Third Time’s A…
© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica
The second morning of the exhibition started with a strange mix of nerves and leftover pride. I had been carrying the feeling since yesterday when the guys stomped their feet to the chant I came up with. “Bars and rings, we’re the kings.” My line. It still felt unreal. I kept replaying the noise in my head, the way they pulled me in after, like if I held onto it tight enough it would not slip away.
My throat was raw. Lips still stretched. My body reminded me of it every time I swallowed. Mason had shoved his dick down my throat last night and barely said a word after. When he rolled over to sleep I had been left buzzing, used, and oddly satisfied. The mix of soreness and pride sat under my skin in a way that carried into this morning.
Mason was already awake. He lay sprawled on his bed in nothing but briefs, scrolling on his phone with his hair sticking up. He caught me staring and smirked.
“You dreaming about the crowd still, Roomie?”
I shrugged and tried to play it off, but the smile tugged at my mouth anyway.
He stretched, joints cracking, then said, “Come on, let’s see what the boys are up to.”
He banged on the connecting door a couple times before just pushing it open. Ray answered with his shirt half on. The room smelled like body spray and the coffee packets from the machine. Taylor sat on the edge of his bed tying his sneakers, looking put together as always.
“Morning,” Mason announced, strolling inside and dropping onto the empty bed. “You two recover from the stomp fest yesterday?”
Ray laughed, tugging his shirt down. “I’m still hearing it in my head.”
Taylor glanced up at me. His hazel eyes were steady and softer than I expected. “You killed it, Eli. Seriously. That was huge.”
The words hit deep. I muttered thanks, my ears burning. Mason clocked it and smirked wider.
We stayed there talking for a while. Mason joked about how bad the hotel eggs would be. Ray hyped himself up for his floor set. Taylor asked about my family coming to watch and listened like he actually cared. For once I did not feel like the tagalong.
Mason shoved me back toward our side when he was done distracted with some comment he was making about the second day of the event.
Downstairs, breakfast was noisy. The food was what you would expect, rubbery eggs and watery juice, but the room felt alive. Coach gave a quick rundown of the schedule, then let us loose.
I picked at my plate. My stomach felt tight and every bite sat heavy. Mason nudged me under the table.
“Relax, Roomie,” he muttered. “You’re good.”
It was easy for him to say.
The exhibition morning felt different the second we stepped into the venue. The hall was alive in a way our gym never was. Chalk dust already hung in the air, and the sound of bodies hitting mats and coaches barking corrections bounced around the rafters. Every team had carved out a corner to stretch and move through their own warm-ups, but it all blended into a steady hum of energy.
My body went through the stretches. My head didn’t keep up. The thought of stepping onto the mats with a crowd watching made my gut knot tight.
Mason finished a short set on the rings and dropped down beside me, towel draped around his shoulders. He smirked when he saw me sitting there rubbing my hands over my thighs like I could press the nerves away.
“You’re wound tighter than a spring, Roomie,” he said.
“I just don’t want to mess up,” I admitted. My voice came out lower than I meant, almost a mutter.
He leaned in a little, casual. “You remember what Casper said the other night? About keeping your core loose?”
The memory slammed back hard — Casper standing over me in the hotel room, Mason still buried in me, that line tossed out like it was just another training cue. My throat tightened.
Mason grinned like he’d cracked a code. “I think he meant it literally. You ever notice how you move better after? You’re not so stiff. Shit flows easier. Probably because you’ve been fucked open.”
I looked around fast, but nobody was close enough to hear. The noise in the hall covered us, but my face still burned. “Mason…”
He shrugged like it was obvious. “I’m serious. Think about it. You were flying after that night. You want that edge today, I can help. Quick trip back to the hotel, I fuck you good, you’re loose, nerves gone.”
He said it with a cocky grin, but there was something under it that felt almost genuine. Like he thought this really was part of the prep. My chest twisted. It was insane. But so was the idea of screwing up in front of everyone.
I nodded once.
“Atta boy.” He slapped my back hard, then grabbed his bag. “Let’s roll.”
The walk back to the hotel felt longer than usual, every step echoing in my chest. The halls reeked of old cleaner. It only made my nerves worse. Mason strode ahead like he was heading to the podium.
He shut the door behind us and tossed his bag aside. “Clothes off. We don’t got all day.”
My stomach churned but I obeyed, tugging my shirt over my head and kicking my sweats to the floor until I was left in my briefs. Mason stripped even faster, cock swinging heavy and already swelling. He sat back on the bed, leaning on his elbows.
“Get me ready, Eli.”
I knelt between his legs. My mouth watered before I even touched him. I licked the head first, salty and warm, then slid my lips down his shaft. Mason let out a low sound, hand landing on the back of my head.
“Yeah, that’s it. Deep,” he muttered.
I worked him steady, spit dripping down my chin as I bobbed lower and lower. My jaw ached, throat gagging when he pushed deeper, but he didn’t let up. His cock filled my mouth, his groans filling my ears.
“Gotta get me wet for your ass,” Mason said, voice rougher now. He tugged me off and spit strung between my lips and his cock. He slapped my cheek with it lightly. “Turn around.”
I climbed onto the bed on my hands and knees, skin prickling with fear and want all at once. Mason spat into his palm, stroked himself, then lined up behind me. The blunt head pressed at my hole, no patience for teasing.
The first push made me grunt, my body clenching. He grabbed my hips and drove in harder. The stretch tore through me, sharp and full, and I clawed at the sheets as he bottomed out.
“That’s it,” he growled. “Take it.”
Mason started pounding me, hips slapping against my ass hard enough that the bed creaked under us. My knees slid on the sheets as he drove in again and again, filling me rough and fast. Every thrust knocked a grunt out of my chest, the sound swallowed into the mattress when I buried my face there.
“Yeah,” Mason muttered, holding me by the waist like I was his grip bar. “That’s what you needed.”
My body jolted with every slam forward. I tried to brace with my arms, but he shoved me flat, one hand on the back of my neck, pressing me down into the bedspread. The sheets smelled like detergent. Mason’s cock still carried skin and sweat. My throat made small noises I couldn’t hold back.
I didn’t hear the door at first. Just a faint scrape, then a hinge shifting. Mason was too busy driving into me to notice. I twisted my head and my stomach turned over.
Taylor stood in the doorway.
His eyes went wide for half a second. I froze, throat tight, body locked around him. He hadn’t knocked. He must have come back to grab something and heard the noise we were making. We must have forgotten to lock the door earlier when we’d gone over to chat with him and Ray in the morning.
For a breath we just locked eyes. I wanted to shout, to tell him to go, but Mason’s hand pinned my head down and Mason’s cock slammed forward, making me gasp instead. Mason didn’t stop; he just kept on hammering me hard. Taylor’s mouth parted slightly, like he might say something, then he just stood there. Watching.
Shame tore through me, but my gut still kicked, heat curling low where I didn’t want it. Taylor’s eyes weren’t disgusted. They weren’t mocking either. They were just… steady. Like he couldn’t look away.
Mason finally caught the shift in the air. He glanced back over his shoulder and barked a laugh.
I groaned into the sheets, humiliated, but Mason didn’t stop. He shoved even harder, the bed squealing under us. Taylor blinked, stepped back once, then muttered, “Sorry,” and shut the door quick.
My whole body buzzed with embarrassment. Mason just chuckled and yanked my hips higher. “Don’t worry about it. He knows now.” His tone was smug, like it was some kind of victory. He spat on my back for lube and slammed forward.
I gritted my teeth, trying not to picture Taylor standing there, seeing me bent and raw with Mason on top of me. But I couldn’t stop the image. Couldn’t stop the heat that came with it either.
Mason’s pace picked up until his balls slapped against me with every thrust. He pulled me by the hair so my face tilted up, then shoved me back down into the mattress. My breath broke ragged.
“You love it like this,” he grunted. “Hard and dirty.”
His cock dragged deep, stuffing me, and my thighs trembled. I dug my fingers into the sheets, my chest slick with sweat against the covers. The sound of his groans grew sharper, closer.
He pulled out fast at the last second and shoved me flat so I couldn’t move. His hand pressed my head down while his other fist pumped his shaft hard. Warm streaks hit across my back and shoulders, hot against my skin. Mason groaned loud, shaking it out of himself until the last drips smeared across me.
“Perfect,” he said, breath rough. “No mess where it counts. You’ll be fine on the mats.”
I stayed there, face against the covers, chest heaving, back sticky with his load. My hole still twitched empty, stretched and raw. Shame burned through me, but under it a strange bubbly rush worked its way up too, the same dizzy hum I always felt after he used me rough.
Mason patted my ass like he’d finished a chore and went to grab a towel. I rolled to my side, pulling the sheets up to cover myself, but the image of Taylor standing in the doorway burned harder than anything. The way he looked at me before he left. Not disgusted. Not mocking. Just there.
I swallowed hard. If he told anyone, I would be mortified. Mason had been using me like I was his sex toy. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Taylor was gay too. That had to mean something.
By the time we got back to the venue my body was loose, but my head was a mess. I could still feel Mason’s cum cooling on my back, even after I scrubbed at it with the towel. Every step back into the hall made my face heat like someone might smell it on me.
Casper’s voice cut through the din. “Focus, Eli. Run your set in your head.”
I nodded quick, trying to shake the static in my brain. The mats stretched out in front of me, bright under the overhead lights, every eye in the place pointed our way. My name echoed over the speakers and my chest clenched.
I chalked up my hands, dust rising in a cloud. My gut twisted hard, but my body knew the motions. Mount. Swing. Breathe. I moved through the routine, arms and legs obeying even as my brain lagged behind. The crowd blurred into a single wall of sound.
Then I saw him.
Taylor.
Front row of our section, leaning forward in his seat, eyes locked on me. The memory of him in the doorway slammed back. My knees almost buckled. For a split second I stumbled on the landing, breath caught, vision tunneling.
He didn’t look away. Didn’t flinch or smirk. He just gave me the smallest nod, steady, like he was reminding me where I was.
I latched onto it. Pulled myself upright, arms out. My muscles found the rhythm again. Twist. Catch. Push through the last hold. Stick the landing.
The hall erupted. My chest heaved, sweat running down my temple. I bowed quick, eyes darting back to Taylor. He was still watching me, same steady look, no judgment.
Mason clapped me on the back when I jogged off the mat. “See? Told you you’d be fine, Roomie.” He grinned like he had been right about everything.
But it wasn’t Mason’s words that carried me through that last stretch. It was Taylor.
The shame and nerves twisted together in my gut, but under it all was that same lightness I had felt yesterday, like maybe I really belonged here.
Dinner was held in one of the hotel’s banquet rooms. The food wasn’t anything special: overcooked chicken, dry pasta, vegetables steamed until they went limp. The team didn’t care. Plates clattered, voices rose over each other, and the energy was still buzzing from the day. Everyone had performed well. Even I felt a little glow from how my set had gone.
Mason was in his usual form, loud and cocky, bragging about how easy his landings were. Ray fired back at him, saying his own floor routine had the crowd hyped more. Taylor laughed at both of them, shaking his head. His eyes flicked over to me once, quick and unreadable, before turning back to his plate.
I tried to act normal, nodding along when the guys joked, but my mind kept circling back. The image of him in the doorway wouldn’t leave me. The way he had looked at me, steady and quiet and not mocking, stuck harder than the memory of Mason pounding me into the mattress.
Casper sat at the far end of the table with Coach Nelson, but his eyes found me once or twice. Just a flicker, but it made my chest tighten. He knew what Mason and I had done last night. He had been there. Now Taylor knew too.
All of it piled up in my head. The chant. Mason using my mouth. Casper’s hands. Mason bending me over again. Taylor catching me. Taylor nodding at me on the mat. It was a lot.
I pushed food around on my plate, appetite gone. The table noise blurred. All I could think was what the night might bring. Would Mason want more? Would Casper? What would Taylor do after what he saw?
The last thought made my throat go tight.
Coach raised his glass of water, gave some short speech about how proud he was of us and how this exhibition was only the beginning. Everyone cheered, Mason loudest of all. I lifted my glass too, but my mind wasn’t on the toast.
I was thinking about Taylor in the room next door. About Mason lying in bed already half hard by the time we got upstairs. About Casper with his keycard, walking in whenever he wanted.
I had no idea which of them I would end up with that night. Maybe all of them. Maybe none.
When I sat back down, my gut twisted. Not from nerves this time. From anticipation.
Follow me on X: @BBGayErotica or on Bluesky: bbgayerotica.bsky.social for more kinky fun!
You can also follow me on Instagram now to see some of the boys in my stories: instagram.com/brokenboundariesgayerotica/ or on Youtube: @BrokenBoundariesGayEnt
If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Patreon.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
