To those reading and waiting for the next part of Zach and Aiden's story, thank you for your patience. I am in the process of writing the (possible) last part of the story. It might take a while though. But in the meantime, enjoy this little thing I came up with while trying to clear my writer's block. 😊
“Wait! Mrs. Hamilton!” Landon jogged a few steps down the driveway.
He stood six-foot-two, showcasing the lean hard-packed muscle of someone who hit the gym out of habit rather than obsession. An engineering sophomore at Northwestern University just down the road, he carried himself with the easy confidence of someone who fit right into the prestigious campus. His hair was a medium-length blonde, swept back casually as if running fingers through it was his only styling routine. He possessed that striking all-American handsomeness, a face with rugged symmetry anchored by heavy low-set eyebrows and eyes the color of the sky. His nose was straight and commanding, set above a jawline so sharp it seemed carved from marble. Full firm lips often caught in a thoughtful smirk completed a look that effortlessly commanded attention. He was dressed for a lazy spring morning in a plain black t-shirt that clung to his chest and white athletic shorts. His feet were slid into black rubber sliders worn over a pair of thick black crew socks that hugged his calves.
In his hands were a small Tupperware of lemon squares and a bigger container still warm with double chocolate chip cookies.
Mrs. Hamilton already had her hand on the Lexus door when she glanced back. A polite smile flicked across her face, the kind that said she was already halfway to the office in her head. Morning wind tugged at her blonde bob, scattering strands across her cheek as she squinted into the light.
“Morning, Landon,” she greeted, her voice crisp and efficient. “You’re up early for spring break. What’s all this?”
Landon adjusted his grip on the containers and offered her a quick grin. “Mom went a little crazy with the baking this morning. She figured you and Mr. Hamilton could use something sweet to get through the week.” He lifted the smaller Tupperware. “These lemon squares are for you. She knows they’re your favorite. Thought you might want them for the office.”
Mrs. Hamilton’s face lit up, though her eyes flicked to her watch. “You’re a sweetheart, Landon. Tell Alicia we’re grateful. She’s always been so thoughtful.” She exhaled, already shifting her weight toward the car. “Listen, I’m running ten minutes late for my hospital shift and the ER doesn’t wait for anyone. Do me a favor, please? Just take the rest inside. The back door to the kitchen’s unlocked.”
“No problem, Mrs. Hamilton. I’ve got it.” Landon stepped closer and passed her the lemon squares. She accepted them with a quick nod of thanks, slid into the Lexus and started the engine. As she backed down the driveway, he stayed put for a moment, the heavier bowl of cookies solid in his hands.
He walked toward the back of the house, the rubber sliders clicking softly against the concrete patio. When he reached the back door, he tried the handle. It gave way with a faint click, admitting him into a kitchen that smelled of expensive coffee and lemon-scented polish. It was a sterile quiet space, devoid of the chaotic warmth of his own home. He set the cookies on the granite island, the plastic bowl making a dull thud and turned to leave, ready to be gone before anyone noticed.
Then an odd sound broke the quiet. Muffled and low, it drifted down from the second floor. A strange heavy breathing that sounded like someone struggling to move something or catching their breath. Landon stopped in his tracks, looking up toward the ceiling. As far as he knew, the house was supposed to be quiet. Mr. Hamilton was usually locked away in his first-floor office taking back-to-back calls around this time so the noise up top felt out of place.
Thinking maybe a window had been left open or someone was moving boxes around, Landon stepped toward the stairs. Pure curiosity pulled him up, his rubber sliders making almost no sound against the plush carpet runner. He was not trying to snoop. He was just genuinely puzzled by the repeating sound as it grew clearer with every step.
It led him down the hallway toward the master suite, where the heavy door was left slightly ajar. Expecting to just peer in and see what was going on, Landon eased closer to the opening, entirely unprepared for whatever was waiting inside.
Mr. Hamilton was kneeling on the bed, back to the doorway, body arched and shaking. He still had on the crisp white button-down and navy blazer, the corporate look looking completely wrong against everything happening below. Pants and underwear were gone. Pale thighs trembled as he gripped the edge of the mattress. Sheer black dress socks still covered his feet, toes curling tight into the sheets with every move. Between his cheeks, a thick realistic dildo was buried deep inside him and the older man was riding it with a desperate frantic intensity, his hips rolling as he drove himself down onto the toy.
The sight hit Landon harder than he expected. He stood frozen in the hallway, eyes locked on the older man’s back as those shoulder blades flexed under the blazer with every desperate roll of his hips. The broken sounds of half pain and half pure need the older man made crawled under Landon’s skin. It should have been disgusting. Part of him wanted it to be. This was Mr. Hamilton. Their neighbor. The quiet polished guy who waved from the driveway and asked about school. Seeing him like this—pants gone, dress socks still on, fucking himself open on a thick toy like he could not stop—felt wrong on every level.
Heat flooded low and fast. His cock thickened and pushed against the front of his shorts before he could even process it. The reaction pissed him off. A sharp twist of repulsion followed right behind the arousal, rolling through his stomach. He almost stepped back. Almost. He was not gay. He had a girlfriend he actually loved. He liked girls, always had. Yet here he was, staring and getting hard over the sight of a middle-aged married man reduced to this secret mess.
Confusion kept stacking on top of the heat. Why could he not look away? Why did it make his pulse hammer harder? Mr. Hamilton looked powerful and completely broken at the same time. That vulnerability, the way he chased his own pleasure like it was the only thing that mattered, scratched at something Landon did not have a name for. It felt dirty. It felt like a violation just to keep watching. And still, his cock kept swelling.
He swallowed. The house around them stayed dead quiet except for those wet sounds and Jake’s ragged breathing. Landon could leave right now. Walk downstairs, pretend he never heard anything, go home to his normal spring break. Instead he stayed rooted, eyes tracking every desperate thrust, the way the toy disappeared and the older man’s thighs trembled. The longer he watched, the hotter and more tangled the feelings got—repulsion, fascination and an unwanted hunger all twisting together in his gut.
He thought of Jake as the neighborhood pillar. Jacob Hamilton, the Senior Management Consultant who spoke in measured tones and wore a gold watch that cost more than Landon’s tuition. He was the father of three, the guy who had helped him fix a bike chain ten years ago. He still thought of Jake the way everyone in the neighborhood did—the reliable one, the steady presence. Jacob Hamilton, the Senior Management Consultant who always spoke in measured tones and never raised his voice. Father of three. The guy who had helped a much younger Landon fix a stuck bike chain on the sidewalk ten years ago and then walked him all the way home. He was the neighbor who checked in after storms, who remembered birthdays, who waved from his driveway like clockwork. Respected. Kind. The kind of man people trusted without thinking twice.
The sight of him now was an explosion of contradictions. Jake’s pace shifted, his hips snapping down with a frantic desperate speed. He was not just playing. He was fighting for it. His hips slammed down harder, chasing it. His back bowed sharp, fingers twisting into the sheets as he forced himself deeper onto the toy. A raw broken sound tore out of him—half groan, half surrender—and then his whole body locked up. He came hard while untouched, muscles seizing as the orgasm ripped through him in long shaking waves.
Exhaustion took over instantly. Jake collapsed forward, his chest hitting the mattress with a thud. He stayed there face-down and arms loose at his sides, completely spent. But his hips remained raised, ass still up in the air, the toy buried deep inside him. He did not reach back to pull it out. It stayed lodged there while he just breathed, rough and uneven, the last small tremors still running through his thighs. The room went quiet except for that ragged breathing and the low hum of the air conditioning.
Something in Landon just broke open. No more second-guessing. He pushed the door wider and stepped inside, crossing the carpet quiet and fast until he stood over the bed. Jake was still floating in the afterglow, eyes shut and completely unaware. Landon reached down, closed his hand around the base of the toy and shoved it in hard, driving it all the way against that sensitive spot.
Jake let out a choked cry and jerked hard. He scrambled forward on pure instinct, fingers digging into the sheets as he twisted to look back, eyes wide and stunned. “What—Landon? What the hell are you doing?” His voice cracked.
Landon did not answer. He did not look at his face either. Instead he planted his free hand firmly between Jake’s shoulder blades and shoved him back down into the mattress, pinning him there so he could not get away. His eyes stayed locked on the way the older man’s hole stretched around the thick silicone. He tightened his grip on the toy and started working it, pulling almost out, then slamming it home again and again.
Jake squirmed, stuck between panic and the pleasure already building again. He tried to push up and get away but his arms felt weak and shaky after coming so hard. Landon just pressed down harder between his shoulder blades, pinning him firmly to the mattress so he could not go anywhere.
“Stop… you can’t… oh god—” The words broke apart into shaky sounds as Landon kept working the toy faster and deeper.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Hamilton?” Landon asked, sounding nothing like the polite kid from next door. “You sound like you hate this. But from the hallway you looked like a total slut fucking yourself stupid. So which is it, you want it or not?” He punctuated the question with a hard thrust that made Jake’s hips jump.
Jake’s breath caught. His face stayed buried in the pillows. Landon could hear the shame thick in his voice but whatever fight the older man had left seemed to short-circuit the second a younger stronger body took over.
“I… I shouldn’t… please,” Jake whimpered. He did not pull away though. Instead his back arched and he pushed his ass back into Landon’s hand, chasing the friction like he could not help it.
That quiet give only made Landon meaner. He grabbed Jake’s hip with his free hand, fingers sinking into the soft flesh to hold him steady and started fucking him with the toy even harder.
“Stop? You’re shaking for it,” Landon muttered, cold and mocking. He did not ease up a bit. “So damn sensitive, Mr. Hamilton. Overstimulated?” He leaned closer, catching the mix of cologne and sex. Whatever composure the older man usually carried was gone. All that was left were raw desperate sounds that barely sounded human.
Landon stopped abruptly. He yanked the toy out in one wet sliding pull, the sudden emptiness leaving Jake gasping and shivering. Before the older man could even try to cover himself, Landon grabbed his shoulders and flipped him onto his back with one clean strong motion. The older man landed hard, chest heaving, eyes wide and glassy with a messy mix of fear and leftover heat.
Up close, without any distance or polite neighbor filter, the man was still striking. Thick silver-streaked dark hair was mussed and damp against his forehead. Strong straight brows sat above his usually clear and sharp grey eyes rimmed red and hazy, swimming in pure submission. His nose was straight and solid and his slightly parted lips were swollen from biting back sounds. The neatly trimmed silver-grey beard along his jaw was damp with sweat and clinging to his skin. He looked completely wrecked, still handsome in a way that felt almost unfair but softened and ruined by what had just happened.
His body matched the face. Landon had seen him shirtless before on those early morning jogs around the block—skin glistening with the kind of rugged, middle-aged strength that always felt grounded and real. That same body was under him now, just broken. His white button-down hung half-open, thin cotton stretched tight over a still-toned chest and a navy tie lingering loosely around his flushed neck. Further down, the soft rounded tummy and love handles Landon remembered were fully on display, spilling gently where the dress pants used to sit, contrasting with the solid powerful frame of his thighs and legs stayed solid even like this. His corporate armor was totally wrecked: soft in the middle, strong where it counted and thoroughly undone.
Landon looked down at the man spread out under him. He was not supposed to want this. He was straight and he had a girlfriend back at campus he actually cared about. None of that stopped the heat punching through him at the sight of Mr. Hamilton like this—completely exposed, still breathless, looking wrecked and somehow still hungry for more. It pissed him off how right the wrongness felt. Anger and lust tangled together until he could not tell them apart. He shoved a hand into his shorts and pulled his cock free. Thick, hard and already leaking at the tip. Without a word he grabbed a fistful of Jake’s silver-streaked hair, yanked his head back so those hazy grey eyes had no choice but to meet his, then dragged him forward and pushed the head of his tool straight against the older man’s lips.
“Open up, Mr. Hamilton,” Landon coaxed mockingly. “You’ve been fucking yourself stupid on that dildo all morning. Don’t act shy now. Be good and take it. Show me what that mouth is really for.”
Jake’s eyes went wide, locked on the thick heavy cock with a broad head already shiny with a bead of precum hovering just inches from his face. It was massive, far larger and more intimidating than the silicone toy. He let out a weak shaky protest, voice barely holding together. “Landon, please… this is… we can’t…” He tried to turn his head away, that last stubborn bit of husband-and-father instinct fighting to surface but the grip in his hair only tightened.
Landon yanked his head back hard, forcing Jake’s neck to arch. “Shut the fuck up. You’re a fucking fag, aren’t you? Closeted little freak who’s been dying for a real cock. Don’t act like you don’t want this.” He did not wait for an answer. He shoved forward and pushed his cock straight into Jake’s mouth, not bothering to go slow. He kept going until he bottomed out against the back of the older man’s throat, dragging a muffled gagging sound out of him. “Suck it. Use that tongue. Clean every inch for me.”
For a few minutes Landon just used Jake’s mouth, slow deep thrusts that filled the older man to the brim. He watched the older man’s eyes water and his throat struggle around the thickness. Then the resistance faded. Jake stopped fighting and started working for it,one hand wrapping around the base while the other cupped and stroked what he could not fit. His lips sealed tight, tongue dragging along the underside, then swirling over the head before he took him deep again with a greedy wet pull that made Landon’s hips twitch.
“Fuck,” Landon groaned. “Shit, you suck better than any girl I’ve ever been with.” He looked down and caught Jake’s eyes. His pupils were blown wide, dark with that messy mix of fear and need. The sight of the older man staring up at him like that, completely broken and hungry for it, sent a sharp twist of disgust through Landon’s gut. It only made his cock throb harder. “Look at you,” he muttered, voice thick with contempt. “Married, kids, nice house… and here you are choking on the neighbor kid’s cock like a cheap whore. Fucking pathetic.”
Landon was still deep in Jake’s mouth when his attention drifted lower. Between the older man’s legs his cock stood fully hard, thick and heavy, straining up toward his stomach. It looked solid, veiny and broad-headed but it was no match to Landon’s own. Then his gaze caught the silicone toy lying on the sheets. He looked back at Jake’s cock then at the dildo again. Same length. Same girth. Same slight curve and ridges. It was a perfect match. A custom piece.
A mocking laugh broke out of him. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, pulling his cock free of Jake’s mouth. He pointed at the toy. “Is that a mold of your own dick? You’re so obsessed with yourself you bought a fucking clone just so you could screw yourself with it?” The realization made the whole thing feel even more twisted, some narcissistic private fantasy that crawled under Landon’s skin and still made his blood run hotter.
Jake flinched hard, face turning a deep shameful red. He tried to shrink back, eyes flicking toward the door like he wanted to disappear but embarrassment kept him frozen. He did not say a word. He just stared up at Landon with that messy mix of longing and total humiliation. Landon didn’t give him time to recover. He laughed again, short and cold, grabbed Jake by the arm, and yanked him to the edge of the bed. One strong flip and the older man’s face was pressed into the mattress, ass shoved high in the air.
Landon watched Jake’s face turn a deep shameful red. The older man flinched and tried to turn his head away, eyes darting toward the door like he wanted to disappear into the floor. He did not say a word, just tried to shrink back and hide. But the embarrassment had him frozen. Landon did not give him a second to recover. He grabbed Jake by the arm and hauled him toward the edge of the bed, dragging him across the sheets until his back was pressed against the mattress and his legs were splayed wide. He positioned himself between Jake's thighs, his own legs anchoring the older man in place, forcing Jake’s legs to dangle over the sides of the bed.
Landon reached down and flicked Jake’s pulsing cock with a dismissive sneer. "Not bad," he admitted, his voice dropping into a sinister low tone. "Impressive, really. A real man's dick." He paused, his eyes darkening as he looked from the toy to the trembling man beneath him. "But we both know that piece of silicone isn't nearly enough. You've spent all morning pretending, Jake. Now you get to feel something actually larger, something that’s going to stretch you out and leave a mark."
He shifted his weight, the head of his thick, throbbing cock brushing against the wet, open heat of Jake's entrance. He did not slide in immediately. Instead he teased the opening, rubbing the broad head of his shaft against the rim of Jake's hole, letting the older man feel exactly how much larger he was than the toy. "You've been craving a real man to fill this hole, haven't you?" Landon whispered. "Tell me you want it, you fucking fag slut. Tell me you want me to ruin you."
Jake let out a jagged breath, head thrashing against the mattress. “Landon, please… we can’t do this…” he whimpered desperately. But even as the words left him, his hips betrayed him, arching up and tilting his ass higher toward the pressure. His hole fluttered and clenched around the tip of Landon’s cock like it was already trying to pull him in.
Landon gave a short cold laugh. “Listen to yourself,” he said, the mockery thick in his voice. He reached over to the nightstand, grabbed the bottle of lube Jake had been using and squeezed a generous amount onto his cock, stroking it slow and deliberate until the whole length was slick. “You keep saying no, but your body’s begging for it. Just a pathetic closeted fag who can’t admit his nineteen-year-old neighbor is about to wreck him.”
Jake managed one last weak “No, wait—” before Landon shifted. He grabbed both of the older man’s thighs and hauled them back toward his chest, opening him wide. Then he shoved forward hard. He did not sink all the way in, just forced the thick head past that tight ring of muscle in one brutal push. Jake’s eyes flew open as a blinding stretch ripped through him. A strangled guttural cry tore out of his throat as his body clenched hard around the sudden invasion.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Landon hissed. He stopped halfway, breath catching at the crushing pressure of Jake’s walls. “You’ve been fucking yourself with that dildo for God knows how long and you’re still this fucking tight? What the hell is wrong with you?” He did not give the older time to adjust. He leaned in over him and started rocking his hips, forcing himself deeper into that resisting heat one slow hard inch at a time.
“Stop… please, it’s too much… it hurts!” Jake sobbed. He tried to squirm back, fingers clawing at the sheets as his body was forced to take something it clearly was not ready for.
The response was instantaneous. Landon’s hand snapped out and cracked a slap across the older man’s flushed cheek, the sound cutting through the quiet room. “Shut the fuck up,” Landon commanded. “You don’t get to tell me when to stop. You’re exactly where you belong.”
He locked both hands on Jake’s thighs with bruising force, held him still and drove forward in one final hard thrust that buried him all the way to the hilt. Jake’s whole body shuddered, a long broken wheeze leaving his lungs. Landon felt the slick slide of the lube and the tight heat wrapping every inch of him as he bottomed out. He stayed there for a moment, deep and locked in place, feeling the older man shake underneath him.
“Holy shit,” Landon gasped. “You’re so fucking hot inside. Tight as a fucking vice.” He then started moving. He pulled back until he was almost all the way out, cool air hitting the slick skin for a heartbeat then slammed in hard again. The bedframe groaned under the impact and Jake let out another cry that sounded more like a plea than a protest.
Landon did not slow down. He repeated the motion, pulling nearly free before driving home with a heavy wet thud. Each thrust landed harder and deeper than the last, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. He watched Jake’s silver-streaked hair shift against the pillow, the older man’s face twisted between overwhelmed pain and raw unwilling pleasure.
“Please… Landon, please,” Jake sobbed. “Slow down… go easy on me… please…” His thighs trembled hard as he tried to take the size. He twisted and pushed at Landon’s arms, struggling to squirm free and get away but the younger man was too strong.
The pleading and the weak fighting only pushed Landon further. He leaned over him and wrapped a hand lightly around Jake’s throat just enough to pin him in place. “I don’t go easy on sluts, Mr. Hamilton,” he sneered and his pace turned fast and relentless, leaving Jake gasping for air.
For a few more minutes Landon kept the rhythm hard and relentless. At first Jake still pushed back against him, twisting under his hands and trying to create even a little space. Landon felt every one of those attempts. The older man’s palms shoved weakly at his chest and his hips kept trying to pull away. But with each deep thrust the resistance grew a little less. The shoves lost strength. The twisting slowed. After another stretch of hard strokes, Landon noticed the hands on his shirt had almost stopped pulling. Jake’s body was still tense and still tight around him but the outright fighting was fading. The sharp cries of pain softened into shorter broken sounds. Then those sounds deepened, turning lower and rougher. Landon felt the shift inside him too. The defensive clamp eased by degrees until it became a steady involuntary pulse that gripped his cock every time he drove in. By the time he looked down again, Jake’s back was starting to arch. Instead of trying to escape, the older man was beginning to push up to meet the thrusts.
Landon realized the pain had finally tipped over into something else. The initial shock of the size had burned away, leaving only overwhelming stimulation that Jake clearly could not fight anymore. The older man was coming apart under him, whatever dignity he had left gone as he gave in to the force of it. He was not just taking it now. He was chasing it. A dark satisfied heat settled in Landon’s chest as he watched the polished corporate shell crack open and the starving needy thing underneath take over.
The confirmation came as a sudden heavy weight. Jake’s legs still in those thin black dress socks hooked around Landon’s waist and pulled him in hard. The grip surprised him. The soft fabric of the socks slid against his back as Jake locked him there, refusing to leave any space between them. A moan spilled out of Jake’s throat. “Please,” he gasped, sounding completely wrecked. “More… god, Landon, more. Don’t stop.”
Landon felt a surge of genuine frustration. He was straight. He had a girlfriend. None of that stopped the heat flooding through him at the feel of a middle-aged man’s legs locked around his waist. Some traitorous part of his brain kept whispering that this tight, clenching heat felt better than anything he had ever had with her. He hated that. He hated how much he was into it. It was wrong, it was disgusting and it was the hottest thing he had ever felt in his life. The conflict only made him meaner. He dug his fingers into Jake’s hips and drove into him harder, each thrust slamming deep enough to make the bed creak.
“You really are a fucking animal, aren’t you?” Landon growled, contempt thick in his voice. “All that prestige and you’re just a needy little bitch for a college kid.” He did not ease up, burying himself deep and feeling Jake’s body give under every stroke. “Look at you, Mr. Hamilton. Pathetic sock-wearing slut. You love being ruined by me, don’t you?”
Jake did not just agree. He nodded hard, head thrashing against the sheets. Tears mixed with the messed-up look of pure need on his face. “Yes… yes, I do,” he choked out. “I’m your fag slut, Landon… please, just keep fucking me. God, wreck me.” He arched up and pushed his ass back into Landon like he could not get enough.
Landon’s eyes narrowed at the words. “That’s right. You’re nothing but a hole for me to use,” he said, voice low and mean. He locked his hands on Jake’s hips hard enough to bruise. “Desperate closeted whore finally getting what he deserves.” He answered the begging with a sudden hard slam that drove him deep, the wet impact loud in the quiet room.
The pace turned rough and relentless once more. Landon stopped thinking about rhythm and just used his strength, driving into Jake over and over with full force. He felt the older man’s walls clench and spasm around him, milking every stroke and pushing him closer to the edge. The heavy wet sound of their bodies meeting filled the master bedroom, drowning out everything else.
“God, your cock is so fucking big,” Jake gasped shakily. He was trembling hard, eyes half-rolled back. “It’s stretching me open… I can feel every thick inch of you inside me… please Landon, don’t stop… fuck me harder…” The words came out desperate and slurred as he clung to Landon’s arms, nails digging into his biceps.
Landon sneered, breath coming hot and uneven. “Yeah, you feel it, don’t you?” he said. “Spent your whole life playing the big shot and now you’re just a tight little hole for me to stretch.” He leaned down close and spoke right against his ear. “Nothing but a toy. Corporate bitch who likes getting split open by the kid he used to tutor maths. You’re already begging me to ruin you.”
The words only seemed to push Jake further. He let out a strangled needy sound and shifted under him, looking up with that desperate glazed expression. “Landon, please… can I get on top?” he asked, trembling. “I want to ride you. I want to feel all of you sliding in and out while I push down. Please, let me ride your cock.”
Landon froze for a second. A sharp flicker of repulsion hit him. This was still Mr. Hamilton, the married neighbor and letting the guy climb on top felt like giving up too much control. But the second the image of Jake sinking down onto his cock settled in his head, the repulsion got buried under something hotter. The thought of those heavier hips spreading wide and riding him, taking every inch on his own, sent a heavy pulse of pure excitement straight through him. He wanted to watch it happen.
“Fine, you fucking fag,” he spat. “Let’s see if you can take it.”
Landon pulled out of Jake, the sudden emptiness making the older man whimper. He kicked off his sliders then shoved his shorts and underwear, which were already bunched around his mid-thighs, the rest of the way down and kicked them aside as well. Left in just his shirt and socks, his cock stood out thick and hard, still slick from being inside Jake. He climbed onto the bed, moved back against the headboard, spread his legs and grabbed the lube. He squeezed a generous amount onto his shaft and stroked it until the whole length was shiny again. Then he waited, watching through narrowed eyes as Jake scrambled to obey.
He swung a leg over and settled on his knees, straddling Landon’s hips with one knee on either side. Breathing hard, he reached down, wrapped a hand around Landon’s cock, and guided the thick head to his hole before starting to lower himself onto it.
The bulbous knob pressed against his hole. Jake sank down onto it with a breathy moan, taking the first couple of inches easily. His face twisted with pure need as his body opened up around the thick length, already stretched and ready from earlier.
Landon watched from below with a mean little smile on his face. “Look at you,” he said. “Sinking down on it like you can’t wait. Just a desperate slut who already knows how good a real cock feels.” He reached up and pinched Jake’s hip hard enough to leave a mark. “Go on, you fucking fag. Push down. Show me what a hole you are for the neighbor kid. Take every inch.”
Jake let out a rough sound as he finally dropped his weight and sank all the way down. The thick shaft pushed deep into him. His head fell back, a groan spilling out as he took every inch. “Fuck, you’re so big… so fucking huge,” he gasped. He grabbed Landon’s thighs for balance, body shaking. “This is the stretch I’ve been needing all my life… baby’s cock is opening daddy up so good.”
The older man did not stay still for long. The second he bottomed out he started riding hard, lifting up just enough for the head to almost slip free before slamming back down. Every drop forced another loud moan out of him. “Oh god, yes… fuck, this is heaven. God damn, fuck, yes,” he cried, whatever was left of the polished consultant completely gone. He was just a shaking desperate mess, chasing every inch like he could not get enough.
As Jake worked, Landon felt a surge of pleasure that made his vision blur. Being the one who stayed still while Jake’s heavier body worked up and down his cock was intense in a way thrusting had not been. The tight wet heat sliding over him, the weight of those hips, the way the older man’s hole gripped and pulled—it hit harder than anything he had felt with his girlfriend nor with any other woman he had slept with before. The realization came with a sharp jolt of unease but the pleasure drowned it fast. He was already addicted to the way it felt.
He would not admit it though. Not to Jake and certainly not to himself. But he was addicted to the sensation. He reached up and locked his hands on Jake’s waist, fingers digging in to pull him down harder on every stroke. “That’s it, you fucking queer,” Landon said, voice rough. “Ride me harder. Show me what a little fag you really are.” He did not care about the labels or how wrong it was anymore. He just wanted that tight grip to keep milking him.
Jake did not need more encouragement. He sped up, hips turning into a frantic blur. His moans got louder, breaking into rough high cries that bounced off the walls. He started swearing under his breath, a string of filthy pleas tumbling out as he drove himself down onto Landon’s cock. He was pushing the volume but still just quiet enough that the suburban silence of the neighborhood would not betray them.
“Oh god, yes… fuck, it feels so good,” Jake sobbed, eyes locked on Landon’s. He kept his body upright, still bouncing hard on his cock, voice cracking with pure desperation. "Landon, please... look at me... look at daddy's boypussy taking all of you! Do you like it? Do you like how daddy's boypussy feels around your thick cock?" His hips snapped down harder, making the bed shake. "Tell me you love it... tell me you love fucking this boypussy!"
Landon’s mind was a chaotic blur of heat and leftover contempt. The repulsion was long gone, burned off by how good it felt and how completely the older man had fallen apart. Even the baby-and-daddy talk and the boypussy shit, none of it bothered him anymore. He just wanted the full collapse. His eyes caught the pair of expensive horn-rimmed glasses on the nightstand. He reached out and snatched them, the plastic frames clicking in his grip. He grabbed Jake’s chin and shoved the glasses onto his face. The frames were slightly crooked, framing eyes that were blown wide and swimming with lust.
"Yeah, I fucking love it," Landon growled. "I love how this pathetic little hole just swallows me whole. Now look at me. Look at the man who’s tearing you open. See exactly who is making you feel like a fucking slut."
Jake sobbed yet he nodded his head vigorously, still bouncing upright on Landon’s cock. He was not just agreeing. He was pleading. "Yes... yes, I am! I'm a slut, Landon... a dirty fucking fag slut," he gasped, his hips never stopping their frenzied hammering. "Daddy is baby's fag slut. Please... god, please tell me we’ll keep doing this... tell me this dirty old man.. can be your dirty little secret. Just keep ruining me like this."
Landon’s brain was a white-hot haze. He could not think straight. Not about his girlfriend, not about the neighbors and certainly not about the social hierarchy of their neighborhood. All he could process was the crushing heat of Jake’s ass and the sight of those expensive glasses sliding down a sweat-slicked nose. “You’re a fucking faggot, Jake,” he groaned roughly. “A dirty little cocksucker. Yeah, that’s exactly what you are. My secret whore to use whenever I want.”
The pleasure became a physical weight, pushing him toward a breaking point. To maximize the friction, Landon bent his knees, arching his hips upward to meet every single one of Jake’s descending bounces. The impact was brutal and perfect, driving his cock even deeper into the older man’s shaking frame with every stroke. As he slammed upward, the intensity of the sensation shot through his entire body, making his toes curl tight inside his black crew socks.
For several minutes, the room was nothing but a chaotic symphony of wet skin slapping and guttural curses. Landon’s breath came in jagged hitches, his vision blurring as the friction of Jake’s walls reached a fever pitch. He could feel the pressure building behind his hips. He looked up and saw Jake’s face completely gone, his eyes rolled back and his jaw slack, his bounces becoming faster and more frantic. The older man was no longer riding. He was just shaking and taking it.
“I’m close… oh god, baby, daddy is so close,” Jake whimpered. He began to slam himself down with a violent urgency, his hips snapping forward to grind his prostate against the thick head of Landon’s cock. “I’m going to cum… I’m going to cum right now!”
Landon’s chest heaved. The tension in his gut was almost painful. “Me too,” he rasped. “Fuck, I’m right there.” He locked both hands on Jake’s hips and yanked him down harder, meeting every bounce with a sharp upward thrust.
Jake’s voice cracked into a desperate wail as his body continued shuddering. But he stayed upright, still bouncing. “Please… baby, fill me,” he sobbed, hips never stopping. “Fill daddy’s hole with your cum. Give it all to me, Landon. Fuck me and fill me up!”
Landon’s immediate response was a brutal upward surge of his hips. He stopped pretending to be detached and leaned into the filth. “Yeah, take it all, you fucking degenerate,” he hissed, his nails digging into the soft flesh of Jake’s waist. “Take every drop of this, you fag hag. You’re nothing but a piece of meat for me to dump in. You’re my favorite fucking toy, you little fag slut.” He slammed upward one last time, driving himself so deep he felt the older man’s internals quiver.
That last hit on his prostate set him off. A raw animal sound tore out of Jake’s throat as he came hard and untouched once again, body locking up and shaking through it while he kept trying to bounce. His load splattered across Landon's black shirt.
At the same moment Landon’s control snapped. He let out a loud rough shout and locked his hips, pumping thick hot spurts deep inside Jake. They both came hard and noisy, the sound of it filling the bedroom and drowning out everything else.
They stayed like that for a few seconds, just looking at each other while trying to catch their breath. Landon was still leaning back against the headboard, chest rising and falling hard. Jake remained fully seated on him, still sheathed deep on his cock, thighs trembling slightly from the aftershocks.
Landon opened his mouth to say something—
“Dad.”
Both of them froze.
Standing in the open doorway was a man who looked like a younger version of Jake. Same strong nose. Same grey eyes. Same jawline, only sharper and more defined. The military uniform top fit him tight across the chest and arms, the fabric stretched over solid muscle that clearly came from never skipping workouts overseas. Camo pants sat low on his hips, boots still laced. His cock was out through the open zipper—thick, heavy, still half-hard and glistening. Fresh cum streaked down the head and had dripped onto the front of his pants and the toe of one boot, obvious evidence he’d been stroking himself while he watched. His face was caught between pure shock and open dark lust as he stared at the two of them tangled on the bed.
It was Jaxon, the youngest child of the Hamilton family and a US Navy sailor deployed in Bahrain.
He did not look away. He just stood there, breathing heavily and said it again, quieter this time.
“Dad.”
