Please Stay

“Please stay,” Fred whimpered as he watched Bobby tuck his still-slimed, snake-like dick inside his jeans. “Bobby, baby, you don’t have to go yet, do you? Come on.” Fred knew that he was pleading and he hated himself for it, but he was in love.

Bobby was not. Not in love, that is. Bobby loved to fuck but not to get committed. Fred had the sweetest ass that Bobby had taken, but he was starting to feel suffocated. Fred was clinging, which wasn’t in Bobby’s book. He was never short for ass, both female and male. Why would he be restricted to one, regardless how sweet? He could have his pick any day, any night: a phone call and Bobby’s 8-inch cut cock would be ploughing a throat, a pussy, a butt. He had taken Bobby’s virgin ass with vengeance. Fred had been so sore for days after he finished with him. And he still loved fucking him. Tight ass, smooth skin, fit body, and all. But Fred had started to cling.

“Freddy,” Bobby said as he buttoned up his jeans, his dick outlining sideways, his abs and hairy chest still glistening with sweat. “I’ll see you later, ok?” Bobby needed to put a limit on Fred’s pleading and begging. Fred needed to understand that he was not Bobby’s wife. He was welcome to Bobby’s cock any time, but he had to maintain some space.

“But… but…” Fred whimpered. “Baby, I need you now. I need you to hold me tight and to kiss me and…”

Bobby strode over to the bed where Fred lay sprawled and naked and spent. He bent over, and planted a kiss on the pouting lips. “Next time, babe, I will fuck you all night. It’s a promise. I really need to go.”

Actually, Bobby was in a kind of a hurry to meet this married lady who promised to be a good lay. He had to go to his place, shower and dress and drive over to the lady’s house. Who knew? There very well might be another fuck today, and it was still 11 o’clock in the morning. His dick quivered at the thought of wet pussy.

The lady-fuck was a fiasco. If Fred was clinging, the lady was hard-stick adhesive. She wanted Bobby to eat her pussy, which was leaking like a faucet. It was too wet for a tight grip on Bobby in spite of his fat dick. He wanted to suck on her tits as he fucked her but she kept pulling his head away for some reason. Strangely enough, the image of Fred’s pink nipples flooded his mind as he rode the woman. To top it all, he had to wear a condom. Bobby hated condoms. He always made sure he was protected, even when getting head, except with Fred. Both Bobby and Fred tested clean right at the beginning of their relationship and their sex-making was never hampered with rubber.

Fred spent the day miserably. He needed Bobby badly. But he realized that his beautiful partner was not going to be exclusive. Maybe he should bite the bullet and dump the guy. Fred was handsome and fit enough to find a lot of sex partners. At 24, he was 180cms tall, just over 65kgs, defined abs and smooth chest, fuzzy butt to kill, not too shabby dick at 15cms, average girth, uncut. His asset was his eyes. Somewhere between blue and green, depending upon the color of the clothes he wore. His eyes were like a magnet. One look from him and he would hook just about anyone, whether sexually or otherwise.

But why hadn’t he been able to really hook Bobby? He knew that Bobby loved their fuck sessions. He’d made it his main objective to swallow Bobby’s huge cock down to the base, to tease the balls, to lick and slurp up and down the hairy crack, to moan and groan as he sucked. He knew what kind of pleasure he was killing himself to give Bobby. He always kept his ass spotlessly clean whenever they arranged to meet. The only reason that Fred thought had kept Bobby at a distance from committing was perhaps Freddy’s own submissiveness. He didn’t realize he was driving Bobby away by his enthusiasm and hunger that came very close to ownership.

Fred shed tears under the shower as he soaped his cum-covered ass and thighs, his dick fully erect upwards at an angle. He decided not to touch himself. Bobby would be back, he prayed, and he wanted to be in full sexual condition for his lover. He had already ejaculated twice without even touching himself while Bobby was riding his ass mercilessly. Bobby was a man! Fred heaved as his mind ran the fucking scene they’d just had. Bobby’s cock was huge, stretching Fred to the maximum and more, and filling every inch of his tunnel. He felt his cock dripping, not water or soap, but precum. He quickly fisted his erection, gave it a couple of strokes and exploded, almost hitting the tiled wall with streams of cum.

The thing was the Fred was not really womanish or girlish or feminine. His masculinity spoke for itself. But inside, he was a bottom gay guy. He had topped but it hadn’t been as fulfilling as being pinned down by another guy and pounded senseless. His ass was sore, that was for sure. But he reveled in the pain. He actually welcomed the pain of being stretched and spread wide. But most of all he was in ecstasy whenever he landed a top guy like Bobby. Macho, exuding testosterone, haired and hung, and most of the time insatiable. Fred had an inkling that Bobby was not all-the-way gay, that he was having pussy. Fred was jealous and miserable.

Fred brewed some coffee, stuck a frozen croissant in the microwave oven, tears trickling down his cheeks. He was feeling so miserable that he decided not to go to work today. As he sat at the kitchen counter, sipping his coffee and feeling sorry for himself, his phone buzzed. Bernie.

Fred and Bernie were buddies and work mates. They had had their tryst, but it hadn’t worked out since Bernie, like Fred, was more into macho guys, Bobby-like guys.

“Yea, Bernie,” Fred answered, his voice a bit gruff from the crying he’s done.

“Dude, where the fuck are you? You haven’t come to work,” came Bernie’s effeminate voice.

“B..Bernie,” Fred felt fresh tears streaming down his face. “C..Can you … c…come over?”

“What’s the matter, Fred? What’s wrong? You sound terrible.”

“Just... just come over.”

Bernie told his boss that he had a family emergency and hurried over to Fred’s. He walked in, all worries, fearing the worst. Robbed? Beaten?

Fred rushed to hug Bernie tight, sobbing and shaking all over.

Bernie led him to the couch and sat next to him, his arm around his shoulder, patting it like a hen-mother.

“Take it easy, dude. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“B…Bobby,” Fred wiped tears and snot with the back of his hand.

Bernie reached for a tissue and handed it to Fred. “The bastard dumped you, huh?”

Fred shook his head. “He beat you up?” Again, Fred shook his head.

“What the fuck then?”

Taking a deep breath, Fred shot out a string of words: “I love him, so much, I’m so in love with him, so fucking in love, Bernie, I love him, so, so, fucking much.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Bernie exclaimed. “Slow down, man. Ok so you love the hot Bob. So? That’s nothing to cry about.”

“Except… except I can’t make him love me back, Bernie. He just fucks me and leaves.”

“But you love that, his fucking, don’t you? I mean, Bobby is a dream guy.”

“But I need for him to love me. You know what, Bern? We fucked all night last night. He musta cummed 3 or 4 times inside me. My ass has never been more sore. And you know what? He gets up in the morning, hitches his jeans on, and leaves. I beg him to stay. But he leaves. And I know for a fact that he’s going to see someone. I think it’s that married woman whom he had picked up a couple weeks ago at the supermarket. I bet he’s fucking her right now.”

And the crying resumed.

“Shit, dude. That’s not good. But he’s a good lover to you, isn’t he?”

“What’s a good lover if your lover is out fucking every moving thing? I begged him to stay. Begged. But no. He up and leaves.”

“Look, Fred, baby, you’re too clinging, and that scares the shit out of guys like Bobby.”

“What do I do, Bernie? What the fuck can I do? I’m sick with love.”

“Ok, man, listen. You need to give Bobby some space.”

“Space?” Fred glared at his friend. “I’m already losing him. Space will just make him float away.”

Bernie laughed, patting Fred’s thigh. “Space, Freddie, means making your guy feel comfortable with you. You are a good fuck to Bobby, it seems, and he’s always coming back. But you’ve got to realize that the Bobbies of this world need space. They hate commitments.”

Fred looked at Bernie with his mouth open, trying to take in what Bernie was saying. There was some truth there, he thought.

“Freddie, tell me. When Bobby walks in, what do you usually do?”

“What do you mean? I grab onto him and kiss him all over, man. I’m always so hungry for him, to hold him and caress him, and rub his crotch feeling his dick harden inside his jeans.”

“Fuck! That’s exactly what I mean, buddy. Clinging. Listen. The next time Bobby walks in, give him a welcoming smile and carry on with whatever you’re doing. Let him come over to you and kiss you instead of you rushing to him. Let him feel that he is the one making the moves. Don’t touch his dick, man. As much as you hunger for it. Let him pull your hand onto his crotch.”

“Wow, dude. That’s heavy stuff.”

“And another thing. What kind of entertainment does Bobby like?”

“I don’t know,” Fred scratched his head. “I think, maybe, the gym? He loves working out.”

“So make the gym your preferred entertainment also?”

“Going to the gym with Bobby is not clinging?”

“Dude, for a smart guy like you, sometimes you confuse me. Not with. On your own. And don’t tell him you’re going. Let him guess. Let him find out for himself. You have to be discreet, indirect. Show him that you’re worthy to be loved, coz love is not just sex, not just a good tight ass fuck.”

“But I give him the best tightest ass fuck ever. He told me so.”

Bernie snickered, remembering their time together when he, Bernie, went soft inside Fred’s tight ass because he needed Fred’s cock inside his own ass.

“Love, my dear fucked friend,” Bernie tried to look wise, rubbing up and down Fred’s thigh, “is more than fucking, I repeat. You have to do stuff that is not centered around your lover. Space. Make him come to you. Now, get dressed and wash all this fuck slime off your face and let’s go back to work.”

Fred was expecting Bobby at around 6 in the evening. Leaving work at 2 o’clock, the two young men went to a sports store and they chose the nicest, sexiest gym outfits that money can buy.

“Get that loose sleeveless tank top. It lets your pink titties visible when you’re moving. And no spandex. That’s too obvious, Fred. A pair of running shorts, open on the sides, loose. Yeah, that one.”

And so on until Fred was outfitted and ready for gym work. Bernie took him to an establishment where he did some gym work also. Walked him around, explaining things. Fred took a one-month trial period and hurried home before it was time for Bobby to appear.

He sat back on the couch, wearing his new gym-wear, feet up on a stool, reading a novel. Bobby walked in. Fred had given him keys to the place—which Fred now was considering as another clinging behavior.

“Hey, babe,” Bobby greeted, immediately noticing the sports bag near the door and the clothes Fred was wearing. “What’s up?”

Fred looked up, placed his finger inside the book to mark the page, smiled sweetly raising one arm, which exposed his bare chest through the tank top. “Hey,” he said, remaining in his laid up position.

Bobby stood still a couple of meters away, gazing at Fred, a puzzled look on his face.

“Something wrong, babe?” Fred smiled, trying to control the very strong urge of jumping up, pulling down Bobby’s jeans, and taking Bobby’s cock down to the roots.

“Ah… um… No, no, everything’s good.” Bobby hesitated, took a step towards Fred, tried to make up his mind, and finally placed his arm around Fred’s neck and pulled his face in for a kiss.

Fred’s heart raced. Yes, he thought. Bobby had never initiated the kissing and grabbing. It was Fred who jumped and squeaked and grabbed. Fred felt his lips burning as Bobby sucked on them.

Straightening, Bobby looked Fred over. “What’s with this, babe?” he waved his hand indicating the tank top and slit shorts.

“This?” Fred smiled, still not getting off the couch. “Oh, I decided that I need to keep my hot body fit. So I joined a gym that Bernie took me to. You think it’s a good idea?”

“Fuck, babe, of course it’s a good idea. Super. Why didn’t you tell me? You could have joined my gym.”

Fred’s heart was beating so hard inside his chest that he feared Bobby was going to hear it thumping. Bernie’s idea was working. Bobby would have never offered taking Fred to his gym had Fred brought up the issue. It would have been clinging. Now it was Bobby’s idea!

“Well, Bernie says that they have the latest in equipment. The facilities offer Jacuzzi, steam-room, sauna, and of course showers.”

Bobby slowly, ponderously, sat down on the couch next to Fred. “Sounds nicer than the place I go to. Bet it’s also more expensive.”

Fred laughed, trying to hide his shaking when he felt Bobby hand caressing the inside of his bare thigh. “What’s money for, if not for keeping yourself fit?”

Bobby leaned to kiss Fred’s neck, slipping his hand inside the loose shorts leg and caressing Fred’s balls and crack. “You’re fit enough for me, Baby.”

Fred could notice Bobby’s jeans stretch with the beginning of an erection. Normally, sex immediately would have followed with Fred’s butt up in the air and his tight hole drilled. He grabbed Bobby’s hand and moved it up and down his crack then onto his semi-hard cock. Bobby’s expression was of surprise since he’d never grabbed Fred’s dick before. Their relationship was exclusively top-bottom relationship. Surprisingly, Bobby didn’t move his hand away.

“Nice,” Bobby whispered as he bit Fred’s ear lobe.

Pulling Bobby’s hand off his dick, Fred thought that that was enough as a first step. He stood up, stretched, the tank top pulled up to show his abs, and looked down at Bobby still sitting on the couch, his jeans front bulging sideways.

“I’m going to have something to eat, Bob,” he said as he moved to the kitchenette, aware of Bobby’s eyes glued to his bubbled butt. “I have prepared some fajita stuffing. Want me to heat some up for you, too?”

Ordinarily, Fred would have forced the fajitas on Bobby. Now he acted so nonchalant, making Bobby follow him and grab him from behind, pressing his bulged jeans onto the bubbled butt, licking the exposed neck, both arms around Fred’s waist, grinding. Fred reciprocated by grinding his bubbled cheeks against the hard cock, his body quivering, but he resisted the temptation of immediately dropping to his knees.

With trembling hands, he finished making his own sandwich and slid away through Bobby’s arms.

“There, babe. Help yourself,” Fred pointed to the food on the counter top.

Bobby gazed after Fred who sauntered away, his ass swaying, and lounged on the couch, taking his first bite and picking up the book he’d been reading. Something had happened to Fred, Bobby thought as he prepared his own fajita.

Actually, Bobby didn’t mind making his own sandwich, but it had always been Fred, rushing to serve him. Joining Fred on the couch, he chewed on his food watching Fred read. But Fred was also watching, using his peripheral vision, dying to drop the fajita and replace it with Bobby’s fat dick.

Swallowing the last bite, Bobby wiped his mouth with a napkin and pulled Fred to him. Without letting Fred get totally naked, he pulled down the sexy shorts, lifted Fred’s legs, pulled out his hard cock, and plowed right in. All it took was a couple of minutes for Bobby to dump a huge load inside Fred.

“It’s working,” Fred breathlessly whispered to Bernie at work the next day.

“What’s working?” Bernie asked.

“Bobby seems to like it that I’m not clinging,” Fred had a big smile, showing his straight white set of teeth.

“Told you,” Bernie nodded, smiling back.

“When he realized that I’d joined a different gym, and when I made him prepare his own fajita, and when I pretended to read instead of rushing to suck his dick, and after a sudden huge fuck right there on the couch, I just said good night leaving him panting. Seconds later, Bobby gave me the fucking of my life.”

“Wow,” Bernie exclaimed. “Good for you, bro.”

“Any more bright ideas?”

“Next time you fuck, take a leading role instead of totally submitting to him.”

“You mean I should fuck him?” Fred asked incredulously. “No way!”

“No, dude. You will still get fucked, but you choose the position. Push him back and ride his cock, and that would look like you’re doing the topping, you’re in control of the fucking. Macho dudes love that.”

“Fuck,” Fred said, the smile getting wider on his face, his dick twitching, his hole squeezing. “Fuck, yeah.”

It took a week or so for Bobby to realize that his relationship with Fred had changed drastically. Somehow, he now started to feel much more comfortable around Fred. He enjoyed their conversations. He began to see Fred as a person rather than a cum dump. Fred was still the best fuck compared to the various partners, male and female, that he had been with. But now, it became different. Bobby was beginning to have feelings for Fred. Feelings that were not necessarily related to sex. Some kind of camaraderie. Even after fucking Fred’s ass and filling him with cum, Bobby just relaxed next to Fred, embracing him, holding him tight, instead of just upping and leaving.

Fred felt the change more acutely since he was the one who had instigated it all, thanks to Bernie. The clinging had turned to a relaxed buddy-like atmosphere. Bobby was now going after Fred’s body instead of the other way round. Bobby had even leaned down to kiss Fred as he fucked his ass.

“So how’s it going with hot Bob?” Bernie asked Fred a few days later.

“Super, Bern. He’s a changed man. We don’t have sex anymore.” Bernie’s eyebrows shot up. “We make love,” smirking at Bernie’s reaction.

That night, Fred screamed as he shot his load all over Bobby’s hairy chest as he rode Bobby’s cock. Bobby grabbed him by the hair pulling him down and slobbering on his lips as he also thrust up and dumped his load.

Spooning Fred, Bobby pressed on the naked back, his wet dick buried between Fred’s ass cheeks, his arm under Fred’s head. He fondled Fred’s nipples, and out of nowhere, whispered into Fred’s ear: “Baby, I love you.”

Fred felt the chill down his spine. Fred was in heaven.