Claimed

“Awww… fuck that’s good,” I say in a deep husky whisper as I descend the thick cock about to be speared up my ass. My eyes are closed, head back, goosebumps on my arms.

“Fuuuuck,” he hisses at the same time as he feels my hole clenching around his thick throbbing cock. His eyes closed, smile on his face, taking in the erotic euphoria of his cock entering my tight butt as I clench it around his cock.

I finally bottom out. My own cock fully erect, almost painfully so as the mix of feeling him inside me and the anticipation of the long, hot fuck that is about to transpire fills my brain. My hole is resisting any more stretching that his cock demands. I feel full but I feel like it belongs there. The burning sensation has begun but I know if I stick it out a minute, the burn will subside, and fucking will begin. I’m not letting a little burn deny me of his cock. I’m strong, I don’t back down from a challenge and I’m not a pussy. I can take it.

His powerful hips lift from the mattress preparing to begin the fucking he has looked forward to all week. My body raises with his which drives his cock in a little deeper as my weight forces him in. I take a deep breath and slowly blow it out. I do that a few times.

“Hold on a second. Let me get used to it,” I say with a strained voice. I slowly gyrate my ass to allow my tight hole to conform to his cock. I feel like his cock is in my gut. My hard cock is bobbing up and down with the motion.

Both his hands are on either side of my thighs, his warm hands pressing against them as if to hold me in place. Like I’d go anywhere. He starts to push up into my hole once again. There is small sharp pain, but it subsides after a few seconds of bearing down, stretching my hole, allowing more room for his cock to expand when he eventually shoots.

“You good, QB?” he asks.

Before I can answer, he grows inpatient and thrusts into me, raising my body with his. Damn it! I hate that.

“FUCK!” I blurt out, not expecting the sudden intrusion. “Whoa! Not so fucking fast, dude!” I beg with gritted teeth, breathing in and out quickly.

He stops for a few seconds, only to look me straight in the eye in defiance of my request and thrusts up hard taking my breath away.

“HEY! God damn it, Slade! I said not so fast. God, you fucker!” I say as my voice hits a high note like I’m going through puberty. I knew he wouldn’t show mercy. He never does. He knows I don’t want him to. He looks up at me with a “Really? Seriously?” expression.

“You made me wait all week, Quarterback. I’m not waiting anymore,” he growls. He thrusts up again making my eyes bug out.

I fall forward and place my hands on his hard pecs for balance. My body bent forward, my ass sticking out farther allows his cock to saw its way deeper into my clenching, hungry hole.

“Please?” I plead as I stare into his blue eyes. “It’s been a week, Slade. Just give me two fucking seconds and then you can take my ass to Pound Town.” One week without a fuck and two days of squats has made my ass snap tight.

He rolls his eyes with frustration. He lets me take a minute to adjust but he’s impatient by nature and it gets the better of him, his selfish side takes over. I know that look and I know I’m losing this fight. I take another deep breath and commence to get ready for a fuck that I can’t stop. He gets what he wants. What happened to the days when I got what I want?

“Slade…” I start to warn him.

“Nope,” he states.

“Oh, shit,” I proclaim as I prepare myself mentally.

I tense my body making my muscles flex as he commences his jackhammer-fucking up into me. He likes it when my muscles swell, turn red, veins popping, knowing he did that to another man. Seeing a man like me strain, moan, sweat, beg for his cock. It makes him feel powerful, superior. He is. And I like seeing the pleasure and satisfaction on his face, a result of my body being used for his enjoyment. I feel honored that a man of his caliber chose me as the vessel to dump his loads into. He looks up at me, he knows that’s what I’m thinking right now and shows me a cocky sneer. He can be such a prick.

I run my hands over his cobblestone abs and then back up to his chest. My teeth clenched, and my eyes squeezed shut as I feel the ecstasy of the man under me completely owning my ass. He knows he does. He knows he’s the only type of guy who can ever own my ass. He has me wrapped around his little finger. I am addicted to his cock and he is addicted to fucking my big, muscular, frat boy ass. The power he exudes turns me on, drives me into a frenzy, makes me question my choices and my sexuality. He’s cocky and arrogant at the thought of landing an otherwise straight frat-boy like me.

“Fuck me, Slade. Fuck me,” I moan.

I look down at his handsome face with a day’s worth of stubble. I marvel at how fucking sexy he is. He’s not your typical forty-something-year-old man. I’m not quite sure how old he is because I don’t care. He’s hot as fuck, experienced, confident and knows how to turn a guy like me into his slobbering little bitch. I do know he’s married with a kid. He had the good sense to stay in shape after getting married and starting a family. He’s starting to gray around his temples, his face starting to show some lines, but they only make him more handsome and sexy.

DILF is an understatement when it comes to this man. His body is insane. I’ve seen old pictures of him from when he played football in college; he’s in better shape now in his forties than he was at twenty. In my opinion, he deserves to be a cocky arrogant prick. He’s older, he’s hot as fuck and he’s boning the hell out of a hot frat boy half his age, who, until a few months ago, had never been with a dude and had never planned to.

“Bitch position,” he states without emotion, taking me by surprise, he takes more control, slams his hands onto my chest and pushes my two-hundred-pound muscular frame backward onto my back.

“Whoa!” the word comes out of my mouth strained and a little high pitched. I’ve lost my balance as he pushed me back. His cock expelling itself from my now empty hole. “Oh, god, dude,” I say at the loss of his cock inside me. But I like it when he gets aggressive and takes control, never giving me advanced notice of anything he does to me during sex. It makes each time we fuck into an adventure. It’s hot enough for me to know he has the strength to make my body do what he wants.

“Put it back in. Stick me, Slade,” I pant. I used to hate this position when we first started fucking. We did it a lot. It was his way of showing my place. My place was under him. He wanted me to see what his wife sees.

He aggressively grabs my ankles and hoists them up on top of his shoulders. I smile at the thrill of having his two-hundred-ten pounds of muscle throw my two-hundred pounds of muscle around like a rag doll. He bites his bottom lip and grunts as he rams his cock down into my ass.

“Fuck yeah!” I try to yell out, but he puts his hand over my mouth and presses down hard. We’re fucking in my room at the frat so I must be quiet. Normally, we don’t fuck here but we can’t do it at his house. His family is home. Luckily, it’s a Sunday and most of the guys are gone for the weekend but still better to be safe than sorry. And he thinks it’s funny to test the boundaries. He laughs sometimes when he’s fucking me so hard that I must put a pillow over my face and scream into it. I’ve learned to play some music and play it loud to cover my noisy grunts and groans.

“Shhhh, Quarterback. You don’t want your frat bros to know you’re in here getting boned, do you?” It makes me mad but then it sends more adrenaline through my body to my dick and I like it. Whenever we fuck in the frat, I’ll walk him out afterwards and I automatically turn red with embarrassment as I pass my frat brothers on the way out. I know they suspect nothing but still, I just got my ass handed to me upstairs. It’s enough that I know. Slade just grins like he’s won a trophy. I’m his trophy boy.

Slade sneers at me again while staring into my eyes like lasers. I can’t look away. I’m ashamed at my behavior but at the same time overwhelmed with the excitement I feel when he’s inside me. I feel slutty when we fuck. He makes me feel that way with his fuck talk and aggression. He’s an Alpha and he’s good at it. He’s found that I respond well to his control. I’m not an alpha when I’m with Slade. Who can blame him? Wouldn’t you get cocky and arrogant knowing you’re able to dominate and fuck the alpha out of another guy? Of course, you would.

“You like that,” he grins. It’s not a question. He’s stating a fact. He pulls his hand from my mouth while holding my eyes hostage with his own. He then folds me in half, my knees up near my ears. My breath labors as my airway is slightly constricted. I try to answer but all that I can do is grunt. Sweat drips from his forehead and falls into my mouth. I instinctively lick my lips and stick out my tongue to catch more of his salty essence.

He watches me lick up his sweat and grins. It turns him on. “Fuck, you can be so slutty,” he says with a cocky smile. “But then, you can’t help it. Can you?”

My face is flushed; half from humiliation and half from the strain of taking his hard fuck.

“You fucking know I can’t,” I reply, my voice strained and gravelly. “You fucking bastard.”

He grins down at me. He takes my ankles and opens my legs wide like a wishbone. I used to hate it when he did that. Once again, it made me feel like a girl. But now I fucking love it. He pushes my legs down, stretching my quads and hamstrings to their limit. I’ve become more flexible since we started fucking. His rears up and rams me hard and fast.

“I’m going to mess inside you, Quarterback,” he whispers. “Yeah, I know you love it when I mess inside you.” His whisper is husky, a low baritone. “You like my hot, sticky mess in your gut. Filling you up.”

I clench my teeth trying to stifle a moan or a squeal, anything trying to escape and would give me away to my frat brothers downstairs.

“That’s it, Quarterback. I’m sticking you good,” he hums next to my ear. “Look at you, taking my cock like a good boy.”

He runs a hand through my hair, wiping it off my sweaty forehead. “Fuck, you are a beautiful boy. You look so beautiful with my cock buried in your butch little hole,” he said with a little cockiness. “I wish everyone could see you right now.”

My eyes snapped open telling Slade that would not be a good thing. He gets off on freaking me out.

“I wish I could fuck you so hard right now, you’d scream out. Your frat brothers would run up here and see you on your back, legs up, ass full of my cock.”

That made my dick twitch.

“Then they would know, QB. They would know my muscle boy Quarterback is mine. They would know that YOU are MINE. You want me to be inside you. You want a man like me to fuck you.” Slade slows his thrust and they turn long, slow and deep. “You know what, QB?” I lay there hanging on his every word. “You’re a cumdump.” He smiles. I look up at him, my eyes searching his. My hands holding on to his biceps, feeling their power. “You know you’re mine, but I bet you would give this ass up to any man like me. Wouldn’t you, Quarterback?” I don’t answer, I just swallow hard. “You’re a slut for alpha cock. You’d turn ass up for any big muscular alpha cock, wouldn’t you, QB?”

I don’t know if I should answer. I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if he wants and answer. He knows me better than anyone. He can read my mind. It turns out I don’t need to answer as he picks up the pace, his eyes close, he bites his bottom lip and his body stiffens as he blows a thick, warm, gooey load into my tight, upturned hole.

Why in the fuck do I love this so much? Why do I love these bouts of humiliation, denigration and shame knowing I’m being fucked by another man? I’ve never wanted to get fucked before. I mean, I’m not a homophobe. I’m secure enough in my masculinity to say, truthfully, I’ve always found athletic, muscular athletes somewhat attractive. Mostly, I thought it was mutual admiration for the time and discipline it takes to keep our bodies on point. I’m not blind. I knew when a guy was sexy. It’s as if I was proud to be considered a part of an elite club where all the members where athletic, muscular, masculine, cocky and alpha. Being around other alphas was like crack for me. The camaraderie, the bonding of men of the same caliber was addictive.

Then I met Slade.

I guess its cliché for a gay sex story, but we met at the gym. I strutted into the weight room one day, gym bag in one hand, jug of water in the other. I see my buddy, Russ. I fist bump him.

“Bro!” he says excitedly. “What happened with the hot piece of ass you snagged at the club the other night?”

I grin. “Dude, oh my god. She was insanely slutty. She had the sweetest tasting pussy. I ate her out, made that fucking bitch moan like a whore.”

“Right on, bro! She was smoking hot. I assume you fucked her.”

“Dude?” I looked at him like he was talking crazy. “Of course. She saw my cock and practically begged for it.”

“That’s so crazy, bro. Did she stay the night?”

“Nah, I kicked her…” I stopped talking in mid-sentence when I glimpsed him from across the weight room over the vast array of free-weights. My breath was suddenly taken away and my stomach dropped.

Russ wondered why I stopped in mid-sentence and looked at what I was looking at.

“Who’s that?” I ask.

“Don’t know. First time I’ve seen him here,” he replied.

“Huh. Dude is jacked,” I commented. I was mesmerized by his muscle.

“Yeah, he sure is. Better be careful, bro. He may dethrone you as King of the Gym,” Russ said as he patted me on the back.

I scoffed, “Not likely.”

Damn, this guy was hot! Like, stunningly so.

I paused a second and thought about what just went through my head. Why did I just have that reaction looking at another dude? Everyone paused to watch him. There was something about him that made me weak in the knees. He was one of the most handsome men I’d even seen. His body was a work of art that would make anyone; gay, straight, male or female, stop and stare. The way he walked, his posture, his serious facial expression reeked of Alpha. I don’t understand why I was drawn to him. I should feel threatened. I found myself wanting to know him, I wanted to impress him, I wanted to be his best friend. And another thing, I always notice when a dude has a nice developed ass, but never in a sexual way, always an admirability of hard work and dedication to knowing how to sculpt the human body to their will. But this guy had the most amazing ass I’d ever seen; compact, high and tight, dimpled cheeks. His red leggings molded to that ass, obviously he was showing off. There was no doubt that he knew he was hot. I couldn’t stop staring at it when he stood. I absentmindedly ran a hand over my own ass to feel and wonder if it was as nice as his. I have a stellar ass; bubble and muscular but his was on a slightly higher level. I felt like a 14-year-old girl meeting her first crush.

Hypnotized, I worked my way over to his area. He was working his shoulders. I wasn’t even supposed to work my shoulders that day, but he was at the shoulder press and damn it, so was I.

I walked by two guys working out together and I heard one say to the other, “Who’s that guy?”

“Don’t know. Never seen him before,” the other guy said.

“That dude’s body is on fucking point,” the first one said.

“Yeah. Look at those fucking glutes,” the other said with envy.

“Dude stop looking at his ass. That’s gay, dude,” the first one teased.

As I got closer, he saw me, did a double take and his eye contact was so intense that it made my heart skip a beat. I’d never had this feeling before around a dude. He was tall and solid. I was intimidated and trust me, no one intimidates me. I’m the one that does the intimidating. I know I’m hot and I know how to use that to my advantage every day. A big white smile, a little flirting, a wink, casually flexing my pecs or arms can catch someone’s attention and they will treat you better.

I grabbed some dumbbells and took the bench next to him. I stole looks at him through the mirror as I did my sets. I got up to put the weights back on the rack and grabbed some heavier ones. I looked in the mirror and he was looking back at me, well, at my ass. For some reason, that made me excited. A dude who looks as god-like as de does and he is blatantly checking out my ass. Nice. I turned to the bench, looked at him and gave a friendly nod. He nodded back.

We both proceeded to go about our workouts but never straying too far from one another. Later, I saw him look at his watch and then to me. He nodded to me again as if to say, “See you later” and made his way to the exit.

After a couple days of nods and awkward staring, finally I got the nerve to said hello. It was as if he was waiting for me to make first contact. It was a short “Hey. How’s it going? I’m Decker” and that broke the ice. He said his name was Slade which I thought was fitting and sexy as fuck. It was a strong name, masculine. I glimpsed a wedding ring which, for some reason, made me a little sad.

The next day more small talk and the next day full conversations. He would chuckle every time I initiated conversation. It was like he thought it was cute or something. It made me feel like when I talked to a girl for the first time.

I was an idiot and didn’t notice for a week or so that he was working out at the same time I was every day. Stalking me? How was I supposed to know? I think, subconsciously, I was stalking him. I just told myself it was an innocent bromance. Mutual admiration. I liked being seen with other attractive people. It was egotistical and narcissistic but that’s how I was. Our conversations were usually about nutrition, fitness goals, gym talk, typical guy stuff.

I started to get excited to see him every day. I made sure I was at the gym at the same time every day, never late. I was still an idiot. I didn’t get what was happening to me. Once again, I assumed it was idol worship or something. Here was an older guy, probably old enough to be my dad. I couldn’t tell because he looked young but carried himself like he was older and more experienced. His body put most other’s in that gym to shame…except mine, of course. And he was damned handsome. I just wanted to be like him. No, I wanted to be him. I sought his attention and admiration. I thought about him all the time, what he was doing, where he was while I was on dates with girls.

One day he suggested that since we were at the gym the same time every day that we should lift together, become workout partners. I was psyched! We had the same goals, the main one, obviously, to become even hotter than we were. He was a great mentor. That’s what I saw him as, I thought. He was older, more experienced, and he taught me things about lifting and nutrition that I’d never known. What started off as two lifting partners motivating each other to push harder, quickly became competing alpha egos trying to out-lift the other. Always lifting heavier, doing more cardio, comparing body fat percentage. Everything was a contest. He was trying to kick my ass as much as I was trying to kick his.

The more we competed the more I saw changes in my body. His too. Our muscles became harder, tighter. We were becoming more cut and defined. I spent way too much time naked in front of my mirror. Way too many shirtless selfies. It became normal to shoot him a shirtless selfie and within minutes he would do the same, usually with some funny but demeaning comment about my pic. But I knew he was impressed by my gains. I could tell be the way he looked at me sometimes when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. I was more confident, as if I needed any more confidence. I felt more superior to other guys around me than I did before, except him. I started to notice how he dressed, how he styled his hair, what kind of car he drove, and I emulated him.

I started to become a little aroused watching him in his compression gear, showing off his gains, the gear challenging me to look at his progress every day and know that everyone else in the gym could see it too. I went out and bought the same compression gear. The first time I showed up in my new leggings and tight t-shirt, he just shook his head and laughed. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He said.

“I’m not letting you get all the attention, old man,” I jabbed back.

The attention we received was fucking euphoric. Some guys thought we were big brother/younger brother because he looked so young which just made me proud that someone would assume that. For a forty-something-year-old man, he was impressive to look that good at that age. It meant that we were alike in more ways than I thought. This was when he started to become more “hands on?”

He had never been shy about touching. He was always patting me on the shoulder or my back. He was into bro-hugs. Sometimes a playful squeeze of the back of my neck. He liked to roughly grip my biceps and tell me how big they were on arm days. He always told me I looked good or I was getting great gains. Lots of compliments as time passed. By this time, we had become like best friends and not so much a big brother/little brother. We talked about normal stuff during our workouts; football, his wife and kid, my dates, my classes, his work. He owned a few construction companies. I met his wife a few times. Of course, she was beautiful. I would come over to hang out and watch a game with him or play some video games. His kid was a shit, a teenage version of his dad; cocky and arrogant but what do you expect from a seventeen-year-old who has the genetics of this guy. I think he was jealous of me because his dad wanted to spend more time with me over him. The wife never questioned why her husband was hanging out with a guy half his age because we had so much in common. She always said I was born twenty years too late. It was always funny when I came over, she’d answer the door and yell back, “Honey! Your boyfriend’s here!” That always got me to blush.

After a few weeks, he gave me a nickname: Quarterback. I was quarterback for three years in high school. I received a football scholarship to college, and I was set to go pro, but I blew out my knee halfway through the season last year, my junior year. Apparently, I talk about that a lot and he made fun of me for it. Started calling me Quarterback or QB and it stuck. Secretly, I think he was impressed. He played football in high school and college too, but I know I was a better than he was. He knew it too.

About a month later he started slipping gay inuendo into our conversations. Slade liked to refer to me, jokingly, as his bitch around other guys at the gym. He’d also make comments to me whenever we saw a guy he thought might be gay. “That dude’s hot. I bet he wants to fuck you,” or, “You know, you have a nice ass…for a guy.” That always left me puzzled at first, I laughed it off, then I got used to his sexual banter. He knew I was openminded and had no problem with gay guys. He was trying to shock me. Gay dudes have always been nice to me, probably trying to get into the straight boy’s pants. I had gay friends, so I was more than fine with their sexual innuendo. I kind of liked it when they flirted with me. It makes me feel special. I like making men and women hot for me. Call it insecurity but I call it envy.

The time that really got my attention was when we were drunk. He’d say shit like “If we were gay, I’d fuck you.” I always laughed it off, but it began to turn me on after a while. It was hot knowing a god like him would find me sexually attractive. He said it all the time whenever the beer flowed. Hell, when I think about it, I would be the luckiest gay guy in the world to have him fuck me. He always joked that I would be the bottom in the relationship. At first, it was uncomfortable for a guy like me to even consider being fucked, let alone gay. After a few times hearing it though, I grew to like it. It made me feel warm inside. It made me wonder how his wife feels when he’s on top of her, fucking her. I was starting to get jealous every time Slade brought up her name. I had a case of hero worship and I had it bad. I don’t even know if it’s still hero worship when it gets to the point of sexual attraction.

After a while, it started to feel like a relationship more than a friendship. I was so confused for a long time. I’ve never been attracted sexually to men. I’ve always dated girls and was satisfied with the sex. Slade was such an amazing man. Successful, handsome, built, confident, athletic and alpha as fuck. My alpha personality was overshadowed by his. When he was with me, I found I was more subdued, less boisterous and I hung on his every word. I felt like he treated me like we were dating, and I let him. He liked to shop with me and pick out my clothes. He said I had terrible taste in clothes and dressed like a boring straight guy. He picked out my workout gear, making me try on every item and modeling it for him. The expensive stuff, he bought for me. He was very particular in what I wore to the gym. He was very adamant about telling me if he didn’t like something and I shouldn’t buy it. He always made sure I was on time for class with a quick text because he had learned my schedule and he knew I liked to sleep in.

He gave his opinion on the girls I dated, usually bad opinions. It seemed no girl was good enough for me. He’d text me to make sure I got home ok after my dates. When we hung out, he’d pay for everything; movies, dinners, game tickets. He said I shouldn’t be spending money I didn’t have and that he made seven-digits a year so he would take care of everything. He wouldn’t let me drive when we went out even if we were taking my car, which wasn’t very often. I drove a shitty Tacoma and he drove a Tesla and a Land Rover. He was becoming more possessive and controlling but for some reason, I didn’t care. I liked it. I craved his approval.

Then something happened one night. We stumbled across a gay pride beer garden while out barhopping one night. We were trashed so we went in.

I remember seeing two dudes kissing and I turned to Slade and asked, “Dude, are we in a gay bar?”

He laughed, put his arm around me, his breath reeking of beer and said, “I think we are, Quarterback. Don’t worry your pretty little head. If anyone tries anything, tell them you’re with me.”

We both broke down into hysterical, drunken laughter. We were so drunk; we didn’t care where we were.

I laughed. “Tell them I’m with you? You mean like my boyfriend?”

He pulled me in closer. “Fuck yeah, QB! You know you’re my big, sexy quarterback,” he laughed and winked.

I rolled my eyes and laughed again. I pushed him away as he playfully punched me in the shoulder. Every guy in line turned and looked at us, whispering, pointing.

“Hey. Nice ass,” said the bouncer at the front door.

“I’d like ten minutes alone with you two,” commented the guy checking ID’s.

Slade put his arm around my shoulder. “Sorry boys. You’ll have to settle for look but don’t touch,” he flirted, "but this one…” he pointed at me, “this one loves it hard and rough. Don’t you, Quarterback.” He winked at me.

“Fuck off, asshole,” I laughed as I pushed his arm off my shoulder. “You wish.”

He winked again as we made our way towards the bar.

“What was that all about, you dick? Why would you tell them something like that?” I asked. “Now all these guy dudes are going to think I’m a fag.”

“Uh, because they loved it. We’re hot. Look around. We’re the hottest dudes in here,” he exclaimed with a drunken swagger.

“But we’re not gay,” I said reminded him.

“They don’t care, Quarterback. They know we’re straight… I think. Listen, a gay guy loves nothing more than to think he can turn a hot, straight guy. Besides, a hole is a hole.”

I raised my eyebrows when he said that.

Slade rolled his eyes at me. “What? Don’t be so fucking uptight. Have some fun!” Then, suddenly, he gave me a quick kiss on the cheek which made me flinch with surprise.

“When in Rome!” he bellowed and then shouted out, “SHOTS!”

Then he grabbed my hand and dragged me to the bar. His hand was warm. I felt his fingers intertwine with mine and I let it happen as he pulled me through the sea of men. I wasn’t repulsed and I didn’t want to let go, and we didn’t until we got our drinks. It should have been weird; two straight guys holding hands. But it was so natural, like it didn’t matter. I looked around the bar and was filled with pride as everyone stared at us. I was proud to be with Slade and I wanted them all to be jealous of us, of me. I wanted everyone to assume we were together and be in impressed that a guy like Slade claimed me as his own. Dudes were paying for our drinks all night. Guys were hitting on us and like Slade told me to do, I told them Slade was my boyfriend. I could tell he was doing the same thing every time another guy would hit on him. Slade would point at me and tell him he was sorry, but he was here with his boyfriend.

At one point, I lost track of Slade. I didn’t stray far from the spot where we were standing in case he came back and I wasn’t there. He said he recognized someone he knew and wanted to say hi and then he was gone. It kind of pissed me off that he would leave me alone in a bar full of dudes who were eyeing me like I was a side of beef. But I’m a big boy, literally, a big boy, so I can handle myself.

While I was waiting, I felt like I was being watched. It was then I noticed a muscled up Hispanic dude was staring at me from across the room. I was a little uncomfortable and didn’t know what to do so I politely smiled with a nod. I guess that was ok to do in a gay bar? He nodded back.

The dude was fit as fuck. Big, handsome and masculine with an undeniable hunger in his eyes. He must be an alpha-gay if that’s a thing? Can gay guys be alphas? I’m dumb when it comes to social subculture and what goes on within them.

After some intense eye contact, I recognized he was playing a game I call Hunter/Prey. I’ve played this at bars with women I was trying to bed down. I was the hunter. She was my prey. I’d catch her attention, swoop in with my charm for the kill and if it worked, I would have all-you-can-eat pussy all night long. It always worked. Right now, I wasn’t looking to hunt anyone, but I didn’t want him to think I was prey either. It was a lot of staring each other down, and I hoped he didn’t take it as an invitation. He, on the other hand, was making it perfectly clear that he was the hunter and I was his prey.

After a couple of minutes of covert glimpses, he made his way over to me. It was like he was parting the Red Sea as the other guys got out of his way. He must have a reputation. “Oh crap,” I thought. I automatically went into alpha mode; wide stance, arms folded over my chest, flexing biceps, straight face, intimidating posture. I wanted him to know right away he wasn’t getting anywhere with me. The closer he got; I couldn’t help but take him in. He had an amazing body and he liked to show it off. His red T-Shirt was way too small and his jeans were way too tight, but he pulled it off like a fucking superhero. I couldn’t help but admire him and he was damned handsome with his thick, jet black, hair and square jaw. Even I had to acknowledge that. I mentally shook off the thoughts I was having.

“What’s your name?” he asked me, getting right to the point. Not even a hello? A typical alpha move.

I gave him side-eye like he was unimportant and answered in a bored tone, “Decker,”

He smirked, recognizing my attempt at intimidation. “For real?” he asked as if he didn’t believe me.

I looked at him with a furrowed brow. “Yeah. Is there a problem with that?” I asked with my jaw clenched.

“Whoa! No need to get testy,” he said holding up his hands in mock defense. “It’s a unique name. I should have known a guy who looks like you would have such a…butch name.”

“Huh,” I grunted and avoided eye contact. I wasn’t quite sure if that was a legit compliment of a back-handed one.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” he said as he scanned my body, top to bottom. “I would have noticed you.”

“No, you haven’t. I’m here with a friend,” I said as I scanned his body very quickly with just a flicker of my eyes. I couldn’t help it, but I did it in a way that made me seem unimpressed which was hard because I clearly was impressed.

“That hot daddy you walked in with? Where is he?” he asked looking around.

“Daddy?” I said to myself. “What the fuck? He’s not my dad.”

I scoffed. “I didn’t get YOUR name,” I said, ignoring his question.

“Hector,” he said as he held out his hand to shake. I ignored it. Totally an alpha move. He won’t bother me much longer. He cocked an eyebrow as if to say “touché” and slowly retracted his hand. He was getting the hint.

“You didn’t answer my question, big man. Where’s the hot daddy you came in with?”

Wow, this guy is persistent.

“Probably went to pee,” I replied with a shrug, trying to look uninterested with more side-eye.

“Well, that’s not a good boyfriend. He’s been gone for a while now,” he said as he loomed closer to me. He gently clamped down on my bicep.

I looked down at his hand, grasped it and pushed it away. “He’s not my boyfriend, stalker,” I quickly corrected him even though I knew I was supposed to say that Slade was my boyfriend to fend off guys like Hector. “

“Oh! Well, that changes everything, doesn’t it?” he said with newfound vigor.

I tried to keep myself at arm’s length, but he just kept getting in my space. He was aggressive and fearless. I’d given him every indication that I was unavailable and not interested but, truthfully, I was intrigued, and flattered that someone this hot was interested in me. He wasn’t accepting any efforts to thwart him. I fed off his masculine aura. It was like our energies were grazing and sending electric shocks up into our bodies. His chocolate eyes were so intense.

“Changes everything about what?” I asked like he was bothering me, but I wanted to hear what he had to say. I couldn’t let on, though.

“You and me,” Hector said in a deep low voice.

“You and me?” I asked, playing dumb. But I knew what he was going to say, and it made my stomach flutter.

“Yeah, you and me. Let’s get out of here, man and see what your ass feels like wrapped around my cock,” he said as he placed his hand on my ass and squeezed. I froze, not sure how to tell him that wasn’t happening. When I felt his powerful grip, his warm breath on my neck, his low sexy voice, I swallowed hard and started to sweat. I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted to hear what he thought of my ass. I wanted him to tell me more things he wanted to do to me. His dominating persona was hitting me like a brick wall. It was just so odd. Intimidation did not usually threaten me.

I gulped, my mouth going dry. “Hector, dude, we’re not gay. We’re just here to party.”

Hector’s eyes darted down to my chest and then back to my eyes with a slight smile.

“You two aren’t gay? Do you two make it a habit of holding hands in gay bars?” he asked suspiciously.

Shit, how do I explain that?

“Um, I was kind of nervous, first time in a gay bar, so he was just trying to help us blend in,” I said trying to convince this aggressive guy that it was no big deal. I was starting to lose my intimidating posture. I began meeting his eye contact and then dropping my eyes. My hands started to tremble. His eyes never stopped drilling into me the whole time. Not once did he drop eye contact. What about me made him think I would react this way? I don’t think I gave off a gay vibe or a submissive one. I assume because I’m very attractive and am in amazing shape that he was interested but he was changing the dynamics of the situation. He acted like I was transparent as glass.

“Ok, straight boy, tell me how two hot, straight guys found yourselves in a gay bar on a Friday night?” Hector asked in a sarcastic tone and a smirk. I knew any excuse I would try to make wasn’t going to fly with him. He was a walking bullshit detector.

He folded his big arms over his chest. His t-shirt strained to keep his thick muscle covered. He tilted his head, curiously, to the side showing me he was ready to listen. My stomach flipped and my heart raced. I suddenly wanted to tell him what he wanted to hear. It was like he was hypnotizing me with his fucking biceps. I felt the air get sucked out of the room as I pictured in my head what it would be like to worship his body; feel his muscles, lick his smooth skin, feel his weight on top of me.

My alpha side was almost gone after ten minutes of talking to him and then before I realized it, I found myself right up against him. He smelled like soap and musk. His hand made its way to my lower back as we chatted. It was strange but at the same time, erotic. Hector was cool but very dominant, more dominant than I could ever be. He, unknowingly, made me feel like I was a fraud, an actor playing a role. He tried to keep my glass filled with beer, very attentive to anything I might need. I was getting drunker. He was getting closer.

Finally, Slade shows up with some young dude in tow. I felt a twinge of jealousy and I didn’t know why. I asked Slade where he’d been. He evaded the question and just mussed up my hair and drank my beer. The kid was twenty-one or so and had a very cut, solid body. Not as good looking as me but I could see why gay dudes would like him. I could tell the kid was into Slade. I went back into alpha-mode and stared him down. He just sneered at me. Hector watched the interaction, laughed and shook his head, amused.

“Who’s this?” Slade asked me as he sized up Hector.

“Who’s this?” I came back as I gestured to his adoring fan.

“I asked first,” Slade stated without a smile.

“Hector, this is Slade,” I said introducing them. “Slade, Hector.”

They shook hands and held it as they both squeezed hard fighting for dominance.

“Ok, guys. You’re going to break some fingers,” the kid said as he broke their grip.

Slade’s and Hector’s eye contact continued like two alpha wolves about to attack.

“And now my turn. Who’s he?” I asked Slade.

Without dropping his stare at Hector, Slade replied, “Tyler.”

“TAYLOR,” the kid corrected him with venom in his voice.

“Looks like you had no problem finding someone to keep you company,” Slade said, still not looking at me. His attention on Hector.

“So, did you,” Hector said to him with challenge in his tone, an arch to his eyebrow.

There was fire in Slade’s glare, the silence deafening.

Taylor stepped over to me, “What’s going on here? Why is Slade messing with Hector?” he asked. “You know, Hector is an MMA fighter. He’d kill Slade.”

“I have no idea what’s happening,” I shrugged as we watch the two alphas stare each other down.

Taylor looked at me dumbfounded.

“Dude, they’re fighting over you,” he said matter-of-factly, like it was so obvious.

I looked at him with confusion, “What? No, dude, we’re not gay.” This was becoming surreal. I was not going to admit to another guy that I even cared about what was happening.

Taylor flinched and looked at me like I was crazy. He looked over at Slade and then back to me. “Dude, you are in denial.” He turned to walk away but then stopped, “This dick measuring is stupid. You two fight it out, I’m going home and Slade…it’s always good to see you,” he commented with a wink.

“Come on Slade, let’s go. I’m fucked up and I’m tired,” I said as a tugged at the tight sleeve of his t-shirt.

“Here that? Your bitch wants to go home,” Hector mocked.

“What the fuck?” I shot back. “Asshole, what did you just say?”

“Go home, old man,” Hector said to Slade while nodding at me. “Fuck your bitch. Have him while you can,” Hector taunted again.

Slade turned red.

“Slade! Come on, dude. We’re going,” I commanded as I took his arm, squeezed and pulled him away from the confrontation. He took my hand in his again as I pulled him. He yanked his hand out of mine when we left the bar and stood on the sidewalk as I used my phone to find an Uber.

“Why did you do that?” Slade asked, anger in his tone.

I gave him a frustrated look. “Because dude, you were about to get into a fight with a fucking MMA fighter. Hector would have destroyed you. You’re acting fucking bazaar tonight, Slade. I don’t know what the fuck and I don’t care.”

“Decker, he was an asshole. He needed to be put in his place and that place is not with you,” Slade said with an angry slur. He called me by my real name which was uncommon. He only used it when he was serious about something and he wanted me to listen and understand.

“With me?” I said, my head shot from the phone screen to him. Did he know I was cozying up to Hector? Was he watching me? I was suddenly defensive, “Fuck, dude. I’m not fucking queer,” I stated nervously. Am I? “What was with all the hand holding and general gayness in there,” I asked sarcastically. “And what the fuck is up with that Taylor shithead? How do you know him? He acted like he just sucked your dick or something.” I stopped talking abruptly, knowing I had just crossed a line. Just then the Uber pulled up.

Slade looked at me, his eyes watery. His face turned red again. “Fuck you! You are a fucking, entitled, little prick. I’m walking home,” he slurred as he walked away and disappeared down the street.

I watched him in shock as I got into the car.

The driver turned to me and asked, “Damn, your boyfriend is pissed.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said quietly. “Just drive.”

The whole ride home I tried to justify Slade’s behavior at the bar. It was so puzzling and so random. I started to question if Slade had feelings for me and that thought made my stomach flip. I started to text him, but I felt like a jealous schoolgirl, so I put my phone in my pocket. God damn it, why was I having these thoughts? Why was Slade acting so bazaar?

When I got home, I received a text from Slade apologizing for his behavior and that he was just drunk and acting stupid. I texted back that he was out of line and made me feel uncomfortable. He apologized profusely. I found it hard to stay mad at him. He sent a couple of funny GIFS and I forgave him. How could I not? He was Slade. I hated knowing he was angry with me.

The next morning, late, we met up to work out. After some awkward moments we eased into our workout. Soon, we laughed and talked about how fucked up we were the night before. Like I said, I’m an idiot. I have no problem being ogled by gay dudes; it’s flattering. Slade didn’t have an issue with it either, except for Hector. I spent four hours in a gay bar with my best buddy, getting hit on by dudes, letting them buy us drinks and ogle us and it was the best time I’ve had in ages. I was hung over as fuck, but I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was get here to the gym to see him again.

It was leg day. He liked leg days. We both loved squats. It seemed like we did an awful lot of them. My ass was getting bigger by the week. I was squatting some insane amount of weight and he decided I needed a spot. I thought it was odd since he had never spotted me before while squatting. He stood behind me, his groin pressed to my ass as I sank into the squat, my ass extending out. His hands on my waist and he shadowed me, ready to assist me if it became too heavy for me. He pressed into my ass, but I didn’t say anything. I liked it. I’m a narcissist. Squat day was my favorite because my ass had become a work of art since I started lifting with him. High, tight and hard. He continued to press his cock hard into my ass and continued to do so throughout the whole movement. My dick became stiff. I returned the weight to the rack quickly. I needed to hide the fact my cock was stiffening in my spandex leggings.

That’s when he became strange, again.

“Good boy. That ass is looking good, Quarterback,” he growled as he smacked my left ass cheek. I flinched. It hurt.

“Hey!” I yelled as I rubbed the spot where he slapped me. His hand slapping against my compression tights was loud, echoed in the room. His hand was cupped, and I felt a slight squeezing pressure from his hand

“What?” he shrugged, “Those guys were right last night,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Right about what?” I asked.

“You have nice ass,” he said as a throw away statement.

He added weight and got into squat position. His granite carved quads and ass wrapped in skintight Lycra made my dick stiff again. I positioned myself behind him like he did to me. That’s when he stood up and turned.

“Whoa. What are you doing?” He asked defensively and pushed me back a step.

I was confused. “I’m spotting you.”

He shook his head. “I don’t need one,” he added defiantly.

“Huh?” I asked, still confused. “That’s crazy heavy weight you added.”

He looked me straight in the eye and quietly, forcefully replied, “Back off, Decker.”

“Why? You spotted me.” I said, getting pissed. “I was just trying to help.”

“Just don’t worry about me. I can hold my own, even though you didn’t seem to think so last night?” He said passive aggressively.

I was dumbstruck. He was dead serious, and I was more confused than ever.

“Are we on that again?” I said with an eye roll.

He ignored me and did one set. He racked the weight and looked at me in the mirror.

He spun around and stuck his finger in my chest. “Don’t ever question me or my ability to kick the ass out of any guy, MMA or not. Hear me?”

“I didn’t! I just didn’t want to see you get hurt, dude.”

“And I didn’t want to see you get hurt,” he said as he grabbed a bottle of water and chugged it down.

I didn’t know what to say so I left it at that.

“I… I… Ok,” I stammered.

I watched him squat his set. He had perfect form. His powerful quads flexed, and his high and tight ass squeezed together at the top of the movement. When he was done, I added more weight and returned to squat position for my set. He took his place behind me again for a spot. I didn’t say anything and just ignored it. Again, he hugged my body close and put both hands on my waist.

Quietly, he said in my ear, “I got you. You can do this. Make me proud.” God, did I want to make him proud.

I squatted down to parallel, my bulbous muscled ass sticking out, his cock pressed up against it, nestled in the cleft between my cheeks. I was losing concentration as I tried to lift the weight to stand. He pressed harder.

“Come on, Quarterback. You got this,” he growled from behind while pressing harder into my ass. “Don’t let anything distract you,” he said as he pressed his cock harder in between my ass cheeks. “Up, up, up!”

I pressed the weight up with a loud grunt, my face red and strained and as I stood to the top he said, “Now, squeeze that tight ass at the top of the squat,” he whispered. “Get it!”

I squeezed my plump cheeks together at the top. I felt his bulge caught in between them like a nutcracker. I racked the weight and fell to my knees in exhaustion.

He put his hands on my shoulders and squeezed. “Good boy. I knew you could do it.”

Out of breath, “Thanks,” I reply panting. I stayed down, waiting for my cock to soften. After a few minutes, I stand up slowly and lean against the bar, looking at him in the mirror.

He stands behind me and looks around the room, it’s empty. He put one hand on my ass and patted it. “I don’t blame Hector, Quarterback. I’d hit that too…hard,” he said, looking at me through the mirror with a very sultry, sexy expression on his handsome face. I must have looked scared or shocked or something. “If I were Hector,” he added with another pat on my ass. Oh, shit. I was getting hard again.

“I got to piss,” I said as I run to the locker room. I enter an empty stall. I peel down my tights and my jock and grab my hard cock and jerked it until I came all over the stall door. I cleaned it up with toilet paper and opened the door. I was surprised to find he was standing on the other side, leaning against the wall.

“Everything ok?” he asked, arms crossed, a grin on his face.

“Yeah, fine.” I reply, trying to act natural. It’s hard to act natural when you have a hard dick stuffed into leggings.

“Good. I want to kick off early today. I think you’ve had enough spotting…I mean, squatting.”

What the fuck? I could feel myself blushing. “Uh, yeah. I’m ok with quitting early. My ass is killing me.”

“Your ass is killing everyone, Quarterback,” he said slyly, and he turned towards the exit.

I laughed nervously and followed him.

He turned to me in the parking lot. “Sorry for what I said during the workout, about questioning me. I’m just still pissed off and I was being stupid. It won’t happen again,” he said before a nice tight bro hug.

***

My phone buzzes that evening as I’m leaving work. It’s a text from Slade. My stomach flutters.

Slade-HEY PICK YOU UP AT 9

*Cant. I got a date

Slade-CANCEL IT

*Y?

Slade-CUZ WE'RE GOING OUT TONIGHT

*We went out last night

Slade-WHO FUCKING CARES

I stare at the phone. I find it difficult telling him no. Soon I was thinking about how much more fun I would have hanging out with him than her. She was just some bitch I met at a mixer the other night. I can break the date.

*Are you doing to be a jerk again?

Slade- STOP BEING A PUSSY BOY

*That wasn’t an answer, prick

Slade- I PROMISE I WONT

*Fine

Slade -GOOD BOY SEE YOU AT 9

CHAPTER 2

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Slade asks, pushing me back into my room.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I ask as I look down at my shirt.

“Dude. No,” he states as he crosses to my closet and shaking his head.

“Where are those jeans you got last week, the distressed ones?” he asks as he rummages through the drawers. “You know, he skinny ones I picked out?”

“They strangled my junk, dude. Too tight.”

“Here they are.” He throws them on my bed. “Put those on.”

I sigh and roll my eyes as I take off the jeans I was wearing. Why do I always cave?

He continues to rummage and toss things around in my closet. He’s bent over and I notice how amazing his ass looks in his tight jeans. Wow, those are tight jeans.

“Ah, here,” he says and tosses me a t-shirt that hits me in the face. I grab it and hold it out.

“No, man. This shirt is way too small. It was borderline too small when I bought it…before I got bigger.”

“That’s the point. Quarterback. You work hard for this body. Show it off. Don’t be a prude. I haven’t made you do a million squats to NOT show off that ass,” he says with a pat on the shoulder. And that’s when I noticed his t-shirt was also way too tight. Not tight in a bad way. Tight in a sexy way. It molded to his pecs and his triceps. His shoulders were crazy hot. His waist flat and tiny. His back flared at the top and tapered down in a nice “V”.

He looked at me standing in only my long boxer briefs. His brow furrows. “No. No, Quarterback. You can’t wear those with skinny jeans.”

He goes through my drawers and finds a pair of light blue CK bikini briefs; spandex blend with a sliver waistband. “Remember, we bought these to wear with these jeans. Change.”

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking picky. Where are we going?” I asked as I stripped down and slid the briefs on and then squeezed my muscular legs and ass into the tight jeans.

“Wherever the night takes us!” he exclaims as he runs a few fingers through my short hair tying to style it.

“Don’t you have a wife and kid at home?” I asked as I tried to slap his hands away from my head.

“Nope! Wife is out with girlfriends and kid is staying with a buddy,” He replied, elated.

“You know for a man your age, you sure don’t act like it,” I comment as I slide my belt on.

He laughs. “That’s why I can hang out with a man your age.”

He grabs my small t-shirt and throws it over my head and slides it down my torso. He yanks it down over my lats, down to my waist and smooths it out over my abs. “There. You look amazing. Let’s roll, Quarterback.”

“Wait. Boots,” I say pointing down to my Doc Martins.

He looks at me confused. “What?”

“I can’t bend down in these tight ass jeans. Help me.”

Slade rolls his eyes and pushes me back on my bed. He struggled with my boots, helped me up and we were off.

***

After a couple of hours of bar hopping, low and behold, we end up at the same gay bar as last night.

“Again?” I ask, looking at him out of the corner of my eye. “Dude, Hector’s probably inside.”

“I don’t give a shit,” he sneered.

“What are you up to?” I ask him suspiciously.

“What? Do you not like free alcohol?” He grinned.

I thought about it. Last night was fun even with all the shit that happened. I guess it wouldn’t hurt. Who doesn’t like free beer and being told you’re hot all night, even if it is from guys? If Hector is inside, I’ll just cross that bridge when I get to it.

“Can’t say no to a free beer.” I patted him on the shoulder as we entered the bar. “Wait. Can we say you’re with ME tonight instead?” I ask as I put my arm over his shoulder.

“Oh, no,” he scoffed. “You’re the bitch.”

“Why am I always the bitch?” I slurred.

“Because, you’re MY bitch,” he said with a gravelly, sultry voice.

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks a lot. At least, wear a condom,” I say sarcastically.

“Why? You can’t get pregnant,” he smirks as he grabs a hold of my hand again and drags me to the bar.

***

Guys were hitting on us left and right. The free beers were rolling in. Slade was flirting up a storm with any hot dude who complimented him. I always just gave a polite “thanks” whenever a guy hit on me. I was getting trashed but still aware of the attention I was receiving in the tightly packed space. I was flattered but it’s not their approval I wanted. It was Slade’s.

Then I saw trouble coming. Hector was back. He saw me and made a direct beeline. I was hoping he wouldn’t talk to me after last night, but I can see that he was on a mission. I had to admit though, Hector was looking hot and jacked with a heather gray, skintight t-shirt that read STANFORD across his broad chest and he wore tight, painted on jeans. I tried to remember what he looked like from last night, but it was a tiny bit fuzzy. I took in his small waist, bulging quads as he walked towards me. He had great traps on him making his neck thick and his shoulders look solid. The tight sleeves put his horseshoe shaped triceps on full display. He sported a red ball cap that drew my eyes to his square jaw. The bill was pulled down slightly causing a shadow over his chocolate eyes. He looked sexy as fuck and he wanted me. It made me aroused to think about how this gorgeous guy wanted me all to himself. I looked for Slade, but I didn’t see him. That was probably a good thing. Besides, he had probably found Taylor or something. That was an odd situation that I had to get to the bottom of but not tonight.

"Hey, Decker, right? Couldn’t stay away from me?" He winked. My body melted. The fucker was so hot and confident. He held out his hand to shake. I looked around for Slade again but didn’t see him. I looked up at Hector and then down to his hand. Hector sighed and reached out, took my hand and shook it.

“When a man offers you his hand, you best take it if you know what’s good for you,” he said in an almost threatening tone. I just nodded my head.

He handed me his beer. I looked at it not knowing why he gave my HIS beer.

He once again, looked at me with a dominating expression; his eyes stone cold, his square jaw clenched. He looked like he was disappointed.

“When a man gives you his beer, you best drink it,” he said and then expressed a fake smile as if to reassure me he wasn’t being a dick, but he was.

I nodded my head and then took a drink.

He looked at me confused. “And what do we say to a man who just gave you his drink?”

I swallowed hard and my stomach flipped. I suddenly felt the urge to please him and pissed off at the same time, that he would demean me.

“Thank You.”

He smiled. “Anything for you…Decker.”

He took my shoulder and slowly turned me around in a circle. "Damn, frat boy. You paint those jeans on?"

How did he know I was in a frat?

“They feel like it. I could ask you the same thing,” I responded, gesturing to his jeans, a little bit of defiance in my tone. I was still a little pissed from last night.

“Thanks for noticing, big man,” he said, staring into my eyes. “You must be a leg man.”

I shook off the comment. “Slade picked out my clothes tonight. So, that’s the reason for the…tightness.” I said sounding frustrated.

“I bet that’s not the only thing you have that’s tight,” he said with a cocky sneer as he reached back and patted my ass. “Your fake boyfriend has good taste. He likes showing you off. I would too if I was fucking an ass like this.”

That’s it. That’s enough of that talk.

“You’re kind of a douche, you know that?” I said, knowing that it would probably not be received well.

He stared at me. No facial expression, just the electricity in his eyes.

“Say that again, pretty boy,” he growled. “You’re big but I’ll take you down and show you what it means to be owned,” he threatened. It made me back down slightly which is not normal for me. I loved a good bar fight. My police record would reveal that.

I backtracked quickly. “Dude, Hector, just chill. I’m not getting in any fights in a gay bar,” I assured him. I also didn’t want him to think I was a pussy and, of course, he could kick my ass up and down the street.

He calmed and then smiled again. That smile was devious and full of ulterior motives.

"You're here alone, I see. Now, I wonder why a hot straight boy would come to a gay bar alone?" Hector grinned.

"Slade’s around…somewhere,” I said with a quick glance around the crowd.

"That asshole left you all alone, again? Didn’t he not learn anything from last night?”

I smiled uncomfortably. I looked over the crowd. I spotted Slade surrounded by a small group of guys, one of which was Taylor, some feeling his biceps as he flexed for them. He was in his element; the center of attention.

"He's over there by the dart board talking to some guys," I pointed.

Hector stretched his neck up to look over the sea of men. I noticed his square jaw and his masculine profile as he looked up. "Taylor. Figures,” he comments under his breath. He then looks back to me and says, “He's over there with those skinny twinks when he has a hot, jacked, beautiful man like you over here?" he questioned.

"It's not fucking like that. We're straight,” I said pissed off.

"It's fucked up is what it is. If I were him, I'd never let that sweet ass out of my sight, straight or not." Hector winked a deep brown eye at me. His light brown, smooth skin was vascular, and his shirt barely could contain his arms. He obviously shaved his body. The seams of his tight jeans struggled to hold in his monster quads.

"Take a walk on the dark side, big guy. You might like it,” he flirted. He took some whiskey shots from a tray that was being passed to him from the bar. He handed me one and we drank the shots. He handed me another. And then another.

Soon Hector was becoming very handsy but for some reason I didn’t stop him. His warm hands were attached to my ass and I could tell how powerful his hands were from his grip. He helped himself to my bubbled ass and didn't apologize for it. I don’t know why I didn’t break his hand for touching me. Something about the brazenness of his actions and the unapologetic way he treated me made me warm and aroused.

"Damn, baby," Hector growled in my ear, "This is one beautiful fat ass.”

“Squats. Lots of squats,” I replied with a drunken chuckle. I was turned on that he thought my ass was sexy.

“I’s love to see you squat.”

“Would you?” I flirted back.

“Squat over my cock,” Hector whispered in my ear. His warm breath on my neck. He oozed masculinity, cocky masculinity.

“You wish,” I retorted. I wasn’t sure I liked the image in my head of me squatting over his cock as I got ready to sit on it or if I was turned on by it because my heart was beating a hundred miles an hour. I began to sweat, and my mouth went dry.

Over the next few minutes Hector was getting closer and closer, rubbing my lower back then down to my ass again. I could feel his breath on my neck again. I was two beers and four whiskey shots in by now. I was feeling it. Getting drunk makes me uninhibited and loose. Not much can bother me when I’m drunk. I’m a happy drunk and a horny one.

"Sorry, straight boy, if I'm getting a little touchy feely. Can't keep my hands off this amazing ass, big man." He drew closer to my ear, "But then, you're not complaining too much."

I flinched when I realized the hunky Latino was pushing his index finger against my asshole through my jeans. I squirmed away and laughed it off. 'Uh uh, bro. Watch where you put that finger." I slurred flirtatiously. I was also a little scared at the force his finger was pushing the stretch denim into my hole.

I liked that he thought my ass was so hot. I think he knew it too. He began to be more forceful, more aggressive. He struggled to slide his hand down into the back of my tight skinny jeans, into my little briefs, his warm fingers rubbing my ass. I was frozen.

Is this happening? Is this dude going to finger me? Why was I letting him do this to me? Nah, I'm just drunk. He wouldn’t try that here.

His hard, round pecs were pressed against my arm, his cock pressed into my thigh. His muscles were rock hard. My adrenaline kicked up a notch and I lost my breath for a second as I felt his chest flex against my tricep. His finger grazed my hole. He was taking what he wanted. I respected that. He gently wiggled his finger on my bud. What the fuck? That feels so good! I decided to just let him play for a while. While he fingered the opening of my hole, I looked at Hector, my face serious, barely able to stand and he knew it. Dude was taking full advantage of me. Our eye contact was intense. His face became stern. His finger pushed in a little bit more.

“Ah!” I exclaimed but quietly at the same time.

"Oh yeah. Tight pussy," he whispered seductively into my ear. I swallowed hard as the mix of alcohol and anal stimulation took over my better judgment.

My ass tensed and I flinched again. I couldn't stop staring at him as he slowly made me feel what he wanted. It was brazened and he loved my reaction which was to stand there stiff and shocked and let it happen. Me, six-two, built like a mountain, masculine and straight was letting another dude have his way with me. He was doing something to me that I’ve done to women hundreds of times. With glazed eyes, bloodshot, I continued to take in his dominance. Damn, this dude was stacked. I knew he could see I was scanning his ripped torso. I couldn’t help it. He was doing the same to me. He grabbed my bicep with his other hand and squeezed. He pulled his hand out of my pants. He took another shot glass of whiskey and dipped his finger in it. Staring into my eyes, he once again slid his hand into my pants and the wet finger found my hole. I felt his thick digit pop through and slowly slide in up to the first knuckle. My eyes exploded open; my lungs sucked in air with a loud gasp. My mouth wide open. A tingle shot up my spine. I stood there and just took it.

Every time he pushed in, I raised onto my tip toes. The feeling shooting through me made me rock hard and I tried to stifle a moan. We were standing by a wall and there was a sea of men standing in front of us. No one was going to notice a hot guy fingering another guy.

He placed his hand on the front of jeans, stroking and squeezing my hard cock. I closed my eyes and quietly said, “Fuuuuck.”

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll fuck you,” he said as he fingered me faster. He bit his bottom lip as he became more aggressive with my cock. Hector leaned into me.

“You like me playing with your pussy?” Hector whispered.

I didn’t answer. I was too involved with his finger hitting my prostate. I didn’t like him saying I had a pussy.

“You want me to finger your pussy all night?” he said into my ear.

I moaned quietly. I couldn’t help it.

“That’s good, big man. I’m going to unload into your tight pussy tonight. You want that?”

Between the fingering and the stroking of my cock, I was in ecstasy. I answered before I could think.

“Uh huh,” I moaned and then I realized what I said. I opened my eyes and looked at him. Where was Slade?

“Ditch your daddy. We're leaving,” Hector said bluntly.

“What?” I slurred, not quite knowing what was happening and enjoying the finger bang and hand job. I was so close to shooting and I really wanted this guy to take control.

Hector sneered at me, his voice became forceful and deep. “You heard me.” Hector jiggled his finger in my hole. My eyes rolled back in my head as I gasped again.

Hector sneered. “That's it, bro. I'm going to put a baby in you by the end of the night,” he growled as he buried his finger as far as he could go.

He squeezed my cock while stroking it. His finger went in deep and pressed on the little gland in my ass. That’s when my body stiffened, every muscle flexed as I shot a wet load of cum in my pants. A wet spot appeared on the front of my jeans. He pulled his finger out of my ass. His other hand slid into the front of my pants and pulled out a cum covered finger. He licked some jizz off his finger and then he pushed the same finger into my mouth and said, “Suck.” I did without hesitation. “Taste yourself,” he whispered.

I moaned around his finger.

“Now, I closed out your tab. Follow me. I don’t live too far away.”

I was drunk but still knew that Slade was near by. “No, Hector. Slade’s here. He’s going to get mad.”

Hector squeezed the back of my neck. Gently at first, massaging but then his grasp became tighter. "Listen you fucking cock-tease. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Trust me, I can take you. Personally, I enjoy the hard way. You think you can say no to me, but we both know you don't want to. You want this just as much as I do. Fucking cooperate and I swear you will never forget this night. Alright, big guy?"

Hector got a little more forceful, grabbed my forearm and tried to pull me away.

I grabbed Hector’s hand that was holding my arm. I cocked my elbow up, fist tight and ready to strike. I was about to lay Hector out or die trying when out of nowhere a hand shoots out and grabs my arm.

“He’s with me,” came a low roar from behind. Slade must have been watching me.

Hector looked him up and down, sizing him up again like he did last night and then got in Slade’s face. “Nah, old man. He’s with me tonight. You’re not even paying attention to him. Left this sweet, sweet muscle pussy alone and out in the open? You had your chance. The confused straight boy is mine.”

Hector took my arm and started to pull me away. I felt like a ragdoll being tossed around. I was too drunk to fight back.

“I said, he’s with me!” Slade grabbed my other arm and pulled. “I’m always paying attention to him,” he growled as he pushed Hector back away. Slade also was drunk and slurring his words.

I was between them, being pulled in two directions. Guys were stopping to watch. I yanked my arms away from the two brutes. I put my hand on Slade’s chest, my other hand on Hector's chest keeping them apart. A slight tingle rang through me as I felt each of their heaving pillow-like chests under my hands. I wanted to squeeze.

“Both of you can fuck off! Everything is ok."

“No, it’s not ok,” Slade said with droplets of spit hitting me in the face. “This guy thinks he can just fucking take what’s mine?” His eyes were seething as he stared down the young Hispanic stud.

I turned to him. “Wait, yours?” I asked shocked. I know I had whiskey-brain, but I understood that comment just fine.

Slade lashed forward, pointing a finger at Hector as I held him back. “If anyone will be fucking him tonight, it will be me, cocksucker!”

Again, I’m shocked but, yet turned on. It must be the whiskey. Only whiskey could explain why I’d be excited at getting fucked.

Hector sneers at him. “Oh, so, not so straight after all? Why would he let an old man like you fuck an ass like this when he can have all of this cock?” Hector pointed to his own crotch. “Besides, I don’t need boner pills like you do, old man,” Hector said as he smacked my ass.

I turned to Hector and gave him a hostile look as I pushed him away. “Try that again, motherfucker. I dare you.” I growled with a fist cocked.

Hector held his hands up in surrender in jest. He smiled, “Whoa, Cowboy. Calm down. I don’t want to hurt that pretty face. What did we talk about before?” he asked me.

“Trust me, I don’t need pills,” Slade said with clenched teeth. “We do just fine, don’t we, QB?”

I turned to Slade with deer-in-the-headlight eyes. “What the FUCK are you talking about, Slade?”

Hector laughed. “Doesn’t matter. It’s too late for you. He’s made his decision.” Hector shrugged. “I've been knuckle-deep in his pussy for the last ten minutes with no complaints from him, old man,” Hector bragged with a cocky sneer.

Slade shot a look at me. “What?” Then he looked down at my crotch and noticed the wet spot.

My jaw dropped. I looked at Slade. “What?... No!... Huh?” I was speechless. I was trying to play stupid. I was also a terrible liar. I did let Hector mess around with my pussy...I mean my hole. Oh, geez. I didn’t even say anything either. I just let him do it.

Slade, his bloodshot eyes pierced mine. He pointed his finger into my chest. “You let this douche-bag touch you?”

I snapped my head around to Hector, “See? Told you, you were a douche.” He didn’t laugh.

“DECKER!” Slade yelled.

I flinched at the use of my real name. I stood back. “Wait. Ok, I think I’m too fucked up for this. I’m not sure what the fuck is happening right now and in fact, I feel a little sick.”

I started to head for the restroom. Slade grabbed my bicep and held me in place. He pulled me into him until our noses were inches apart. I could smell him. His breath was laced with beer, his eyes were watery. His clean-shaven square jaw was clenched.

“No!” he growled. “Don’t be a little bitch.”

“No? What do you mean, no?” I asked.

Slow and deliberate he says, “Did. You. Let. Him. Touch. YOU?” His face was red. His jaw still clenched. He was visibly trembling. I didn't know whether to be scared or turned on. I was afraid he would hit me.

“Yes. I mean no! I... uh...maybe? Dude, I’m really fucked up right now. Can we just go, please?” I pleaded.

Hector stepped forward and took my hand and began leading me away towards the door. “I’ll take care of him. Why don’t you go on home and I’ll make sure I feed him breakfast after I load up his gut. He'll be eating for two.” I staggered behind Hector as I was being pulled with great force. What the fuck? What is going on? I'm never drinking this much again.

Slade scowled at Hector. His face turning redder, veins popping out on his forehead. He followed us and grabbed my other hand and held it in his own. I felt like I was being torn apart like a wishbone, AGAIN. I thought fists were going to start flying. I’m watching them exchange jabs and talking about who was going to be fucking me tonight and I am in disbelief that this is even happening. It was hot to have these two hot alpha guys fight over me. It was even hotter to hear him talk about our sex life like it was a real thing. Apparently, I’m a slutty muscle-bottom who likes it hard and rough?

“Tell him how I fuck you!” Slade turned and said to me.

I looked at him confused. “Tell him what?”

“Tell this meat-head how much you like it when I fuck you!”

Whoa! What the fuck is going on here? I pull away from Hector and turn to my protector, almost falling over in the process. Alcohol still has control over my motor functions.

I pull Slade aside, “Dude? What the fuck are you doing? You can stop with the role play bullshit. The guy is an asshole." I stopped for a moment; my head starts spinning. "I feel like shit. Let's just leave," I plead. I put my hands on his shoulders and lean into him. I put my head on his shoulder. "Let's go, man. I'm trashed."

“NO!” He yells. “He can’t come in here and take what's mine!”

“I’m not letting him take me.”

“Don’t care,” he spat as he talked. “I’ll fucking kill him if he touches you again," he directs his words to Hector. Then he became still. He slowly turns back to me. "What the fuck are you thinking letting another dude touch you?”

“Ok, I think you are taking this fake boyfriend thing a little too far,” I said with a fake smile.

“What did he do to you?” Slade asked, seething.

“Nothing much, “Hector chimed in. “I just fingered his pussy.”

Slade gripped my bicep hard, “FUCK! What were you fucking thinking? You let an asshole like him defile you like that? After all I've done for you? This is how you repay me? Giving up your ass to any jacked-up muscle-head that comes along?" His grip got tighter and he gave a slight jerk to my arm for emphasis.

Hector laughed. "Yeah. He did."

"What?!” I yelled. “NO! I'm not fucking queer!” I got in Slade’s face. ”Let me go before I clock you," I growl.

"You were going to let him cum inside you. Weren’t you?” Slade accused me.

I was about to answer then I stopped. I suddenly remembered the feeling of Hector’s finger and how it felt banging in and out of my hole. Slade knew what I was thinking.

“So, is that what you want?” Slade asked. “A guy who just uses you as a cumdump? Is that it? Huh?” He gives me a small slap on my face. “Because I’ll fucking use you like a cumdump if that’s what it takes,” he spit as he railed on and on. He jabbed his finger into my chest again. “You want your hole full of my cum? Because, you know, QB, that’s what’s going to happen anyway." He almost sounded like he was blubbering.

I must have looked like a complete idiot standing there frozen to the spot, speechless. Watching for some sign of a punchline, that this is all a joke. I looked around at the two muscle gods in front of me. I just shook my head, my confused brain whirling.

I remained frozen to the spot. We had just had a major revelation, Slade and me. The world stopped. Slade’s face was angry, eyes watery, bottom lip quivering.

“You know, it’s a good thing you’re pretty because you are so fucking stupid,” he said sternly.

“What did you say?” I stepped forward.

“You heard me. You have no fuckin clue. About anything!” he yelled.

“Slade, you told me you wouldn’t be a jerk tonight,” I reminded him.

“DECKER!” Slade yelled. “Open your fucking eyes!”

"This is fucking bullshit. I'm leaving with or without you." I jerked my arm away from him.

"Wait!" he shouted.

I turned. "WHAT?"

He stared into my eyes. He looked towards Hector and then back to me. “I’m the only guy who fucks you,” he states, his eyes bloodshot. His jaw is clenched. “You’re mine…and you know it! Decker, you know that, right?” Slade looked at me waiting for something. I shook my head.

I didn’t know what to say or how to react. Of course, I’m not stupid. I know Slade just basically confessed his love or lust or something for me. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? Of course, I knew he turned me the fuck on. Hector turned me on too and if Slade hadn’t swooped in maybe I would have my ass filled with Latino cock right now. Hector was just pure sexual energy whereas Slade was all that and more. There’s no way Hector could compare to anything that Slade could do to me. With Slade, there was a connection. With Hector, there was just fucking.

“Fuck it! Just fucking leave with him. It’s what you want.” Take my silence for rejection, Slade pushes me away and heads toward the bathroom.

Hector steps over to me. “Alright, Decker. Looks like you’re with me,” Hector says as he takes my elbow. “Trust me. You’re making the better choice.”

I jerk away from him. “Looks to me like you’re not giving me a choice.”

“It was never your choice. You know it,” Hector says with confidence.

“Hector, no. It’s not happening. Since we’re being honest, you are hot as fuck.”

Hector grins. “About fucking time you said it.”

“But it’s not happening. And if you keep this up, I will fucking punch you in the throat,” I say getting in his face. “You’ll wipe the floor with me but at least I will have got in one good shot.”

“Whatever dude. If you want that old man dick in your pussy than fine with me. You’ll be back. They always come back.” And he walked away.

A few seconds later, Slade came out of the bathroom and grabbed my hand. He pulled me onto the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” I asked as he led me around.

“We’re dancing,” he grumbled. He pulled me to the middle of the floor through the maze of hot, sweaty, half naked men.

“I’m not fucking dancing! Let’s get out of here. I’m done with you tonight, dude,” I say frustrated and exhausted.

He whips off his tight shirt and then grabs mine as I’m walking away. He yanks me back and pulls mine over my head. I stop in my tracks and take in that amazing body. Wow. Damn. Why do I get this way around him? I’m not gay. He’s not gay. Is he? Confusion coursed through my head.

He pulled me in closer and began dancing. Damn, he’s a fucking great dancer. Every muscle flexing as he moves his body, gyrating and thrusting. He smiles at me. I laugh at him, not sure what is happening or what I should do.

He pulls me closer, face to face. His eyes piercing mine. His hands roam up my biceps to my shoulders. I hypnotically move closer, nose to nose. His sky-blue eyes are like mirrors, hypnotizing me. I find my hands settling on his waist. Do I want to kiss him? I don’t know what I’m doing but I want to kiss him. Nope. I can’t. I can’t do this. I cannot fucking do this.

But before I can pull away, his hand is on the back of my head and he pulls me in and plants his lips on mine. I close my eyes and then open them, hoping this is all a bad dream. But it’s not. He pushes me back. We just stare at each other for what seems like minutes. His eyes are telling me to keep going. He wants this. I want this. I want him. Our lips crash back together and suddenly we can’t get enough of each other. His tongue invades my throat. I suck on it as we feverishly kiss. Our hands are moving over our sweaty muscular bodies, finally getting to touch what we’ve both longed for, for months. We make out for song after song. Both rock hard.

He moves around behind me, spoons me and I can feel his hard cock encased in his tight jeans pressing into my ass. He holds me around the waist and hugs me tight as he thrusts against me. He pulls my head back against his shoulder, turns my head and kisses me. He’s so forceful, so powerful, so dominate. I fucking want him. I want him in the worst way. I already know what he wants from me. What do I want from him? I want to please him. I want him to take pleasure from my body. I want to do anything he wants me to do so he can get off and be satisfied and satiated. I feel him thrust his cock against my ass again as he grunts into my ear.

His hand slides down into my underwear and I feel his fingertip on my hole. "Mine," He grunts.

My heart drops into my stomach. I lay my head back on his shoulder and turn my head towards him.

“Anything you want, Slade.” I’m panting. I gave in. I said the words. I wanted nothing but to be with him. And I wanted him inside me.

He spins me around and kisses me again. He looks at me and presses his forehead to mine.

“You’re going to fuck me, aren’t you?” I whisper.

“Yes.”

He calms, our foreheads touching. Sweat rolling down our faces. My cock is aching so much it hurts. I reach down and feel his cock, stroke it. It’s thick. We’re both breathing hard.

“So, I guess I AM with you tonight."

“You always have been, Quarterback.”