Devil's Deals

Later Saturday

Lunch was served on a long table on the broad porch at the back of the house overlooking Gloucester’s outer harbor, the town itself rising from the shore beyond the inner harbor on the other side of the stretch of water. The sailboat the young men were going to take out later—practicing collegiate sailing being the reason they were here this weekend—rocked gently at the dock beyond the slab of smooth rock running down to the shoreline. Most of those present for the weekend were paired off on wicker settees at the other end of the porch, waiting for Eva, the housekeeper, to finish setting the table and bringing out the food.

Diego was still out in the backyard, clipping hedges back into shape, dancing bare-chested in front of the hedge, being watched by those on the porch, each with his or her own thoughts about the sensuality of the young man’s movements, and more rather than fewer of them fantasizing on his sexuality and of his suitability as a sex partner. More than one of them had answered that question, uniformly in the positive.

Rich and Susan were sitting close together on one sofa. Rich’s arm was around Susan’s shoulders, and her fingers were tracing little patterns on his bare leg below the hem of his shorts. Hunter and Julio were on another sofa in similar pose, with Hunter touching Julio here and there short of what he’d really like to be fondling and the two of them just inches and a bit of social propriety from kissing. Julio was a hot Latin hunk exuding sexuality and masculinity. Hunter was long and lean and sensual, better looking and more steeped in “take advantage of me” sexuality in every way than his sister, Susan was. This was a reality that had never been lost on Susan—or anyone else who had known them. Julio had known them both biblically. So had Rich. Julio had obviously made his choice. Rich had made his too, for practical reasons, but as they sat there on the porch and Rich let the fingers of the arm he had draped around Susan’s shoulders play on the young woman’s bicep, his eyes moved from Diego, who he had had, to Hunter, who he’d also had.

Sitting on a wicker armchair, facing the two couples, the family patriarch, Howard Butler, massive, glowering, heavy of body but obviously charismatic and powerful, and still ruggedly handsome despite his girth, was taking it all in, from those on the porch to Diego, dancing at the hedge, his keen assessing eyes adding it all up. As Howard’s thoughts settled, he let his eyes settle on Rich. It was obvious to Howard that Rich’s tastes were universal. It also was obvious to him that Rich preferred Hunter but had settled on Susan—and why this was so. From seeing both Susan’s and Hunter’s regard of Rich, he assumed that Rich was a masterful lover, and that interested Howard as well. But he wondered if Rich could take a cock as well as he could give one. His assessment dismissed Julio altogether. He was all unadvantaged gigolo, a nobody, all surface take for calculated personal advantage, capable of loving only himself. But Rich was different, he was operating out of calculation too, but he wasn’t using sex just to gain advantage. Most important, after his physical beauty and sexuality, he was socially advantaged. Rich obviously was a passionate young man. He would fuck for the sheer joy of the sex. Could he be fucked with the same passion, though, was what Howard was wondering.

He saw Rich’s eyes go to Diego, out on the lawn, and the revelation hit Howard that Rich had already fucked Diego. This amused Howard and gave him added appreciation of Rich as a sexual animal. It also confirmed Howard’s assessment of Rich putting passion ahead of profit, in contrast to Julio. Diego could give Rich nothing but a good ride, and Howard well knew how good of a ride the Hispanic gardener could give.

The chatting was light and amusing, but there wasn’t a single person on the porch who wasn’t aware of the sizzling undercurrent of cross relationships and sexual assessment charging them all. That bubble was burst when Alma Butler came out onto the porch with a tray laden down with drinks, and said, in a sing-song voice, “We have lemonade, iced tea, and water. Take your—”

She didn’t complete her sentence as her gaze had swept the assembled guests and had been as quick at assessments as anyone else had been. There were no surprises at seeing Howard’s glittering and slit eyes, his tongue licking his lower lip, and the half smile on his face. She had been married to him for over twenty years and knew how she had wrested him away from the wife before her. Alma knew that Howard’s lusts were universal that that he’d fuck anyone he could put under him. She knew why the Hispanic gardener, Diego, was employed and encouraged to roam the grounds half dressed. She’d tried seducing Diego herself, but having been unsuccessful, knew that Howard was fucking him. She knew that Howard fucked the black housekeeper, Eva. She knew that Howard would fuck Richard VonClief if he could manage to do it. She knew that Howard had no interest in Julio, even though she herself did. A man’s social position was no concern of hers as long as he had an eight-inch cock and could keep it hard. She’d already had Rich this weekend and would be under Julio if the circumstance permitted, although she was wary of that one. She didn’t really care anymore who Howard fucked as long as it wasn’t her. She’d done her duty by him and he’d always been too thick for her comfort.

But in seeing Julio and Hunter on their sofa she was a bit surprised. She hadn’t considered that Julio was humping Hunter, but it was obvious in seeing them that he did. She hadn’t given Hunter’s proclivities much thought. He wasn’t manly enough for her to be interested and he wasn’t her son—he was from Howard’s just-previous wife. She didn’t care much what he did or who he did it with. He wasn’t to her taste. Handsome but callow. No substance to him beyond the glitter on the surface. No eight-inch cock.

Those assessments flashed by in less than a nanosecond, because it was the shock of seeing her daughter, Susan, and Rich together—obviously together—that sent a jolt through her. She set the tray down on a coffee table so hard that the glasses rattled and the liquid sloshed over the rims. Then she turned and was gone, back into the house.

A few minutes later, Eva came out of the house and said, “Lunch is ready now. Ya’all can come to the table.”

Howard tore his gaze from Rich, stood and turned, and asked Eva, “Should we wait for Alma to come out?”

“She’s not coming out,” Eva answered, stone-faced. “She took on a migraine, she said, and asked to be excused from the table. She’s taking her lunch upstairs.”

The surface, amused chatter continued through lunch, with Hunter and Julio giving a volley-by-volley accounting of their tennis match that morning. Both were expert players. The discussion had moved on from there to the impending pro football year. Howard owned a slice of the New England Patriots and had brought to the table a proof of a roster program for the coming year’s team, which he passed around. Susan went dreamy over the pictures of the studs and honed in on a six-foot-five, claimed three-hundred-pound bruiser of a guard, with a long golden mane, named Sonny Taggert.

“Three hundred pounds and he doesn’t look a bit fat, Daddy,” she said breathlessly. “Look at his waist. I bet he has great abs. Yum.”

“Muscle is weighty, Sugar,” Howard answered. “And you’ve got to have muscle to be a guard in professional football. His height helps distribute it. I’m not wild about the Samson hair, though.”

“I am,” Susan said. “Here, see what I’m looking at.” She waved the program page under Rich’s nose. “You could let your hair grow like this. Yours is even more golden than this guy’s.”

“Too long for me too,” Rich said, as he took the program from her. Looking at Taggert’s photo, Rich claimed the man did nothing for him, but his eyes went to Howard, who was well into the two-hundred-pound range himself and over six foot, and as bulky as a pro footballer guard, if not all in muscle. The young man was lying. The football player did get a rise from him. Something told him when he looked up at Howard that the man knew that—that he knew that Rich’s sexual interests were universal. He wondered if Howard’s were as well. He was a heavy man, but there was a sexual rawness about him. There was no question that Howard Butler had charisma and a commanding presence. And he had the aura of confidence and command about him that signaled that he was proudly hung.

Did he, as indicated, cover men as well as women? Did he want to cover Rich? The look Howard gave him said “yes.” Was wooing Susan not going high enough in the Butler family?

Rich couldn’t avoid registering the Butler patriarch’s interest in him. It had struck home with Rich too that the man owned a slice of the New England Patriots. He already knew the man owned a string of bars and restaurants in Boston and was well heeled enough to own this waterfront manse in Gloucester as a vacation home. And Susan was his only daughter. Rich couldn’t be sure what the man would think of Rich fucking his only son, Hunter, though.

No further mention was made of the absence of the hostess, but all were engaging fully in their below-the-surface lusts. Susan was pouting a bit because the young men were going out to practice their sailing and made clear that they couldn’t gauge their racing times with Susan’s weight in the boat as well as theirs. She almost reluctantly said she’d go shopping in Gloucester that afternoon.

“Perhaps a talk before you go,” Howard said, giving her a meaningful look from the head of the table, “after I’ve checked in on your mother,” he added. “And then I think I’ll talk with the gardener about something I want done in the yard.” His eyes had turned toward the summer pavilion, where Diego, bare-chested and beautifully tanned, was deadheading roses in a flowerbed. But in Howard’s mind, the young Hispanic was already under him and taking his cock deep.

“Yes, Dad,” she answered. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this weekend too.”

There had been more than chicken salad served up at lunch at the Butlers’ that day.

When he stood to leave the table, Howard paused to stand behind Rich and put his hands on the young man’s shoulder. Both he and Rich understood that the man was asserting possession, to be exercised when and if he wished.

* * * *

Rich, Hunter, and Julio, under Rich’s direction, sailed the Sea Pearl up and down Gloucester Harbor for more than an hour and a half that afternoon. They were experimenting with who would take on what duties and how, the three handsome young studs, each wearing only a skimpy Speedo, could work together to get the most efficiency of movement, speed, and swift maneuverability out of the nineteen-foot, trimmed-down sailing craft.

When they were satisfied that they had made the best use of time and motion, Julio, taking over the direction, signaled to take the sailboat out of the outer harbor and into the Atlantic. Not so far out into the sea that they couldn’t see land but far enough out that no other vessel was likely to come close to them, Hunter dropped the anchor and then the three, under Julio’s direction, settled down to working together to give each of them the maximum sexual pleasure.

Hunter and Julio had achieved sexual heaven before, as had Rich and Hunter, while at Dartmouth, but they had not engaged with each other in a threesome before. It wasn’t that none of the three had had prior experience in threesomes, and more. Instinctively they seemed to understand that the afternoon’s fuck would center on Hunter. As Julio dropped the anchor, Rich lay on his back in the blanket-covered hull of the sailboat, and Hunter hovered over him, stripping the Speedo off Rich’s legs and kissing and licking down Rich’s torso until he reached the young man’s groin, where he worked Rich’s cock up by giving him head. Julio came in behind Hunter then, stripping off, first, his own Speedo and then Hunter’s, encircling the willowy young sandy-blond’s torso in his arms, pulling him up onto his knees, mounting his ass, and penetrating him. He reached around and stroked Hunter’s cock while he slow fucked him and Hunter continued sucking Rich off.

When Rich was fully engorged, Julio, without dislodging his cock, coaxed Hunter’s body to move over Rich’s. Julio positioned Hunter’s ass over Rich’s erect cock and helped the young man settle on Rich’s shaft, sheathing Rich along with Julio’s already buried cock. Hunter writhed between the other two men while their cocks played his channel in a coordinated rhythm of the fuck.

Julio, controlling the action, leaned around Hunter’s rocking torso, wrapped a hand around the back of Rich’s head, and pulled the young golden-blond’s face to his, and took Rich’s mouth in a deep kiss, as they both thrust in unison inside Hunter’s passage.

Hunter was the first to come, and when he did, Julio pulled out of him and nudged him over to the side. Rich was dislodged in the process and started to sit up, but Julio placed a hand on his sternum and gently pushed him onto his back.

“Help me, Hunter,” Julio hissed. “Immobilize his arms.”

Hunter must have realized what Julio was wanting to do then, as he moved to behind Rich’s back, put the young man’s arms into a full Nelson hold, and held him there as Julio grasped Rich’s ankles and raised and spread Rich’s legs. Rich arched his back and cried out as Julio hunched over him and worked his cock inside Rich’s channel. Rich struggled ineffectually for a moment or two, but as Julio fully possessed him with his cock and started to pump him, Rich settled down and went with the fuck, letting his hips rock with the rhythm of Julio’s thrusts. He turned his head to the side, where Hunter’s half-hard cock brushed his lips, and he took the shaft into his mouth.

Julio fucked him with increasing vigor, reaching down, grasping Rich’s cock and stroking it hard. Rich cried out at the hard taking and scrabbled his fingernails, ineffectually, at Hunter’s arms holding his upper torso captive. As Julio fucked harder, though, Rich was overcome with passion and, gurgled involuntary expressions of “Yes, yes. Fuck me hard,” as he rocked with the thrusts. To emphasize Rich’s surrender to him, Julio raised his pelvis, almost completely withdrawing from the channel, and Rich followed him up, raising his pelvis to the cock and taking over the thrusting. Julio, above him, his mouth in a sneer, just held steady and let Rich take over the thrusts, working his channel on the hard cock.

Rich came first and then, with a laugh, Julio buried his cock deep inside Rich’s passage and blasted him once, twice, three times. With a deep moan, Rich collapsed and Hunter freed his arms and bent over his prone body to kiss Julio.

“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I met you,” Julio murmured as they all lay in the hull of the sailboat afterward, stretched out against each other, Hunter in the middle, and all of them fondling the others with their hands. “You are mine now. I own you.”

“You could have asked me earlier,” Rich said. “I would have gone with you. I’m so pleased that you collected another ass.”

“I was afraid that you would only top,” Julio said.

“He does my sister, Susan, too,” Hunter said.

And your stepmother also, and your father is giving me the look too, Rich thought. But he didn’t say anything. “I’ll do any beautiful body that is willing,” he said.

“As will I,” Julio said.

“Are you going to let me top you?” Rich asked.

“Do you want to?”

“Of course.”

“Sorry, old sod. I am exclusively a top. No go. Do Hunter in a doggy now,” he directed, turning the discussion. And, both of them willing and having been worked up again from mutual fondling, Hunter turned over and went up on all fours. Rich covered him from behind and above, wrapped an arm around his waist, and encased Hunter’s cock in a loose sheath of a hand to give Hunter something to fuck. Julio, in turn, mounted Rich’s ass, and the three were off to the races—Julio fucking Rich, Rich fucking Hunter, and Hunter’s cock fucking Rich’s hand.

A good time was had by all. No one was left neglected or unsatisfied. Julio remained exclusively a top.

* * * *

Howard Butler, in a swim suit that a man of his girth had no business wearing, other than it showed that he was hung like a bull, was standing at the dock at The Rock, smoking a cigar, when the three young men returned from their sail in the harbor and tryst on the ocean. Chances are that being seen to be hung like a bull—not that long but thick and with the meaty balls of a bull—was all the message that Howard wanted to convey.

Rich didn’t often play the submissive, but he had let Julio work him over good out on the water, much to Rich’s surprise, and Julio had done him well, so Rich was still clinging to him as they came up onto the dock from the boat. Julio had a possessive hand on Rich’s butt cheek, and Rich had a deer-in-the headlights look on his face. The suave swagger he’d had when he was in control and on top had the edge taken off it. Most any man could have told from watching the three of them—Hunter, who was doing all of the work in closing the sailboat down appeared to be a little piqued that he, for those moments, wasn’t the center of Julio’s attention—that something had gone on out on the water, something sexual. They would not have necessarily known that Rich had been submissive, but they would have known that Rich had been pushed off kilter by something that happened out there.

Howard wasn’t most men; the bars Howard owned included sex clubs. Howard discerned in an instance that Julio had fucked Rich while they were out sailing and that Rich had let him and would let him do it again. If Rich was looking for what Howard thought he was in courting Susan—financial security—chances were good, Howard thought, that Rich would let Howard fuck him too.

It was no surprise, or particular concern, to Howard, of course, that Julio fucked Hunter as well. Both Julio and Hunter were off Howard’s screen as prey.

“Dinner is at 7:00, with drinks on the back porch from 5:00,” Howard said to the young men. “You all must have had quite a workout in the sailboat. Feel free to rest until happy hour.”

Each of the young men had a bedroom in the house. There were four large bedrooms on the second floor. Howard and Alma slept in separate bedrooms and Susan and Hunter each had a bedroom on that floor. There were three bedrooms, smaller, but still quite large, under the eaves of the roof on the third floor. The housekeeper, Eva, had one bedroom, and Hunter’s two guests, Julio and Rich, each was assigned one of the others. Eva had her own bath. The other two bedrooms shared a bath.

Alma was nowhere to be seen until dinner. Susan didn’t return from shopping in Gloucester before the 5:00 drinks gathering. All of the others were in rooms, but they didn’t spend the whole time before the happy hour resting. Julio never made it to his room; he went to Hunter’s bedroom with Hunter. Diego, the gardener, had one of the three bedrooms over the garage, and Rich was so pumped up and anxious to reassert himself as a top that he gave Diego a commanding look in passing, moved toward the garage rather than the house, and Diego followed him.

They fucked standing on a braided rug in the center of Diego’s room, Rich’s Speedo waistband hooked under his balls, Rich in somewhat of a crouch to balance the weight of the small-bodied gardener on his thighs. Rich’s arms were wrapped around Diego’s torso, his hands gripping the Hispanic youth’s waist, and raising and lowering Diego’s channel on his buried cock, while Diego locked his fists behind Rich’s neck, wrapped his legs around Rich’s waist, and moaned at the power of the cock plumbing his depths. Rich left Diego groaning and shuddering in a heap on his bed, Rich’s dominance of another man once again reasserted.

An hour later, Rich did go to his room in the attic of the house to shower and rest. He took a peek in Hunter’s room on the second floor to find Julio on top of Hunter and Hunter stretched out on his back on the bed, his legs bent, feet flat on the mattress, and his head lolled over to the side, facing the door, his eyes reflecting ultimate satisfaction, his disposition now satisfied that Julio was paying attention to him, as the athletic Julio did pushups on his trembling body.

Rich hadn’t seen anyone else on his climb up to the third floor. When he reached his room, had taken his shower, and collapsed on his bed to rest, he knew part of why that was. The walls weren’t as thick on this level as they were downstairs. Eva, the housekeeper’s, room was next to his. It was quite obvious that the master of the house, Howard, was fucking the housekeeper in her room, and, from Eva’s groans and little cries and the sounds of little slaps, it was clear that Howard was being rough about it. Most of Eva’s utterings were in the affirmative, though, so Rich decided she wasn’t in any trouble that she didn’t want to be in. The sounds of the stings of the slaps aroused Rich, though, which somewhat disturbed him.

Night Games

Happy hour was all surface chattiness with no reference to the house so recently having been a sex den of free-flowing cum. Alma hadn’t appeared, but Susan was back from shopping and was bubbly and full of chatter. She sat near Rich, but she wasn’t all over him like she had been before lunch. Julio and Hunter were all touchy feely, and as before, Howard was sitting in his wicker arm chair, his elbows on the chair arms and his hands folded in front of his face, his index fingers pressing to his lips. He was watching the others with a little smile on his face, taking in all of the atmospherics, both surface and below the surface. A lit cigar in an ashtray and a glass of beer rested on the side table at his right side. When he and Rich connected with their eyes, Howard paid particular attention to making love to his cigar with his mouth. The inference was hardly lost on Rich.

Diego played bartender and snacks provider. Eva was in the kitchen working on dinner. When dinner was served, quite formally in the candle-lit dining room, with the light reflecting off china and crystal and silver serving dishes, Alma attended, regally dressed, fully made up, smiling a Mona Lisa smile, and being the perfect, if a bit taciturn and slow to move, hostess. Rich’s impression was that she might had taken nerve-suppression drugs or had been having her own happy hour in her room while everyone else had gathered on the porch to have theirs. She didn’t make eye contact with him, which was quite all right with Rich. He had already decided that she wasn’t the key to the Butlers—that Howard was. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t lay her again if she insisted, if nothing else to make sure there weren’t any family fireworks.

After dinner, they all moved to the lounge for after-dinner drinks and for a bit of entertainment. Rich and Susan shared an interest in and talent for music and, after they met, some of their time had been spent in Rich accompanying her singing on the piano. By request, that’s what they did in the evening, with Rich at the piano and Susan standing beside it and singing her little heart out on popular standards. At the second break, Howard stood and said, “I’ve had some news. Could you join me in the library for a bit, Sugar?” He was looking at Susan, not Alma, and the two of them left. Hunter picked that moment to declare that he needed a refill from a bottle not on the beverage cart. He left and Julio moved over to beside Alma on a sofa. Alma’s eyes moved from Rich to Julio, and they shared, in Rich’s determination, an intent.

Rich turned to playing popular classical tunes on the piano. When he’d finished playing Debussy’s “Clare de Lune,” he looked up to discover that he was all alone. He played Mozart’s “Piano Concerto 21 in C,” popularly known as “Elvira Madigan’s Theme”—just for himself, to calm the feeling of arousal that had swept over him all day, and that already had been satisfied in various ways.

He closed the top on the piano keyboard, stood, and lowered the lid on the grand piano. The light was still showing under the library door when he moved to the stairs. He slowly ascended the stairs and went to the door to Alma’s bedroom, which was slightly open. He stopped there, though, because, through the crack in the door, he could see that Julio was fucking Alma, both of them naked, Julio on his knees, his torso vertical, and holding Alma, facing away from him, in front of him. His arms were wrapped around her, one hand cupping one of her pert, sculpted breasts and the other with fingers working her clit, while she arched her back, wrapping her arms around his neck, her hips rocking back and forward to coordinate with the rhythm of his thrusts up inside her. Rich turned, went to the staircase to the third floor, and slowly ascended them.

He couldn’t say he hadn’t had enough today to satiate himself. Still, he went to bed in the nude, stretched out on his back, and masturbated himself to sleep.

Rich woke in the pitch dark, other than the moon sending a thin beam of light through the window overlooking the outer harbor. He had been awakened by the sound of his bedroom door opening and a very brief reflection off the wall he was turned to of the corridor light for the moment the door was open. He turned in the bed.

“Hunter? Julio?” he murmured. He had time for it to register in his brain that he hadn’t thought to voice the name “Susan” when it also registered that the form moving toward him was bulkier than any of those. A sweet-smelling cloth was held to his mouth and nose, though, and, although he struggled briefly with a heavy weight on top of him, he quickly lost the battle and blacked out.

When he came to, he was on his back on the bed, spread-eagled, with his arms spread over his head, his wrists restrained to the headboard, and his legs spread below, his ankles restrained to the footboard. Howard Butler, naked, was straddling his chest and feeding the thickest cock Rich had ever had, a beer can dick, into his mouth. Rich gagged on the cock but serviced it as he writhed under the heavy man and after he realized that it was Howard Butler. Then Butler was sliding down his body, positioning himself, and Rich was grunting and groaning and arching his back and widening his stance as much as he could, to take the older man’s cock inside him. Butler leaned over Rich, staring down into the younger man’s face, enough light in the room for them to make and maintain eye contact.

“You don’t have to do this. I’m happy to take you,” Rich managed to croak.

“Yes, I know you can be had, but I like it this way,” Howard growled.

As Butler’s buried cock started to move inside Rich, to slow pump him, his eyes opened wide when Rich responded by rocking his hips with the fuck and murmuring, “Yes, yes. Fuck me. Take me hard. Fuck, you’re thick! Fuck me, Mr. Butler! Split me!”

They fucked in high heat, both panting and rocking hard against each other, restrained only by Rich being bound, spread-eagled, on the bed. But Rich’s pleasure was being hampered by two aspects. The man was too heavy for him; his massive belly was pressing on Rich’s, taking the breath out of him. And the man’s cock was almost impossibly thick—not long, but thick as the proverbial beer can. Something could be done about the first, Rich thought. He didn’t want to change the second; he wanted to take the cock in all of its thickness. He thanked his lucky stars that Julio had been in there earlier in the day. To that point Rich had only rarely let a man fuck him; it helped that he’d let Julio stretch him.

“You’re too heavy for me,” Rich said with a groan. “Unbind me. I won’t fight you, but you’re crushing me.”

“You’ll ride me? You’re willing to cowboy?”

“Yes, certainly, I’m happy to take your cock if you’re not killing me in the process. You’re a stud. I want it. Shit, you have a thick cock. I want to take it. Untie me. Let me ride you,” Rich murmured, and the older man, in surprise and awe, did so, allowing Rich to roll him onto his back after the young man was unbound, to straddle him, to position himself and descend on the thick cock, Rich was facing Howard’s head. He was leaning back, with his hands pressed to the man’s knees—slowly opening to the cock completely, taking it all in, panting and groaning, rocking on the buried shaft, and riding and riding and riding, Butler’s hands grasping the young man’s slim waist. Rich was aware that he was posing sexily in the available light coming into the room. He wanted Howard to see him at his best advantage and to want him.

“I need more control. I want you at my mercy,” the older man grunted.

“If there’s a way . . .” Rich responded.

And there was a way. As Rich discovered in the daylight, his bed had been equipped for such games. He was bound again, length-wise on the bed, kneeling, wrists restrained to ankles on either side, a leg separator restrained to each ankle, keeping his legs spread. A collar on a chain had been pulled out of the other side of the bed and put on Rich, keeping his cheek pressed to the mattress. A ball gag muted his attempts to cry out as he writhed as best he could and Howard fucked him with his hand, four fingers almost up to the end, before mounting him from behind, as Howard stood on the floor and gave Rich no more of his weight than that of the heavy cock, which Rich now took without difficulty, fully enjoyed, and rewarded by coming in prodigious gushes of his own before Howard did.

Rich had gotten an inkling earlier in the day when he overheard Howard fucking the housekeeper that the older man liked to rough fuck. Rich was learning now that he also liked to bind his prey and for them to be helpless when he was fucking them.

Butler was heavy and hairy and old enough to be Rich’s father, but he was very, very good, with a thick cock, able to find and caress every square inch of the young man’s channel walls and to send the muscles of Rich’s passageway into a combined rippling and clutching effect that had Rich panting and jerking and purring and that sent him to heaven and had him dancing on the clouds. This much bondage was new to him, but he couldn’t say that he didn’t find it highly arousing. It was all about control. He generally wanted control over the encounter himself, but he was seeing how arousing being completely at the mercy of the other man could be, as well.

When they had both come, Howard unbound Rich and the young man curled up on the bed, panting and groaning.

“Was that . . . ?” Butler whispered in a hoarse voice. He was standing by the bed, obese like a Turkish potentate, but as powerful-looking and in control as a Turkish potentate as well. There was a bit of indecision, for the first time, in his voice.

“That was fine,” Rich said in a panting voice. “I’ve never been taken that high before.”

“I can tell that you usually top, but I signaled, and you responded . . . I know you did.”

“Yes, I did. It was fine.”

One of Howard’s hands went to one of Rich’s ankles and stroked it. Rich turned, uncoiling a bit, and looked at Butler in the dim light. Shit, the younger man thought, is he perpetually hard? The cock was standing out proudly, thick, thick, thick, and now, Rich exhilarated in having been able to take it, appreciably longer than he thought it had been.

The stroking on the ankle became a grip, and the man’s other hand was on Rich’s other calf. “Usually, after the first, I’m much more—”

“That’s fine,” Rich said through a loan moan, “do it.”

Butler gripped the two ankles, and raised and spread Rich’s legs, moving the young man onto his back, and move his big belly into position. Rich arched his back and gave a little cry through set teeth, as Howard thrust inside him and did it and did it and did it.

When Howard was finished at last and preparing to leave, he said, almost in a growl, “You will give it to me now whenever I want it.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, sir,” Rich answered.

To be continued.