I woke up to the sun shining against the bedroom blackout curtains, casting a warm, bright glow upon the wall where the curtains hung, and the sound of gentle white noise from a box fan in the corner of the room. The sheets felt unlike those I normally slept in on work nights. Realizing this, my head jolted over to where I'd expect to see Gunnar, remembering everything from the night before.
There he was, asleep on his back, his head slightly leaning in my direction. Well I'll be damned, I thought to myself, bruh doesn't snore. Like, at all. My god he was so fucking hot. Such a perfect, dark man beard adorning a sexy, masculine face. The epitome of male perfection. Oh thank fuck, I thought. Last night wasn't a dream. The most obvious reminder being my slightly sore ass and scratchy throat. The soreness in my ass wasn't just the entrance, it was deeper inside in my guts, too. He went so deep inside me.
My morning wood seemed to enjoy the reminder as I reached down thru the sheets to gently tug on my cock. As I glanced down to the sheet-covered impaler he sported, remembering what it did to me, I immediately noticed he was also sporting some nice morning wood. Bulging against the covers. I considered going down on him as he slept, waking him up to a blowjob. Because of course I would, I was pretty much a perpetually thirsty fag.
I looked over to the night stand across from Gunnar toward the digital clock. The turquoise digits were small but I could read it. It read “7:42.”
Shit, I forgot to set my alarm! It was a Friday, and Gunnar should be at work. Did he also forget to set his alarm? I sat up, knowing I didn’t have time to fool around in bed and play with his cock. I needed to get myself up and around. Blake was potentially awake already. He was pretty self sufficient already, but he was literally 5 years old and supervision was not optional. I had groceries and some other errands to run. And most importantly, I was taking Blake shopping for clothes and school supplies ahead of the upcoming school year. He was starting kindergarten in less than a month. He also had a sleepover with his best friend for a birthday party in the early afternoon. A lot to do in the meantime.
I looked back over to Gunnar, whose eyes were open and gazing upon my smooth body. Our eyes met. My heart was melting and I got butterflies in my stomach. He was so fucking hot. He lightly smiled at me.
“Mornin,” he said in his sexy, deep rumble of a morning voice. “You sleep okay?”
“Yeah,” I responded.
“I forgot to set my alarm. The one job I have,” I joked, giggling as I said it. I did, in fact, find amusement in my blunders. “You staying home today?”
“I called out a couple hours ago,” Gunnar started. “You got a big day ahead of you.”
“Nah, it shouldn’t be too bad,” I asserted. “Blake was so excited last night. He decided blue was the only acceptable color to wear.”
I laughed, Gunnar getting a big smile as he was likely imagining the exact inflections Blake would have used. Blake was a cute kid. Smart, funny and a beacon of light. He regularly took it upon himself to try to amuse people he liked, and we had developed a great rapport. Well, as much as one can have with a scatter-brained child.
“We gotta get your stuff, too,” Gunnar reminded me. “Big day.”
I’d forgotten that he asked me to move in. I began to recalculate my plans and schedule in my head. I didn’t have much. I was living with an old high school friend and his girlfriend, and I kept my belongings to a minimum. I was one of those people who regularly went thru my stuff to determine if I really needed to keep certain things, to avoid collecting useless items to clutter my small bedroom. The only things I’d need to bring over were my clothes and a box of valuables, being memorabilia and sentimental items like old family photos with me and my late mother, yearbooks, government documents, that sorta thing. I was a very basic dude. My twin mattress could go, and frankly so could pretty much everything else. I was certain my roomies would want to keep the mattress and bedframe. It was a relatively new mattress and would make for a great selling point to replace my presence with another roomie, assuming that’s the route they’d want to go.
Gunnar sat up, waffing his manly smell into the air from the unwashed sheets. His thick tricep touched my own for a moment before he rested his warm hand on my back, rubbing in circles. I leaned into it, my shoulder fitting nicely into his hairy armpit. It was so soothing and enjoyable. I looked up into his eyes and he met my gaze. He slowly leaned in, pressing his lips against mine. I closed my eyes and melted into his embrace. This was a side of Gunnar I’d never witnessed. He was so gentle, so warm and sensual. He was opening up to me in such an intimate way.
Gunnar’s massaging hand moved up to my neck as he continued caressing me. I heard the covers rustle a bit and they were being pulled away toward the foot of the bed.
His hand ventured further up into my hair, to the same spot where he’d manhandled me the night before. He slowly pulled away from the kiss, looking me in the eyes. He was beginning to grip my hair with his meaty hand, a familiar sensation. I glanced down to his monstrous, leaking, alpha male morning wood.
“You got a fat cock to drain,” he said with a grin. “First thing’s first.”
My mouth watered, and he quickly shoved my head into his pubes. I breathed deep, enjoying the extra sweaty smell. His sweat seemed to have been marinating, amplifying itself into something as wonderful as my own morning cock sweat. I couldn’t get enough. He smelled as good as I did, and my own smell was something I couldn’t get enough of either. My already hard cock began to flex and I gripped it to further enjoy the moment. He yanked my head away, gripping the base of his own alpha meat, precum making its way down the length.
I immediately open my mouth in anticipation.
“Want some of this?” he asked rhetorically. “A cocksucker like you must dream about this shit.”
He was right. Absolutely correct. I moaned quietly, my mouth open as wide as I could get it.
“I’m gonna slam this whole fucking rod down you faggot throat,” he taunted in a commanding but quiet voice. “I have a treat for you at the end.”
It’s like this man knew exactly the right words to use to excite me, to increase my absolute desires to pleasure a true alpha god. He pushed my face towards his cock, giving me just enough length to suck on his delicious head. I savored the flavor of his precum, circling my tongue around the head and applying a generous amount of suction. He slowly pushed me further down a couple inches and I continued to work my mouth on his cock. And in one violent motion, my throat was impaled, his huge balls pressing against my cheek and nose. I heaved, not quite ready to receive so much length all at once.
“Keep choking,” he ordered. “Your throat’s a fucking cumdump for my big, fat cock. Fucking struggle, fag. Fuck yeah. You can try and pull away all you want. You're taking it.”
He held my head in place and he began viciously pounding away, not once completely exiting my throat until he was generous enough to allow me a moment to breathe and catch my breath around his cock. Each time I resisted, trying to pull away for a break from the onslaught, he seemed to fuck harder and faster. And the harder he pounded, the more pleasurable it was for me, making it easier to relax into it. It's like his cock belonged in my throat, like it was home, where it belonged.
“Hope you want it,” he taunted. “Cuz you’re fucking taking it.”
He continued his animalistic pounding, his perfect hair balls pressing repeatedly against my face. I was getting used to the rhythm, breathing when I could, assuming he actually withdrew enough length. It was like there was a g-spot in my throat, causing me to leak precum and I eagerly jerked off. I closed my eyes, enjoying his usage.
One thing had been made abundantly clear: servicing Gunnar wasn’t optional. If he wanted to pound me, he would. There seemed to be a mutual understanding between us. If he wanted to drain himself, my holes better be prepared for his wrath. He wasn't gentle like that. When he fucked, he used. He liked being verbal, got off on calling me a faggot and a cocksucker. He knew I loved it, and I’m sure that’s why he was so blatant with it. He liked being in control, forcing those who serviced him to suffer from his alpha meat’s usage. Both my throat and my ass here his fucktoys, and he intended to use them like they were cheap fleshlights. If there’s a heaven out there, I was in it. He was my god and I submitted myself fully.
My throat was getting even more sore than it had been the night before. He was quietly using my head like a fleshlight. It was as if I wasn’t worthy of acknowledging, like my only purpose was to provide a warm, tight hole for his pleasure. That thought was enough to nearly send me over the edge, but I stopped myself from cumming, releasing my grip on my throbbing cock.
He released his grip on my head, allowing me the opportunity to regain my breath. Fuck, his casual brutality was beyond sexy to me. Being his cock-thirsty bitch was so hot and I loved everything about it.
“Turn around and show me that ass,” Gunnar ordered. “All fours.”
I looked back to him, continuing to bob my head on his cock for a few seconds before pulling away completely, thirsty for more. But my hole was so sore, and he didn’t go slow, only seeming to enjoying rough fucking. Would I be able to handle it again, so soon after being used? I knew I was going to find out. His load was still inside me from the last pounding, so it would help lessen the pain, I hoped. I knew better than to resist him.
I turned around and did exactly as he instructed, my hole pointing towards his cock as I assumed the assigned position. Gunnar got onto his knees, aligning his wet cockhead with my anticipating fuck-hole. I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing it was gonna hurt.
But instead of forcing his way in, he began to jerk off, keeping the head of his monster against my quivering entrance. He was prodding himself against me, but not hard enough to breach. I was tempted to push back and initiate it, but wanted to savor the warm, sensual feelings. He pulled the pillow I slept on beneath my head, my eyes fixating on it. I started to slowly jerk myself off again. With one motion, Gunnar placed a hand on my head and forced it into the pillow.
“Keep your head down,” he began. “I’m gonna shove it all the way in when I cum. I wanna hear you squeal. Don’t resist, faggot. You’re gonna get a reward for being a useful bitch.”
He laughed as he explained his plan, enjoying his nonchalant usage and my submission to his bidding. I was about to find out that the reward he had in store for me wasn’t his cum. It would go much deeper inside me than his cum. For all I knew, the reward was his huge load and feeling his cum inside me, even if it was going to hurt a lot. His hand remained on my head, holding me down harshly with some weight to muffle any sounds I made. I had to slow down my jerking off as the anticipation was putting too close to the edge. I wanted him. His cock was pressed firmly enough against my recently used hole that I could feel some of his precum slip into me. His jerking motions became erratic, more furious. I awaited his warning, some sign of when the moment would come, which came as he pushed the head into my hole, just barely the tip as he continued to jerk himself off. I was grateful it wasn’t an immediate, unforgiving plummet into my depths. My sore hole was on fire.
“Fuck, oh my god!” I exclaimed into the pillow, barely even hearing myself. “It’s sore.”
I was pleading for him to be gentle. But again, this was Gunnar. And besides, he had no way of actually hearing me.
“What was that fag?” he asked jokingly, enjoying the absolute domination. “You want me to the balls? Want my big, fat cock buried all the way? Here you go, you fucking cock whore.”
In spite of my pleading for mercy thru the pillow, Gunnar delivered exactly that. Wrapping an arm around my waist to prevent me from pulling away, more of his weight transitioned to the hand he used to hold my face against the pillow. Fortunately I could still breathe reasonably well, so my only focus was his big cockhead just inside my aching hole.
In one violent motion, Gunnar slammed what must have been close to ten inches of thick, rock hard alpha cock all the way inside of me. He was cumming as he bottomed out and gyrated about an inch of length back and forth. He went well beyond the barrier I discovered last night, which was still very sore and now was like a deep, inescapable pain that I could only relieve slightly by bearing down hard. He wanted to hear my muffled squeals and he got exactly that. I began to cry out as soon as he was half way inside of me, intensifying to squeals as I begged for mercy. He was getting off on this, and so was I. I couldn’t hold it in. Sure there was a lot of pain, but also an extreme pleasure, physically and psychologically. I shot my load all over the sheets beneath me as I felt him unload hot cum into the same place he deposited the last one.
“Fuck, fuck, take it!” Gunnar exclaimed quietly thru his labored voice. “Fuck yeah, squeal like a bitch. Take that monster cock like a good faggot bitch.”
He finally halted his movements, bottoming out, impaling me fully where he remained while flexing his freshly drained cock.
I went silent, basking in the moment. I loved pleasuring him. I wanted nothing more than to be brutally used to his fullest desires. Gunnar breathed audibly thru his mouth as he began to recover.
“Here’s your reward,” he asserted. “You’ll fucking love it, and you’re gonna thank me like a good fag.”
He remained balls deep inside me. Was this the reward, getting to feel him all the way inside of me? Good deal. I didn’t want it to end. Something about knowing that the pain I felt was the source of his pleasure was perfect. But then it happened, delivering inside of me a warmth I didn’t expect. Gunnar let out a sigh of relief. The warmth and pressure was expanding, going deeper and deeper. What was happening? It felt strange, like his hot cum felt when he blasted deep inside me but so much more volume. It dawned on me. This alpha male was pissing inside of me, depositing his huge serving of morning piss deep inside my guts. God, it felt so good.
“Please sir,” I begged thru the pillow, Gunnar unable to hear me. “Fill me up. Oh my god, oh my god. Thank you sir, thank you sir. I’m your faggot. Use me, please!”
He kept going. His bladder must have been huge and totally full. It took him a good thirty seconds to unload himself, with a noticeable couple of flexes from his cock as he finished off the last few streams. Gunnar exhaled in relief and satisfaction, removing his hand from my head while keeping his other arm around my waist to keep me where he wanted me. He wanted me to thank him. And I was extremely thankful. I couldn’t tell him soon enough.
“Th… thank you, sir,” I uttered out, almost a whisper as I continued recovering from my post-climax high, feeling his cock start to soften.
“Anything for my fag,” he said with a bit of laugh. “You really know how to take it like a good little cock whore.”
I loved it when talked to me like that. It was a huge turn-on for me. A wild fantasy come true. It hadn’t occurred to me, the thought of someone depositing their load of piss in my guts. It was shockingly fulfilling.
“C’mon, I need to stay inside til we get to the shower,” he explained as he maneuvered me, leading me up and awkwardly crawling in unison with me across the bed to towards the master bathroom where my eyes focused on the still damp couple of briefs he used to gag me the night before.
He was right. I could feel a lot of pressure inside me. All the fluids he filled me with here barking to get out. Yeppers, it was gonna come out as soon as his thick, mostly hard meat was out of me.
“Careful,” he advised as we departed the bed.
His free arm wrapped around my chest, running his hand over my skin, massaging me. We made it into the shower. The pressure inside me was building. He must have remained aroused enough from the movement as his cock was returning to its full hardness.
“It’s gonna come out,” I warned him as he reached to turn the shower on, then rotated us slightly to seal the sliding glass door.
Gunnar’s hand went towards the jetting water, testing for the right temperature as our feet were being slapped with lukewarm water, slowly heating up.
“Ready?” he asked, preparing to pull himself out.
He didn’t wait for a replay, slowly pulling out. He removed his restraining arm from my waist and stomach, taking a step back as he withdrew completely. I turned around towards the shower jet immediately, and unloaded, clenching my eyes shut from the sensation and not wanting to see the mess I would leave behind. It was a very humbling experience, to say the least. I was wishing he was either turned away or just not in the shower with me altogether. There was a bit of air inside, causing all the jetting fluids to come out with a wet farting sound. Every drop seemed to escape in a matter of seconds. Finally, relief. It felt good to get it all out.
But I had to suck it up. I opened my eyes and looked down, relieved that I didn’t see my worst fear: shit. Indeed, all that was there was a vanishing yellow puddle and thick piles of white cum. Some of the gobs of cum had some pink coloration. His cock must have done some damage to my entrance, as would be expected after the way he used me.
I looked back into his eyes. He was smiling, clearly pleased with himself. He enjoyed filling me up. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time, and wanted more. I was so sore. A constant reminder of what it meant to be his fucktoy.
“I was sure I was gonna shit,” I laughed. “You have such a perfect cock.”
I admired his man meat for a moment. It was soft but still big and gorgeous.
Gunnar approached the warm stream from the shower head, and I moved aside to share it with him. We were facing each other, his huge, bulky chest a couple inches from him and our cocks touching. I aimed my head higher, meeting his gaze and locking eyes. He wrapped both arms around my torso, pulling me against him as the water poured between us. He leaned in and softly pressed his lips against mine, causing me to reciprocate by wrapping my own arms around his vast, muscular back. We kissed for a while, his hands venturing across my back and occasionally to my ass where he’d squeeze. I instinctively whimpered from the overwhelming joy and pleasure of the moment we were sharing.
“I love you, Gunnar,” I said, looking down without thinking in case my proclamation was rejected.
We hadn’t addressed that specific topic since the previous night. I was a bit self-conscious, especially over that sort of thing. He was my world, and I fell head-over-heals in love with him. Gunnar moved one of his hands to my chin, aiming my head back up to meet his eyes, a gentle smile on his face.
“I love you, too,” he admitted. “And not just cuz I'm using your fag holes.”
We laughed a bit at his joke before we kissed again for a few more seconds, then proceeded with our shower.
I had to use his body wash. Of course I was madly in love with him and every inch of his perfect body, but I liked his sweaty smell. I preferred my own body wash. I discovered Le Male by Jean Paul about a year prior. I loved it for its sweet smell of mint, lavender and vanilla while maintaining an undeniably masculine smell. My smell. The thought of applying the wrong smell to my body was not something that appealed to me. Not one bit, not at all. The hair gel wasn’t a problem since we both used Head and Shoulders, and the apple scent he used was a welcome change to my almond.
“Ew, it’s not my smell,” I complained, jokingly as I lathered myself up.
“C’mon you big baby,” he chuckled. “You’ll be fine.”
“Lies,” I proclaimed, laughing. “All lies.”
Gunnar laughed loudly.
“My fucking god, you’re too cute,” he said.
We both found much humor in this. The amount of joy and warmth I felt was unparalleled. The only thing that ever made me this happy was during the good ol’ days when my mother was still in my life, save for the first time Blake and I hugged after he had a tough time at his 4th birthday party, where he told me that just me being there was enough.
Finishing our shower, we dried off. Gunnar had me dry off with his towel first since he only had the one within reach without venturing into the carpet in the bedroom. He might be a ruthless, merciless, animalistic sexual partner, but he was also generous, thoughtful, and to those he cared about, caring, warm, compassionate and loving. I felt complete, bearing an almost perpetual smile on my face during the shower.
Whew, I thought to myself. Blake was definitely still asleep. His bedroom door was closed and the TV was off. Blake was a creature of habit, albeit a scatter-brained creature of habit. TV was his top priority first thing in the morning.
I snuck past his room, wrapped in the heavy, damp towel, my nicely built abs exposed. And then the worst thing happened, because of course it did. Please no. Blake’s door swung open, the kid bolting so fast toward the TV that I didn’t even realize it until I heard the sound of him jumping onto the couch. I thought I was safe, but Blake immediately jumped onto the floor with a thud and ran back toward me, a huge smile on his face.
“We’re going shopping!”
I laughed, grateful he didn’t seem to comprehend the fact that I was bearing a towel. Of course he was an oblivious kid, but I didn’t want him to see me with nothing but a towel around my waist. It wasn’t appropriate. I was his nanny, not his father. I should be somewhat professional in my appearance.
“We are! And don’t forget about the school supplies,” I reminded him, giggling since I knew that was something he wasn’t looking forward to. “But you can have a blue backpack, blue pencils, blue…”
“BLUE, BLUE, BLOOOOOOO!” he hollered as he spun around and ran back to the couch to watch his favorite cartoons.
I laughed loudly. I loved that kid so much. Such a beautiful soul, pure innocence. I missed being so young before I had adult responsibilities. I proceeded to my room. Well, maybe it was my old room depending on how my new relationship with Gunnar proceeded. I got dressed, sat on the bed and checked my phone for any new notifications. Nothing. Perfect. Just the way I like it.
I left the bedroom and proceeded down the hallway, making my way toward the kitchen to start breakfast. As I rounded the corner, I heard Blake and Gunnar conversing. They were sitting in their usual seats at the table. They were undoubtedly awaiting breakfast. But first thing’s first. I walked over to my scheduling paper, retrieving it from the table between the boys.
My eyes met with Gunnar’s as he smiled at me. Lord have absolute mercy. All that man had to do was smile to completely distract me, losing my train of thought.
“Just told Blake you’re moving in today,” Gunnar informed me as Blake’s attention was, naturally, fixated on the cartoons on the TV screen in the living room. “Isn’t that right, bud?”
Blake jerked his head over to his father at the speed of light.
“YES!” He exclaimed, refocussing on the cartoons
Gunnar chuckled. I leaned away from the table and made my way to the fridge. I was in work mode, so standing around the table didn’t seem appropriate. Until otherwise clarified and discussed, I went forward in a business-as-usual sort of way.
“Blake,” Gunnar said in a chuckle, again getting the same squirrelly response from his son. “Did you even hear what I said?”
“YES!” He again exclaimed, Gunnar giving the kid his raised-eyebrow look. “No.”
I laughed loudly, being ever amused by how silly Blake could be. But truly, I hoped he was okay with the plan that Gunnar wanted to implement. Blake was precious and I always believed he deserved the world. Despite my desires to be living with Gunnar, to see where our new ‘relationship’ would go, my biggest priority was Blake. If I suspected he didn’t want me living in the same house, it would be enough to be a deal breaker.
“How do you feel about Chris staying with us from now on?” Gunnar asked.
Blake looked down, searching his scatter-brain for the words to best describe his feelings. He was literally 5 years old. Just like an older computer, he needed a few moments to boot up.
“You won’t leave me anymore?” Blake asked innocently.
His question left me feeling warm inside, feeling wanted and appreciated.
“That’s right,” I affirmed. “No more Friday cry-days.”
Blake referred often to Fridays as cry-days. He rarely cried when I’d leave on Friday nights, but he hated it. I don’t know if he specifically knew he was guilt-tripping me regularly, but it definitely worked. Seeing him sad and unhappy always was like a dagger thru the heart.
I turned back to the fridge, opening it as I fished out the items to cook up.
“Avery has two dads,” Blade said, fidgeting with the place mat before him.
That definitely took me aback. Did he think I was about to be his second parent? I looked over to Gunnar, wide-eyed and brow raised. That certainly seemed like something for him to take the lead on. Blake was his kid, not mine. To me, it was important that he address that topic with Blake himself.
Avery and Blake had been best friends since they met in pre school. They hung out together often, only living a few blocks apart. Blake would be staying overnight at his house for Avery’s birthday. Avery had two dads, and to the kids, it was enough to set him apart, some wishing they could be the ‘cool kid’ with the more unique familial architecture. For the moment, they were all too young to understand that a significant portion of our neighbors and community didn’t exactly approve of such a lifestyle. But kids are innocent. They were 5 years old. They weren’t homophobic, racist, or bigots - they’re children.
Gunnar was quiet. His eyes stared down as he was likely searching for the best response. Somebody had to say something! Right? I mean, I suppose it made sense that Blake might have seen me as a father figure as well, considering I spent so much time with him and, as far he was concerned, lived in the same house most nights of the week. But was it my place to address it? I think not. I respected Gunnar, completely, and cherished his relationship with Blake. This was a big deal.
Knowing Gunnar, I’m sure it was something that made him uncomfortable. After all, his friend group wasn’t exactly accepting of that sorta thing. When Gunnar would have them over, usually to watch whatever game was on that had them interested, they’d regularly ridicule anyone they saw as ‘faggy’ or a ‘sissy.’ Gunnar’s vocabulary was shared by them all, frequently calling each other fags or cocksuckers when one of them showed weakness. They were rugged, loud and domineering. And to now have to deal with the thought of them finding out that his own child believed he had two dads? He was between a rock and a hard place. Sure, the objectively healthy response would be to cut ties and dismiss those who drug in that toxic atmosphere, but being human includes imperfection. It must have felt so sudden to Gunnar. He would soon have to decide how to proceed. He had to now balance his son’s inquiry on whether or not he had two dads, his obvious affection for me, and his world view.
I had to break the silence. Blake needed to hear a response. All I could do was change the subject. I rolled my eyes in annoyance before looking back to Blake.
“Waffles?” I asked, teasing Blake.
“WAFFLES!” Blake immediately exclaimed, rapidly slapping his hands on his placemat.
Crisis averted. Gunnar didn’t look at either of us, instead slowly leaning back into his chair as he ran his fingers thru his dense beard. His stoic expression didn’t fool me. He was distressed. So, I decided to do what I usually did, which was to give him space for his own thoughts.
We were all a bit quiet as I prepared breakfast, keeping conversation light as we ate. I tried not to dwell over it, focussing on my plans for the day. But just because I tried didn’t mean I succeeded. I kept hearing Blake’s comment about Avery’s dads rattle around my head and Gunnar’s response to it. Maybe we were moving too fast, that it was too soon for me to move in, if at all. All I could do was push my feelings as far down as I could and to focus on the here and now. So then, where exactly did we stand, Gunnar and I? Would our intimacy need to be a secret, something that could only exist in the dark? The thoughts became a bit depressing for me. I loved Gunnar, to my core. Even if we had to keep to the shadows, he was worth it.
Blake was excited, but well behaved in the clothing store. If there was blue, he was all over it. It was difficult keeping Blake focussed while searching for school supplies, but we got thru it. Blue jeans, blue pencils, blue backpack. Blue, blue, blue. It was all the rage. All that was left to do now was to get it all back to the house and drop him off at his friend’s place for the birthday sleepover.
Seeing him off, Blake ran to Avery’s front door whose father promptly opened the door, giving us a glimpse of the chaos inside; kids running around, a few parents chaperoning, and noise - lots of noise. We definitely dodged a bullet… but it was a bullet that would boomerang back to us during Blake’s sixth birthday which was just over a month away. Same sleepover, same kids, but at Gunnar’s house.
Gunnar and I waved a farewell to Blake as he disappeared inside with a backpack which contained his change of clothes and basic toiletries. Avery’s father waved to us with a smile. As he began to close the door, a herd of children seemed to swarm him as he tried to step into the chaos to close the door. He eventually succeeded, Gunnar and I laughing at the hilarity of the sight as we became grateful that we weren’t the ones orchestrating the swarm.
The drive back was… uncomfortable. We were in Gunnar’s truck as he drove. I was seated in the front passenger seat. The tension was so thick that I swear I could’ve cut it with a knife. Blake’s “dads” comment was developing a rift between myself and Gunnar. The uncertainty I felt the previous night had returned. Maybe it was all just too good to be true. He’d asked me to move in, even mentioned it to his kid. There was no further discussion. His friends would be over soon, an impromptu get together since Gunnar usually worked on Fridays, and if our plan was to get me moved in, we would need to do it then and there.
We sat in silence during the short drive. I couldn’t bring myself to look Gunnar in the eyes. I was uneasy, wanting nothing more than to hop out and run home to be alone.
As much as I tried not to, I felt angry and confused. We had professed our love to each other the previous night. The sex we enjoyed was otherworldly to me. I began to relive in my head the moment he was buried inside me, his powerful, hairy body atop my own while he stoked and caressed my smooth hair as he slowly inched his lips closer to mine. We shared something, I dare to say, magical. Something so profound that there could be no going back, no reversal to the norms which we shattered.
And now he couldn’t even talk to me? Couldn’t even address the fact that he had asked me to move in with him? He initiated all of it. He led us down this path and I willingly followed. Was he going to pretend that none of it happened? What universe could we possibly move forward like this? Did I do something wrong? Was I as much to blame?
I decided as we pulled into the driveway that I would be leaving at my regular time around 7PM to head to my apartment. It seemed the only thing I could do, the only proper decision. We both had a tendency to avoid deep, emotional conversations. It’s who we were. And this situation truly took the cake on that one. I tried to mentally prepare myself for an eventuality where I had to seek a new job. I was great with kids, and with my experience, I would be surprised if I couldn’t get a job at one of the daycare centers nearby. I had to allow myself to face reality. And that meant planning the possibilities of my uncertain future.
We departed the vehicle, staying behind as Gunnar slowly made his way to the house door. Was I even welcome to enter? I was annoyed and felt somehow betrayed. I opened myself up to him in a very intimate way, physically and emotionally. Was I truly just some faggot cocksucker to Gunnar? Just some piece of meat? I’m sure I would have been content with that, but we burned that bridge the previous night. Had we maintained a purely carnal interaction, there wouldn’t be an issue. But that’s not what happened. I reminded myself that Gunnar was the one who set this all into motion. I was, of course, to blame as well. I willingly obeyed his desires, participated, and even thanked him. As much as I wanted to be able to simply cast the blame elsewhere, I was also responsible for this. It takes two to tango, as they say. My world felt like it was crumbling, and no matter how I parsed it, I was equally to blame. I was beyond confused.
I had to acknowledge that Gunnar was his own person, that he was sculpted by his life experiences. A product of how he was raised. It wasn’t his fault that he felt how he felt, but he was responsible for his behavior in the here-and-now. The very same could be said about me. Either we worked thru this or it was over, whatever ‘this’ was.
“Comin’ in?” Gunnar asked, interrupting my circus of a thought-process.
“Yeah,” I simply replied.
Gunnar waited for me, entering after me as he closed the door. I walked immediately towards the dining room to fetch my pad of papers which I used as my scheduler. I needed to make sure that anything that needed to be done until my return the following Monday was written down and posted to the fridge, that is, assuming I did return. It was one of the things I went out of my way to do to help out.
Gunnar sat on the couch in the living room, remaining silent. Normally he’d be quick to throw something on the TV, but he instead just sat there. I tried my best to avoid him, which probably wasn’t the healthiest thing to do. But so did he.
The atmosphere was thick and heavy. His buddies would arrive soon. I wanted to try to make myself scarce when they arrived, not really wanting to be involved in their homophobic, testosterone-fueled banter.
I dismissed myself quickly into the spare room. My emotions were boiling over. I was about to have a complete breakdown and didn’t want Gunnar to know about it.
Closing the door, I leaned back against it, sliding slowly down toward the floor. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I covered my face with my hands, heaving as my tears began to fall. It felt like it was the only thing I could do. It lasted a few minutes. Recovering from tears, I let my torso slide onto the floor, assuming a fetal position on the carpet. I stayed like that a little while. Eventually, I got myself back up and started collecting my laundry. I sat on the bed. I wanted to just get up and leave, but was still on the clock for another hour or so.
I still had some stuff to do. As much as his friends annoyed me, I wanted to make sure they had some snacks and stuff to munch on so they wouldn’t be drinking on an empty stomach.
Summoning all the strength and integrity I had, I exited the spare room and proceeded to the kitchen to set out the snacks, walking past a quiet Gunnar who was adorned with a jersey in support of the team they were going to be cheering for.
Gunnar made his way into the kitchen behind me, getting himself an extra full glass of whiskey, his beverage of choice. He downed the entire glass in a couple gulps before refilling the glass. Neither of us knew what to say. Hell, we couldn’t even look each other in the eyes. If Gunnar was starting out that strong, he must have been in his feels too. The silence was deafening. Neither of us had the balls to say what needed to be said. We would go our separate ways for the weekend, just as we always did.
I was planning on stopping by a local club, or the ‘clurb’ as folks call it. It was a hotspot for picking up a quick piece of tail, hookups occurring often. I was hoping I’d get picked up by some random bruh, to fuck away my feeling. I was absolutely under age for drinking, but it was owned by my roommate’s parents, Jack and Heather, who treated me as their own son. They were cool like that, and I knew they’d serve me alcohol if I asked. Jack had a good-ol-boys relationship with a bunch of folks who served in the local government, so he could get away with bending the rules and serving whoever he wanted. He had a rule that any minors he served had to be close family and friends, at least 18 years old and out of high school.
I intended to drink my sorrows away, as Gunnar seemingly was already doing.
All hell broke loose when, one after the other, his five, testosterone-crazed, loud buddies began to pour thru the door.
Two of them had served with Gunnar, while the other three were old high school friends. They all bore the same supportive jerseys as Gunnar was wearing.
Mitch and Bruce had served with Gunnar in the Marines, sporting an identical hair cut to Gunnar. They’re beards also matched Gunnar’s. Mitch was the tallest of the three, standing at almost 6.5 feet, and Bruce was the shortest, just a couple inches taller than me.
Then there was Hunter, Ben and Dakota. Ben and Dakota were a bit more slim than Gunnar but similar in height. Those two were obviously gym-bros. Hunter sported a dad-bod, a thick piece of daddy meat who was by far the most confident in the group.
All in all, I could honestly say that they were pretty much one in the same. Just copy and paste. They practically shared a single brain cell when they were around each other. But none of them were as down-right sexy and masculine in the way Gunnar held himself. Gunnar was obviously the alpha male of the pack, with Hunter being the one who liked to play ‘poke the bear’ with Gunnar.
They entered rambunctiously and immediately began to chat it up and help themselves to the snacks I had put out. A couple of them brought in an individual twelve-pack of beer while the others set down some bottles of whiskey. Party time.
Gunnar was allowing himself to get swept into the banter, participating as he normally would. I continued to do my thing in the kitchen, putting away the boxes I hauled out to get the snacks ready back into the pantry. The group made their way into the garage, where they normally hung out to watch their games, led by none other than Gunnar.
I turned my attention to the cases of beer. I began to unload half of each box into the fridge to get them cooled down for the boys.
Before I could get the last couple of bottles into the fridge, one of the boys re-entered the house, making his way into the kitchen to continue munching on the goodies. They were all big dudes, so determining who was who based on footsteps wasn’t practical. They all wore eight inch boots, a thing that was pretty common around this part of town, something even I participated in.
I didn’t bother looking up. I wasn’t in the mood. Whoever it was had stepped very close to me and I could smell his cologne.
It was Hunter. Hunter was a very attractive man. He sported his dad-bod proudly, a confidence that I always found to be a redeeming quality. He knew what he had, and anyone who got a taste of him should consider themselves lucky.
“Sup, fag.” Hunter said to me.
I came to expect that sort of talk from all of them. I was used to it. It was easy enough to dismiss. Of course, it was different when Gunnar talked to me like that. Gunnar spoke that way with me on purpose as we shared the understanding that I indeed enjoyed being talked to dirty, being dominated.
“Hey,” I replied, looking back from the fridge as I closed the door to meet his eyes.
“Suck any good dicks lately?” he flatly asked, proceeding with the usual type of conversation he would have with me.
Hunter always seemed to have an interest in asking me stuff like that when he got a chance. I think he secretly was at least bisexual. He also served as jerk-off fuel for me on a pretty regular basis. He was a very attractive, big dude with a short haircut and full beard. I was beginning to recall the time when I’d walked in on him getting head from some whore on the spare bed I slept in at Gunnar’s house. He was clearly very well hung as I caught a glimpse of his thick shaft from the side. I think it happened just a few weeks prior to this night. I remembered his words so clearly after he egressed the room upon being sucked dry: “Don’t be jealous, I got plenty.”
He was the more, shall I say, fluid of the group, often declaring that a hole is a hole, teasing the others by grabbing his package and saying stuff like: “you seem to keep thinking about it. Somethin’ you wanna tell me?” It was, of course, fun and banter, which they all participated in to some extent. But Hunter was the most brazen.
“Not really,” I lied as I shuffled over to the sink, squeezing past him.
“A fuckin’ shame,” he nonchalantly said.
It was the first time he and I had been face to face since I witnessed him getting sucked off on the bed I regularly slept in. Knowing Hunter, he probably got a big kick out of knowing that a fag caught him getting a blowjob while in said fag’s bed. As long as he thought someone was thirsty for him, he was happy.
I could hear the fellas loudly shouting at the TV screen. The only voice missing was Hunter’s and I doubt any of them noticed his absence. But with Gunnar being in the other room, it dawned on me that I had a golden opportunity to slip away and avoid any awkwardness between us.
Some other thoughts crept into my head as well. I had another golden opportunity. I was angry, feeling miserable about how the day went with Gunnar. I was prepared to act out.
Hunter was hot. And I did indeed remember seeing his big member, shiny with saliva, being serviced. With the way he behaved and the things he’d said, maybe I had an opportunity to suck his dick. But again, I wanted to leave. So if I was gonna suck some dick that night, I needed to get to the club.
My mind was made up. At my earliest convenience, I’d quietly leave the house, driving myself home since the club I preferred was a short five minute walk. All I had to do was get Hunter to fuck off somewhere else. Easier said than done.
I was washing my hands at the sink; my last official action for the work week. Hunter was downing some more of the snacks after slamming an entire beer in seconds.
“Hey,” Hunter said in a low voice as he popped open the top of one of the open whiskey bottles.
I finished washing my hands and proceeded to dry off with the hand towel hanging from the dishwasher handle. I was prepared to engage with Hunter. To see if there was a possibility of quietly hooking up with him. Sure it was a long shot, but in my experience, the extra straight-acting bros are usually down to fuck. Let’s bring in the charm, I thought to myself.
I turned around to see Hunter pouring a glass of the whiskey. He set the bottle down and gently slid the glass toward me.
“Seems like you need this,” he said, gesturing to the glass of whiskey as he stated at the kitchen island. “Your shoulders look tense.”
We were only a few feet away from each other at that point, standing at opposite sides of our shared corner as I caught a whiff of his smelly jersey. I started down to the glass, not sure if I should drink in his presence. I was technically off the clock at that point. But like my shoulders? What's up with my shoulders bruh?
“Thanks,” I said to him as I lifted the glass and quickly downed it.
I might not have been the biggest dude around, but it was an unspoken truth around those parts that if you’re working and supporting yourself, you’re a real man. And real men get to drink. I drank pretty often, so I could handle a good helping of the nectar of the gods. I stood in silence as I set the glass down. Hunter and I had never had an actual conversation. This was a first, for both of us.
“Fuck, I needed that,” I said in a chuckle.
“You almost out of here?” he inquired.
“Yeah,” I affirmed. “Imma head out. Probably head to the clurb by my place for a bit.”
I leaned back against the counter behind me, summoning my inner straight-dude act to put on display.
“Shit,” he replied, grabbing his bear. “See ya around bro.”
He nodded to me as he dismissed himself back into the garage to rejoin the testosterone-fueled wailing and laughter. Well, so much for that idea. I’d definitely be looking for some other dick to suck at the club.
I retrieved my laundry bag and backpack, then quietly excused myself out the door. I started my car and sat there. I didn’t want to leave, but I couldn’t stand to be around Gunnar at that point. I shifted into reverse. Before letting off the brake, I looked back at the front door. Gunnar was standing in the doorway. We locked eyes for a moment. I had to leave. The pain, fear and anger I felt was too much. He waved at me as I began to reverse out of the driveway and into the cul-de-sac. I did not wave back.
I drove in silence to my apartment. To my relief, my roommates weren’t home. Perfect. I was having a hard time and I knew I’d be bad company at that point. The liquor I’d ingested was working, and I found it a bit easier to ignore my feelings. Once I got my stuff settled, I promptly made my way to the club.
As I walked in, Jack, the owner, instantly locked eyes with me. We nodded to each other as guys do. I made my way over to an unoccupied table in the corner, staring down at the dark wood, basking in the gentle light of the establishment as the smell of cooking food waffed over me. Finally.
Jack approached with a big smile which I did not reciprocate. His smile faded away as he got closer. He stood at the unoccupied chair for a moment.
“Hold tight, bud,” he said as he made his way back to the bar. “Heather, can you cover me for a bit?”
Heather was his wife. The two made relationships seem so easy. As I got older, I would come to understand that it takes a lot of time and a lot of patience. But I was still young and immature.
“Of course!” she replied in her usual, happy voice.
She looked up and noticed me in the corner.
“Hi Chris!” Heather exclaimed excitedly.
Her smile faded as Jack was quietly speaking to her. I couldn’t hear over the 80s rock music which filled the room with its ambiance, nor did I care at that point.
They were the two people in the world I felt closest to, save for the short time I felt even closer to Gunnar.
Jack returned to the table with a pair of glasses and my favorite whiskey. Ugh, I thought, I know what that means. It meant we were about to have a long conversation about stuff I specifically didn’t want to talk about. But then, I knew it was inevitable before I arrived. A part of me must have desired to unload my burdens.
Jack sat the glasses down and proceeded to fill up both of the glasses. He sat down across from me, pushing one of the glasses towards me. It was a familiar sight. We’d been here before, several times.
“I have a feeling we’ll be needing this,” Jack said in a chuckle.
He was a big dude. He reminded me a lot of Hunter, but without the annoying straight-bro act. A true gentleman, handsome and strong. He was bald and rocked it very well with his huge beard.
“So?” he inquired. “Lay it on me.”
I grasped the glass and began sipping on it, enjoying the warmth it caused on its way down.
“I don’t know,” I said, still looking down at the glass. “It’s a long story.”
“It’s a fresh bottle,” he joked, keeping it light-hearted. “Spill, boy.”
I looked into his eyes, tears forming as my emotions started to boil over again. I looked away in shame. The culture made it clear that a ‘real man’ keeps their feelings to themselves. I didn’t want to seem weak in front of Jack or Heather.
“That bad, huh?” he asked. “You know you can tell me anything, son.”
I pulled myself together and began to tell Jack everything. My feelings for Gunnar, the love we professed to each other, the absolutely unparalleled sexual chemistry between us, all the way to the moment I walked into the club that night. I had a lot to say, and my loose lips allowed me to divulge my unfiltered thoughts and feelings. Jack took it very well, not once shying away even during my overly-detailed description of the first kiss we’d shared, or even my intention of getting laid that night by someone else seemingly out of spite.
“Can I be honest with you?” Jack asked rhetorically.
He and I both knew that we didn’t pull punches with each other. Whether I liked it or not, he was about to tell me exactly what his thoughts were.
“Be gentle,” I said in a laugh, bracing myself.
We locked eyes, providing me with a sense of security. I was safe around Jack and Heather. They had always supported me in that way, always there for me when shit hit the proverbial fan.
“I think he loves you,” Jack started. “And you obviously feel the same way. You gotta understand, Chris, you and Gunnar were raised in very different environments. Different types of friends, different life-styles and shit. The moment his kid mentioned two dads was probably when it became real to him. Suddenly he’s having to figure out how to deal with all the homophobic stuff and to embrace a, potentially, life-altering situation. I imagine he’s trapped in his own version of the doom loop you’re caught in.”
I looked down at the table, nodding. He was right. And his words helped me cope and understand how Gunnar might have felt. Jack was just one of those truly down-to-earth people. Wisdom seemed to ooze from him at all times.
“As for a hook up,” he continued. “If that’s what you think you need, go for it. You’re young, cute. Anyone would be lucky to land you, bud. You’re not in a committed relationship. If you wanna get laid, get yourself laid.”
“Come on, man,” I teased, giggling and blushing as he fluffed my feathers. “I’m alright. I’m not that great.”
He laughed loudly, his hands on his beer belly as his body jiggled from the laughter.
He had a propensity to be brutally honest. And the fact that we weren’t actually related likely made it easier for him to talk to me as he did.
“Look around, kiddo,” he gestured to the rest of the establishment. “Lots of good-looking guys around here.”
Fortunately the music was loud enough that I doubt anyone heard a peep from our conversation, save for his guttural laughter which was almost a staple of his club.
Hearing the laughter, Heather must have determined it was a good time to come over. She was used to our little pow-wows and usually hung back to let “the boys” talk it out. Heather walked over with a plate of tater tots, set them on the table and leaned down toward Jack, giving each other a quick peck on the lips.
“Chris,” she said in a motherly tone. “You need a hug.”
It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. I smiled, standing up with Jack as we initiated a three-way hug. I loved them so much.
“I don’t know what I’d do with you guys,” I said, enjoying the caring embrace from the wedded couple.
“You’d be sober,” Heather joked, her body slightly heaving as she chuckled.
Ending the hug, Heather and Jack kept a hand on my respective shoulders.
“We will always love you,” Heather assured me.
“We support you no matter what, Chris,” Jack said.
Maybe all I really needed was a sappy, cliche moment with them. I felt whole… for the most part. There was still a tear in my heart that I couldn’t ignore. But the whiskey was definitely helping to quell the remainder of my unwanted thoughts.
I had enough to drink by that time that I decided I was indeed going to stick around and see if I could attract some attention.
“I’ll leave the bottle,” Jack said to me as he started to turn around to head back to his work. “On me, bud.”
I grinned at him and nodded, saluting his tribute to my misery.
“You better eat some of that or I’ll kick your ass,” Heather said in her motherly tone, pointing to the tots. “Whiskey on an empty stomach is a no-no.”
I laughed a bit, giving them both a thankful look. They returned to business as usual, leaving me to ponder the food for thought that Jack gave me.
So I sat there, drinking away slowly at the whiskey and munching on the taters. Maybe all I needed was to sit there in silence with my inebriated thoughts. I was feeling better. Gunnar and the boys had probably gone their separate ways for the evening. My mind focussed on replaying the events from the previous night. It felt heavy. I pushed it aside as best I could. My attention was taken away from my runaway thought process as someone approached my table.
“Well how bout that,” said a burly, familiar voice.
I looked up, locking eyes with Hunter. He had a big, shit-eating grin on his face. Please no, literally anybody but Hunter, I thought. I lightly scowled at him, raising my right eyebrow. This dude. Ugh. Literally, his presence was enough to annoy me. Welp, time to head out, I thought to myself. But another thought was there too. My mind flashed back to seeing his big cock being sucked. Blood was making its way into my loins. Yeah he was annoying, but he was a sexy dude. Maybe…
“Had a feeling you’d be here,” he smirked as he took a seat across from me, uninvited.
It was a fine line balancing my annoyance and simultaneous desire to suck his dick. I mean, he was fine as fuck and I bet he tasted good. Sometimes his straight alpha bro shtick felt old. But the whiskey was doing its job quite well. I found myself capable of getting my annoyance under control.
“Sup,” I greeted as I looked him in the eyes.
He helped himself to the bottle, pouring a sizable portion of whiskey into the glass that Jack had left behind.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he said as he began sipping his free beverage, spreading his legs wide as one would expect of him.
I remained quiet as I cradled my own glass.
“So uh,” Hunter began. “Was definitely some tension in that place. You good?”
I was surprised he picked up on it. He’s always seemed so obtuse. And stupid.
“I’m alright,” I said in an attempt to avoid having that conversation. Hunter was truly the last person in the world I wanted to talk to about that stuff.
“You never answered my question,” Hunter stated.
I gave him a puzzled look.
“Suck any good dicks lately?” he asked as his hand moved down to his crotch.
Of course he went there. It’s not like it surprised me. He seemed to have a one-track mind. It was striking how similar the scene appeared compared to what I had experienced with Gunnar. Like I said: one brain cell, pretty much just copy and paste.
“I wish,” I lied, not wanting to mention how I got my holes used by Gunnar the night before… assuming Gunnar didn’t tell his friends about it.
I admitted it to myself. I may have been inebriated, but I was still clear-minded enough to make the choice. I was going to try to suck his dick. Hunter was certainly physically attractive. And his full-of-himself attitude was sort of a turn on for me. I liked that sorta thing in a man. He was wearing a wife-beater under his worn jersey, cargo shorts and his boots. I could get on board with that, I thought to myself. His shit-eating grin returned.
“Damn shame,” he said, swallowing the remainder of the whiskey from his glass. “Must be thirsty.”
He continued massaging himself. It was painfully obvious to me at that point. He came to this very club expecting to get himself a hole for his cock. And I was very thirsty.
I bit my lip, finding his obnoxious, self-assured attitude sexier by the second. I started to envision myself on my knees like the whore who I caught slobbering on his rod. I bet he tastes good, I thought to myself. I was about to put it out there. I was about to put on the best act I could. I had liquid courage flowing thru my veins. I was thirsty for a big cock. All I wanted in that moment was to wrap my lips around a big, manly dick.
“Yeah,” I said, giving him a genuine look of confidence and agreement. “If there ain’t a cock in my mouth, I must be doing something wrong.”
I sat back, spreading my legs to mirror him, resting my unoccupied hand on my lap close to my own cock.
His big grin continued as he poured himself another glass from the open bottle, then reached over to pour the remainder into my own glass.
“I bet you just wanna wrap those fag lips around a nice, juicy cock,” he said, obviously trying to entice me.
I did. Big time.
Time to pull out the big guns, I thought. He wanted to get sucked off by a thirsty bitch, and I was going to do what I could to make that happen.
“Ever since I saw you getting head from that slut,” I began, rubbing my tongue across the inside of my cheek provocatively. “I’m like, you lucky fuckin’ slut. Did she even swallow?”
Hunter bit his lip as I did before. Bullseye. Damn I’m good, I thought to myself in an uncharacteristically self-confident attitude.
“Nah, she couldn’t even handle the whole thing,” he said as I allowed him to take the lead.
This dude was putty in my hands and didn’t even know it. I’m sure he thought he was edging me towards giving him head, but I was one in control. I had him right where I wanted him.
Sure, I loved being verbally degraded and called all sorts of dirty stuff, but I was still a man, full of cum and testosterone. Fags like me only tolerate that shit when we’re getting dicked down, when we desired to be used and verbally battered. Yes, I would suck Hunter’s dick and even tolerate his verbal alpha dirty talk, but only to fulfill my own desires. The only person who I’d submit myself to in that way, to willingly give over my dignity to, was Gunnar.
“Dumb fuckin’ bitch,” I said. “It should be law, all cocksuckers have to swallow. If you can breathe, you’re doing it wrong. Spitters are quitters.”
I was allowing myself to think with my dickhead. All I wanted was to suck a nice cock. Hunter had a nice cock, as far as I could tell. That was all I needed to know.
“Fuckin’ A,” Hunter said, his grin becoming even bigger. “You must be a natural-born fag.”
I gave him my cute smile, giggling a bit. I wanted him to think I found him funny.
“Prolly wished you coulda finish the job, huh?” he rhetorically remarked as he vulgarly rubbed himself thru his shorts.
I licked my lips, knowing full well he would see it. His grin turned into a smirk. As far as he was concerned, he just secured himself a free mouth to dump his load into. As far as I was concerned, I was about to quench my thirst on a big, straight cock.
“I could be so lucky,” I replied, sealing the deal as my own cock became rock hard.
“Maybe we should get outta here,” he began. “Show my fat cock a good time.”
Fuck yes! The way he talked about his cock was turning me on. Big time. Hunter stood up and slammed the remainder of his whiskey. I remained seated. I wanted him to work for it a bit more, and I got exactly what I wanted. Hunter leaned down, resting his big hands on the table as he looked me in the eyes.
“C’mon,” he directed me.
I stood up, setting my mostly finished glass of whiskey and stepped aside to push my chair in. He leaned in and quickly swiped the glass, downing it himself.
“Don’t waste good whiskey, pussy,” he remarked.
I wanted his cock in my mouth so badly by that point. His alpha male presence was intoxicating, more so than the liquor itself.
I hid my excitement, keeping my gaze low as I let him lead me out of the club. I glanced back at Jack at the counter, who gave me a farewell smile.
I followed Hunter to his truck at the back of the parking lot. It was a big rig, matching perfectly his own size and had heavily tinted windows. I remained behind him, envisioning myself demonstrating my deep throat skills on him. He unlocked the truck and hopped into the driver’s seat. I followed suit, jumping into the passenger seat. It was getting dark outside, and with his tinted windows, we had lots of privacy. If he whipped his cock out in there, I would dive right in without a second thought.
And that’s exactly what he did. As soon as I closed the door, he began to unbuckle his belt. Like a true horn-dog who mainly used his cockhead as a brain, he was gonna get that blowjob as soon as he could. I looked over to observe and I sat back in the rather comfortable seat. He was wearing grey boxers. Boxers meant his balls were able to get sweaty up against his big legs. Sweaty meant tasty. And damn, he had a really nice bulge. I didn’t have long to admire it as he swiftly revealed himself, giving me a great view of his solidly hard cock. It was a very nice cock. His shaft was slightly veiny, a nicely sized cockhead to compliment his length, lovely circumcision scar and coloration, and very plump, large, mostly hairless balls. His pubes were short, clearly trimmed, and spanned upward. He might not have been as big as Gunnar, but damn if it wasn’t mouth watering. It had a desirable, very slight curve, ideal for deepthroating. I found myself almost upset that the whore who I caught servicing him wasn’t grateful enough to suck him properly. How dare she not properly work such an awesome cock, choking herself on its length.
My liquored up mind wanted it. I craved it. His cock was so wonderfully thick, long, and the thick tube that spanned the length almost seemed to call my name, demanding my tongue get to work. I wanted to show Hunter what he deserved. Such a sexy, big dude with a delicious cock deserves to be gagged on, I thought to myself.
Hunter was staring at me, watching me stare in awe and lust at his big package. I looked into his eyes, my mouth slightly open in anticipation. Fuck, I was thirsty. I was prepared to destroy my mouth and throat on his cock, to swallow every single drop of him hot cum.
“I bet you’re hard as fuck,” Hunter taunted, breaking the silence as he gripped his big, straight bro cock. “Show me.”
He insisted I show him my own package. Okay. I had nothing to hide. I might not have sported a very impressive cock compared to him, but it was nothing to be shy about. My thick 6.5 inches was more than enough for someone to struggle on. I immediately began to undo my belt and pants. In a fury, I yanked down my briefs to reveal my leaking cock, looking back to Hunter for approval. I didn’t expect his next move. He grinned and reached over, wrapping his big hand around my cock. It felt so good. He immediately began to jerk me off. I leaned further back into my seat as he slowly worked my length with his warm hand.
“Fuck yeah,” I moaned, enjoying the treatment.
One thing was for sure: Hunter liked cock, too. Why else would he have started to jerk me off? He seemed mesmerized by my cock, watching as it flexed in his firm grip. Granted, I did have a rather gorgeous cock, but it still surprised me considering I thought Hunter was pretty much straight. He released his grip on my rod and I immediately wanted more. His hand felt really good. I was breathing heavily thru my mouth by now. My eyes migrated quickly over to his own leaking cock. He wasted no time, putting his beefy hand on the back of neck, applying pressure toward him. He was trying to pull my mouth onto his cock. I was only too happy to comply. I leaned over, adjusting my body, and shoved my nose against his big balls, inhaling deeply. I wanted to take in his testosterone-soaked body, to smell the many sweat that had been accruing on this warm day. It was nice, pungent and strong. I found myself comparing it to Gunnar’s smell without realizing it. It wasn’t quite as identical to my own, but it was definitely something I enjoyed. He began to grip his fingers thru my hair, pulling me up towards his leaking cockhead, my mouth open wide in anticipation. He pushed me down half way down his shaft, my lips immediately wrapping around it as I applied suction and worked the shaft with my tongue. I gripped my hardon and slowly began jerking myself, closing my eyes and bracing for him to take a plunge.
“Oh fuck yeah,” he moaned quietly as his cock was engulfed in my warm mouth. “Suck it. Yeah, baby, suck on that cock.”
He began thrusting in and out, stopping when he reached the barrier to my throat. Why wasn’t he slamming himself balls deep? He did want a throat job, right? I guess Gunnar was the only true alpha in his friend group. I did what I could to stay interested, imagining myself being savagely used by Gunnar’s monster cock, the way he seemed to enjoyed seeing me struggle.
I decided I needed to take matters into my own hands. I opened my throat as much as I could, and forced my way down to the hilt on his next thrust. His grip on my head tightened and he thrust upward to get even more into my throat hole.
“Oh my god,” he sighed in pleasure. “Throat it, boy.”
Sadly, he released my head entirely. I was on my own to throat fuck myself. So be it. I wanted it, bad.
Imagining Gunnar brutalizing my throat, I pounded my face repeatedly into his sweaty balls. I went as hard as I could. It was the only way to satisfy my desires.
“I’m gonna cum,” he shouted, finally assuming control by holding my head down. “Oh fuck, swallow it, swallow it, swallow it.”
He held my head down, filling my throat deep with his big cock as I felt him pulsate. Finally, he was taking it how he wanted it. Somehow I expected him to be rougher. I couldn’t make myself cum, either. It just wasn’t rough enough. I liked to be talked dirty to. I liked to give control to a man who knew how to use me. I liked giving myself to Gunnar. I fucking LOVED giving myself to Gunnar. Was he the only one who could excite me the way he did? Why was he the only thing I could actually focus on? Everytime I looked at Hunter, I was subconsciously comparing him to Gunnar. Even after all the alcohol, all I could think about was Gunnar.
Fuck!
Gunnar, Gunnar, fucking GUNNAR!
I couldn't get him out of my head.
I imagined I was choking on Gunnar’s monster as I deepthroated and massaged Hunter’s spent cock, making sure I didn’t miss a single drop. Hunter tasted good, but not good enough.
I did my best to pretend to have been satisfied by his dick. I showed him what that whore should have done for him. I was finished with Hunter. I sat up and laid back, tucking my hungry cock back into my briefs and rebuckled my pants, wiping my face with the sleeve of my sweater. I relaxed back into the seat, staring emptily and longingly thru the windscreen at the uniform yellow lights which adorned the side of the club. I missed him so much. He was my everything. And I sat here and fucked my face hole on a cock that wasn’t Gunnar? It felt wrong. Like I was a failure as a person.
I didn’t notice Hunter putting himself back into his pants. I looked over to him. He was drained and happy, breathing thru his mouth as he recovered from his cum.
“Let’s keep it between us, huh?” Hunter suggested.
I nodded in agreement, preparing to depart the vehicle and head home in shame of what I had just done.
“Hey, uh,” he began. “How long you two been fucking?”
I froze. Absolutely static. I’m sorry, what now? It was painfully obvious what he meant. I wasn’t about to play stupid. I had enough to drink, I felt like shit to my core, and didn’t want to rehash anything.
“Something went down,” Hunter stated. “I could taste the fucking tension in the air.”
I considered my options. Should I just come out and admit that Gunnar fucked me? Should I keep it to myself and play stupid? But then, I didn't care much for Hunter’s opinion of me. To say I respected as a person, by that point, was a bit of a stretch. He wasn't worth lying to.
“Last night…” I said. “We sorta fooled around, a little bit.”
Hunter nodded, as if it wasn’t a surprise.
“You suck cock like a pro,” he commented. “He’s fucking lucky.”
It was a huge compliment, especially from Hunter. I’d have expected him to go running to Gunnar to brag about how he got himself serviced by me. For some reason, I felt like I could trust Hunter. Maybe there was something about me that made people open up to me. This was a side of Hunter I didn’t know existed. He was calm, collected and his questions and comments were actually substantive for once.
I smiled at his compliment.
“Thanks,” I replied. “I feel like garbage.”
“I can tell,” he said, matter of factly. “Had a feelin’. Maybe shouldn’t’ve made you blow me.”
Was he ashamed? I was the one who practically rolled out the red carpet for his cock to enter my mouth.
“I wanted to,” I said, looking back into his eyes. “You’re hot, bruh.”
Hunter laughed.
“Trust me,” he replied. “I know.”
Even after leveling with me, he still had to be the way he was. He was definitely hot, hot enough that anyone would be lucky to be on their knees for him, but he wasn’t hot for me. In my heart, inescapably, Gunnar was the only one who was hot to me.
“I’ve known that sum-bitch for twenty years,” Hunter explained in a chuckle. “He has a fat fuckin’ crush on you. He hasn’t said it to the boys, but none of ‘em know him like me. I seen the way he looks at you. He’s in love. Either that or some bullshit medical condition.”
He made himself laugh as he said it. I joined. It was a good moment to help diffuse the situation. I stared down to the seat between my legs. What have I done? Did I just destroy any possibility of being with him? My eyes were watering. It hit so suddenly.
Hunter must have noticed my face flush.
“Don’t get me wrong, he can be a real fuckin’ ass hole,” he continued, trying to keep the mood light. “Give him a chance. The way he looks at you, I only seen that look three times since I met him.”
I was intrigued. Three times? What look? I looked into his eyes and he continued.
“With his mom,” he began, gesturing with a single digit on his hand.
“His kid,” gesturing a second digit.
“And you,” gesturing a third digit.
I nodded my understanding.
“Chris,” Hunter said. “He’d do anything for you.”
I just continued to stare at him, the embodiment of my betrayal of Gunnar. What have I done? Oh my fucking god, I killed it! I ruined it all. My thoughts were uncontrollably rollercoasting.
“He’s a total pussy,” Hunter chuckled. “Don’t be afraid to kick him in the ass for his own good.”
Despite all my preconceptions, albeit well earned, Hunter wasn’t a total meat-head after all. He genuinely cared about Gunnar. And he was, as evident by the way he put his load in my stomach, a gentle man.
“You should go see him,” Hunter suggested.
I stared at him as he had horns growing from his head. Now I was certainly no expert, but I knew the whiskey I drank was hitting harder than anything he had that night, combined.
“He kicked us out,” Hunter began, saying it as if it wasn't something new or unexpected. “All of us. Just totally blew his shit. Somethin’ bout us being too loud and getting in the way.”
He winked at me. I understood. If his friends hadn't been over, we'd have had more time to figure out what we were feeling and how to proceed. But it wasn't their fault, none of them. They were literally just friends who wanted to spend time together. My heart felt so heavy. I wanted nothing more than to feel Gunnar’s arms around me. And the thing that I just then realized was my biggest fear? Blake. He was so important to me. He would be devastated if I got a new job and stopped showing up. If things fell thru with Gunnar, Blake would be the one to suffer. I had been in his life as long as the kid could remember. If for no other reason than for Blake, I had to do something - anything. I’m the one who left without saying goodbye. How would Gunnar feel if he saw me? How would I be able to look him in the eyes after blowing Hunter? Was that in itself a deal breaker? The alcohol in my veins wasn’t helping as much I would have hoped. My thoughts kept rolling and my emotions were closer to the surface than normal.
Hunter placed his hand on my shoulder as I looked down, halting my runaway thoughts.
“Kid, all I'm saying is, there's nothing he needs more right now than to see you. And by the look of your shoulders, you need it too.”
What was happening with my shoulders? Did Hunter have some fucking guide to interpret faggy shoulders? Bruh.
I didn't say anything. I stared down to the floorboards. The truck started with a rumble. He shifted into gear and slowly made his way to the parking lot exit.
“Where we headed?” he asked me as he came to a stop at the exit. “Your place is just down the street right? The grey one?”
“Yeah,” I affirmed.
He flipped on his signal and drove out of the parking, heading toward home. Being just down the street, it was a very short drive as he pulled into the parking lot of the complex. He pulled into a vacant space and shifted to park, automatically illuminating the cabin in a gentle, warm glow. I just sat there, feeling miserable, my heart heavy.
“What’s up?” Hunter inquired, noticing my reluctance to egress.
My tears were welling up… again.
“Don’t wanna head in?” he asked, eliciting a slight shake of my head.
I did not want to go in there. It wasn’t where I wanted to be. It was a reminder of the distance between myself and Gunnar. All I could think about was how much I didn’t want to be in that bed. I wanted to be in Gunnar’s bed, feeling his warm embrace. Falling asleep with him had been a dream come true. Waking up to see his face was magical, a moment I wanted to revisit and experience again. It was a feeling of completion. I didn’t want to live without him. We had a close relationship and we knew each other inside and out. It developed into an intimacy that, to me, was unparalleled. Something I didn’t want to live without.
Without a word, Hunter began to reverse out of the space, casting the cabin back into the dark. The sun was down. The only lights coming from the cool blue backlighting on the truck’s instruments and the yellow glow of the surrounding street lamps, smelling the diesel his rig was burning as the exhaust waffed thru the slightly opened windows as it occasionally replaced the warm summer air. Good ol diesel.
He drove us out of the lot and onto the road. I didn’t know where he was headed, and to be honest, I didn’t care. I felt cold and dead inside. Nothing mattered. No more tears. He could have driven us off a cliff and I’m sure I would have sat there quietly and let it happen. Hell, he could have planned on doing away with me and ditching my remains on the side of the road and I still wouldn’t care.
We were both silent, neither of us speaking as he continued to drive. It lasted for about five minutes, eventually coming to a stop against a sidewalk before he shifted to park.
I looked up, not really curious where we were but more so just an instinctive reaction.
I felt a pit in my stomach as I took in the surroundings. We were at Gunnar’s house. I looked back to Hunter in horror, my mouth ajar. Of all the things he could have done, all the places he could have driven to… here of all places? Seriously my dude? I supposed I really couldn’t complain, after all it was a free ride and I did linger instead of getting out where we first stopped. Did I unknowingly stay in his rig on the chance that he’d bring me here?
“I promise,” Hunter explained in a quiet tone. “Just go in. You need this.”
No sir, actually I needed anything but this, I thought to myself. But I knew he was right. I couldn’t get Gunnar out of my head. The thought of crawling into bed without his presence was paralyzing. My heart felt dead, my emotions of sorrow had subsided and all that was left was a cold corpse.
I looked to the front door as it basked in the gentle glow of the porch light. Looking back to Hunter, we locked eyes. He gave a nod in the direction of the house, inviting me to head in, and more importantly, get me out of his vehicle so he could ditch my gay ass and fuck off to whereever, presumable anywhere but here. I think Hunter felt obligated. Deep down, he was a good person. I think he regretted getting a blowjob from me, perhaps believing he betrayed his friend, and that he had to do his part.
But I couldn’t bring myself to pull the handle. I gripped it but couldn’t get it to budge. I was terrified, doubtful. I wanted to hide under a rock. I just kept holding onto that damn handle like it was the only thing in the world I could do.
“You got this,” he continued in an attempt to help me find my courage. “That dude’s a pushover for you. He needs this, too.”
I took a huge breath, held it for a moment and exhaled slowly.
“Thank you, Hunter,” I said, expressing gratitude. “I uh… I really appreciate it.”
He smiled, nodding as guys do. There was nothing more to be said. It was time to bite the bullet.
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