The Man’s shown him a picture of him standing by a giant tree and a dog nearby. The Man is in rubber boots. He’s heard about a guy from A&M who the Man fucked there. When he had first met him and he told him many stories, he told him about the duck from the farm. And going through the Starbucks drive-thru with the duck. And he sounded so sweet when he talked about the duck. The warlock wove his spell. The spell worked.

“Gonna plant. This weekend while it’s beautiful out.”

The Boy rubs on his pecs.

“Jesus, you’re so hot.”

“I’m about to get a lot bigger. Gonna get on steroids.”

“Don’t get on steroids, they’ll give you roid rage.” He’s still thinking about the duck. He has no idea what he’s saying. He’s thinking about the farm he’ll never see. How he’s jealous of a stupid college kid. How fast the clock is ticking. How few minutes he has left with him. And then he’ll be alone. With his madness and his blackness. His life raft will slip away from him. And he’ll be in the dark sea, no island in sight, and he’ll want to drown but his body is tortuously buoyant. “You don’t need any steroids.”

“I’ll be six weeks on ‘em.”

“Why are you doing that? Why do you do that?”

“To mass up real fast.”

“You’re mass already. You’re already mass. You’re Catholic mass.”

“It’s happening regardless.”

“Alright.”

“But watch out. It’s gonna make me horny as fuck. The last time I did it I coulda fucked anything. I mean in the grocery store, if I looked at the fruit the wrong way.”

“Well you better see me more than every three weeks. I mean it, Randall.”

“Well that’s the thing. I’m not supposed to be letting it go. The testosterone…” he yawns. “I’ll go on a six week cycle, then I’ll go off six weeks and then I’ll bulk up huge.”

“And then what? I thought you were supposed to get all big and huge and buff for that guy in Belgium or whatever.”

“I didn’t… Well he got sick. That’s part of the thing. I’m real off my plan. I didn’t even work out for two and a half weeks. Today’s Day 21 and I just two days ago started feeling good.”

“How long have you been boxing?”

“Well it’s been about… Well I was on a week and then I got sick, so I couldn’t do it for two weeks.”

“Where do you do it?”

“At the Y.”

“The one downtown?”

“Huh-uh,” he yawns again. “Post Oak.”

“The one over there on San Felipe?”

Again he yawns.

“They have the best turkey meatloaf.”

“Yeah, they have good food. That’s George. That’s my buddy.”

“He’s been there forever.”

“Mm-hmm. George is the only person in town who’ll make me a hamburger at six in the morning.”

“George is a nice guy.”

“I mean literally. Someone’ll try to make me a peanut butter sandwich and I’ll go, ‘No!’” he says like a petulant child. “And I’ll go, ‘George, why don’t you go back there and make me a buffalo burger?’”

“Nobody tells you no.”

“George is nice to me. Because I am good to George.”

“I bet you’re good to a lot of people.”

“I try to be.”

“I believe that.”

“That was so good fucking you.”

“Thank you, Daddy. I enjoyed it.” The Boy kisses his chest.

“I could sleep here.”

“You want a disco nap?”

“No. I gotta get goin’. I got so much shit to do today.”

“You want a coffee?”

“No coffee. I’ve already had nine cups.”

“Nine cups? Water?” he asks, walking to the kitchen already.

“Yeah.”

“Sparkling or still?”

The Man climbs out of bed, looks at himself in the mirror.

“Nah, still.” Then he walks out of the room, talking to his Bottom. “I don’t know why it turns me on so much that you film us but it does. How was your visit to your parents?”

J3
JJRP merecovering
Jhairrub
J2
Jtouched2
J1

And...I actually got to redo a couple of them at least!

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Hope you enjoyed your present, even if it wasn’t as elaborate as I wanted.

And if you want to play Santa with as much generosity as you play Daddy…

(On 2nd thought you haven’t shown up in a long while,
so don’t use that comparison!)

I am currently saving up to get some website maintenance done that I now see I kinda need. So if the spirit of Christmas grabs hold of ya my paypal is [email protected] and my venmo is @Steven-Foster-103! Just in case you were wondering, I’ve been a very good boy.
Have a good holiday! Call me sometime!
xxoo,
me