Thank you for your comments and feedback! Feel free to email me as it keeps me going! For those interested in reading the tales in order, they would go something like this:
Put me in coach; I’ll Take Care of you Now; Tell Daddy You want it; Meet Your New Uncle; Meeting Uncle Kirk's New Friend; My First Year of University; The Professor; Second Year; Quite Frankly; The Gang's All Here; The Taste of Revenge; Getting Serviced at the Dealership; Summer landscaping bonus; Travelling Through Europe; Returning Home; Daddy's Home; Need a Ride; And Then I Met Him; Can’t Fight This Feeling; That Magical Place; Being Neighbourly; Yes Sir; Bromance Vacation; Continuing my Bromance; Feeling the Beast Between my Thighs; First Gym Encounter; Back for Another Walk; The Getaway Weekend
Love reading stories too, so keep them coming!
LittleBuddy Stories
Below you can find the complete collection of stories by LittleBuddy.
He appeared in the doorway, wearing the grey pants I left for him, and I noticed right away his cock swinging free in the middle as leaned against the frame. His hair was a mess from our recent morning romp, his eyes still soft with sleep, the pants a big baggy on his muscular lean frame. But otherwise he looked absolutely stellar.
Those grey eyes never looked away, and the smile never stopped as he breached my still lubed ass. A big hand grabbed the back of my neck and he pulled me back towards him, not for a kiss, but to just rest his forehead to mine.
Brasidas huffed at me, and spit onto the ground at my feet. “Your brother, Alexandrios…," he said, hearing my brother’s name spoken aloud seemed to hit me harder than I expected, "…had a fire that could have lit up all of Greece." His voice, usually a gravelly command, softened into something I did not recognize from him.
I almost didn’t recognize him out of his SECURITY uniform. He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a long grey winter coat with a dark grey tuque on his head and scarf wrapped around his thick neck, his brown winter laced boots crossed at the ankles. I did a double take, my eyes catching the sight of him as some hunky model posing for a pic.
I knelt over him, the mattress dipping under my weight. I covered him with my body, my hands on either side of his head. I just looked, drinking in the reality of him. Troy Jenkins. In my bed at last. Naked. Hard. Panting.
And then I heard the footsteps coming down the stairs and I smirked even wider and opened the door to the bathroom just a smidge to give Ben the hint. But it wasn’t Ben who came in suddenly, but rather Mark, in a grey tank top and a pair of boxer shorts, his eyes narrow as he took in my naked body.
With a guttural sound that was half agony, half surrender, he crossed the room and his mouth crashed down on mine. All the fear, the rage, the public humiliation, the private torment—it all poured into that kiss. It was desperate and furious and tender all at once.
He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against mine, water dripping from both our faces, but it was me that went to my knees first. And holy God what a big thick dick. It was long, like a pole, hard and sticking straight up.
He licked his lips, his blue eyes raking over my chest when he made a sound. I looked down at my pecs, still impressive and hard, muscled from good genes and hard gym time. I made them flex, then dance and he let out a soft “Fuck me.” While my brain screamed I will, I managed to speak. “Your turn.”
They were taking their turns. First King and Bo, then Cowboy, now Coop. One at a time. Making sure I felt each one slide in. Giving me a taste of what they could do. They wanted their pleasure, turning me into the slut I always knew I was.
"This is you,” he whispered, his forehead resting against mine as he moved inside me. He stilled me, forcing my body to relax, his rhythm now a desperate but forceful deliberate reclaiming. “This, right here.” His hand gripped my pectoral muscle, his fingers outlining my heart. “This is mine. Remember? He cannot touch this."
I brought my hand up to his wrist at first, my fingers barely making it around the thickness of this man. But then my other hand removed itself from his chest and found his jaw, the stubble rough against my palm, showing him without words that I was here, that I wasn’t going anywhere as I tried to control my breathing and my pounding heart.
Now that we’re alone, it’s harder to avoid him. I keep my eyes on the torque converter. But I was feeling something, other than the need to fuck someone else, other than the tension between us. Something I needed to get off my chest. I needed to tell him, but what exactly I didn’t know.
I stood as tall as I could and lifted my chin upward. "I knelt to him. I gave him my oath. I am his eromenos now, in truth." I kept my voice even. "The training… it is not what you think. It is an agreement. And I have chosen to obey." Theron stared at me as if I were a stranger, someone else standing before him.
I felt my head nodding as I looked into his eyes. My ass twitched, remembering how good it felt when Mario’s beer can thick cock had slowly fucked me many times last year. But now I felt the slight bruising from mere minutes ago by his girlfriend’s father. Ben’s cum was still circling inside me and all I could think about was Mario’s tasty cock.
Big Ray took the socket, his eyes meeting mine for a second. There was a flicker there. Something ambiguous. Maybe just friendly camaraderie. Maybe a hint of curiosity. With big, straight, married guys, you could never tell. It was all part of the frustrating, addictive game I found myself playing lately. It was all I knew.
He began to move, not with the force I was expecting, but with a slow, deliberate calculation, his hands releasing my chest, moving all over my torso in a claiming I didn’t understand. I kept my eyes closed as he used me. This was my duty. I belonged to him. Erastes and erominos. Sparta’s acceptable union.
I looked at the pic Grant held out. "He’s got tons of money and a dirty mind. I recognized him when he took his mask off.” Grant looked down at my body. “He likes smaller jocks, straight muscle type guys that can take a hard pounding and won’t out him.” He raised an eyebrow. “So you interested?”
Instead of wanting to go out and find relief with some random, I stayed at home and reached for myself, to satisfy my own needs while replaying images from the day about Troy Jenkins. Like the flex of his forearm when he tightened a bolt, or the way his coveralls fit across the width of his back when he leaned over an engine, or that ass.
I looked down the narrow aisle at the comically small door of the lavatory. I looked back at his six-foot-two, solid-muscle frame of 240 pounds. “In there?” I hissed. My 57-year-old retired police officer with the daring rejuvenated freedom of a teenage delinquent lately with the physique of a Roman gladiator grinned. How could I say no?
“Got room for me?” Aldo's deep voice added as he moved in around Dom, holding his cock in his hand, hiding it from sight as I took in his darker looking body. Dom was all smooth and a bit thicker in build compared to his brother's more defined muscular build with a splash of hair on his hard pecs and that sexy line leading down over his abs.
I fought for a feeling. For the memory of Theron's mouth on mine, his hands in my hair, the look in his eyes that saw me, and not the ghost of a better son. And that feeling, that secret warmth, was the only reason my trembling legs still held me up. It was not my weakness. It was the only strength I had left.
“You will learn discipline,” Brasidas grunted, his breath smelling of metal and wine. “You will learn strength. You will learn that a mind is nothing without the will to enforce it.” He released me, and I stumbled back a step, my skin burning where he had touched me.
I tore my eyes away from the Ivan-shaped distraction to see a beefy man with a permanent grease stain on his cheek and a toothpick tucked in the corner of his mouth. The same married guy I blurted out to when I first walked into the garage. The big, solid just-my-type-married-man. Doug Smith, Smitty everyone called him.
He was… sunlight. Tall, lean, built like he still could throw a sixty-yard pass. He had one of those faces that belonged on a sports drink commercial, all short, cropped blonde and tanned, with a jawline that would rival any statue and lips that begged to be kissed.
The photos did not do him justice as the masculine married mechanic I had blurted out to pointed a thick finger sideways. Ivan Volkov was standing with his back to me, bent over the engine bay of a classic Chevy pickup before he heard me and turned, and my first, purely intellectual thought was: So that’s what a mountain looks like in coveralls.
I saw Theron approach. He did not charge. He simply stood, his presence a challenge in the still air. I could not hear their words, but I saw the set of Theron’s shoulders, the unyielding line of his spine. I saw Brasidas turn, his laughter a silent, ugly gesture that I felt in the pit of my stomach. My heart was a frantic drum. Don't.
The silver fox smiled, and I noticed how big his pecs were and how flat his stomach was as he stretched up tall. He looked even older than King but was in smokin’ hot shape for a man his age. His crew cut grey hair and full stubbled grey beard made him look like the sexiest Sheriff Daddy anyone could lay eyes on. A prison guard and a cop? Fuck me.
Rob pulled me away from the gaze of Jim. "Talk to me, Bri," he said, his voice soft. He was still holding my hand, but now he faced me, directly, his eyes squinting from the sun, waiting for me to answer. I hesitated, unsure of what he wanted me to say. "It was just... flirting," I started, the defense automatic.
I said I wanted to feel this little muscley body.” Mario leaned over me, and said it directly into my ear. “Now relax and let me.”I took in a deep breath as I felt his hands begin to massage my shoulders. This was not what I expected at all.