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.
Boss Brute seduced me to come to his house for long sessions, where he will dominate me, use me and humiliate me. The thought alone makes me so horny, I can't refuse his offer.
“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.
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.
The Royal Affair is not just a story of power and passion. It is the story of the forbidden, of longing pressed too close, of hands brushing where they should not. And once the line is crossed, there is no turning back.
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.
After opening up about his divorce, Greg admitted to Alex how long it had been since he’d had any real intimacy, how months without affection or release had left him restless and horny.
399 BC. 18 year old Lysander is about to be claimed by a teacher, to be taught the ways of the Spartan Soldier, to become a true pupil, an eromenos to an honoured soldier, and to be tethered to the man he has fallen in love with. Only there are other suitors, and Lysander is about to begin a journey that will go against all Sparta stands for.
He was easy to spot as he towered over the other pedestrians in both height and width in the same large black coat he wore last night, with the same black tuque on his head down to his eyes. His face had a slight bit of stubble since last night, but every other ounce of his giant muscular body that I had seen on display in all its glory last night.
I nervously looked at Mario, who was staring at me over Mark’s shoulder as I talked with these two older men. I suddenly wondered if Mario knew about me and these two men; if Ben was wondering about Neil; and Neil wondering about Ben. This really wasn't a good idea for me to come.
I should’ve let him leave. I should’ve just let Cole walk away, stroke himself off alone, and pretend this night never happened.
But I begged.
I begged him to stay. Called him sir. Promised I’d do better.
So now I’m here; mouth sore, throat raw, and still desperate for more. He called me
a mutt, and I fucking agreed. I wanted his cock so bad
Duke then closed the door behind us. “Welcome to our Red Room.” He said with a grin and moved to the side, where he slowly sat down on the throne, lifting one foot onto the stool, making sure his robe covered his crotch. He sat back and put an elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his chin on his hand. “What do you think?”
I could hear the shower running, the sounds of splashing from a distance. I moved out of the bed, noticing I was still naked. I was already horny again for Mr. Olsen, and figured I’d get more of what I could while the house still slept. Except when I opened the door and moved to the shower it wasn't Ben Olsen in there: it was his son Mark.
Those of you who read my stories regularly can no doubt tell that I have a fetish for older, very muscular men. This story certainly fits the bill. I hope you enjoy it.
Fourplay' is a crossover story that brings together the characters from Crashing at Brad’s Place and My Ex’s Brother Drew. After watching Jason’s video with Brad and Cody, Drew sends them a text that sets the stage for a meet up
Ralph stepped closer, calm as ever, like walking in on a man getting his ass eaten was just another Tuesday for him. Calvin finally lifted his head from between my cheeks; his face wet from all the drooling, beard a little messy, eyes half-lidded and looked up at him with a lazy grin.
Two men meet minutes before boarding their flight at the airport, sexual chemistry felt within seconds. They find it hard to keep their hands off each other during the flight despite the threat of eyes around them. What comes next is an explosive exploration that leaves them both breathless, and maybe some other happy flight members too.