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All my stories involve Hot Jocks and their older admirers. All the older men will stop at nothing to taste and devour their body. There are 3 main series on my website: Brandon, Mateo, Jawbreaker (Dark Fantasy) with over 1/2 million words and more than 60 chapters so far. I love all comments, feedback and conversations at [email protected]
The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow across Brandon’s room. As he stretched his muscular frame, the memories of the previous day at Cove Resort flooded back. Brandon stared at the business cards Mr. Gold had given him, his fingers tracing the embossed lettering. The large four-figure tip he’d received over the weekend was still fresh in his mind, a sum he never imagined earning so easily. While the lewd comments and wandering hands had been invasive, there was an undeniable thrill in the attention he received over the weekend. The rush of being so intensely desired by the older patrons was addictive, stirring a complex mix of emotions within him.
As Brandon stepped onto the pool deck, the scent of chlorine was familiar, but today it carried an undercurrent of tension.
Coach Thompson leaned against the pool edge, his gaze unwavering as Brandon approached. “Tell me, Brandon, what exactly did you do at the resort? I understand there are always some... interesting characters there,” he probed, his voice laced with curiosity, fingers tapping rhythmically on the stopwatch.
Brandon hesitated, his eyes flickering away briefly. “It was just a job, Coach. Serving drinks, chatting with guests. Nothing out of the ordinary,” he answered, his tone carefully neutral, avoiding any mention of the more intimate encounters.
Coach Thompson’s gaze didn’t waver. “And what about your neighbor that introduced the job? Mr. Chen? Heard he’s been quite attentive.”
“Mr. Chen? Yeah, he’s been helpful, helping me with my studies and stuff,” Brandon said, trying to keep his neutral tone. He could sense the coach’s growing irritation.
“Helpful, huh? Just remember, I’m the one who’s trained you, not your old fat neighbor.” Coach Thompson snapped, his face tightening.
Brandon nodded, feeling the need to placate the situation. “Of course, Coach. I know who’s really helped me improve my times.”
Coach Thompson’s frown deepened, jealousy flickering in his eyes. “Good. Because distractions like that can ruin a swimmer’s focus. You need to be all about the water, Brandon.”
“I understand, Coach. My focus is here, with swimming,” Brandon assured him, though internally he felt torn between loyalty to his coach and the allure of new influences.
As Brandon continued his laps, the rhythmic splash of water punctuated the silence around the pool. Coach Thompson, observing from the side, felt a growing concern about Brandon’s recent behavior and the influence of external factors on his star swimmer. Deciding to take action, he pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number.
“Father Johnson, it’s Coach Thompson. I need your counsel,” he said, his voice tense as the call connected.
“What vexes you, my friend?” Father Johnson’s voice carried a soothing yet probing tone.
Coach Thompson’s eyes lingered on Brandon, whose powerful strokes cut through the water. “It’s about Brandon. He’s been... elusive lately. I sense other forces drawing him away from me, from our ...shared purpose.”
His words were laced with a possessive edge. There was a thoughtful silence before Father Johnson spoke. “I see. It’s vital that Brandon remains under your guidance, fully committed to the path you’ve set for him. Have you considered a more... binding approach? One that secures his undivided loyalty and focus?”
“That’s precisely what I’m contemplating,” Coach Thompson replied, his mind swirling with darker thoughts. “I must ensure he comprehends the gravity of his dedication to swimming—to me...to us. Perhaps we could craft a strategy? Something that reinforces his dependence and eliminates external enticements.”
“Let us meet tomorrow to delve deeper into this,” Father Johnson proposed. “We can devise methods to fortify Brandon’s resolve, ensuring his future aligns with the vision we have for him.”
“Thank you, Father. Your insight is invaluable,” Coach Thompson said, a sense of relief mingling with a burgeoning desire. He ended the call and watched Brandon glide in the water, his muscular back, surfacing in the waves. The coach’s expression was resolute, tinged with a lustful concern for the boy’s future—and his own desires.
As Brandon finished his rounds, Coach Thompson’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. “Brandon, I think it’s time for another session. You’ve been slacking off lately, and we need to refocus your mind on swimming.”
Brandon paused, his hand resting on the edge of the pool, droplets of water cascading down his muscular arms. He looked up at his coach, a mix of reluctance and obedience playing across his features. “Another session, Coach?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
“Yes, Brandon,” Coach Thompson replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You know how important these sessions are for your performance. We can’t have you distracted by... other influences.”
With a deep breath, Brandon nodded slowly. “Okay, Coach.”
Coach Thompson’s eyes gleamed with a hint of satisfaction. “Right after today’s practice. Meet me in my office. And remember, Brandon, this is for your own good.”
As Brandon pushed off from the wall, slicing through the water with powerful strokes, the weight of the upcoming session hung over him. He knew resisting would only provoke more suspicion, but the thought of submitting to the coach’s control stirred a sense of unease within him. Yet, he remained obedient, understanding the precarious balance he tread between asserting his independence and maintaining his position as the star swimmer under Coach Thompson’s tutelage.
After the grueling training session, Brandon’s muscles ached as he made his way to Coach Thompson’s office. He entered and sat down in the familiar, oversized chair that had become the setting for many of their hypnosis sessions.
Coach Thompson closed the door behind him, his expression serious. “Ready, Brandon?”
As Coach Thompson began, his voice soothing yet commanding, Brandon appeared to fall into the trance just as he always did. However, this time, he was secretly lucid, listening intently to every word the coach uttered.
“Brandon, “You will be a champion. You will do anything to win. Anything…and all you need is to listen to MY words closely.” Coach Thompson intoned, his eyes fixed on Brandon. “You will focus solely on your desire with training with me. Nothing else will distract you from your goals. Your loyalty is to me and my instructions. Only I can make you a champion.”
Brandon nodded, his outward demeanor calm, but inside, he was alert and fully aware—a state he had learned to maintain thanks to Mr. Chen’s recent teachings. During their sessions at Mr. Chen’s apartment, the older man had trained Brandon not only in academics but also in mental resilience, teaching him techniques to remain conscious during hypnotic states.
In his mind, Brandon replayed the exercises Mr. Chen had guided him through. They had practiced maintaining awareness while being led through various suggestions, strengthening Brandon’s ability to resist external control. Now, as Coach Thompson continued with his instructions, Brandon felt a surge of empowerment knowing he could hear and remember everything without succumbing to the intended effects.
After leaving Coach Thompson’s office, Brandon felt a mix of relief and newfound confidence in his ability to maintain his own will. He decided to head straight to Mr. Chen’s apartment, where he knew he would find not only academic support but also a different kind of release from the pressures of his swimming career.
As he approached Mr. Chen’s door, Brandon couldn’t help but recall the incident more than a month ago—the “accident” that had dramatically altered their relationship. His neighbor from 2 doors down, Mr. Chen had stumbled into him outside his apartment, feigning weakness, and coaxed Brandon inside to help. Once inside, the atmosphere shifted; Mr. Chen’s demeanor changed, becoming more assertive and seductive. He had Brandon strip, then video called Mr. Bunhead, who watched eagerly as Mr. Chen explored and enjoyed Brandon’s body, culminating in him swallowing Brandon’s release.
Since that day, Mr. Chen had skilfully woven their encounters around the guise of neighborly assistance and academic tutoring, ensuring Brandon’s frequent visits. Brandon knocked on Mr. Chen’s apartment door, his heart racing with anticipation.
The door swung open, revealing Mr. Chen’s familiar smile, predatory and friendly packaged in an seemingly nondescript 70 plus year old retiree with a pot belly. “Welcome, Brandon,” Mr. Chen greeted, stepping aside with a gesture that invited him in.
As Brandon entered, his gaze instinctively shifted to the room’s other occupant—Mr. Bunhead, whose large figure sat perched obscenely on the edge of the sofa, his eyes alight with amusement and undisguised interest. “Look who’s here,” Mr. Bunhead chimed in effeminately, his voice dripping with a playful lasciviousness. “Our young champion, looking as fine as ever.”
His gaze roamed over Brandon, taking in the sight of his toned muscles outlined by the thin fabric of his tank top and the way his swim shorts clung suggestively, hinting at the absence of underwear beneath.
Brandon felt the heat rise in his cheeks, not just from embarrassment but also from the thrill of being the center of such intense attention. He managed a slight nod in acknowledgment of Mr. Bunhead’s comment, his voice momentarily failing him.
Mr. Chen, observing the exchange, closed the door behind Brandon with a soft click. Turning back to face him, his expression softened into a seductive smirk. “You do look absolutely stunning today, Brandon,” he murmured, his tone thick with unspoken desires. “These outfits of yours... they really accentuate every curve and muscle beautifully.” Brandon swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their gazes like a physical touch, each word a caress against his skin.
Mr. Bunhead nodded in agreement, his eyes never leaving Brandon. “Indeed, it’s always... inspiring to see you like this. How do you manage to stay so fit and alluring?”
Brandon felt a flush creep up his neck, raised his hand to grab his nape while holding their gazes, aware of the power dynamics at play. “Swimming I guess,” he sheepishly replied.
Brandon continued to step deeper into Mr. Chen’s living room, the familiar scent of old books and musk enveloping him.
“Coach Thompson tried another hypnosis session today,” Brandon announced, his voice steady but eyes flickering with a mix of frustration and defiance. “Just like you told me to report, Mr. Chen.”
Mr. Chen leaned forward, holding Brandon’s biceps. “Did he now? Tell us everything, Brandon. What exactly did he say?”
Brandon recounted the session. “He kept repeating that I need to focus solely on swimming and his instructions. That my loyalty should be only to him.”
Mr. Bunhead chuckled victoriously. “Sounds like our dear coach is getting desperate... That stupid...”
Mr Chen gave Mr Bunhead a vicious stare and interjected. “How did it affect you this time, Brandon?”
“I stayed aware, just like we practiced. I heard every word, remembered everything. I think it didn’t work on me this time?”
Mr. Chen nodded approvingly, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Excellent. You’re learning well, Brandon. This is crucial for maintaining your independence. Remember, you control your mind, not Coach Thompson.”
“I managed to stay conscious throughout,” Brandon revealed, a note of pride in his voice. “Thanks to what you’ve taught me, Mr. Chen.”
A slow smile spread across Mr. Chen’s face. “Excellent, Brandon. That’s exactly what we’ve been working towards. Your resilience is impressive.”
Mr. Bunhead leaned forward, his interest piqued. “And how do you feel about resisting Coach Thompson’s influence?”
Brandon considered the question, his mind racing through the implications. “It feels... liberating,” he admitted. “But it’s also scary. I don’t know how far Coach will go to control me.”
Mr. Chen’s hand settled gently on Brandon’s shoulder, a silent promise of solidarity in the face of encroaching control. “You’re not alone in this, Brandon,” he reassured, his voice a gentle yet firm anchor. “We’re here to support you, every step of the way.”
With a subtle shift, Mr. Chen’s gesture swept towards the center of the room, his fingers snapping lightly as if to punctuate his next words. “You just have to relax, Brandon. Make yourself at home,” he suggested, the invitation laden with layers of meaning.
Brandon, feeling the weight of their shared gaze and the comfort of Mr. Chen’s assurance, responded instinctively. His hands moved to the hem of his tank top, sliding it smoothly over his head to reveal the chiseled expanse of his torso. Without breaking stride, he bent slightly to peel off his swim shorts, letting them fall carelessly to the floor. Naked now, he stood before the two men, a mix of vulnerability and strength, each movement fluid and assured, as though guided by an unseen script they all knew well.
The room fell silent except for the sound of heavy breathing as Mr. Chen and Mr. Bunhead took in the sight of Brandon’s naked form. Their eyes roamed freely, drinking in every detail of his toned body, their expressions a mix of admiration and raw hunger.
“Now, Brandon, let’s see those muscles you’ve been working on,” Mr. Chen suggested, his voice low and inviting. Brandon started flexing his arms and chest, the definition of his muscles highlighted by the soft light of the apartment.
Mr. Chen and Mr. Bunhead approached Brandon, their eyes alight with a fervent desire that bordered on worship.
Mr. Bunhead, unable to contain his overwhelming desire, began to slobber as he molested Brandon. His eyes were wide with longing, and his breathing grew heavy as he reached out to touch Brandon’s chest. “You’re just so perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His hands trembled slightly as they traced the contours of Brandon’s abs, his fingers lingering on the hard planes of muscle.
Mr. Chen, maintaining a more composed demeanor, circled around Brandon, his gaze never leaving the young man’s body. “Such strength, such beauty,” he commented, his voice smooth and calculated.
Unlike Mr. Bunhead, who was openly adoring, Mr. Chen seemed to enjoy toying with Brandon, his touches light and teasing, almost strategic. He leaned in, his fingers gently pinching and twisting Brandon’s nipples, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the young swimmer.
As Brandon continued to flex and pose, showcasing his muscular physique, the two older men began to kiss his body feverishly. Their lips traced the contours of his biceps, the ridges of his abs, each kiss a reverential touch that spoke of deep admiration and longing. Their actions were a blend of adoration and indulgence, as if they were not just touching but honoring every inch of his toned form.
Mr. Chen’s lips lingered on Brandon’s chest, his breath hot against the young man’s skin, while Mr. Bunhead lavished attention on Brandon’s shoulders, his kisses trailing down to the powerful expanse of his back. The room filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing and the soft smacks of their lips against Brandon’s flesh. Each kiss was a statement of their desire, a desperate plea for connection with the object of their lust. Brandon, standing tall and proud, allowed their ministrations, his own breaths quickening as he felt the heat of their passion enveloping him.
Brandon was now familiar with these encounters, found himself strangely anticipating the eager advances of the two older men. Each visit to Mr. Chen’s apartment brought a mix of excitement and eagerness, as he knew what awaited him behind closed doors. The initial uncertainty had long faded, replaced by a curious anticipation that grew with each session.
As Mr. Chen and Mr. Bunhead continued their passionate exploration of his body, Brandon stood confidently and flexed , his muscles bulging and harderned. He welcomed their kisses and caresses, each movement of their hands and lips sending shivers of pleasure through him. The thrill of being the center of such intense desire was always intoxicating, fueling a deep satisfaction within him.
“Brandon, tell us,” Mr. Chen began, his voice smooth and probing as he circled around the young swimmer, his fingers lightly tracing the ridges of Brandon’s abs. “How does it feel to be worshipped by us? To have your muscles touched and caressed by... well, by men like us?”
Mr. Bunhead chimed in, his voice thick with desire even as his tongue continued licking Brandon, his hands trembling slightly. “Yes, Brandon, how does it feel to be molested and touched by ugly fat men like us? Do you crave our attention?”
Brandon, standing confidently amidst their circling, met Mr. Chen’s gaze directly. “I feel... powerful,” he admitted, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside him. “I do enjoy it.”
Encouraged by his admission, Mr. Bunhead pressed further, his eyes gleaming with a feverish intensity. “And do you need it, Brandon? Need to feel our hands on you, our mouths worshipping every inch of your perfect body?”
A slight flush crept up Brandon’s neck, but he nodded slowly, his own arousal evident in the way his chest heaved with each breath. “Yes,” he replied, his voice deepening with conviction. “I need it.”
Mr. Chen’s smile widened, a predatory gleam lighting his eyes. “Good,” he affirmed, his hand sliding down to grip Brandon’s hip firmly. “Because we have no intention of letting you go anytime soon. Let us indulge in you, then. Let us show you just how much you mean to us.”
As they continued their fervent exploration, Brandon stood firm, basking in their attentions. Each caress and kiss stoked a profound contentment within him. The room filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing and the wet, eager sounds of their lips against his flesh, each movement a testament to their unyielding desire for him.
Mr. Chen leaned in closer, his breath hot against Brandon’s ear. “You are our masterpiece, Brandon. Every flex, every pose, it’s all for us, isn’t it?” His voice was a whisper, yet it carried a weight that made Brandon’s heart race.
“Yes, it is,” Brandon responded, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes locked onto Mr. Chen’s. Mr. Bunhead, unable to contain his excitement, stepped forward, his hands reaching out to grasp Brandon’s biceps.
“Look at these muscles, so powerful, so perfect. You were made for this, for us,” he murmured, his thumbs tracing circles over the bulging muscles.
Brandon felt a surge of pride mixed with a deeper, more primal need. “I am here for you both,” he said, his voice firm, his body responding to their touches with involuntary shudders of pleasure.
Mr. Chen nodded, his eyes never leaving Brandon’s. “And we are here for you, to worship you, to satisfy you. Tell us, Brandon, what do you want from us right now?”
Brandon hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering between Mr. Chen and Mr. Bunhead, the question hanging in the air charged with anticipation. “I want... I want to feel your mouths on me, everywhere. I want to feel needed, desired, consumed by you both,” he confessed, his voice steady yet tinged with vulnerability.
Mr. Chen and Mr. Bunhead exchanged a predatory glance, their intentions clear as they moved closer to Brandon. “Are you sure, Brandon? To be truly worshipped by us?” Mr. Chen asked, his voice laced with a dark promise.
Brandon, his muscles tense and ready, nodded firmly. “Yes, I’m sure. I want to feel your mouths on me, everywhere.”
Mr. Chen’s eyes gleamed with a lustful success as he stepped closer to Brandon, his voice low and commanding. “Brandon, do you want these old, ugly men to suck on your nipples? Tell us exactly what you desire from us.”
Brandon’s chest heaved with anticipation, his eyes locked onto Mr. Chen’s. “Yes,” he breathed out, his voice steady yet filled with a raw need. “I want you both to touch me, to tease my nipples until I can’t stand it. Then, I want your mouths on me, everywhere. I want to feel your lips and tongues all over my body, worshipping every inch of me.”
Mr. Bunhead’s eyes widened with excitement, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to Brandon. “Show us how you want it, Brandon. Guide our hands, tell us where to start.”
With a nod, Brandon took a deep breath and flexed his chest muscles, the definition stark under the soft lighting of the room. “Start here,” he instructed, placing Mr. Chen’s hand on his right pectoral muscle. “Squeeze gently, then move to my nipple. Tease it, make it hard.”
Mr. Chen complied, his fingers expertly manipulating Brandon’s flesh, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the young swimmer. Meanwhile, Mr. Bunhead mirrored the action on the other side, his touch more eager but equally effective.
“Now, use your mouths,” Brandon commanded, his voice thick with desire. “Suck on them, flick your tongues over the tips. Make me feel good.”
Without hesitation, both Mr. Chen and Mr. Bunhead leaned in, their lips closing around Brandon’s nipples. They sucked gently at first, then increased the intensity, their tongues flicking rapidly over the sensitive peaks. Brandon’s body responded, his muscles tensing and relaxing rhythmically as waves of pleasure coursed through him.
As they continued their oral assault on his chest, Brandon’s erection grew, straining against his skin. “Down there now,” he gasped, his voice hoarse with need. “On my cock. Take it in your mouths, show me how much you crave it.”
Mr. Chen and Mr. Bunhead moved lower, their eyes never leaving Brandon’s face as they positioned themselves in front of his throbbing erection. Each took a side, their mouths opening wide to engulf him. The sensation of their warm, wet mouths working in tandem sent shockwaves of pleasure through Brandon, causing his knees to tremble.
“Use your tongues,” Brandon moaned, his hands gripping their heads, guiding their movements. “Suck me harder, make me feel it.” The two older men complied, their mouths slobbering over Brandon’s cock, their tongues swirling around the shaft with increasing fervor.
Mr. Chen, feeling the urgency in Brandon’s voice, looked up, his eyes meeting Brandon’s. “Tell us what you want, Brandon. Be specific.”
Brandon’s breath hitched, his body tense with anticipation. “I want to cum for you. I want to shoot my hot sperm on your faces. Show me how much you want my cum."
Mr. Bunhead’s eyes gleamed with a mix of excitement and eagerness. “Yes, Brandon, let us see it. Let us feel your release on our faces. It will be our honor.”
Encouraged by their words, Brandon’s grip tightened on their heads. “Make me cum. Use your mouths, your tongues. Your fingers on my nipples. Arghhhh.”
The room filled with the sounds of their wet, eager sucking, punctuated by Brandon’s increasingly desperate gasps for air. “Yes, just like that,” Brandon groaned, his body arching off the floor as he was consumed by the intense pleasure. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”
As they continued, Brandon felt the pressure building deep within him. “I’m close,” he warned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.
Mr. Chen and Mr. Bunhead exchanged a glance, understanding the moment was near. They increased their efforts, their mouths working in perfect harmony to bring Brandon to the brink as their fingers flick furiously on both Brandon’s nipples.
“Now, Brandon! Cum for us!” Mr. Chen commanded, his voice firm but almost breathless.
With a loud groan, Brandon’s body tensed one last time before he released, his hot cum shooting onto their waiting faces. The sensation of his release, combined with the sight of them drenched in his nectar, sent a final wave of ecstasy through him.
As the last drops fell, Brandon collapsed back, panting heavily. “That was... incredible,” he managed to say, his eyes still locked on the two older men, who were now wiping his cum from their faces, their expressions ones of satisfaction and triumph.
Even after this intimate exploration, Mr. Chen and Mr. Bunhead continued to question Brandon, their voices muffled yet insistent. “Do you enjoy this, Brandon? Being desired by old, ugly men like us?”
Brandon, caught in the throes of pleasure, managed a breathless reply. “Yes... yes, I do. It feels... awesome.”
Mr. Chen stood up, his voice a hypnotic whisper in Brandon’s ear. “Good boy, Brandon. Mr. Bunhead and I will fulfill all your desires. All you need to do is let us adore you, worship you, possess you, feed us your hot, juicy cream. Do you understand?”
Brandon, his chest heaving with the aftermath of intense pleasure, met Mr. Chen’s gaze with a profound clarity. His words sound distant and yet resonated deeply within him, stirring a sense of conviction he hadn’t expected. “Yes,” he replied, his voice steady and resolute. “I understand. I need to be adored, worshipped by you both. It feels right.”
Mr. Chen’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, his lips curving into a predatory smile. “Good, Brandon. You are ours, and we will ensure your every desire is fulfilled. Remember, this is where you belong—with us, under our care.”
Brandon nodded, feeling an odd sense of belonging wash over him. “I trust you, both of you. I’m ready for whatever comes next,” he declared, his body still tingling from their passionate ministrations.
Mr. Chen continued, his tone soothing yet emphatic. “You are such a good boy, listening to two old men.” Both he and Mr Bunhead leaned in and licked Brandon’s lips, a gesture both intimate and possessive and Brandon licked them back in obedience.
Then, with a subtle but sudden shift, Mr. Chen snapped Brandon out of his post-orgasmic haze. “Now, let’s talk about school,” he said, abruptly changing the subject.
On hearing this, Brandon, seemingly unconcerned about his naked, sweaty state, casually took a seat. He then engaged Mr. Chen and Mr. Bunhead in a discussion about an issue he was having with an assignment. The room’s atmosphere shifted from one of intense physical desire to a more academic focus, though the undercurrent of their previous interaction lingered in the air.
“I’m struggling with my recent assignment,” Brandon admitted, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I can’t seem to articulate my thoughts clearly.”
Mr. Chen and Mr. Bunhead flanked Brandon, their presence both comforting and charged with a lingering lust. Mr. Chen’s hand rested on Brandon’s back, his fingers gently caressing the smooth skin, while Mr. Bunhead’s hand found its way to Brandon’s thigh, his fingers tracing light patterns. In this intimate setting, they transitioned seamlessly into their roles as tutors, guiding Brandon through his academic troubles.
Despite the abrupt shift from intense physical intimacy to academic focus, Brandon felt acknowledged and supported, a sense of rightness settling over him with these 2 old men by his side.
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