I called him “Lumberjack,” or “LJ” for short. I have nicknames for all the hot guys I see at the gym: Meathead, Mr. 70s, Ken Doll, the Grunter. I don’t actually know any of them. I’m not much for being social while working out; the guys I’d want to talk to are all much more muscular than I am, and I get too intimidated to approach them. It’s a catch-22.
The day I learned LJ’s real name was a few months after I’d broken up with Colin, and I’d been celibate since—not by choice. So spotting LJ gave me a bit of a jolt. He’s the hottest guy at the gym, but I only saw him once every few weeks, when I went at lunch. Normally I’m a morning gymgoer, but sometimes it’s hard to make it there before work.
LJ’s a little older than me—late 30s—and definitely taller than my 5’8”; he’s up past six feet. He has white skin like me, but I’m pale, way too pale, thanks to being a ginger. LJ’s more ruddy, and he also has a manly coating of hair over his torso, while I’m naturally hairless nearly everywhere. LJ’s short beard nicely frames his handsome face, but his body is his best asset. Just a few steps leaner than a bodybuilder, he’s got a tight waist but giant arms and a thick chest, always nicely on display in a tight tank at the gym, its thin straps straining across the slabs of his pecs. It’s pretty hard for me not to stare. That’s the trouble I’m always in—helplessly attracted to big guys, too afraid of them to do anything about it.
LJ wears long basketball shorts, so his lower body isn’t shown off as well as his upper, but when he sits down on a bench I can still see his thick thighs, and his muscular, cut calves are always in view.
I know I’ll never look like that. I’d been hitting the gym hard since Colin, trying to work off every kind of tension, and I could tell from the way my clothes were fitting—or rather, weren’t fitting—that I was losing weight and gaining muscle. But I know I’m always going to look boyish.
I watched LJ texting away on his phone that day and wondered who he was talking to. Maybe a twink he’d fuck after the gym? I’d love to be that twink, but my search for hot tops is rarely fruitful. Instead I’ve wasted years on duds like Colin, guys who were at best “cute” like me. A man like LJ felt like a different species, one I had no idea how to interbreed with.
LJ looked over at me and I glanced away. Don’t be a stalker, I thought—something I frequently had to remind myself at the gym.
I had to get back to work anyway. I’d built a spreadsheet on download numbers for my company’s last six months of podcasts, and I needed to check the figures again before sending them to my boss. I quickly finished up my sets, then scanned the floor for LJ.
He was doing a set of curls, his biceps bulging up to the size of melons. If I’d had enough time, I would have dawdled so we’d be in the locker room together and I could glimpse him naked. Sighing, I headed down to shower and change.
I was nearly finished dressing post-shower when LJ strode in. The locker room is small—it’s a midsize gym—and there’s a little back area that’s tucked away. Somehow, luckily enough, that was where LJ and I had both stashed our stuff. Trying to act nonchalant, I lingered, slowly buttoning my shirt, while LJ, his back to me, tugged off his tank and his shorts, revealing a thin jockstrap framing a very meaty ass. No one else was around, so I let myself take a good, long look. As he pulled off the jock, the straps catching on his bulging thighs, I got a quick glimpse at what looked like a heavy set of balls and a fat cock. Then LJ strutted off to the showers, not even bothering to wrap his towel around his massive body.
I took a moment to collect myself, waiting for my thickening cock to calm down. In the post-Colin drought, this was a sexual highlight; it would fuel my whack-off fantasies for days. But it hardly left me feeling satisfied.
I put on my socks and shoes, packed up my bag, and made to leave. I’d barely taken a step when I heard a chime from LJ’s locker.
It sounded like a text message coming in.
LJ hadn’t put a lock on his locker. A lot of the guys in the gym didn’t.
The locker room was empty. It was down a level from the gym floor, meaning I’d hear someone on the stairs long before they’d have eyes on me.
Holding my breath, I opened the locker and saw LJ’s phone on top of his gym clothes, like it was waiting for me. Onscreen was an image of a young guy’s pale, naked butt. I leaned down to study it, and a new text came in: “Sorry to miss you. That cock would have felt so good in this ass.”
I wondered if scrolling back through the messages would reveal a photo of LJ’s dick. I stood there debating, and finally reached out toward the phone.
“What the fuck?”
I jumped back in terror. LJ was standing beside his open locker, glaring at me, naked and wet and huge, a towel struggling to hang onto his waist.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I blurted out. “I was, uh—”
“Stealing my fucking phone?” LJ closed in on me.
“No!” I cried. “I was…” I looked down, fighting back tears. “I just wanted to look at it.”
“Were you fucking spying on me?”
“I… I… yes.” I kept my eyes on the ground. At least we were the only people in the locker room; my humiliation had no other witnesses. “I guess I was.”
“Fucking idiot,” LJ muttered.
I glanced up at his disgusted expression, then dropped my eyes again. It felt worse than any chewing out I’d ever received in school, from my parents, ever. I could feel the outrage and contempt boiling off LJ, a man twice my size who was, as far as I could tell, a hair away from punching me in the face.
“You’re going upstairs with me,” he said quietly, “to explain yourself to the manager.”
I nodded, blinking back tears, still not looking up.
LJ started getting dressed.
My stomach felt like it was full of bubbling mud. I glanced at LJ just as he pulled on a pair of white briefs, bright against his ruddy skin, stretched taut by his muscles. I registered how buff he was, how sexy, and right in front of me, but I was far too upset to feel turned on. LJ looked back at me, and I dropped my gaze again, feeling even more embarrassed.
I stood there awkwardly, wondering what was going to happen. It seemed pretty certain I’d be kicked out of the gym. I was sure they had procedures in place for cancelling memberships in situations like this. I just had to make sure it was clear I wasn’t stealing, just… stalking. Hopefully I could get through the humiliation upstairs as quickly as possible, and then I’d race back to work and try to hold it together for the rest of the day. How could I have been so stupid?
“Time to go,” LJ growled.
I looked up to find him fully dressed, his expression unreadable. I squeezed past him and headed for the stairs, fighting back tears.
When we reached the main floor, he dropped a heavy hand on my shoulder and guided me to the front of the gym, where the main desk was. A blond woman stood in front of a computer there, next to the check-in guy. She looked up as we approached.
I was still trying to figure out what to say when LJ steered me past the woman, then around the desk. His strong grip guided me out of the gym and onto the street.
I was too surprised to feel relieved. “What… why didn’t we…”
“Shut up,” LJ said. He roughly pushed me ahead of him, down the street. “We’re going to 7th and 19th.”
A block away. What the hell?
“Why didn’t we stop at the desk?” I asked, turning to face him.
“Do you want to go back? Tell them what you were doing?” He had a way of keeping his face expressionless, so I had no clue what he was thinking. It made his stare even more intense.
I looked away.
“I didn’t think so,” he said. “Keep walking.”
Uncertainly, I turned and headed down the street. I could feel him just behind me. What was going on? Was he taking me somewhere to… beat me up?
A small corner of me had another idea, but I couldn’t believe that would ever happen, and especially not at this moment, with this guy.
When I’m nervous—before work presentations, or “serious talks” with boyfriends, or even just hookups—my stomach sets off on its own private roller coaster. This felt like that times two. Times twenty.
Am I in danger? I wondered. I realized I didn’t even know LJ’s real name.
“What’s your name?” I called out over my shoulder. Just asking made me feel like I was regaining some control of the situation.
“Mike,” he said.
“I’m, uh, I’m Barry,” I replied.
“I don’t care.”
Suddenly I was pissed off. Fuck him! I didn’t need to be treated like this, and I didn’t need to do what he said. We were right at the corner of 7th and 19th, in front of a giant apartment building. I spun around and nearly ran into him. He was huge, and I had to fight off the urge to look him up and down. His muscles were fully on display in a tight, low-hanging t-shirt underneath his coat, and his jeans hugged his muscular thighs.
I focused on his face, trying to ignore how handsome he was. “Where are we going?”
He looked totally unphased by my fury. “Upstairs.”
He stepped closer to me. A thick, masculine smell wafted off him, even though he’d just showered. “Let me make something clear: You don’t have to go anywhere with me. But we both know what you need.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I didn’t even care what he said at this point. He was clearly a weirdo. Luckily, that meant he wasn’t doing the normal thing and turning me in. Bullet dodged. But I didn’t need to stand here on the corner and listen to him. I could race off back to work and forget this ever happened.
He put one of his large hands on my shoulder. It felt heavy and warm. Very warm. “You snuck into my locker. Is that the kind of thing you do regularly?”
I paused, surprised at the question. “No.” I’d never done anything like that, not that I could remember.
“Right.” He smiled. “You’re a good boy. You never really misbehave, do you?”
Feeling like I was losing control of the situation again, I said, “No. I don’t.”
His stare was unwavering, locking my eyes to his. “But we both know why you did something bad this time. You’re hard up, and it’s making you stupid. And a boy like you has no reason to be that desperate. So you need to be punished. We can go upstairs to my apartment and do something about it, or you can wander off and act out like this again. But I bet the next guy won’t be so cool about it when you get into his business. Hell, next time, I won’t be so cool about it.”
He leaned down over me, and I felt my dick jerking to attention. What was going on?
“You know you want it,” Mike said. “Now go.”
He gave me a push toward the entrance to the building—not too hard a push, but hard enough.
Wow, I thought. Is this going… where it seems to be going?
Feeling dazed, I turned and went inside.
There was a boyish, surprisingly sexy doorman at the desk, who smiled at me. When he saw Mike behind me, the smile widened. “Hey Mike,” he said knowingly.
Embarassed, I wandered back to the elevators.
“Push the button,” Mike ordered me, thankfully too low for the doorman to hear. I could feel his gaze on us.
My brain felt confused, but my dick didn’t; I was getting a full-on erection. I moved to adjust myself and Mike said, low but commanding, “Stop. Don’t touch it.”
I pulled my hand back, even though my bulge was very obvious. The elevator came and we got on. “Push ‘17,’” Mike said. I turned to the buttons and saw the doorman, still grinning, eyeing my obvious hard-on across the lobby.
The doors closed and I turned to Mike, who grabbed me by the chin, gently but firmly, and pushed my head forward. “No,” he said. “Face front and stand still.”
I did as I was told, feeling very conscious of my breathing, my stance, and my dick straining uncomfortably against my briefs. Mike faced me from the side and ran his hands over my midsection, front and back, making me gasp. I couldn’t believe he was touching me. This was happening. Somehow this had gone from my worst moment in recent memory to a fantasy I never believed could ever happen.
Mike felt me up and then down, his hands grazing the top of my ass and my cock, and then lifting up to a rough pinch of one of my nipples. I choked, my dick painfully hard.
The elevator opened at 17. Mike dangled a set of keys in front of me. “17E. Unlock it for us.” Then he slapped my ass, nearly making me fall out of the elevator.
I turned right without thinking and was relieved to see it was the correct way to his apartment. At the door, Mike loomed over me while I struggled with the locks. He pointed at a key. “That’s for the top one. That’s for the bottom.”
I’d never been ordered around like this, at least not in a sexual way, and not even in a nonsexual way since I was a young kid. It made me feel confused: annoyed, but also very, very turned on.
I finally managed to get the door open, revealing a small one-bedroom apartment, modern, sparsely decorated in a clearly masculine way. I was halfway through the living room when Mike said, “Stop.”
I held still while I listened to him close and lock the door. I felt a moment of lucidity.
“Wait,” I said. “What time is it? I have to get back to work.”
“No,” Mike said.
It was like I was coming out of a spell. “I have a job. I’ll get in trouble. I’ll get fired!”
“You’re sick,” Mike said, taking my gym bag and tossing it away. “You’re calling in sick.”
“Shh,” Mike said, and he leaned down and kissed me. His thick lips pressed down on mine, parting them, and his tongue forced its way into me as his whole giant body wrapped around me.
Suddenly he pulled back, stepping away. “Tell your boss you went home sick.”
Overwhelmed, I struggled to think straight. Could I do that? I needed to check the spreadsheet before sending it—no, wait, fuck it. I could just send it. As long as my boss had that file in hand, she might not care if I was out for the rest of the day. And the sheet was in the cloud; I just needed to copy it into an email to her.
“OK. OK, that’ll work.” I pulled out my phone and quickly started a message.
Mike stood in front of me and pulled his shirt off. His chest was huge, a mountain of hairy muscle.
I struggled to type a coherent email. Autocorrect was working overtime. “I don’t feel well,” I wrote. “Heading home. Here’s the spreadsheet.”
Now all I had to do was copy the link and paste it in.
Mike yanked the phone out of my hand.
“Hey!” I reached for it, then stopped at the sight of him towering over me, half-naked. Weakly, I said, “I just need another second.”
“Take your shirt off and you get the phone back.” His expression was impassive, but his eyes twinkled.
It seemed like the quickest way to get the phone back was to do as he said. I unbuttoned my shirt, then pulled it off. I felt very conscious of how small my body was compared to Mike’s—but I watched his eyes run over me appreciatively. Thank god I’d been sticking to my workout schedule.
“Here you go,” he said, handing the phone back.
I quickly unlocked it and got back to copying the link. As I struggled with my sweaty thumbs, Mike pulled me close by the front of my pants. It became difficult to breathe, much less concentrate on pasting the link, as he unbuckled and unzipped me, his thick fingers brushing against my hard-on.
Mike crouched, yanking my pants down and revealing a pair of small, sexy briefs I’d bought on a whim to feel better about myself.
I somehow managed to insert the link correctly and hit send, hoping I hadn’t fucked up the email. I tossed the phone aside just as Mike pressed his open mouth against the front of my briefs, engulfing my cock through the fabric.
All thought left my head.
Mike grabbed my ass, lifted his mouth from my crotch, and said, “You’re a hot little twink. But you’ve been very bad.” He let go of me and stood up. “Turn around.”
This was actually going to happen. I turned around.
His hands manhandled my ass, and then he slapped it, hard, making me cry out.
I was staring at a blank wall, waiting, feeling the sting of the spanking, wondering what would happen next. As the moment stretched out, my dick got harder and harder.
SLAP! Mike spanked me again. It hurt, but after a moment it also felt weirdly good. Without meaning to, I thrust my ass back for another hit.
Instead, Mike said, “Undo my pants.”
My only impulse was to do as he said. I spun around and dropped to my knees. He was wearing jeans, but even through the thick denim I could see the outlines of a monster hard-on. I quickly unbuckled and unbuttoned him, then pulled his pants down, revealing white briefs straining to hold onto a beer-can-thick dick stretched all the way to his side, his underwear wet at its tip.
“Briefs too,” Mike said.
I yanked them down, springing his cock free. Even against his massive frame, it looked sizable—and way bigger than any dick I’d ever had. My stomach knotted with fear. Maybe this was going to be a punishment after all.
But my body began to quiver, eager for what was going to happen, no matter how worried I felt about accommodating Mike.
He shook his hips, dangling his dick in my face. “Is this what you were hoping to see on my phone?”
“Yes,” I mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Yes,” I announced. Mesmerized, I put my lips on his cockhead, then tried to swallow it. The first third of his dick filled my mouth, and, while I had to struggle not to choke, its warm, pulsing firmness was intoxicating. I wanted more.
“No,” Mike said, pulling it out of my mouth. He grabbed his cock and slapped it against my cheek. “You’re getting punished, remember? You do as I say. Now stand up.”
Obeying, I found myself facing his giant, hairy chest.
“Are you clean?” he growled.
“Yes,” I said. I’m pretty regular, and I’d already had my morning stopover just before the gym, and I hadn’t eaten much that day. I knew from experience there would be no issues with bottoming. Plus I’d just showered after the workout. But then I looked down at Mike’s cock and wondered if I should have lied, to protect myself from that thing.
I did, facing the bare wall again. I sensed him getting on his knees behind me, and then his hands and arms were all over my lower body, pulling me back against him as his mouth slipped between my ass cheeks. His lips and tongue explored my hole as my legs went weak, and I had to lean back and steady myself by grabbing his head, which jerked back and forth as he ate me out.
It felt incredible but also overwhelming, like he was going to fully fuck me just with his strong, penetrating tongue. I wondered if I would come like that.
Then he pulled away, quickly again, until he was no longer touching me. I struggled to regain my balance.
“Go to the bedroom.” He slapped my ass.
Stumbling a little, I did, and I felt him right behind me, heat radiating off his massive frame.
His bed was large and white, and just before I reached it he pushed me so that I fell across it. His large hands grabbed me by my hips and hoisted me up, ass high. His mouth attacked my hole again, and then a thick finger poked at me and then into me. It was too rough for a moment, but then I adjusted to it, and I started bucking my hips back against his hand. I glanced back at the giant, hairy, muscular man who was fingering me. I felt drunk, out of control, dripping with need for him, as his finger dug into me and pressed my trigger button.
Just as I was wondering if I would come this way, another finger forced its way in, slowing me down. It took a moment to relax onto it, and then I was thrusting back onto his hand again.
I heard my phone ring in the living room.
Mike pulled his fingers out of me, shocking me with their sudden absence, and walked out. I turned just in time to glimpse his huge back and wide, muscular ass as he exited the room.
“I–I’m sorry,” I called out. “I should have silenced it.” I heard the ringtone cut off, and then, to my horror, Mike said, “Hey, this is Barry’s phone. Yeah, I’m a friend of his, just helping him out since he’s sick. Oh yeah, sure, he’s well enough that he can answer a quick question. Hold on.”
He walked in, his whole body packed with muscles, his dick swaying, his face giving nothing away. He held the phone out to me. “It’s your boss.”
Feeling totally exposed, like my whole office could see me naked through the phone, I reluctantly took it. “Uh, hey,” I said into the receiver.
“Barry, I’m so sorry to bother you,” my boss said. She was a little older than me, late thirties, always nice, a little clueless, but very driven. It was totally like her to ignore the warning that I was sick.
I struggled to control my breathing as Mike grabbed me by the hips and swung me back into position. Despite my mix of feelings, my body responded, my back arching and my butt pressing back hungrily toward Mike.
“I just need to ask you about this spreadsheet,” my boss said. “Hold on, it’s opening.”
I felt Mike’s hard, thick cock pressing up between my ass cheeks. I buried my head in his bed as he began to stroke his dick up and down across my hole. It felt so big, too big, but I wanted it so badly, even though I was afraid of it.
“Ah, there it goes!” my boss said. “OK, looks like you have everything here. Hold on…”
Mike pulled away, and I looked back to see him unrolling a condom over his cock. Then he dipped a lube-slicked finger into my hole and I gasped. I quickly covered the phone.
“OK,” my boss said, clearly oblivious. “What about impressions? Do we get any numbers for that, like on the web?”
I started to answer, then stopped as Mike slipped a second lubed-up finger into me. I took a second to control my breathing, then said, “Uh, no. No, no figures like that for podcasts. Just downloads.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” she said. “You sound like you’re gasping for breath. I’m so sorry to bug you, just one more second.”
Mike pulled his fingers out and I sighed in relief. I just needed to finish this phone call. Then I felt a strong, insistent pressure on my hole. Mike was beginning to push his cock into me.
“Is this all set for printing?” she asked.
Before I could answer, Mike’s dickhead started penetrating my hole. I bore down, hoping to take it in as quickly as possible. I didn’t trust myself to speak.
“Are you there? Hello?”
I took a breath and tried to control my voice. “I’m here,” I said, a little whispery. “Sorry, just not feeling great.” I covered the receiver as the head of Mike’s cock popped inside me and I arched my back, whimpering.
“You know what,” she said, “I think I got it. I feel terrible to have bothered you.”
“No worries,” I managed to say, and then I realized I was still covering the phone. I uncovered it just as Mike began thrusting the rest of himself into me. “No worries,” I said again, somehow managing to keep my voice level. “Bye.”
I stabbed at the hang-up button but failed to hit it as Mike’s dick jerked me forward.
“Feel better!” my boss said, and then my finger connected and the call was over.
I let out a long, deep moan, finally free to react to Mike’s cock as he buried it to the root. I realized the phone call, while incredibly annoying, had actually distracted me enough to take his cock more easily than I would have otherwise. And now his dick totally filled me, making my insides feel cramped from the pressure. Still, my ass wiggled down around the massive cock, satisfied in a way I’d never known before.
“Good job,” Mike said, his hands firm on my hips. “Now you find out what I do to boys who mess with my things.” He pistoned his dick in and out, shockingly hard and fast, and I groaned and then whimpered as he slammed against me again and again, our bodies loudly slapping together. The bed creaked as his weight bore down on me.
“You violate my privacy,” Mike growled, “and I violate you.” My hands slipped around on the bed, struggling to hold on as he yanked me back onto his cock by my hips, and then his whole body thrust me forward, impaled on him, again and again. My dick had lost some of its hardness, shocked by the full assault of a man twice my size. I breathed in, focused on relaxing, letting him take me, letting it happen to me. I felt every inch of his thick dick as it pushed inside me, my whole mind and body focused on it.
He climbed up onto the bed behind me, his massive thighs engulfing mine, his cockhead digging even deeper in me, but now I was growing used to it, my body hungry for it. He kept pounding, his fucking erasing my thoughts, so that I was just a receiver for him.
He slipped a hand under me and grabbed my hard-again dick. “Oh yeah,” he said. “You’re taking your punishment like a good boy.”
“Yes,” I gasped out, happy to please him.
“You’re going to do as I tell you from now on, aren’t you, boy?”
“Yes,” I said, meaning it, eager to follow orders.
He pulled out of me, leaving me empty and desperate for him to return.
“Get on your back,” he ordered. “I want to see your face when I punish you.”
I flipped over, clumsy in my eagerness. I stared up at his mountainous torso, amazed to be able to freely study his naked body. I wiggled my ass down the bed, hungry for him to fill it again.
Mike’s arm muscles bulged as he grabbed his stiff dick and waggled it against my ass, but he didn’t enter me again. Instead he said, “Ask for your punishment.”
“Please,” I said immediately, in heat. “Give it to me. Punish me.”
He waved his dick around, and I stared down at its hugeness. “Where do you want it?” he asked. “Show me.”
Shameless in my need, I lifted my legs up to my chest, grabbed my buttcheeks, and spread them so my hole pointed up at Mike. “Here,” I said. “Please, put your dick here, inside of me.”
Grinning, Mike pushed his body into mine, his cock torpedoing into my ass. I thrust my head back, shocked at the return of him, struggling to fully let his dick in. He grabbed my legs, holding them against the hairy muscles of his torso. “You fantasized about this, didn’t you?” he asked.
“Yes,” I groaned, feeling my body mold itself around his invading cock.
“That’s a good boy,” Mike said, slowly building up a rhythm into me. “Made to be punished.”
As he thrusted in and out, I felt his cock hit a deep part of me, a button that flooded my lower half with need and pleasure—more fully each time he pushed into my ass. My cock twitched in time with it, and I could feel Mike’s body reading mine. “I knew you’d love it,” he said, “you little slut,” and he quickened and deepened his rocking motion, his massive arms flexing as they held my legs tight against his muscled body.
It took me up and over, the pressure in my dick filling until I came, crying out as I shot all over myself.
“Oh fuck,” Mike said, looking down at me and speeding up his thrusting. “That did it! Oh fuck, you little bitch!” His pounding into me was hard to take as I kept coming, but it also made my orgasm unbelievably long and intense, almost painful, and then Mike was shouting wordlessly and I knew he was unloading into my ass as my own dick shot out a final few times, emptying more fully than it ever had before.
I struggled to muster the strength to endure Mike’s own lengthy orgasm, his thrusting slowing but deepening as he powered his load into me. I vaguely remembered he was wearing a condom, and I hoped it hadn’t burst with the power of his fucking.
I also couldn’t believe that any of this had happened. It was larger and more overwhelming than any fantasy I’d ever dared to have.
As we both slowly recovered, I still felt drunk and weak, undone by what had just happened. It helped me overcome the discomfort of Mike easing out of me.
“You all right?” he asked, studying me.
“Yes,” I said. “Fuck, yes.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You going to screw with my stuff again?”
I laughed. “If this is what happens afterward, maybe I will.”
He flipped me onto my stomach and slapped my ass, shocking me. “Sounds to me like you need to be punished some more.”
That felt impossible, but I realized my dick was twitching at the idea, and then my whole body jerked involuntarily, my back arching, my butt rising up, ready for another swat. “Oh yeah,” Mike said. “You still want it. You’re still a good boy who needs his punishment.”
I wanted to protest, but I couldn’t deny my hardening cock—or the desire building up in my burning ass.
“Go shower off and get ready for some more,” Mike said, pushing me off the bed.
Struggling to stay upright, I did as I was told—then, and for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening as Mike ordered me to accomodate him in every possible way. I remember, hours later, holding onto the bedframe as Mike held me against him, his massive chest muscles surrounding me, his dick invading me as I was helpless to do anything but take it, and I couldn’t decide if this really was a punishment or a reward, but I knew I never wanted it to end either way.