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Taken and used at the Gym.
The first time with a leather biker turned Robert onto leather sex.
• Judo Classes.
As per usual, I found myself cycling to the local sports school on a Wednesday afternoon. I’d always hated the place, but my parents insisted it was for my own good. The center offered dozens of ways to sweat, and they’d signed me up for judo.
“Robert, stop arguing! Judo will toughen you up, boy!” my father had barked three years ago, his eyes scanning my thin frame for some sign of grit. Well, I guess he did not find any, so they made me go despite my failed attempts to persuade them.
Looking back, I suppose that at sixteen I really was a bit of a wuss. Needing to toughen up wasn’t a bad idea, but the mats and the white judo pajamas weren’t doing the trick. I was a slender, tall, boyish thing — a shy nerd who wasn’t exactly a heartbreaker, but certainly not a troll either. Life felt heavy back then, mostly because I’d just stumbled upon the truth of my own desires. That realization alone made me feel even more like a ‘fragile’ outsider.
You see, I’d discovered I was into guys. To be specific, I was obsessed with older, hardened men — the kind who lived in heavy leather and smelled of man-musk. The ‘big brother’ type. The sort of rough trade you’d be nervous to pass in a dark alley. Bikers, rockers, kinky leather fuckers — those were my idols.
However, I was nothing like them. I didn’t have the balls to even look one of them in the eye, let alone start a conversation. I was just a ridiculously shy young man who spent his nights aching to be part of their world. I could wank myself raw for hours after catching a glimpse of one of my ‘heroes’ riding by in his butch leathers and scuffed boots.
Even though I’d finally moved out, I still dragged myself to that gym every Wednesday. I was sharing an apartment with Peter now — he’d been my older brother’s Army roommate before John finished basic training and got stationed overseas. At nineteen, I was desperate to flee the nest and prove I could survive on my own, even if I still felt like a boy playing dress-up in a man’s world.
It was a sweltering summer’s day when the shift began. My life was about to flip upside down, dragging me from the safety of my wimpy shell and turning me into a man with a raw, demanding passion.
• The hot biker.
On my way to the gym, I was overtaken by a young biker stud. He was clad in his cool leather gear — shiny biker jeans, an unzipped classic black biker jacket flapping in the breeze, and heavy boots. He wore a thick Cuban chain and butch gloves, his long hair poking out from under his helmet. The man was a powerlifter for sure, boasting thick arms, a massive chest, and a powerful neck.
He looked too tough to be allowed. The hunk drove a mean, big black motorbike, while I was stuck on my rickety old bicycle. I was already dressed in my judo pants because getting naked in public changing rooms wasn’t my thing, either.
Seeing him made something stir in my pants, though. That biker looked incredibly hot. He had a ‘don’t fuck with me’ kind of look in his eyes, but a very odd, nice grin on his face when our eyes met.
He gave me a friendly wink. It felt like time sped up a little, and he slowed down as we passed just so we could look at each other a bit longer. His eyes were fixed on me in his handlebar mirrors, and if anything, his grin broadened. I could clearly see him grab his massive crotch with one hand as he drove out of sight. ‘No wonder,’ I thought to myself, ‘… my tongue must have been smacking my lips a little too obviously.’
Apparently, the biker was also on his way to the gym. When I leaned my bicycle against the rack, he walked back toward me, gym bag slung casually over his shoulder. His jacket was wide open, and the bulge in his leather pants glistened in the sun. Our eyes met again. It was clear he liked what he saw — as did I, because in an instant my dick was at full strength again inside those way-too-thin judo pants.
He was in his mid-twenties, I estimated. A bit older than me, but my stiff cock couldn’t hide how much he was exciting me. He laughed kindly as he walked past, and I felt his eyes prick as he looked me up and down. He had a perfect view of my outstretched ass because I was slightly bent over to remove my bicycle key.
“Wow… Hot ass,” he sighed under his breath.
I only half-caught it and asked, very stupidly, “Sorry, did you say something?”
“I said… Hot weather! Are you deaf, boy?” he said gruffly, though he wore a dirty grin.
He stopped walking right behind me. I had to straighten up and twist around on the spot to look at him. The biker had moved offensively close to me. We were face-to-face now.
I’d heard from my older brother that these leather types sometimes liked to be called ‘Sir’ by younger guys. I quickly replied, “No, Sir, it is indeed nice and hot.”
He looked a little surprised at that and smiled broadly. “Exactly, boy!”
“By the way, am I wearing something of yours?” the rough biker suddenly asked.
A little startled, I told him, “No, but I wish I were — I do like your leather gear. I just don’t think I could pull off that look. And what would others say?”
My eyes came to rest on his crotch. ‘FUCK!’ I thought in a bit of a fright. ‘Will you look at that thing!’ The biker’s cock started to twitch and grow before my eyes. Within seconds, the outline of a firm cockhead appeared against the shiny leather.
“Are you here to work out as well?” asked the friendly hunk.
“Umm?… Yeah,” I answered sheepishly. “I have judo classes every Wednesday. My parents want me to toughen up, but I don’t think it’s working. I do wish I were as big and strong as you,” I said, admiring his muscular physique and burly outfit.
I actually surprised myself; usually, I would never have dared talk to anyone like that, let alone a tough leather biker.
“Ha!…” the biker laughed out loud. “I see what you mean, dude! And I would not mind training your ass for a bit,” he said with an almighty dirty grin. “Looks like we both are a little excited. I am glad you’re into my gear. Let’s go inside. You can try on my jacket. And maybe we can f —” The stud stopped abruptly. “How old are you?”
I had the ominous feeling I knew exactly what he wanted. The thought of trying on his leathers turned me on, though.
“Old enough to not get you into trouble,” I whispered a little too hotly, already fearing it was too good to be true.
• Skipping judo classes.
He winked, fully understanding that he had won me over. Placing a heavy hand on my shoulder, he leaned in. “Cool, ready for some toughening-up lessons then? I think I know exactly what you need. Are you ready for a long, hard lesson, boy?” He looked down at me, his presence suddenly overpowering. There was a flicker of something mean in his eyes, like he truly meant business.
“Umm?… what do you mean? How hard?” I asked, my voice betraying my fear.
The biker stud laughed even harder now. “About ten inches. But don’t worry, you’re not my first… I’ll take it slow. And I know just the spot where we won’t be disturbed.”
I gulped, the sound loud in my own ears. “Okay then… but just remember, I don’t like pain much! Not at all, actually,” I answered, still nursing a knot of worry in my gut.
Had I really just consented to have sex with a rough leather-clad biker right here in my local sports school? I couldn’t believe it was actually happening. I tried to shirk the thought off as silly wishful thinking. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. I was here for judo classes and nothing else.
The biker saw the doubt flickering across my face. A dark, mean grin spread over his features. I could practically see him cycling through all kinds of filthy thoughts. It was as if he’d read my mind, thinking, ‘Hell yeah, boy! Let’s skip the workout. I am so gonna fuck that bubble butt of yours. Just you wait and see. I’ll make a tough man out of you yet.’
Then, as if our horny exchange had never happened, he shifted gears. His rugged demeanor lightened considerably, and he smiled at me with sudden warmth.
“Sorry, I haven’t introduced myself, have I? Hello, I’m Jack. What’s your name, dude?” he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.
“Oh, umm… Hi, Jack. I’m Robert,” I answered with a nervous laugh.
“Shall we go inside and work out a little?” Jack asked. Without waiting for an answer, he squeezed my shoulder a little harder and steered me toward the gym’s reception.
We both registered for our sessions — Jack for bodybuilding and me for a judo lesson. Our lingering talk outside had already made me late.
We walked into the communal dressing room. I glanced around shyly, checking to see who else was there. Only one other guy, Hunter, was pulling on his judo gear. I didn’t like him much; he was a rowdy geezer with a foul mouth and a mean temper — the prototype bully.
Hunter watched the leather-clad stud strip off his jacket and boots with the same intense interest I felt. Jack really was a tough motherfucker, his arms and chest a canvas of dark tattoos.
Then, Jack wriggled out of his tight leather jeans. His ass pointed proudly in my direction. He was wearing a black jockstrap with ‘PUMP!’ embroidered on the waistband, framing his shaved, smooth buttocks perfectly.
Jack propped one leg up on the low bench to lace his sneaker. The move forced his cheeks apart, giving me a ‘Full Monty’ view of his winking starfish. I could have sworn Jack made it wink at me on purpose, flexing his glutes just for my benefit.
• Victorious retort.
From the other side of Jack, the bully, Hunter, suddenly asked, bold as brass, “Hey! What you got hidden in that jockstrap of yours? I bet it’s just rolled-up socks!” The question seemed to embarrass Hunter himself before he’d even finished uttering it.
“Sexually frustrated much, Hunter? Go and act your age, man!” I snapped at the asshole, surprising myself with the heat in my voice.
Jack looked at the geezer, his expression dead calm but radiating a dangerous edge. “What do you think? A big fat cock,” Jack grunted gruffly. “Do you want to feel it shooting a thick, hot, sticky load up your butt, boy? Just come here and take it! Fucking dirty bitch!” With a sudden, fluid motion, Jack pulled the rock-hard, thickly veined, and throbbing monster out, pointing the glistening head straight at Hunter’s frightened face.
I stared, frozen. Jack’s reaction was so harsh and snappy, I thought he might nail the geezer against the wall right then and there. Hunter clearly hadn’t anticipated such a raw, forward response either. The bully gulped, muttering a panicked apology and something nasty about not being gay. He scrambled out of the changing room with trembling knees and a face a deep shade of crimson.
Jack laughed, a deep, victorious sound. When he looked over his shoulder, he caught me staring at his discarded modesty. He walked back to his bag and bent over to pull on his slick black leather gym shorts. I quickly looked away, fumbling with my judo coat.
All of a sudden, Jack was standing toe-to-toe with me. He roughly pushed the white coat off my shoulders and grabbed his heavy biker jacket off the hook.
“Here, put this on instead, Robert. I need to see how you look in this,” he commanded.
Jack swung the thick black leather around me, helping me guide my arms through the sleeves. I gave a shudder of pure delight, moaning softly as I caressed the creaking hide. My nose filled with the heavy, intoxicating scent of cowhide and Jack’s musk.
I straightened my shoulders, feeling the incredible weight and rugged, supple texture. It was the first time I’d ever worn a leather jacket — a leather anything, come to think of it — and I was hooked. I swore then, and there I’d get one for myself.
Jack closely observed my reaction, clearly pleased with the transformation.
“Now, will you look at that! Now that’s a change if ever I saw one. Hot stuff,” The stud gasped, impressed. “Why would you ever think you couldn’t pull off a look like this? Robert, this was made for you!” Jack whispered. He flipped the collar up against my neck, and the simple gesture made me feel invincible. “Granted, it’s not your size. But fuck, boy! You look cool. How does it make you feel, stud?”
“I feel — well… hard,” I admitted, looking shyly down at my bulging crotch.
I was indeed rock hard, an embarrassing wet spot of pre-cum already oozing through the thin fabric of my judo pants. Jack saw it immediately. He reached out and groped my bulge gently, stroking a finger over the damp spot before lifting it to his nose. He sniffed and then tasted it with a lustful swipe of his tongue.
Bending forward, he gripped my face with both of his strong, calloused hands and planted a sloppy, wet kiss on my lips. “Dude, you’re much tougher than that other bitch,” Jack muttered against my mouth. “At least you had the balls to look at a naked man’s ass. With a little experience and a cool wardrobe, no one will be able to resist you. I think I can help you discover a lot more, if you want.”
He didn’t wait for an answer before his tongue was back in my mouth, kissing me deeply for minutes. His hands wandered lustfully over my ass and my leather-clad torso. I moaned into the kiss as he pressed his muscular body against mine, grinding his cock against me in a tight, primal embrace.
• Self-conscious.
I had kissed other guys before. I’d even sucked off a few and gotten sort of butt-fucked by a cousin — well, more like being dry-humped naked. But this was different. Much rougher. A lot nicer. Hornier. Thought, it was infinitely more intense.
All of a sudden, I felt self-conscious again. I was standing in a communal dressing room, kissing a guy while wearing his kinky black leather biker jacket. What the heck was I thinking?
“Damn, no!… not here, Jack! Please, anyone could walk in on us — I’m not ready for that!” I said, flustered. I reached up to shed the heavy jacket. This had gone far enough for my liking. Hoping that returning his jacket would halt his advances.
Jack stopped me, his grip firm. “Leave that on, stud! And go look at yourself in the mirror over there.”
Jack’s voice had changed. It sounded more like an order than a request, and I found I could do nothing but obey. Jack twirled me around, planting both hands on my leather-clad shoulders as he pushed me across the dressing room.
We ended up in front of the full-length mirror. I saw two tough guys standing there, and it took a few seconds to realize one of them was me. Jack had taken off my glasses and rumpled my sleek, boyish hair into a fabulous-looking spiky mess. The classic biker jacket did something for my silhouette I hadn’t dared to dream of. I stroked the supple hide once more, mesmerized.
• To the underworld.
When one of my hands dropped to my side, it accidentally bumped against Jack’s stiff dick. Jack grabbed my hand immediately and cupped it over his bulge, forcing me to stroke him through the fabric of his leather gym shorts. I felt the heat rising off him. The next moment, Jack grabbed my wrist and roughly stuffed my hand down the front of his shorts and into the black jockstrap.
“Stroke it, boy!” Jack ordered. I got a firm grip on the shaft, hooking my thumb over the cockhead and jerking him off, using my thumb to smear the pre-cum over the glans. I watched us in the mirror — the leather-clad nerd and the tattooed naked biker. Jack closed his eyes in delight and started to moan dirty.
“Shit, boy! You’re actually doing it. I didn’t think you’d be up for this. I like it — keep going. Stroke my fat cock. Get it nice and hard for your lesson! Faster, boy… faster! — Keep this up, and you’ll get butt-fucked before long!”
Those words gave me a fright. I wasn’t ready for that — not at all. And Jack hadn’t been exaggerating; he was at least ten inches, if not more. I pulled my hand out of his shorts.
“What’s wrong? Why did you stop?” Jack asked, bewildered and looking a little disappointed.
“Man, you’re way too big for me, Jack! I can’t — everyone can see us here anyway!”
Jack stepped away from me for a moment. He grabbed his gym bag and guided me roughly through a door next to the mirror. Beyond it lay a dim hallway with a staircase leading down to the basement, where the building’s heater and heavy maintenance gear were kept. I’d never been down here before. Heck, I didn’t even know this place existed.
On the dirty concrete floor lay a stained mattress. Up against the wall stood a wooden frame fitted with hooks and handcuffs. From the ceiling hung a leather hammock, suspended by chains. There was also an odd kind of leather-covered bench — it looked something like a sawhorse. I had never seen equipment like this in my life.
• Eat my shorts.
Jack stood on the mattress, legs braced wide. He pointed to the spot between his gym sneakers, his gaze stern and expectant. I walked over to him, my heart hammering against my ribs, feeling smaller than ever in the shadow of his massive frame.
“Get on your knees, boy… Eat my leather shorts!” he commanded with a dirty grin. Before I could even think of resisting, he pushed me down hard, his hand heavy on the back of my head as he pressed my face right into his crotch.
“That’s right, boy! Just let it happen. We’re going to have some fun. And who knows — if you really do your best, I might have a surprise or two for you afterward.”
I eagerly slobbered over his thick bulge, working my tongue up and down the grain. The leather shorts glistened in no time flat. Jack groaned so loudly I thought he was about to cream himself right then and there. Taking that as my cue, I hooked my thumbs into his waistband and pulled the shorts and jockstrap down in one go. His rock-hard dick snapped out, hitting me right in the face. I didn’t hesitate; I swallowed the head of that monster before Jack could even react. When he did, he grabbed the back of my head and met me with a sharp, rhythmic thrust forward of his hips.
“Fuck, stud! You’re a fast learner. I must say, I love the view… a leather-clad boy worshipping my dick. Umm… that’s it… Nice and deep,” Jack muttered. He reached down to grab the leather collar of the jacket I was wearing, using it as a handle to face-fuck my mouth.
Jack pulled out just before I started to gag and puke, only to thrust back in a second later, showing no mercy. He repeated the cycle a few more times before grunting a final, guttural warning. I stuck my tongue out, swirling it around the base of the glans as Jack shot a single hot, heavy stream right into my open mouth. It tasted… sharp… masculine… odd. But I didn’t let a drop go to waste. I swallowed it down, taking the tender, throbbing member back into my throat to suck the last of Jack’s nasty spunk out.
• The second lesson.
Without a doubt, this was the filthiest thing I’d ever done, but I fucking loved it. Jack dropped to his knees and kissed me, pushing me back onto the dirty mattress. “Ready for your second lesson, boy?” he smiled, his expression growing even darker.
“Hell no! Not with that big dick of yours!” I answered resolutely.
Jack ignored my protest, pulling off my judo pants and forcing my legs apart anyway.
“Jack, NO! No way, man… that ain’t going to fit!”
He was actually scaring the shit out of me. I feared his ten-inch cock would surely do some damage to my virgin asshole.
But what Jack did next was a marvelous sensation. He buried his stubbled face between my ass-cheeks and rimmed my hole. His tongue sent me into ecstasy within seconds. I relaxed my sphincter to let him in deeper, and deeper it went. He twirled his tongue around the back door, pressing it in and spitting against my hole to lube it up good.
Jack stuck one wet finger inside while stroking my dick with his other hand, watching my reactions closely. Rummaging in his gym bag, he pulled out a bottle and smeared gel on his fingers. He slicked me up, stuffing two and then three fingers deep inside, finger-fucking me rudely as he massaged my prostate. After a while, my asshole actually became a little numb.
Jack was pleased I could take it after all, though he seemed a little surprised, too.
“Fuck, boy… you’re really tight. I’m going to split you wide open, though. Your virgin ass will be gaping before long,” Jack grunted with a mad look in his eyes as he lubed up his cock. “Are you ready?”
I didn’t answer right away. I was terrified, wondering how much this was going to hurt.
Before I could speak, Jack spoke with a mean edge. “I don’t care anyway, bitch! You’re going to get fucked — no way back now! And if you scream, I’m just going to fuck you harder. No one can hear you down here! Just give me that tight hole, boy. Lesson number two: taking a man’s dick up your bitch-ass!”
Jack swiftly lubed his length and pressed it against my back door. I let out a muffled scream of shock as he forced the cockhead inside. The girth of his monster cock stretched my sphincter to the limit. He hooked my legs over his broad shoulders, pinning my chest to the mattress and covering my mouth with one hand. He bent forward, looking me straight in the eye.
“I’m going to fuck you now! Just relax and let me in. The more you struggle, the more it’s going to hurt… and I don’t care, bitch. Just take it like a man-whore! — You’re here to please me. You’re my dirty little fuck-toy!”
Jack gripped my neck as he pushed. With a slight plop, he was past the tender spot. I let out a massive sigh of relief as Jack buried all ten inches into my ass in one slow, relentless thrust. He let it rest there for a long moment. He was ten inches long, but thankfully not too thick, yet he continued to stare me down with that mean, dominant heat.
• Butt fucked for the first time.
I gasped and grunted, my breath coming in heavy, ragged hitches as Jack pushed deeper inside.
“Shit, Jack… You’re so big! I can feel you so deep in me! I like it, Sir… but go slow. Please, it hurts — let me get used to that monster!” I moaned in painful surprise. I detected that same flicker of astonishment on Jack’s face as before.
He dropped the dominating demeanor for a split second.
“Wow, Rob… you’re taking it well. I normally don’t fuck younger guys for fear of ripping them up. But you look so fucking cool in that leather jacket, I had to have you,” Jack grunted hotly into my ear.
“Well, go slow on my ass — you’re my first, Jack!” I breathed back, the heat of the moment consuming my fear.
With that, Jack started to grind his hips in slow, punishing circles. He pulled out almost entirely a couple of times, sliding his cock back in a little rougher with every thrust.
“Jack, please — go slow… you’re hurting me!” I said, a fresh wave of fright hitting me after a particularly deep lunge.
“Fucking hell, no way, bitch! I won’t. — Stop your whining, Rob, and take it! You’re my bitch. I do what I want with you… You just need to learn to take it, boy! I am going to breed that tight bubble butt of yours,” Jack grunted meanly. But underneath that stern, dominating ‘alpha male’ role he was playing, I could still see that odd, friendly smile on his determined face.
It relaxed me enough to actually start enjoying the sensation. I reached down and began playing with my own cock, stroking in rhythm with Jack’s movements. I even reached back to grab his muscular ass, pulling him closer and pushing myself deeper onto that monster dick. The relentless thrusts against my prostate made me lose my mind.
By the time Jack was slamming into me so hard that I moaned to my lover that I was about to cum, he suddenly stopped. Apparently, that moan had dragged Jack back to reality. Jack pulled out with a wet plop and stood up.
• A third dominating lesson.
He left me lying bewildered on the mattress, legs still hanging in the air.
“Get up, bitch! Time for your third lesson, boy! Following orders from your Master,” he laughed meanly, now fully immersed in his ‘alpha boss’ mode. He hauled me gruffly to my feet and forced me over the leather-covered bench.
“I’m going to tie you down, bitch. You’re mine… I’m going to rip your hole in two,” he said, his voice so dangerous that I actually tried to struggle against his rowdy onslaught.
“What are you doing? Let me go — I don’t like this, Jack! Please,” I pleaded. I just wanted him to fuck me and get it over with, and Jack had clearly noticed that. He just laughed meanly.
“You’re going to do as you’re told, bitch! And you’re going to like it! You hear?” Jack growled. He bent over and thrust a rough thumb into my asshole, painfully cinching my cock and balls at the base with the rest of his fingers.
I was no match for him. He pinned me flat on my stomach over the bench with my ass exposed, proceeding to swiftly secure my legs and arms with leather cuffs. Jack had clearly done this before. Laughing meanly, he smacked my ass, spanking the skin until it felt burning hot.
After a moment, he fished a whip out of his gym bag, beating the living daylight out of me. But oddly enough, the pain was bearable.
He ordered me to count them out.
“One… two… three…” I cried out, the sensation sparking a strange pleasure. Suddenly, I realized why the pain was so manageable — he was hitting my back, and I was still wearing his thick leather biker jacket. The hide absorbed the worst of it.
The pain became much more intense, however, when he moved the whip down to my bubble butt. I was actually crying now, desperate to escape. I strained against the restraints but quickly gave it up as a lost cause.
• A real workout in the Gym basement.
“Suck me, bitch. Make me hard. Make it nice and wet, or I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk upright for a week!” Jack threatened. He forced me to gag on that long cock of his, continuing the whipping and face-slapping without a shred of remorse.
Once I’d managed to sufficiently lube his shaft with my saliva, he walked menacingly around the bench. He stood over my exposed rear and rammed his monster cock back into my ass in one ruthless go.
Thankfully, he’d smeared more numbing lube on his dick. I still squealed like a little pig, though it was more from pleasure than pain. He spanked my bubble butt as he harshly fucked me with long, deliberate strokes. After fifteen minutes of relentless pounding, Jack announced he was about to blow. His movements became aggressive, his hips slamming against my cheeks like he was trying to break me. I felt his balls knocking against mine like wildly swinging wrecking balls.
“Arghh… Oh hell, Jack… You’re so fucking big! Shit, man! Oh, goddamn, Jack… Yeah, fuck me!” I squealed and cursed in pleasure, still half-annoyed that I couldn’t move a muscle to meet his thrusts.
“Take it, bitch. I’m going to breed your hole… Fuck, you’re so tight. I’m cumming! Ohh… take it — Awe… Arghh… Here it comes! Oh… Arghh… yeah… fucking hell, Rob! Take my load. Oh… Bitch… take it deep!” Jack roared wildly.
We busted our nut at the exact same time. My eight-inch dick shot its biggest load ever across the floor, and Jack unloaded with mean, sharp thrusts deep inside my guts. He grunted like a wild boar on steroids, and I could feel the heat of his seed filling me up.
I’d hoped he would pull out then — the last few minutes had become excruciatingly painful — but Jack didn’t budge. He just slowed down, keeping the rhythm going to pump the cum in deeper. His sloppy wet thrusts remained mean and deliberate, his breathing heavy and labored as if he’d just run a marathon.
Only after ten more minutes did he slowly slide out. He presented his cum-slicked cock to my face.
“Clean me up, boy!” he ordered in that same nasty, stern tone. I couldn’t do much else but obey. I was still tied to the fuck-bench, and Jack yanked on another handful of my hair. I sucked, licked, and slobbered him clean, tasting the cocktail of his cum and my own juices. Jack was clearly satisfied; in no time, he was fully hard again.
We were both thrilled we’d met at the gym that day. Jack finally smiled at me, the ‘Master’ persona melting away. He untied my limbs and told me to get up.
“All well and good, Sir… but aren’t you forgetting something?” I asked naughtily, staying draped over the bench with my ass in the air.
“What the fuck do you mean, Robert?” Jack asked in surprise.
“Umm… my hole needs cleaning too, Sir.”
Jack smirked and immediately dropped behind me, lustfully felching his cum out of my ass. The sensation made the gaping heat of my hole feel incredible again. Once he’d cleaned me up, he helped me to my feet, pressing my back against his broad chest. He wrapped his massive arms around me, straining to plant a tender, lingering kiss on my neck.
• Taking a ride to Pound Town.
“Wow, Robert! Thanks, stud… It’s been a hell of a long time since I fucked a leather hunk like you this way. Your ass was made for my cock!” Jack’s voice was thick with genuine shock. He pulled back, eyes wide as he took me in. “I wouldn’t mind dressing you up in some more leather or fucking the crap out of you again. Shit, Rob… you were amazing! I didn’t think you could handle it, but you actually did. I’m so fucking proud of you, boy!”
“Yeah, this was a hell of a workout, Jack… and I definitely need to get some leather of my own. It makes me feel… Cool?!” I admitted, surprised by my own sudden confidence. “As for you fucking me again? That can be arranged. I could definitely use more training from you.” I smirked darkly, the expression feeling new and powerful on my face.
Jack whipped me around, capturing my mouth in a tongue-heavy kiss. He rubbed his palms over the back of the biker jacket I was still wearing, looking like a man who had just won the jackpot.
“How about we go to my place? I’ve got some old gear with your name on it,” he whispered hotly. “Maybe we can hang out some more, if you don’t have to go straight home?”
“I don’t. My roommate is still at work. I’d like to do some revisions on today’s lessons… see if I learned my stuff right,” I replied, shocking myself as I reached out to rub his dick through his shorts. “But I need a shower first. I feel dirty.”
We pulled on our pants and went back up the stairs to the dressing room to take a quick shower. To my surprise, the judo classes had already finished; the gym was eerily quiet. We were the last two left. Jack ordered me to keep his macho jacket on for the ride, and I didn’t argue.
Walking past the reception desk, the look of pure bewilderment on the clerk’s face was priceless — seeing the local nerd walking tall next to a tattooed biker, smirking like I owned the place.
Outside, Jack turned and handed me his helmet. “You can pick up your bicycle later. Come take a ride with me. I don’t live far,” he said. I didn’t hesitate. I climbed onto the back of his bike, still wrapped in his leather. I held on for dear life as we raced toward his apartment complex on the seedy side of town. To my surprise, he didn’t stop at the front entrance; he rode straight into the parking garage, descending all the way to the bottom floor.
• A show of vicious brutality.
We rolled past a cluster of dumpsters and saw five skinheads using and abusing a skinny punk-rocker. We slowed to a crawl, watching with a sort of detached interest as the fuckers took the punk extremely roughly. Jack’s cock was already hard again, and I barely blinked when I felt one of his fingers find its way back into my asshole. The skinheads didn’t seem to mind the audience; if anything, they looked up and lazily suggested we join the festivities. Jack didn’t bother answering. He just watched for another minute before guiding me toward the elevator, leaving the punk to his fate.
Inside the elevator, Jack leaned against the wall and pressed me to my knees. He was clearly still riding a high from the brutal scene outside, and he seemed to expect me to just fall into place. I started licking his boots and the grain of his leather jeans, indifferent to the fact that we were in a public lift. When the doors slid open on the third floor, an elderly woman stood there, frozen. She caught me mid-stroke, sucking Jack off with casual abandon. She let out a sharp scream, but Jack didn’t even flinch.
“What the fuck are you looking at, slag?” Jack yelled, his voice flat and mean. The woman just stood there ogling us, paralyzed by the sight.
I didn’t fucking care anymore. The biker’s ten-inch dick just tasted too good to stop just because of a spectator. If anything, her presence made me want to perform; I started making obscene, wet slobbering noises just to see her flinch. Jack didn’t miss a beat, roughly throat-fucking me while he glared at her. He mocked her with a cold, mean smile until she finally turned and ran away in disgust. I looked up at him, the leather jacket still heavy on my shoulders. “I just like me a leather-clad dick, Sir. Damned if I care who sees it,” I said, before swallowing his half-stiff member right down to the hilt.
The elevator doors closed again, and Jack shoved my face back down over the long meat. He held me there, pinned and breathless, all the way to his floor. Jack was rough, even a little cruel like that, but I found I didn’t mind the edge. I still had plenty to learn, and the afternoon was far from over.
• Bondage gear and more.
Jack walked across the landing of his floor with his dick still hanging out of his leather jeans, letting it swing lustfully in the hallway. His arm was clamped tightly around my waist, and while I was glad no one was around to see us, I couldn’t help but wonder if he wanted to be caught. He unlocked the door and pressed me over the threshold. Judging by the rundown, graffiti-covered exterior of the building, I’d feared the worst for the inside of the flat. To my surprise, it was well-kept and roomy.
I hung Jack’s heavy biker jacket on a coat hook in the hallway. The rack was crowded with several other leather and denim pieces. On the hat rack lay a battered baseball bat, and from the hooks hung metal handcuffs and a long rubber truncheon. My eyes widened at a leather collar attached to a thick metal dog chain. Jack saw me casting a curious, worried look at the gear.
“Not to worry, Rob… that’s only for disobedient guests and bitches who don’t do as they’re told,” Jack grinned.
“Do you get many of those up here?” I asked, my mind racing with images of who else had been pinned against these walls.
“Not nearly enough. And certainly none as hot as you!” Jack smirked back. “But I do love to assault an asshole if I get the chance.”
“Ha… yeah, I noticed — Those brutal skinheads in the garage… friends of yours?” I asked, trying to figure out the hierarchy of this new world.
“Hell no! Those bastards hang out there because it’s deserted. They’ll fuck anything with a heartbeat,” Jack said, a look of genuine disgust crossing his face. Yet, the way he said it sounded like a lie he told many times before.
He pushed me into the open-plan living room, offering me a seat on one of the black leather couches before disappearing into the kitchen for drinks. When he returned, he vaulted over the back of the sofa and sat close enough for me to feel his heat. He handed me a glass. “You deserved this. I was amazed by how cool you looked in leather,” he said, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. “Now… look around a while, I’ll get you something else you really deserve.”
I let my gaze drop longingly to his bulge.
“Not yet, you dirty little fuck-toy! We can play more later if you want,” Jack laughed, walking away and leaving me to take in the surroundings.
The flat was sleek and modern — all black leather, white paint, and chrome. At first glance, you wouldn’t know a ‘dirty leather fucker’ lived here at all. But as I looked closer, I discovered subtle hints: the way the light hit the fetish art, the proud, quiet displays of a gay leather life. Jack went all the way with this stuff; that much was clear.
I had not touched the drink. The way the soda fizzed had sent my spidy-sense tingling. Was I being groomed? He would not drug me and feed me to those skinheads in the parking garage, would he?
“Hey, Jack? When did you discover you were into bondage and leather?” I called toward the bedroom.
“Oh… that’s a long story. And it has everything to do with this,” Jack said, emerging with a biker jacket, stonewashed jeans with a torn-out ass, and a pair of heavy chaps. “Strip off and put these on, boy. If they fit you, Robert, they’re yours.”
I did a double-take, looking from the old leather gear to Jack. Within seconds, my judo gear was a pile on the floor. I pulled on the ripped jeans and the jacket — they fit like a second skin. Jack stepped in to help with the chaps, adjusting the laces at the back and zipping the legs closed. I felt cocooned by the weight of the hide. He made me do a few squats to check the fit, but they were perfect.
“This was my first full-leather outfit,” Jack gasped, his voice full of pride. “God, Robert, I felt so cool wearing those. I’d strut around school, tearing up asses left and right. Anyone with a hole and a heartbeat was fair game for me and my friends. I was part of a dirt-bike crew back in technical school. We were a pack of local terrors for the nerds — turning them into regular fuck-toys. I realized then it wasn’t just the look… it was the feeling of power and control.”
The mention of a ‘dirt-bike crew’ sent a cold shiver through me, stirring up a dark, buried memory. My older brother, John, had once confessed to my roommate that he’d been accosted by a gang exactly like that. They’d taken his virginity with the same ruthless hunger Jack had just shown me. However, John’s body hadn’t fared nearly as well. He’d ended up in the hospital, his insides torn apart, right around the time Dad barked at me to ‘man up’ and start judo classes.
• The nasty realisation.
I sat there flabbergasted, barely able to process the fact that I had just become the owner of my first set of cool leather gear. Overwhelmed, I swung an arm around Jack’s neck, pulled him close, and thanked him with a hot, sloppy, wet kiss that tasted of lingering heat and gratitude.
“Want to see some pictures of the old crew and me?” Jack asked. He pulled out his phone and started streaming photos and videos to his big-screen TV. The images were nearly life-size, filling the room with a grainy, masculine energy. At first, he showed me some relatively innocent shots of his gang members — just guys leaning against their mopeds, looking tough. But within moments, the reel shifted into full-blown porn they made.
I watched, mesmerized, as the screen filled with the lads standing proud, their dicks out and ready, all dressed in heavy leather and denim. Jack had been a striking stud back then, too, radiating a raw power that hadn’t faded with age. He even showed me some of his ‘fuck-toys’ from the old days — guys who looked just as overwhelmed and small as I felt right now.
One young boy in particular. Maybe a few years younger than I am now. Jack and his mates must have been a few classes above him. But they used and abused him in much the same way the skinheads had the punk in the parking garage.
Jack showed a dirty movie of one of their escapades in the boys’ room at school. The five of them were beating up the struggling ‘victim.’ Ripping his clothes off. Whipping him raw with the baseball bat, I recognized it from the hallway. And putting the dog leash on him, which also hung there.
Jack had his gangbangers hold the boy bent over, grabbed his monster cock, and slammed it raw inside. The boy squealed like a pig. The others quickly filled the hands and throat of the boy. Jack did his power move on the boy’s asshole. Breeding him hard and fast.
The rude basterds — all clad in their kinky leather outfits — took turns on the victim, showing him no more mercy than Jack had shown me. The boy’s face was constantly buried under a cock, his features obscured. As soon as the camera zoomed in on his dick, a sickening realization hit me like a physical blow. The cock was being milked as his ass was ripped open.
I knew that guy! The boy being roughly manhandled by that crew was more than just familiar. The distinct birthmark above his pubes… the tiny mole on his shaft… I’d seen them before.
“Come on… it wasn’t all that bad, Robert,” Jack chuckled, watching me flinch at the screen. “I actually dated the boy for a few years. He was used to this kind of play by then.”
Jack grabbed my hand and hauled me into his bedroom, eager to prove his point. He pointed proudly to a large, full-color photograph on the wall. It showed the five of them and the familiar boy in all their glory — the crew with their cocks out of their leather gear, and the boy in the center, wearing a dirty grin and covered in multiple loads of cum.
“Look, there’s Johnny!” Jack exclaimed, his voice thick with pride. “He loved this kind of shit. So, what’s your issue?”
I stared at the photo, my vision tunneling as a cold, sharp rage began to boil under my skin. “Well… the ‘issue’… dear Jack… is that I know that boy. And you’re in deep shit now,” I said, my voice trembling with restrained fury.
“Firstly, asshole, John was way too young in that video,” I choked out, the words feeling like glass in my throat. “Secondly, he did not like it at all. And thirdly… he’s my older brother! And you’re still trying your ‘party tricks’ on people, aren’t you, Jack-ass! This will end here!”
• Revenging my older brother.
John had never explicitly told me why I needed to toughen up — only that he didn’t want me ending up like some guy’s fuck-toy, the way he’d been at school. However, his warning made me give up my resistance and obediently followed my parents’ wishes by taking Judo classes.
The rage hit me like a tidal wave. Before Jack could utter a word, I lunged, pulling a judo move that used his own massive weight against him. I slammed the muscular biker over my shoulder and onto the king-sized, leather-covered bed. I pinned him into a chokehold, beating the crap out of him with a fury I didn’t know I possessed.
Jack tried to fight back, but my adrenaline was a drug; he couldn’t shake me off. My hand fumbled with the handcuffs hanging from the shoulder strap of the jacket I was wearing, and I snapped them around his wrists behind his back.
With him rendered near-immobile, I jerked his leather pants down. It was my turn to do the terrorizing. I unbuttoned my fly in one swift move and slammed my angry dick raw into Jack’s butt. I was brutally fucking him like a goddamn Energizer Bunny, and it was Jack’s turn to squeal like a little pig. My hands closed tight around his throat, choking him as my dick nailed him ‘good’.
And ‘good’ was the operative word. It felt superior. My rock-hard, eight-inch, leather-clad cock was deep inside a hot ass, pounding the crap out of it until I shot a big, sticky load inside. I felt powerful. For the first time in my life, I was in complete control. I had a fistful of hair in one hand, a whip in the other, and a cum-filled ass on my dick. I railed his hole for a very long time.
Jack had been right about one thing: it’s not the clothes you wear; it’s the attitude that comes with them that counts.
After three-quarters of an hour, I was spent. I’d taken enough revenge out of Jack’s ass. I got up and kneeled over his head, pressing myself against his face. “Clean me, bitch!” I ordered in the most butch voice I could muster. Not taking no for an answer, I pulled his head up by his long hair and plunged him over my dick, making him slobber me clean.
I left him lying on the bed, his hands still locked behind him. I found a neat pair of leather pants and pulled them on over the chaps and torn jeans. I stepped into a pair of butch metal-tipped cowboy boots and grabbed my judo gear from the living room on the way out. Jack didn’t even protest. He just lay there, grinning from ear to ear, as I slammed the door shut behind me.
• Aftermath.
It was already pitch black by the time I made it back to the gym to reclaim my bicycle. I took the shortcut across the train tracks, the metal tips of the cowboy boots echoing against the gravel, vibrating with the adrenaline still singing in my veins. When I stepped into the kitchen, I saw the familiar bulk of Peter’s army duffel bag dropped by the table. He’d left a scrawled note: “See you soon, Robert. Going to pick up some Chinese for us. ^Peter.”
I headed upstairs, my reflection in the bathroom mirror looking like a total stranger. I grabbed his hair gel and spiked my hair into a jagged, aggressive crown. My heart hammered against my ribs as I shed the leather pants and the torn denim beneath my chaps. I stepped back into the boots, feeling the cold air hit my bare skin through the open leather. I was a weapon now, and I wanted to see if it worked.
“Hey, Robert! You home yet? I got the food — get it while it’s hot!” Peter’s voice boomed from downstairs.
“Upstairs, Peter! Got a surprise for you!” I called back, my voice steady and dark. I dropped onto my hands and knees over the corner of the bed. My hole pointing toward the doorway, arching my back so my ass was the first thing he’d see. I wore nothing but that rugged biker jacket, the heavy, black chaps, and burly cowboy boots.
“Holy fuck!” Peter choked out, freezing in the doorway as his eyes raked over the leather and skin.
“Yes… please. Fuck my hole, Peter. Nail me right now,” I growled, looking back at him with a predatory grin. “I met an old ‘friend’ of my brother’s today. He taught me a thing or two, and I liked it. I liked it a fucking lot. Screw me, Peter. Like Jack fucked John — but do it because you want me.”
I knew Peter was bisexual, but he’d always treated me like his best friend’s untouchable little brother. Those days were over. I saw the hunger snap in his eyes. He didn’t hesitate; he ripped into his army camo, his gear hitting the floor with a heavy thud as he stared at my gaping, ready heat.
“Lube?” he rasped, his hand already reaching for his fly.
“No need,” I answered, the rage and pleasure blurring together. “Jack ripped me open today, but I’m still hungry. I need a real man to make love to me, Peter. Not just abuse me.”
He didn’t waste another second. Peter buried his thick nine inches into me in one soul-crushing thrust, pounding the living daylights out of me. He claimed me with a ferocity that made the bed frame scream, filling my ass and throat with several pent-up loads before flipping me over and riding my leather-clad dick raw like a cowboy. It wasn’t a lesson; it was a goddamn initiation.
We spent the entire night discovering each other, the leather creaking and the air thick with the scent of leather sex. By morning, the ‘nerd’ was dead. The next day, Peter made a few calls to his platoon. A squad of his army mates paid Jack a little visit at his apartment complex. We threw a wild party at Jack’s expense, leaving him well-fucked, bleeding, and tied to a dumpster in that seedy garage for his skinhead buddies to find.
I was the youngest of the crew, but from that day on, I led the charge. Clad in a lethal mix of leather, denim, and camo, I felt too dangerous to be allowed. I demanded respect and got it — not just for the hide I wore, but for the cold, hard attitude that came with it. I kept Jack as my personal dawg, fucking the crap out of him every Wednesday afternoon to remind him of his place, and letting the army gang have their way with me whenever the mood struck.
I finally saved enough to buy my own jacket — a heavy, black skin that fit my soul. I wasn’t lacking confidence anymore. I had found it in the dark. It dragged me toward the light, and I was never letting go.
• The End •
Thank you for reading this story.
Please give it a 👍 Like or a Comment if you are inclined to do so.
And if your hands are not too dirty from all the spilled cum! 😋
© StrykerJ - January 2026
