Bending Eli

[Piejukebox]

i need a eventual battle of the doms with Casper and Mason

 

[Miroto]

i need a eventual battle of the doms with Casper and Mason

 

[fmbttm]

i need a eventual battle of the doms with Casper and Mason

1. Who would win?
2. Who do you want to win?

 

[Piejukebox]

1. Who would win?
2. Who do you want to win?

i'd actually want a tie where they see each other as equals who'd both submit to the other and only each other in a throuple especially since they both like their holes played with kind've situation but most authors would stick to a more traditional outcome with one of them winning... the other outcome i think would be hot is casper submitting to mason because the idea of the older coach submitting is hot

 

[fmbttm]

Yeah I think whatever the outcome, it would be hotttt!! Casper submitting to Mason would be REALLY hot though!!

i'd actually want a tie where they see each other as equals who'd both submit to the other and only each other in a throuple especially since they both like their holes played with kind've situation but most authors would stick to a more traditional outcome with one of them winning... the other outcome i think would be hot is casper submitting to mason because the idea of the older coach submitting is hot

 

[BrokenBoundariesGayErotica]

Excellent Chapters and great writing. These two are intense and hot.

Thank you as always Michael! <3

Yes!! More Mason please!!!

There is lots more Mason to come. The story is at chapter 24 now and Mason is definitely very prominent at this point. There's also a new twist.. bum bum bummmmm! lol

That was amazingly hot! Thanks for that!

Happy you enjoyed!

i need a eventual battle of the doms with Casper and Mason

That's an interesting idea. Maybe something for an alternate universe storyline.

1. Who would win?
2. Who do you want to win?

i'd actually want a tie where they see each other as equals who'd both submit to the other and only each other in a throuple especially since they both like their holes played with kind've situation but most authors would stick to a more traditional outcome with one of them winning... the other outcome i think would be hot is casper submitting to mason because the idea of the older coach submitting is hot

Yeah I think whatever the outcome, it would be hotttt!! Casper submitting to Mason would be REALLY hot though!!

I could see myself writing this as part of the Bending Eli non-canonical series. The main story has another path planned and it's already headed in that direction on my site, but I'll poll my readers and see if they'd be into this.

 

[BrokenBoundariesGayErotica]

Chapter 18: Head Trauma​

© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

I woke to the sound of Mason’s breathing across the room from me where I could see the slow rise and fall of his chest as he slept. His hair was a mess, his mouth slack in a way I’d never seen before. He looked peaceful, almost boyish. The light leaking in from the blinds caught the edges of his jaw, making him look softer than he had any right to after what he’d done to me last night.

I lay still, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, my mind replaying every detail the previous evening. I remembered the way his hands locked around my hips, the sound of his voice, low and certain in my ear and the way his firm, hard body pressed against mine.

This time there was no pretending he’d been too drunk to remember. No hazy morning-after excuse that could undo what had happened. Mason had been sober; he’d known exactly what he was doing, and so had I. That truth sat heavy in my chest, both thrilling and unsettling.

Would it happen again? Would he want it? Expect it? The thought made my stomach twist. I wanted him to want me, but I didn’t know what that would do to the way we lived together. Would every casual joke or glance be different now?

I turned my head slightly, taking in the curve of his shoulder, the faint smudge of a bruise on his neck. My body smarted in familiar places, a slow throb that brought every moment back. I could stay. I could wait for him to wake and see if his eyes said the same things his body had last night. But the possibility of awkwardness, of him brushing it off or making a joke, felt too risky.

I slid out from under the covers, careful not to shift the mattress and make too much noise. Mason didn’t stir. I pulled on sweatpants and a hoodie, moving quietly, then slipped my shoes on by the door. I didn’t look back before easing it shut behind me.

The hallway air was cool and faintly smelled of last night’s takeout from someone else’s room. I stood there for a second with my hands in my pockets, trying to steady myself. My heart still felt tight, like I’d left something behind in that room.

I needed to move, to clear my head. The gym was as good a place as any.

Outside, the morning air bit against my face, harsh and invigorating. I walked quickly, my legs moving on instinct while my thoughts stayed behind with Mason.

By the time I reached the gym’s glass doors, my pulse had evened out. My reflection in the glass looked calm enough, but I knew better. I pushed the door open, telling myself I was here to work, not think.

The gym was quiet for a Monday morning. A few people were scattered on machines, the sound of weights clanking in the distance. I scanned the room, hoping to blend in and work through my thoughts in peace.

Of course, luck wasn’t on my side. Casper stepped out from the locker room just as I was heading toward the treadmills. His hair was damp at the edges, his T-shirt clinging to him in a way that made it obvious he’d already warmed up.

“Morning,” he said, his voice carrying across the room.

I gave a quick nod. “Hey.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion exactly, but like he was sizing me up. He crossed the floor toward me, every step easy and confident.

“You look… off,” he said once he was closer. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I replied too quickly.

Casper tilted his head, unconvinced. “You’re a bad liar.”

I forced a shrug. “Just tired.”

“Uh-huh.” He glanced toward the far side of the gym, where the open workout room was empty. “You need a reset. Something heavy. Let’s do a full circuit—cardio, lifts, deep stretches. Get your head out of whatever’s eating at you.”

The offer caught me off guard. I’d come here to be alone, but the thought of pushing myself hard enough to quiet my thoughts had its appeal. “Alright,” I said finally.

“Good.” Casper’s mouth twitched into a small grin. “Come on.”

We started with cardio: ten minutes of sprints on the treadmill until my lungs burned and sweat slicked the back of my neck. Casper kept pace beside me, his stride smooth and unbroken. He didn’t talk much, just gave the occasional nod or gesture for me to keep my speed up.

From there, he led me to the free weights. We moved through a series of lifts that left my muscles screaming halfway through each set. Casper spotted me the whole time, his hands hovering near the bar when I benched, his voice steady with quiet instructions.

“You’re tensing your shoulders,” he said at one point, reaching down to tap them lightly. “Loosen up. Let the chest do the work.”

I adjusted, focusing on form, counting each rep in my head. The familiar feeling of strain began to drown out the restless loop of thoughts about Mason.

We finished with stretches on the mats. Casper knelt beside me, guiding my posture when I leaned into a hamstring stretch, pressing down gently on my back until I felt the pull run all the way down my legs.

“Better?” he asked.

“A little,” I admitted.

He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You’re still distracted,” he said finally.

I didn’t answer. He wasn’t wrong; I was still thinking about Mason, but saying anything risked too much.

Casper’s gaze lingered, like he was deciding whether to push further.

Casper didn’t waste time once we hit the next set. He set the treadmill speed for a sprint and started running beside me, matching my pace easily. We stayed quiet for the first few minutes, the pounding of our feet filling the space.

Then, without looking over, he said, “You’ve still got that look.”

“What look?” I asked, eyes fixed on the readout in front of me.

“One that says something’s chewing at you.” His tone was casual, but the way he said it left no doubt he’d been paying attention since the second I walked in.

I kept my voice steady. “Just didn’t sleep much.”

“Bullshit,” he said, still running. “I’ve seen you after all-nighters. This is different.”

I didn’t answer right away, focusing instead on the burn building in my legs. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell him. Casper was… safe, in his own way, but there was no version of this conversation that didn’t end with more questions.

“It’s nothing I can’t deal with,” I said finally.

He glanced at me, his brow furrowing slightly before he eased the speed down. “Fine. If you’re gonna stonewall, we’ll just burn it out of you instead.”

We moved on to weights, and he was more hands-on than usual. He adjusted my grip, spotted every set, correcting my form at every turn. The physical focus was helping, but every so often I caught him studying me between reps.

On the mats, he guided me into stretches, his hands a constant presence on my shoulders and back. “You know,” he said, “talking actually works better than bottling it up.”

I shrugged, keeping my eyes on the floor. “Maybe. Just not today.”

Casper didn’t push further, but the silence between us felt like an anchor that was weighing me down now, his attention lingering like he was biding his time.

We moved into the last round of stretches. Casper positioned himself in front of me, one knee down, the other bent, leaning in to press my shoulders forward. The stretch should have had my focus, but my eyes kept catching on the details of his body. I noticed how his forearms braced against my back and the way his shirt pulled across his chest. I even traced the faint line of muscle down his neck with my eyes.

It wasn’t deliberate at first; I was just noticing, but once my brain caught up to what I was doing, it was already too late. Images from other times with him slipped in uninvited: How his hands had gripped my hips; How his voice had sounded when he told me to keep going; The other things we’d done together… My cock stirred, then swelled fast, trapped awkwardly in my shorts.

I shifted slightly, hoping the movement would ease it, but it only made me more aware of how hard I was.

Casper’s voice cut through everything. “Something’s going on in that head of yours.”

I glanced up, heart picking up speed. “What do you mean?”

“I can tell you’re not thinking about the gym anymore.” His eyes dropped to the front of my shorts, and I knew there was no hiding it. “Yeah. Exactly.”

A flush climbed my neck. My mind went to Mason, still asleep this morning, the memory of him rough and unfiltered fresh in my body. Did I really want to walk straight into something else the very next day? The smart answer was no. But Casper was not Mason. He had his own pull, his own way of making me feel like I didn’t have to think, only do.

Casper tilted his head slightly. “So, you want to keep pretending you’re here to stretch, or do you want a different kind of workout?”

My mouth was dry. I should have said no. I should have said I needed a break. Instead, I heard myself say, “Yeah.”

His smirk deepened like he had been expecting that. “Not here. My office.”

(Continued in next post...)

 

[BrokenBoundariesGayErotica]

Chapter 18: Head Trauma (continued...)​

© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

He stood and offered his hand. I took it, letting him pull me up. His grip was firm and casual, but it carried the same authority it always did.

We walked through the main gym without rushing. A couple of people were still scattered on the machines, but no one gave us a second glance. To anyone else, it probably looked like he was just leading an athlete to go over some training notes.

At the far end, he unlocked the frosted-glass door to his office and held it open for me. Inside, the same neat setup: desk, gym bag in the corner, couch against the wall.

Casper stepped in after me, shut the door, and locked it with a quiet click. “Alright,” he said, his voice steady. “Strip and get on all fours.”

I pulled my shirt over my head and let it drop to the floor. My shorts followed, sliding down my legs until I stepped out of them. The mat was cool under my knees as I settled into position, palms flat in front of me.

Casper’s footsteps came closer. The sound stopped just behind me, then shifted as he stepped around to my side. I looked up enough to see him kneel, one leg lowering first, then the other. His shorts hung loose at his hips for a second before he pushed them down, freeing his cock.

It was already hard, the smooth skin stretched over thick muscle, the head flushed darker. He didn’t touch himself much, he just angled forward until the tip hovered in front of my face.

“Open,” he said.

I did and he slid the head past my lips, the weight settling on my tongue. My jaw adjusted to the girth as he fed me more, the taste clean but faintly salty. His hand found the back of my head, palm wide and warm, guiding me forward until my lips met the base. I breathed in through my nose, the scent of him sweaty and familiar.

He pulled back with the same control, letting the head rest on my tongue before pushing in again. The pace stayed even; there were no sudden thrusts, no teasing pauses. Casper just maintained a steady, exact motion that made it easy to match his rhythm. My neck tilted with each stroke, my knees pressing into the mat for balance.

I let my tongue work the underside of him, tracing the firm ridge, feeling the slight pulse in the vein near the base. Every few strokes, he would hold me there, my lips flush against his skin, the weight filling my mouth completely. My throat worked to swallow around him, and his fingers tightened slightly in my hair before easing off.

The only sounds were my breathing and the quiet wet noise my mouth made each time he slid free. My lips felt swollen, my jaw started to ache, but I stayed with him, letting the repetition sink into my body.

He didn’t say much, just a low “good” when I took him deeper without gagging, or when my tongue pressed in exactly the way he liked. The words landed the way they did when he was training me on the mats. I felt driven to work harder, to do better for him.

Minutes passed like that, his cock moving in and out of my mouth with the same precise tempo, my lips, mouth and throat adjusting to the shape and feel of him. My mind quieted in that way it always did with him, all focus narrowing to the simple act of being used.

When his hand finally left the back of my head, the head of his cock slipped from my lips, wet and shiny, hanging with its own presence between us.

Casper shifted back onto his heels, his hand on my shoulder pushing gently until I straightened. He rose to his feet without speaking, turning around. I stayed on my knees, waiting.

“Excited?” he asked.

I moved in closer on the mat until I right up against his back. He was already working his shorts down the rest of the way, stepping out of them. The muscles in his legs stood out under the overhead lights, calves leading up to solid thighs. His ass was right there in front of me, smooth skin stretched over firm muscle.

He bent slightly at the waist, bracing his hands on his knees. “Get in there.”

I leaned forward and placed my hands on his hips. The heat of his skin warmed my palms. My face was close enough to catch his scent: clean sweat from the workout mixed with something deeper. I parted him with my thumbs and pressed my tongue to the base, starting low and dragging upward in one slow stroke.

He didn’t react much. Just held position, letting me work. I licked again, firmer this time, circling his rim before pressing the tip of my tongue inside. The muscle gave way gradually, and I pushed in deeper, twisting slightly to taste more of him.

His skin was smooth and taut under my hands. Every few seconds I pulled back to breathe, then went in again, alternating between long licks and short, focused strokes. I kept my grip steady, thumbs keeping him open for me, my tongue moving with deliberate precision.

Casper stayed still except for the subtle shift of his weight when I hit a spot he liked. I caught the quiet sound of his breathing, slow and even, almost matching my rhythm.

I pressed my face closer, flattening my tongue to cover more of him. I could feel his hole getting wetter with each pass, my mouth working in a steady cycle of licking, pressing, and circling. My jaw started to tense but I didn’t stop. The act had its own hypnotic pace, as much for me as for him.

“Good,” he said finally, his voice low.

I took it as permission to go deeper. My tongue pushed past the tight ring again, exploring, twisting slightly before pulling back to trace around it. I alternated between pushing in and dragging my tongue out over the sensitive skin, keeping it consistent.

He stayed bent over until I finally eased back, my lips wet, my breathing heavier. The taste lingered, faint but distinct.

Casper straightened, turning to face me. His expression hadn’t changed much, but his cock was hard again, big pointing straight at my face and ready.

Casper didn’t say anything right away. He just looked down at me, his hand resting on the top of my head for a second before he stepped closer. The tip of his cock brushed against my lips, still slick from when I’d been sucking him earlier, and then he moved past me.

“Stay where you are,” he said.

I kept my knees planted on the mat, hands still on the floor. He circled behind me, the sound of his bare feet against the mat muted. A firm hand landed on my lower back, pressing me forward until my spine dipped. My chest hung lower, my ass higher.

“Hold still.”

I felt his thumb slide between my cheeks, parting them enough for a rush of cooler air to hit. Then the wet sound of him spitting. The first glob landed right over my hole, warm and slick, and he smeared it in with slow, deliberate pressure.

Another spit followed, thicker, dripping down over the first. His thumb circled the rim, working the spit into me until the skin was slippery. The touch wasn’t gentle or teasing, just efficient. He was getting me ready to take him.

I let my head drop forward, eyes half closed, focusing on the feel of him preparing me. My breathing fell into a slow pattern, matching the even movement of his hand.

When he pressed the head of his cock against me, the fit was tight. He didn’t push hard at first, just held there, letting the anticipation build. My body adjusted to the stretch, inch by inch. The first slide in made me grip the mat.

Casper didn’t stop until he was buried all the way. His hips rested against me, his cock thick and solid inside. I stayed open for him, feeling the weight of him settle deep.

The first thrust was slow, controlled, pulling back until only the tip was inside before pushing forward again. He kept that pace for a while, each movement measured. My body relaxed into the sensation, my knees firm against the mat, my palms flat for balance.

The sound in the room was just our breathing and the sounds of his hips making contact with my ass cheeks. There was no rush, no building to anything sudden, just steady, precise motion that pushed everything else out of my head.

Every so often, his hand would land on my hip, adjusting my angle slightly, or press against the small of my back to keep me from shifting. It wasn’t forceful, just a reminder of who was in control.

He started going a little deeper with each thrust, the head of his cock finding a spot inside me that made me lose my breath momentarily. I clenched around him involuntarily, and his pace slowed again, holding there before pulling back.

The friction was perfect, not rough enough to burn, but enough that every stroke dragged along the same sensitive path. I could feel my body adjusting, opening more with each pass. Casper’s cock was like a mechanical piston designed to work my insides.

Minutes passed like that, the repetition almost meditative. My thighs began to ache from holding position, but I didn’t move. His breathing stayed steady, only shifting when he pushed in a little harder or stayed buried for a beat longer. I moaned gently, trying not to draw attention to what was going on.

When he finally picked up the pace, it wasn’t by much. Just enough to send a heavier thump of his hips into mine, enough to make the sound of our bodies meeting fill the space. My fingers curled against the mat as I tried to keep myself in place. Containing my groans of lust and pleasure became more difficult, but I held myself tight.

I caught the subtle shift in his breathing when he was getting close. His grip on my hips tightened, the thrusts more deliberate now, each one pressing deep.

“Hold still,” he said, his voice low.

I did. He pushed all the way in and stayed there, his cock throbbing as he came. The warmth spread inside me, pulsing in time with his release. He stayed in place until the last of it was done, then eased back slowly, his hand dragging lightly along my spine as he withdrew.

I stayed on my hands and knees, feeling his cum start to drip down my legs. My breathing was heavy but controlled, my body was still loose from the release he’d given me.

Casper stood, cleaned himself up, then dressed tucking himself back in place. He glanced down at me; the corner of his mouth lifted just a little.

“Go get cleaned up,” he said, his tone soft now.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

He reached out and gave my shoulder a quick squeeze before heading for the door. I stayed kneeling on the mat, the faint ache in my muscles a constant reminder of the way he’d just worked me over.

At the doorway he paused and looked back. “You’re doing good, Eli. Keep showing up like this, and you’ll be just fine.”

I pulled my clothes back on, the material clinging to my skin where sweat hadn’t fully dried. The room smelled faintly of sex and his cologne now. Casper was already gone, the quiet of the space making it feel like the whole thing had been sealed away the moment the door shut behind him.

His words stayed with me though. You’re doing good, Eli. Keep showing up like this, and you’ll be just fine. Simple, purposeful, the kind of thing he could have meant about gymnastics or… everything else. I didn’t know which part I wanted him to mean more.

Out in the main gym, a few people were still working the equipment, the faint clank of weights breaking the silence. I kept my head down and moved toward the exit. My legs still felt loose from the workout, from him, and every step sent a small reminder up through my hips.

Outside, the air hit cooler against my face. I started toward the dorm, hands in my pockets, trying to let the walk clear my head. The late morning sun was out, the kind of light that should have made everything feel fresh and simple. It didn’t.

I’d gone to the gym to burn off the restlessness from waking up next to Mason, and instead I’d let myself get wrapped up in Casper. Not that I was complaining — it was exactly what I wanted in the moment — but it didn’t untangle anything. If anything, it made the knots tighter.

I could still see Mason’s face from this morning, the way he’d been asleep, completely relaxed, like nothing in the world was complicated. And I wanted that again. I wanted him again.

But then there was Casper: controlled, calm, always knowing exactly what to do with me. It was different with him. Not better or worse, just… another thing I couldn’t seem to get out of my system.

By the time the dorm came into view, I hadn’t figured anything out. My body felt worked in the best way, but my head was a mess. Two different guys, two different pulls, and one common problem: I couldn’t stop thinking with my cock long enough to decide what I actually wanted.

I swiped my key card and stepped inside, already knowing the rest of the day was going to be useless for getting answers.

---

Thank you so much for reading my story; I hope you've enjoyed! If you'd like to read ahead in this story (currently at chapter 26 with 3 bonus chapters), access extra content like images and bonus chapters or read my other stories you can do so here. I have also started to produce music and early access is available on my site for subscribers before it goes to streaming (think dirty gay beats).

My new single "Muscle Boy" is now streaming on all major music platforms; you can check it out! It's a pop/dance track that pays homage to gay culture's love of muscle boys. You can also watch the music video on youtube here

 

[Jaqc]

Been reading this on GD. One of the best series currently going. Hope there are a lot more chapters to come.

 

[michaelnola]

Chapter 18: Head Trauma (continued...)​

© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

He stood and offered his hand. I took it, letting him pull me up. His grip was firm and casual, but it carried the same authority it always did.

We walked through the main gym without rushing. A couple of people were still scattered on the machines, but no one gave us a second glance. To anyone else, it probably looked like he was just leading an athlete to go over some training notes.

At the far end, he unlocked the frosted-glass door to his office and held it open for me. Inside, the same neat setup: desk, gym bag in the corner, couch against the wall.

Casper stepped in after me, shut the door, and locked it with a quiet click. “Alright,” he said, his voice steady. “Strip and get on all fours.”

I pulled my shirt over my head and let it drop to the floor. My shorts followed, sliding down my legs until I stepped out of them. The mat was cool under my knees as I settled into position, palms flat in front of me.

Casper’s footsteps came closer. The sound stopped just behind me, then shifted as he stepped around to my side. I looked up enough to see him kneel, one leg lowering first, then the other. His shorts hung loose at his hips for a second before he pushed them down, freeing his cock.

It was already hard, the smooth skin stretched over thick muscle, the head flushed darker. He didn’t touch himself much, he just angled forward until the tip hovered in front of my face.

“Open,” he said.

I did and he slid the head past my lips, the weight settling on my tongue. My jaw adjusted to the girth as he fed me more, the taste clean but faintly salty. His hand found the back of my head, palm wide and warm, guiding me forward until my lips met the base. I breathed in through my nose, the scent of him sweaty and familiar.

He pulled back with the same control, letting the head rest on my tongue before pushing in again. The pace stayed even; there were no sudden thrusts, no teasing pauses. Casper just maintained a steady, exact motion that made it easy to match his rhythm. My neck tilted with each stroke, my knees pressing into the mat for balance.

I let my tongue work the underside of him, tracing the firm ridge, feeling the slight pulse in the vein near the base. Every few strokes, he would hold me there, my lips flush against his skin, the weight filling my mouth completely. My throat worked to swallow around him, and his fingers tightened slightly in my hair before easing off.

The only sounds were my breathing and the quiet wet noise my mouth made each time he slid free. My lips felt swollen, my jaw started to ache, but I stayed with him, letting the repetition sink into my body.

He didn’t say much, just a low “good” when I took him deeper without gagging, or when my tongue pressed in exactly the way he liked. The words landed the way they did when he was training me on the mats. I felt driven to work harder, to do better for him.

Minutes passed like that, his cock moving in and out of my mouth with the same precise tempo, my lips, mouth and throat adjusting to the shape and feel of him. My mind quieted in that way it always did with him, all focus narrowing to the simple act of being used.

When his hand finally left the back of my head, the head of his cock slipped from my lips, wet and shiny, hanging with its own presence between us.

Casper shifted back onto his heels, his hand on my shoulder pushing gently until I straightened. He rose to his feet without speaking, turning around. I stayed on my knees, waiting.

“Excited?” he asked.

I moved in closer on the mat until I right up against his back. He was already working his shorts down the rest of the way, stepping out of them. The muscles in his legs stood out under the overhead lights, calves leading up to solid thighs. His ass was right there in front of me, smooth skin stretched over firm muscle.

He bent slightly at the waist, bracing his hands on his knees. “Get in there.”

I leaned forward and placed my hands on his hips. The heat of his skin warmed my palms. My face was close enough to catch his scent: clean sweat from the workout mixed with something deeper. I parted him with my thumbs and pressed my tongue to the base, starting low and dragging upward in one slow stroke.

He didn’t react much. Just held position, letting me work. I licked again, firmer this time, circling his rim before pressing the tip of my tongue inside. The muscle gave way gradually, and I pushed in deeper, twisting slightly to taste more of him.

His skin was smooth and taut under my hands. Every few seconds I pulled back to breathe, then went in again, alternating between long licks and short, focused strokes. I kept my grip steady, thumbs keeping him open for me, my tongue moving with deliberate precision.

Casper stayed still except for the subtle shift of his weight when I hit a spot he liked. I caught the quiet sound of his breathing, slow and even, almost matching my rhythm.

I pressed my face closer, flattening my tongue to cover more of him. I could feel his hole getting wetter with each pass, my mouth working in a steady cycle of licking, pressing, and circling. My jaw started to tense but I didn’t stop. The act had its own hypnotic pace, as much for me as for him.

“Good,” he said finally, his voice low.

I took it as permission to go deeper. My tongue pushed past the tight ring again, exploring, twisting slightly before pulling back to trace around it. I alternated between pushing in and dragging my tongue out over the sensitive skin, keeping it consistent.

He stayed bent over until I finally eased back, my lips wet, my breathing heavier. The taste lingered, faint but distinct.

Casper straightened, turning to face me. His expression hadn’t changed much, but his cock was hard again, big pointing straight at my face and ready.

Casper didn’t say anything right away. He just looked down at me, his hand resting on the top of my head for a second before he stepped closer. The tip of his cock brushed against my lips, still slick from when I’d been sucking him earlier, and then he moved past me.

“Stay where you are,” he said.

I kept my knees planted on the mat, hands still on the floor. He circled behind me, the sound of his bare feet against the mat muted. A firm hand landed on my lower back, pressing me forward until my spine dipped. My chest hung lower, my ass higher.

“Hold still.”

I felt his thumb slide between my cheeks, parting them enough for a rush of cooler air to hit. Then the wet sound of him spitting. The first glob landed right over my hole, warm and slick, and he smeared it in with slow, deliberate pressure.

Another spit followed, thicker, dripping down over the first. His thumb circled the rim, working the spit into me until the skin was slippery. The touch wasn’t gentle or teasing, just efficient. He was getting me ready to take him.

I let my head drop forward, eyes half closed, focusing on the feel of him preparing me. My breathing fell into a slow pattern, matching the even movement of his hand.

When he pressed the head of his cock against me, the fit was tight. He didn’t push hard at first, just held there, letting the anticipation build. My body adjusted to the stretch, inch by inch. The first slide in made me grip the mat.

Casper didn’t stop until he was buried all the way. His hips rested against me, his cock thick and solid inside. I stayed open for him, feeling the weight of him settle deep.

The first thrust was slow, controlled, pulling back until only the tip was inside before pushing forward again. He kept that pace for a while, each movement measured. My body relaxed into the sensation, my knees firm against the mat, my palms flat for balance.

The sound in the room was just our breathing and the sounds of his hips making contact with my ass cheeks. There was no rush, no building to anything sudden, just steady, precise motion that pushed everything else out of my head.

Every so often, his hand would land on my hip, adjusting my angle slightly, or press against the small of my back to keep me from shifting. It wasn’t forceful, just a reminder of who was in control.

He started going a little deeper with each thrust, the head of his cock finding a spot inside me that made me lose my breath momentarily. I clenched around him involuntarily, and his pace slowed again, holding there before pulling back.

The friction was perfect, not rough enough to burn, but enough that every stroke dragged along the same sensitive path. I could feel my body adjusting, opening more with each pass. Casper’s cock was like a mechanical piston designed to work my insides.

Minutes passed like that, the repetition almost meditative. My thighs began to ache from holding position, but I didn’t move. His breathing stayed steady, only shifting when he pushed in a little harder or stayed buried for a beat longer. I moaned gently, trying not to draw attention to what was going on.

When he finally picked up the pace, it wasn’t by much. Just enough to send a heavier thump of his hips into mine, enough to make the sound of our bodies meeting fill the space. My fingers curled against the mat as I tried to keep myself in place. Containing my groans of lust and pleasure became more difficult, but I held myself tight.

I caught the subtle shift in his breathing when he was getting close. His grip on my hips tightened, the thrusts more deliberate now, each one pressing deep.

“Hold still,” he said, his voice low.

I did. He pushed all the way in and stayed there, his cock throbbing as he came. The warmth spread inside me, pulsing in time with his release. He stayed in place until the last of it was done, then eased back slowly, his hand dragging lightly along my spine as he withdrew.

I stayed on my hands and knees, feeling his cum start to drip down my legs. My breathing was heavy but controlled, my body was still loose from the release he’d given me.

Casper stood, cleaned himself up, then dressed tucking himself back in place. He glanced down at me; the corner of his mouth lifted just a little.

“Go get cleaned up,” he said, his tone soft now.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

He reached out and gave my shoulder a quick squeeze before heading for the door. I stayed kneeling on the mat, the faint ache in my muscles a constant reminder of the way he’d just worked me over.

At the doorway he paused and looked back. “You’re doing good, Eli. Keep showing up like this, and you’ll be just fine.”

I pulled my clothes back on, the material clinging to my skin where sweat hadn’t fully dried. The room smelled faintly of sex and his cologne now. Casper was already gone, the quiet of the space making it feel like the whole thing had been sealed away the moment the door shut behind him.

His words stayed with me though. You’re doing good, Eli. Keep showing up like this, and you’ll be just fine. Simple, purposeful, the kind of thing he could have meant about gymnastics or… everything else. I didn’t know which part I wanted him to mean more.

Out in the main gym, a few people were still working the equipment, the faint clank of weights breaking the silence. I kept my head down and moved toward the exit. My legs still felt loose from the workout, from him, and every step sent a small reminder up through my hips.

Outside, the air hit cooler against my face. I started toward the dorm, hands in my pockets, trying to let the walk clear my head. The late morning sun was out, the kind of light that should have made everything feel fresh and simple. It didn’t.

I’d gone to the gym to burn off the restlessness from waking up next to Mason, and instead I’d let myself get wrapped up in Casper. Not that I was complaining — it was exactly what I wanted in the moment — but it didn’t untangle anything. If anything, it made the knots tighter.

I could still see Mason’s face from this morning, the way he’d been asleep, completely relaxed, like nothing in the world was complicated. And I wanted that again. I wanted him again.

But then there was Casper: controlled, calm, always knowing exactly what to do with me. It was different with him. Not better or worse, just… another thing I couldn’t seem to get out of my system.

By the time the dorm came into view, I hadn’t figured anything out. My body felt worked in the best way, but my head was a mess. Two different guys, two different pulls, and one common problem: I couldn’t stop thinking with my cock long enough to decide what I actually wanted.

I swiped my key card and stepped inside, already knowing the rest of the day was going to be useless for getting answers.

---

Thank you so much for reading my story; I hope you've enjoyed! If you'd like to read ahead in this story (currently at chapter 26 with 3 bonus chapters), access extra content like images and bonus chapters or read my other stories you can do so here. I have also started to produce music and early access is available on my site for subscribers before it goes to streaming (think dirty gay beats).

My new single "Muscle Boy" is now streaming on all major music platforms; you can check it out! It's a pop/dance track that pays homage to gay culture's love of muscle boys. You can also watch the music video on youtube here

Awesome update and your characters are always hot and intense--great development. Writing brings them to life.

 

[GabrielGiese]

GD?

 

[Jaqc]

Need the next chapter

 

[aant52]

Yeah we do!

 

[fmbttm]

I love this story. Each character has this kind of mystery around them, and I have so many questions I need answered. The anticipation is killing me, but at the same time one of the best parts. Hope for a new chapter soon!

 

[BrokenBoundariesGayErotica]

Sorry for the long delay on the next chapter. I was busy with job searches, then away on vacation etc. etc. Back now; enjoy!
Chapter 19: What are Roommates For?

© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

By the time I got back to the dorm I’d been spinning around campus for hours. I’d been to the rec area, the cafeteria, the campus mall, and even the library. Nothing seemed to unhinge my mind. I was still swept up in the Casper-Mason dilemma that had been plaguing me all week.

What did they want from me? With Mason it seemed like it was he was definitely using me as some kind of side benefit. With Casper? I still wasn’t sure.

But even then, I didn’t understand why Mason needed anything from his gay roomie. He was one of the hottest tickets on campus. He could — and often did — have almost any woman on campus he wanted. What could I possibly offer that some sorority girl couldn’t?

I didn’t know I was about to find out exactly that as I stepped across the threshold into our shared space.

I found Mason sprawled out on his bed wearing a white tank top and a pair of blue jeans, one hand resting behind his head as he attended to an app on his phone dutifully. He looked so… Mason… in that moment. Radiating confidence, sex and college boy charm without even having to look up at me.

When he did acknowledge my presence, it was a simple greeting, “There you are, Roomie,” he practically cheered.

I was surprised by his enthusiastic greeting, but after my day of confusion, it wasn’t unwelcome.

“Hey,” I responded stupidly.

“Where were you all day?” Mason questioned coyly. “Spending time with Coach?”

I blushed at that, but shrugged it off and told him about my adventures wandering aimlessly around campus instead.

Mason pretended to listen, nodding along as I recounted each boring step in my trip. He propped himself up on his bed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his palms, his face contorted in a smile that made him look pleased with himself.

As I finished speaking the last three words of my story, Mason made a gesture that I would never forget. He pointed at the space between his bare feet, wiggling his toes around for emphasis as he did so and almost cut me off as he said, “On your knees, Roomie.”

There was never any lead up with Mason; he was always straight to the point. I think I was starting to like that about him. Maybe even love it a little.

I dropped to my knees.



Mason undid his jeans and began to shimmy them over his broad thighs. I could barely stop myself from licking my lips in anticipation.

As he undressed himself, Mason couldn’t help but tease.

“Why’d you spend all day walking around campus, when you could have been here, working on this?” He groped himself. As though I didn’t know what ‘this’ meant.

“I’ve been horny for hours. I could have used some good roomie head. You were oafing about instead. Silly, Eli. Wouldn’t you have preferred to be here, choking on your roomie’s big dick?”

I looked up at Mason, his lower half fully exposed now and there was no denying that he was speaking truth from power. I would have rather spent my afternoon sucking Mason’s cock than wearing out my favourite running shoes around campus. It was so beautiful; he was so beautiful… I was already spiralling. It didn’t matter that I’d just been with Casper earlier that day, Mason was here and he wanted me… and I wanted him even more.

If it had been anyone else, I think my response would have humiliated me to the point I’d have never come back from it.

“Oh god yes,” I croaked.

Mason laughed. I loved that laugh now. I wasn’t sure if it was the sound of it, or the sight of him but by the time he stopped I could feel that I was rock hard in my pants.

“Come here and get it then, Roomie,” Mason said, “and I’m gonna be rough, the way you like it.”

I nodded once, and crawled forward, lost under Mason’s spell.

“Don’t you wanna take off your clothes first?” Mason asked.

Always so considerate. I mused to myself, enjoying my internal joke as I got naked for my roommate. I resumed my desperate scuttle towards Mason’s frame.

Mason didn’t hesitate. As soon as I was within reach, his fist was in my hair. I let out a little sigh of contentment.

What was I becoming?

Mason pulled me onto his shaft. It wasn’t fully hard yet, but it was thick and turgid enough to gag me when he drew me all the way down to the base in one go. I could feel his pubes tickling my nose as he held me there, letting out his own—different—moan telling me he was enjoying the feel of my throat.

Mason kept me in that position for a hot second until his cock fully hardened, then pulled me up in a fast motion that sent spit flying through the air back up towards my forehead.

As Mason pulled me in for my second deep dive on his cock, I took in a deep breath and I got a heady whiff of his scent. It was raw and masculine, sweaty and captivating. There was no perfume, just Mason’s bouquet and it drove me wild in ways I would have never expected. He clearly meant it when he said he’d been waiting here for me all day.

This was what having a gay roomie with benefits meant for him. Sex anytime, any way. I could see the appeal. It didn’t repel me though. If anything, the thought of it turned me on even more and I took another deep breath of him, savouring my jock roommates crotch.

I was already on my knees, naked, jaw slack, breath coming quick. Mason stood up. He was close enough that his thigh brushed my cheek when he shifted his stance. His cock was huge in his hand, flushed dark. He tipped my chin up with two fingers.

“Open.”

(Continued in next post...)

 

[BrokenBoundariesGayErotica]

Chapter 19: What are Roommates For? (continued...)

© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

I did. He fed the head to my tongue and pressed forward until my lips stretched around him. The taste hit first, raw college boy skin. Then the size of him. He didn’t ease in. He pushed, slow only for a second, then firm, like testing depth. The back of my throat touched him and I gagged. My eyes watered. He didn’t pull out.

“Breathe through it,” he said, voice low. His palm settled behind my head and held me there.

I tried to relax. My throat fluttered around him. Air came in thin through my nose, hot and shaky. Spit slid out past the corners of my mouth and ran down my chin. Mason groaned when I swallowed, a quick sound that told me I’d done something right. He rocked his hips and the room narrowed to the wet sound of my mouth and the dull ache in my jaw.

He let me back an inch. I caught a breath, then he drove forward again, harder this time. The gag noise came up raw and embarrassing. He grinned down at me like that was the point. His fingers tightened in my hair. He started using me with a short, quick rhythm that made my eyes blur. My tongue flattened, then cupped, then flattened again as I tried to keep up.

“Yikes,” he said. “Look at all that drool you’re leaving on the floor.”

I didn’t mean to, but when he pulled out far enough to tap the head against my tongue, a string of spit fell from it and hit the carpet with a soft pat. My face burned. My cock twitched against my thigh.

He saw that. “You’re hard from this?”

I nodded because I couldn’t talk. He laughed softly and slid his cock back in, slow for one stroke, burying all the way until my nose pressed to his lower stomach. The hair there scratched my upper lip. He held me down and the urge to cough rose in my throat. Then he let me up, just enough to suck in a noisy breath, and pushed again. Each thrust found the same spot, the same choke, the same flood of spit.

“Tongue the underside,” he said, like Casper when he was fixing my positions. “Right there.”

I did, and he shuddered. His hips changed angle. He used my mouth deeper, confident now, short breaths leaving him. My scalp tingled where his hand gripped too tight. Tears slid from my eyes and I didn’t wipe them. I was too focused on staying in the moment.

He drew out, slick and wet, and slapped the head against my cheek once, then against my lower lip. “Wider.”

I opened wider. He fed himself back in with a rough sound from his chest. The rhythm stretched out. He would sink in, hold, pull, and I learned to swallow at the right moment so he groaned each time. The floor that sat beneath the carpet was cold under my knees. My thighs trembled. I could feel my pulse in my throat where he filled me.

“Good,” he said, quieter now, pleasure rounding the word. “Keep it.”

I kept it in my throat, gagging, but doing as I was told.

Mason pulled me back far enough to breathe, his cock slipping out with a wet smack. My lips hung open, spit stringing between us. He didn’t ease off, just guided me with a firm tug of my hair.

“Tongue it,” he said. “Not just the tip. All of it.”

I flattened my tongue against the underside of his shaft and dragged it slowly from root to crown. The skin was taut, ridged with a thick vein that twitched when I pressed into it. His cock throbbed against my tongue, and the taste filled my mouth: salty precum, a sign he was enjoying my work.

“That’s better,” Mason muttered. His voice had that rasp it only got when he was on the edge.

I licked again, slower this time, tracing circles around the head before pushing down the other side. My tongue slid along the broad girth of him, every inch hot and slick with my saliva. When I pressed the flat of it up the length and flicked against the ridge at the tip, he let out a low groan that sent shivers through my spine.

“Keep at it,” he ordered.

I obeyed. I let my tongue wander, curling around the head, dipping into the slit to taste the steady leak there. His fluid coated my tongue. His cock twitched when I did it, and the sound that came from his throat told me to do it again.

I traced the long vein once more, pressing harder, then sucked the head into my mouth and swirled my tongue around it. My lips sealed tight, my tongue working every angle, and Mason hissed above me. He pushed forward half an inch, testing, and I held him there, licking furiously until my jaw ached.

When he tugged me back, his cock slipped free with a slick pop. Spit ran from the corner of my mouth down my chin, stringing to my chest before breaking. He slapped the head against my tongue, the skin swollen and wet, and then dragged it across my cheek like I was nothing but his rag.

He tapped his cock back onto my tongue, and I went to work again, licking along the sides now, following every contour, learning the differences in texture—the smooth swell near the head, the firmer stretch toward the base. My tongue kept moving, tasting him, savoring the way his body reacted under it. His balls drew tighter as I traced near them, a sign I was pushing him just enough.

“Now get my sack,” Mason said finally, pulling me lower.

I obeyed, sliding down until my tongue pressed against the curve of his balls. The skin there was looser, softer, still carrying the same scent, the same warmth. I licked across one, then the other, and Mason groaned above me, his hand pushing me closer.

“Under,” he ordered.

I shifted, tongue flattening beneath them, lapping at the seam. The musk was stronger here: masculine, raw. My nose brushed the wiry hair at his base while I worked, and the smell stuck in my head even as I dragged my tongue back up to his shaft.

I kept my tongue busy, tracing slow circles around the sack. The skin shifted under the pressure, softer than anywhere else, as I coated it with my spit. Mason’s hand never left my hair, tugging when I slowed, guiding when I pressed too gently.

“More,” he said.

I cupped both balls with my mouth, sucking them in together as best I could. They pressed against my tongue, filling my mouth in a way that made my jaw strain. Mason groaned when I held them there, his cock twitching against my forehead. I let them slip free, wet and gleaming, then sucked one at a time, rolling my tongue around the smooth curve, pulling back just far enough to make them bounce against my lips.

“Sloppier,” Mason muttered.

I let spit spill, licking it back up, smearing it across his sac. The taste clung to my tongue—a trace of sweat sharp at the edges, but not unpleasant. It was the kind of flavor that made sense this close, like I’d finally gotten what his body really was.

“Good boy,” he said, voice rough. “Now get lower.”

He pulled on my hair, angling me beneath his balls. I followed, licking the seam, pushing my tongue against the spot where his sac met the base of his cock. His groan dropped deep, chesty, almost a growl.

“Keep going,” he ordered. “Get my ass.”

The words made my stomach twist, not with dread but with a raw nerves-and-need mix I didn’t have time to untangle. He pushed me down farther, guiding me under him, and I pressed my face close.

The smell hit first—sweat mixed with something earthier. Not overpowering, but real, heavy with the proof of his body. My nose brushed the line of his crack, hair damp there, the warmth rising off him thick against my face.

I pushed my tongue out and licked. The taste spread across it: bitter edge of sweat that made me twitch but didn’t stop me from going back in. Mason’s hand shoved me closer, and I flattened my tongue, dragging it slow from his hole up toward his sac.

“Fuck, yeah,” he groaned. “Do it again.”

I did, tongue pressing into the center this time, working in circles around his hole. The taste stuck harder here, unmistakeable, the smell filling my nose with every push forward. My tongue worked deeper, lapping, teasing, while Mason rolled his hips back into my face.

“That’s it,” he said, voice ragged. “Eat it.”

I dug in, spit slicking him as I rimmed him in rough strokes, the taste coating my mouth, sweat clinging thick to my lips. My cock throbbed between my legs, hard and aching, as his groans filled the room.

Mason widened his stance, one hand still pressing me forward so my face stayed buried between his cheeks. The position was humiliating, my mouth open against him, but the sound he made every time my tongue dragged across his hole pushed me past that.

“Harder,” he said.

I flattened my tongue and pressed in circles, spit running down to the base of his crack. The taste was something else but I kept licking. The smell clung to my nose, raw, intimate, Mason, and it drove me wild in a way it probably shouldn’t have. Every inhale filled me with it, grounding me deeper in the act.

“Get it wet,” Mason ordered.

I spat once, let it slide down over his hole, then shoved my tongue in. The tight ring pushed back, then gave way, the taste stronger now, sweat mixed with the earthy tang of skin that had been sitting all day. Mason groaned loud, grinding back into my face, smearing my nose against him.

“Fuck, Eli. You’re good at this. Casper trained you good.”

I lapped and pressed, my tongue darting inside as far as it could, circling, teasing. Mason’s hand gripped my hair tighter, pulling me in, forcing my mouth to stay sealed around him. Spit dripped down my chin, soaking into the carpet beneath.

He rolled his hips forward and back, using me, dragging my tongue along the length of his crack. My lips smeared wet across his skin, every pass painting him slicker. The taste coated my mouth. I felt dirty, but the act was addictive in a way that made me keep pushing further.

“Don’t stop,” he muttered. “Stay in it.”

I shoved my tongue deeper, curling it, pressing into the ring while my nose pressed into his sack. My lungs burned from breathing against him, but I didn’t pull back. I swallowed the taste, let it flood me. Mason’s groan cut through the air, rough and satisfied, and it made my cock throb harder than ever.

After a long moment, he yanked my head back. His cock slapped against my cheek, wet and slick from earlier. My lips parted instinctively, but he didn’t give it to me yet. He smirked down, thumb dragging a line of spit off my jaw.

“Good fucking mouth,” he said. “Now let’s see if you can choke on it again.”

He pulled me up from beneath him, cock aimed straight at my lips. My tongue still tasted of his ass, but I opened wide. He shoved back in, rough, burying himself down my throat in one sharp thrust. My gag echoed in the room, wet and loud, and Mason laughed softly above me.

“Back where you belong.”

Mason didn’t waste time once he had me back on his cock. His hips snapped forward in a relentless rhythm, driving straight into my throat. I gagged hard, eyes watering, but he didn’t back off. His hand in my hair kept me locked in, forcing my face down to meet every thrust.

“Stay open,” he said, voice sharp with focus.

I tried. My throat clenched around him, each push leaving me sputtering, spit flooding past my lips. Drool ran down my chest, strings of it swinging along my pecs with the force of his thrusts before breaking and splattering onto the floor.

He groaned when I choked, the sound almost pleased. “That’s it.”

My nose pressed into the base of his stomach with each deep shove, the coarse hair scratching my skin. His balls slapped wetly against my chin, coated with spit from the rimming, smearing every time he bottomed out. I barely got a breath before he buried himself again, faster, harder, his groans rising.

The room filled with the raw noise of it: my gagging, the slick slide of spittle, the sharp smack of his hips hitting my face. My eyes blurred from the tears, my throat sore and raw, but my cock only got harder.

Mason looked down at me, watching every second. “Bitch,” he muttered, thrusting harder, deeper. “Look at you—crying for it.”

His pace didn’t falter. If anything, he pushed faster, rutting into my mouth with the kind of focus that told me he was close. My scalp burned under his grip. My jaw ached. Drool foamed at the corners of my lips, but I didn’t pull away.

I let him use me, choking, swallowing, gagging again as he shoved down to the base. My throat convulsed around him, and he groaned, hips stuttering for a second before slamming forward again.

“Almost there,” he said through gritted teeth.

He pulled out suddenly, cock wet and shining, slapping it against my cheek, my lips, my nose. Precum smeared across my skin, hot and sticky. My chest heaved as I gasped for air, only for him to shove back in, fucking my throat harder than before.

I felt the change in him—hips losing rhythm, grip in my hair tightening, breath coming short and ragged. He forced himself to the root and held me there, his cock throbbing against the back of my throat. Then he yanked free, stroking fast over my face.

“Here’s your reward,” he growled.

The first spurt hit my cheek, hot and sharp, then another across my lips, thick and heavy. He painted my face with it, streak after streak, his groan deep and satisfied. His cock twitched as he squeezed the last drops onto my chin, mixing with the spit already dripping there.

I knelt still, gasping, cum sliding down my cheek toward my jaw. Mason grinned down at me, chest heaving, his cock wet and glistening in his hand.

“Awww, Roomie,” he said, laughing softly. “Perfect little cumrag.”

Cum streaked down my face, dripping warm over my lips and chin. My chest rose and fell like I’d just run somewhere. Mason looked down at me with that smirk I knew too well, the one that told me he’d enjoyed every second of what I’d just gone through.

“Cute,” he said, dragging his thumb over my cheek to smear the mess even more. “Bet you’ll be tasting that all night.”

I blinked through the blur of spit and tears, throat sore, jaw tight. My cock was still hard, straining, but Mason didn’t even glance at it. He tapped his cock against my face one last time before letting go of my hair.

“Clean yourself up,” he muttered, half laughing. “Or don’t. I think you look good that way.”

I stayed there for a beat, on my knees, sticky and wrecked. Something twisted inside me—half humiliation, half something else I didn’t want to name. Mason turned away, already reaching for his jeans, already on to the next thing.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, smearing spit and cum across my skin. My body buzzed, nerves lit up, but underneath it sat that familiar tug. The same questions looped through me: why I let him, why I liked it, whether I should feel more ashamed than I did. My throat ached every time I swallowed, a reminder I couldn’t shake even if I wanted to.

But the truth sat heavy in my gut: I wanted more.

I pushed myself up, legs shaky, and headed for the bathroom. Mason didn’t stop me. He just laughed under his breath like he knew exactly why I needed to leave.

Inside, I locked the door and leaned over the sink. My reflection looked wrecked: red eyes, flushed cheeks, streaks of cum drying across my face. My lips were swollen, spit still clinging to the corner of my mouth. I stared at myself for a long second, my cock throbbing hard against my thigh.

I turned the faucet on, splashed water over my face, but didn’t scrub all of it off. The faint taste lingered at the back of my throat, salt and sweat mixed together, and my stomach knotted with need.

My hand went to my cock before I even thought about it. The skin was hot, slick at the tip already. I stroked hard, fast, my mind replaying every second—Mason’s groans, the weight of his balls on my tongue, the way his hole had tasted when I licked it raw. Shame curled low in me, but it only made me jerk faster.

My breath steamed against the mirror, forehead pressed to the glass, cock sliding through my fist. I bit my lip, eyes shut tight, hips rocking forward. The ache in my throat matched the ache between my legs, both proof of what he’d done to me.

When I finally came, it hit hard, streaking across the sink. My knees buckled, and I grabbed the edge of the counter to stay upright.

I stood there panting, staring at the mess I’d made, my heart pounding with something I couldn’t name.

And then I smiled, small and shaky, because I knew it was going to happen again.

---

Thank you so much for reading my story; I hope you've enjoyed! If you'd like to read ahead in this story (currently at chapter 30 with 3 bonus chapters), access extra content like images and bonus chapters or read my other stories you can do so here (currently 25% off). I have also started to produce music and early access is available on my site for subscribers before it goes to streaming (think dirty gay beats).

My new single "Muscle Boy" is now streaming on all major music platforms; you can check it out! It's a pop/dance track that pays homage to gay culture's love of muscle boys. You can also watch the music video on youtube here

 

[michaelnola]

Excellent writing as always---this story is awesome.