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Excerpt from: Influence
Erotic stories of the dynamic between powerful older men and their young male protégés
by Prescott "Scottie" Burnes
Day Two At Sea
Curt woke in a haze around 3am, unsure if the rocking he felt from his bed was the gentle rocking of the boat, or the drinking he’d done the night before. Whether it was the rocking, or the image of the Darcy twins getting serviced the night before, or a combination of both, one thing was clear. Curt was sporting the largest, hardest erection he’d had in a long time. Its stubborn turgidness was painful as it tented the soft, white sheets of his bunk. He glanced around in the dim light, shaking his head as he oriented to his strange surroundings. Across, the room, the white open yawn of bedding from Josh’s bunk let him know that his poet/wrestler roommate was out of bed and wandering somewhere around the yacht. It was then that he heard it, muffled and distant. The halting, slightly tortured rhythm of a voice. He slid from his bunk, and quietly followed the sound.
He held the steadying bar that ran along the narrow hallway of the yacht, shared by all the bedrooms. At the end of the hall, which he assumed was the primary suite occupied by their host, Jasper, the cabin door swung silently back and forth on its hinges, punctuated only by the soft clap of the door when it occasionally hit the jamb. In the dim light Curt could distinguish movement, and the sound of the rhythmic, grunting voice he’d heard before.
“I..am..ugh…the..seeker…of…a…uh…path..
Its…ugh…endlessness..not…uh…yet...revealed….to…this…oh, man…humble…traveler.”
Curt moved closer now, his eyes widened to take in as much of the scene as he could in the darkness. With each swing of the door, he could now see Josh, naked and straddling another man on the bed. He was facing the doorway so Curt could see the tortured ecstasy on his face as he rode what must have been a massive rod, given his reaction. The other man, hidden behind Josh and unclear in the light murmured in a deep and husky voice, “keep reading”.
Josh continued, through lust-veiled eyes, to read poems from what Curt recognized as the poet/wrestler’s first self-published book “Traveler, Vagabond, Searcher”. His toned, perfectly proportioned body bucked against his Impaler. He held the book in one hand, as his other worked furiously on his own swollen member.
“I…am…the…oh, man….wanderer…along a…yes!…fated trail..
Searching….for purpose…in our…oh yes that feels good…ugh…purposeless world”
As Josh rose and fell at each rhythmic wave of pleasure, his perfect pecs, shiny with sweat in the dim light of the cabin, bounced. The highly placed nipples, fully erect, seemingly pointing directly at Curt, were large, brown, and engorged. His beautiful cock, thick and at full attention, bobbed and slapped against his young, wrestlers chiseled abdomen and thighs with each forceful pulse of the jackhammer beneath him. “Keep reading!”, his top demanded as both came dangerously close to climax. Now, with both hands holding his book, Josh could barely get the words out. Labored and stammering, he threw his head back, as stream after stream of white, creamy cum shot, hands-free, from his bobbing cock. The first stream arced up and over the book he continued to hold, but the second and third hit the pages directly. The subsequent spurts, still strong, and thick, but shorter now, covering his abs in a wet, creamy splatter. He fell from his stallion, only intermittent words coming now from his exhausted, dry throat, “soldier…mmm…rucksack…”
From behind him, now only slightly visible in the light as Josh fell away, Curt looked directly at Jasper, naked and spent but fully conscious of both Curt’s presence, and his own raging hard on as he stood in the doorway. Jasper winked and smiled lasciviously at Curt.
“Give Josh a hand back to your room, won’t you Curt?”, he said, as clearly as if he were asking him to pass the salt at lunch. “He needs his rest for Portofino tomorrow”.
Curt entered the room and bent down, throwing one of Josh’s limp arms around his own broad, sun-kissed shoulders. He became aware, as he guided the spent poet from the bed that Jasper, propped in the bed with his hands behind his head, was focused intently on the bulge that threatened to break through Curt’s thin, white sleeping shorts.
“You’re next,” he whispered to Josh as he bent down to raise a dazed Josh from the bed. The salaciousness of the comment, the confidence of its speaker, made Curt dizzy with desire. His rigid cock, even harder and more erect now than before, poked out of the pee hole in his shorts, and Jasper gave it a quick tap on its shiny head before putting his hands back behind his head and watching the two young men stumble out.
