twinks threesome

I then took a 1.5″ ball stretcher and attached it to his balls. It had
a separator snap on the end and a D-ring attached to it. After getting
his balls in to the leather device. I attached a short leather thong to
the mini winch we had mounted on the rear bumper. I slowly wound the
wench to take up the slack and stopped. The slight pulling on his balls
and the plug up his has had muffy moaning and writhing with pleasure.

gay for cash

I had Steve strip and placed leather cuffs on his wrists and ankles.
I secured either wrist to a flange at either side of the tailgate using
spring clips. Stepping back a checking things out I get two tent spikes
and drive them into the ground just about one foot behind Steve’s out
stretched legs. Using short nylon ropes I tie either ankle to a stake.

His outstretched body ass up, was so erotic in the dim moonlight.
His ass just begged to be fucked. I grabbed the duffel bag with the
toys in it. I first removed the small butt plug. Once finding the
Lube I lubed it up and then proceeded to lube up Steve’s ass. I slowly
inserted the plug into his ass. His ass muscles were tight due to
being stretched out. I could tell he was enjoying it by his moaning.

Jeff couldn’t stand it any longer. He got up, climbed onto the bed,
and ripped off his shirt. Peter followed. They embraced, their hot
sweaty bodies entwining and sinking into the cool sheets. Jeff’s
stomach was pressed tightly against Peter’s. The smooth skin of Peter’s
arms were wrapped tightly around Jeff’s body. They continued making
out, their tongues playing a game of hide and seek in each others
mouths.

Looking into Peter’s eyes, Jeff saw a glow. The glow was hot and Jeff
was tranced. Slowly Jeff leaned into Peter, his lips pressing tightly
against Peter’s lips. There tongues met inside Peter’s mouth, and it
was all Jeff could do to swallow every drop of Peter’s saliva.

Leaving New York City about four hours earlier, Jeff stopped at Ray’s
Pizza on 11th Street and 6th Avenue. Keeping an eye on his car, he
rushed into the crowded pizza parlor and ordered 2 pies. His body
trembled and he couldn’t sit still. Jeff was thinking about how
irresponsible he was being, blowing off his work for the weekend and
driving down to Philadelphia. Sure he had two papers to write and a
lot of reading to do. Jeff wanted to see Peter, however, and the
desire to get high and make love overpowered his sense of
responsibility. The pies came. Securing the boxes on the front seat,
the intense smell of pizza quickly filled the car and fogged the
windows. Luckily Jeff had bought a slice on the side, and as Jeff
began to drive away, Jeff attempted to eat it while driving with one
hand. Jeff held a can of coke between his thighs, with a straw
protruding through the top. The constant thoughts of Peter had long
since worked their effects into Jeff’s groin. His never ending hard on
ached with such intensity that it was all he could do to stay on the
road. The cold from the can of coke pressing against his inner thighs
helped to reduce his aching membrane to something tolerable, but all he
could think about was releasing the pressure in the innards of Peter’s
body.

“Oh, all right, ma, all right, I’m getting up.” I groused as
I dragged my limp, nude body out of my bed and into the
bathroom. My mother’s voice, now having to go through the
bathroom door in addition to the stairs, yelled at me from
the kitchen, “Now, wear a nice suit, dear. We don’t want
Brother Michael to think we’re uncouth.”

“All right, ma, all right.” I grumped. I showered, shaved,
pulled on that damned suit, and managed to eat some
breakfast before we had to go. I hated church, my mother
knew that. What a new minister was supposed to do was
beyond me.

I watched with a pleased fascination from our usual
front-row seat as Brother Michael took the pulpit. You know
how most ministers for a small town look; either fat and
covered with acne, or tall, thin and gangly, also covered
with acne. Brother Michael, in a sea of acne, was a vision
of clear-faced masculinity. Strong, sharp cheekbones,
coal-black hair and the strongest, piercing blue eyes I’d
ever seen. His body showed a lifetime of working out,
strong round shoulders, his rippling muscles defying their
confinement in the harsh black shirt and pants he wore. I
had to keep looking at his collar, that square of white at his
thick throat, to remind myself not to look at his crotch.

Then he stepped from behind the pulpit and perched
on the railing; and I was lost. He was sitting right in front of
me, his legs spread wide in tight black pants, showing, to
me and only me, a bulging basket with a thick rod making
a lump down one inseam. Brother Michael definitely
“dressed left”, and did not wear underwear! I rubbed my
own crotch while I feasted on the sight.

Before I knew it, the sermon was over. I groggily got to
my feet and joined the line of parishioners leaving the
church.

Brother Michael was at the door, greeting his flock as
they exited, and my family, at the front of the church, was
the last to file out. “Greetings, sister.” he said to my mother.

“Oh, Brother Michael, you have to come to dinner with
us one day.” my mother gushed. I guess she thought it was
religious zeal, but she was almost drooling as she said this.
I was kind of drooling myself.

“Thank you, sister, but I would have to ask for it to be
two months from now. So many of my flock to visit. Of
course, I’d like to come visit.”

And we dawdled at the door while they set a date
nearly three months from now. Brother Michael wasn’t
going to have to do much of his own cooking.

“And what about your family.” my mother asked.

“I am single, Mrs. Johnson.” he replied, giving mother
a title she didn’t really deserve. I was a bastard child, and
my mother and I were all the family there was. Maybe that’s
why my mother is so religious.

“Oh, but that can’t be.” my mother resounded. “My own
husband passed away three years ago, and I know how
lonely it is.” My mother just added three years of Purgatory
to her sentence with that lie, I was thinking, and so I was
nearly laughing when Brother Michael turned his devastat-
ing smile on me.

“And you, man.” he said. “I could use some help
unpacking if you have a few hours.”

I could only nod weakly. My mother admonished me to
be home in time for supper and to bring Brother Michael if
I wished. I agreed, and followed Brother Michael back into
the church.

He led me to the minister’s house next door, into the
kitchen and through the house. Everything was put away,
everything was in place.

“I don’t understand.” I said. “What do you need me
for?”

Brother Michael led me into the bedroom, also neatly
arranged. Inside, he closed the door and turned to me. “I
had to make some excuse for your mother.” he said and
took me in his arms! Before I knew it, we were kissing, his
tongue invading my passive body, my arms around his
neck while his huge hands pulled my buttocks apart.

“I don’t get it.” I said when I finally got my mouth free.
“How did you know?” I didn’t try to pretend I wasn’t
aroused; my cock was pressing against his leg at this very
moment.

Brother Michael smiled. “You spend the entire service
staring at my groin and rubbing yourself, and I’m not
supposed to know?”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, then, I’d better get out of these
church clothes. I dropped the blazer on the floor and
tugged off my tie,while he unbuttoned his collar and took off
the stiff white cleric’s collar at his throat. Then he unbut-
toned his shirt and I unbuttoned mine while watching in
fascination. Every button he undid seemed to pop aside,
freeing his massive pectorals, showing the light coat of hair
between his breasts. His body seemed to shout for joy as
it was finally freed from the bondage of the minister’s
clothes. As he finished and pulled it off, I reached for his
breasts and stroked them lightly, not aggressively, just
making sure that big body was real. It was.

Brother Michael reached and undid his pants, and I
said, “Let me do it.” And I unzipped him, revealing a thick
coat of pubic hair. I knew there was no underwear, I knew
it! As the zipper reached bottom, I saw just the hint of his
cock and balls, and I reached in, down his left pants’ leg,
and freed his stiffening schlong, and it sprang out at me.

God, it was huge! It must have been 10 inches of thick,
uncut meat!!! I grabbed hold of it while he unzipped me to
return the favor. We kissed again, this time fiercely, while
we pleasured each other with our hands.

I don’t remember when I did it, or how, but I was
suddenly on my knees in front of Brother Michael, sucking
on his long schlong, his hands on my head, force-feeding
me all of it with each stroke. I was smothering, but I didn’t
care!

Brother Michael broke free and we frantically pulled off
our shoes and socks, then pants and my underpants, to be
now naked together. Brother Michael eased me back on the
bed, and we kissed while he spread my legs and maneuvered between them. He stretched from where he was to
the nightstand drawer, and there pulled out a tube of lube.
I couldn’t help grinning from ear to ear. Brother Michael, our
minister, was about to fuck me.

He greased up his long manmeat and then inserted a
lube-coated finger into my ass. My butt gratefully made
room for him. “Have you done this before?” he asked.

“No, but I want it.” I said. “I want all of it.”

He laughed. “You’ll get it, brother.” And he moved back
into fucking position, pulled my legs to around his slim
waist, and gently slid it in.

I took all of it, easy! I’d never known before how easy
it was to be fucked. Maybe I was just so hot, but all I know
is that there was no pain, none at all. All I felt was a wild
sense of gratitude while my preacher slid his long cock into
my ass where it was welcomed like an old friend.

He saw there was no need for the gentleness he’d
obviously planned, and he rode me like a horseman, and I
was his hot stallion.

The bed groaned and creaked with the unaccustomed
exercise. I looked over Brother Michael’s heaving shoulders
to, of all things, the crucifix at the foot of his bed. He had it
there so he could see it, first thing in the morning and last
thing at night. A nearly naked man hanging from the cross.
Somehow, in a totally non-religious way, the meaning fit.

Brother Michael was grunting now, as his long schlong
invaded my ass, plunging in and out at a furious speed.
“Oh, yeah, fuck me, brother, fuck me.”

“Oh, yeah, little brother.” he gasped. “Oh, you feel so
good.”

“Oh, fuck me, fuck me. Ah, ah, ahhh!” I was coming,
and I groaned as my load shot out of my cock and onto this
big man.

As my come hit him, Brother Michael said, “Oh, yeah,
shoot it on me, all of it! Oh, oh, uh, uhhh!” and he was
coming, a massive load being sprayed deep into my
bowels. And Brother Michael collapsed on top of me,
crushing me with his heavy body, and my last look before
falling asleep was a blurred crucifix, in which the cross
vanished, leaving only a near nude man, his hands raised
in a benediction.

I slept only a short time, for when I awoke, Brother
Michael was still atop me, his shoulders still pulsating. I
kissed his shoulder gently and he nibbled on my neck.

We got up and got dressed in silence, then at his
insistence, knelt a time in prayer of thankfulness at the joys
our bodies had given us and each other. He seemed to
have no trouble reconciling his religion with his needs. We
arose and I felt amazingly refreshed, ready for anything.

As I returned home, my coat and tie slung across my
shoulder, my mother saw me. “That didn’t take too long.
What did you think of our new minister?”

“I think I should go to church more often.” I told her.
“He’s asked me to come over every day after school, to
help him out.”

And my mother said a prayer of joy at her son being
guided to the light. If she only knew. If she only knew!

As I took some pictures, his penis continued to thicken and
lengthen until I could ignore it no longer. I was committed to doing a
tasteful calendar and erections had no place in it.
“Uh, we have a problem,” I said.
“Yeah, I know,” he admitted, blushing as the issue was brought out.
“Why don’t we just talk for a while. Maybe that will help get
your mind off this shoot,” I said.
He nodded. We sat down on a couple of chairs and chatted for a
while about our classes and the usual college small talk. I glanced at
his dick occasionally to watch for any progress, but none was forthcoming.
“This just isn’t going to work. I’m sorry, but the idea of having
my picture taken in the nude is too exciting for me.”
“That’s all right…Maybe there’s something else you could do to
get rid of it…”
He caught my gist and nodded. “I know. I thought of that. I’ll
go try it.”
Sam got up and headed for the changing room, but turned at the doorway.
“Can I do it out here?” he asked, a blush coming to his cheeks at
his request. I didn’t know Sam very well. I had only met him once
before, but I was now very intrigued. It appeared as if I had a little
exhibitionist on my hands.

What was he going to do? How could he possibly not know who he was
or where he came from? If he knew what amnesia was (and he recognised
the word as soon as the doctor used it) how could he not know anything
about himself? It seemed so strange… to know things you were taught
in school, mathematical formulae and historical facts and figures,
that Paris was the capital of France and that Margaret Thatcher was
the Prime Minister, and yet not know your own name or even if your
parents were alive or dead!

“I’m sorry I can’t say something which sounds more hopeful,” the
doctor had said, less than an hour ago as Adam had been discharged
from the Infirmary. “I can understand how lost you must feel, but rest
assured that most amnesics do recover some of their memory if not all
of it.”

Adam smiled wryly. “And some never get their memory back at all,
correct?”

The doctor nodded. “I’m afraid so, but the percentage is very
small. Usually their relatives identify them from the newspapers or
through the police, and once the patient is back in their home envi-
ronment little day to day things keep jogging their memory.”

Adam wasn’t encouraged. He’d been in the hospital for over a
month, ever since the police had found him, dazed and bloody from a
head wound, wandering through the streets late one night. The media
had latched onto his case, and for several consecutive days his face
had been on more newspaper covers than Princess Diana’s.

But nothing had come of it. No-one came forward to claim him, the
police drew a complete blank, and, mysteriously, he had no form of
identification on him.

After a couple of weeks the media got another more interesting
story to keep their readers happy, and Adam’s fate was quickly forgot-
ten. Depression set in. Deep, black depression. Luckily he had made at
least one new friend in hospital, a young male nurse called Stan who
always had a cheery word to brighten him up.

“Come on, sunshine,” Stan had said one day as he dispensed his
drugs. “Things could be a lot worse.”

Adam scowled at him. “Really? How?”

“Well, just look at yourself. You’re a good-looking young guy, and
at the risk of making you big-headed I’d even say handsome. You’ve got
a good body, even if you have a cracked skull, and I’ll bet you won’t
be on your own for very long even if no-body turns up from your past.”

The flattery had made Adam feel a bit better, but not much. He
dreaded the day when, inevitably, he would have to leave the hospital
and begin to rebuild his life, but where would he start? He had spent
many sleepless nights, just lying in his bed and listening to the
other patients snoring, wondering about his predicament. He had very
little money on him when he was brought in, just a couple of °5 notes
and a bit of change, no idea where he came from and no idea what his
profession was. His accent was also bland and unplaceable. At least if
he’d had a Brummie accent he would have known he came from Birmingham
or the midlands.

It had been Stan who had christened him ‘Adam’. After long days in
his bed he had felt stale and unclean, and would have killed for a
bath. When the doctor arrived to do his rounds Adam asked him if he
could have a shower, not a poxy bed bath, something to lift his spir-
its and make him feel human again. To his surprise the doctor had
agreed, as long as there was a nurse on hand in case he needed help.
Stan had been the nurse.

There were a couple of small private shower units just off the
ward bathroom and Stan followed as Adam made his way to one and
stepped inside. Adam would have closed the door and left Stan to wait
outside, but Stan held the door open and followed him in.

“Don’t I get any privacy?” Adam asked, as he undid his robe and
slipped it off.

“Sorry,” Stan shrugged. “Doctor’s orders. Anyway you haven’t got
anything I haven’t already seen.”

Adam hung his bathrobe on a hook and removed his pyjama jacket,
hanging that on top of the robe. Feeling more than a little self-con-
scious, Adam untied his pyjama pants and let them fall to the floor so
that he was naked. He was aware of Stan’s eyes on him as he bent to
pick up his pyjama pants, and after the initial flush of embarrassment
he was surprised to find being naked while someone watched was
strangely exciting.

He was quite proud of his body. He had no idea if he’d ever done
anything to get in such good shape (that part of the past was miss-
ing), but he certainly liked the way he looked. Long legs, thick and
muscular at the thighs, with pert tight buttocks, tapering to a slim
waist and flat hard stomach; broad back and powerful shoulders. Maybe
he’d at some time played sport professionally? He didn’t know.

He felt Stan’s eyes burning into him as he turned on the shower
and stepped under the hot steaming jet. It felt so good, the water
running over his smooth flawless skin, forming rivers which ran into
the curves and hollows of his body and seemed to wash away his prob-
lems. He felt hot water trickle into the deep cleavage of his but-
tocks, swilling over his anus and then down the inside of his legs.

He reached for the soap and began to work up a lather. Still aware
of Stan watching him, Adam began to rub lather across his chest, ca-
ressing the hard round pectoral muscles and tweaking his nipples gen-
tly. God that felt good! His hands slid down over his belly, to the
dark curly bush of pubic hair in his crotch and he buried his fingers
in the wiry hair, sliding his right thumb around the shaft of his
large uncut cock and cupping his balls in his palm.

As he smoothed soap along the length of his flaccid cock, his left
hand moved around to his behind, parting his hard buttocks, a finger
probing for the lips of his anus. Stan shuffled his feet nervously as
he watched Adam, but Adam was oblivious to him now. His prick was re-
acting instinctively, swelling up to its full seven inches, the fore-
skin peeling back to reveal the throbbing silky purple head.

Stan cleared his throat. “I’ll just nip outside for a smoke,” he
said, as he disappeared through the door. “Be back in a minute.”

Adam hardly heard. His finger had now located his anus and was in-
serted up to the knuckle, gently moving in and out in time to the
rhythmic wanking of his right hand. It felt so good, so alive. He
couldn’t remember ever having wanked himself before. Surely he must
have? It seemed so new and exciting that he was shocked by the feroc-
ity of his sudden climax. His knees buckled and he arched his back
forward as he came, thick milky cum shooting in powerful spurts from
his cock, splattering on the tiles of the shower floor and being
washed away by the cascading water.

By the time Stan reappeared Adam had finished his shower and was
standing in the cubicle towelling off, his body red from the hot water
and the rubbing.

“So how do I look?” he asked, tossing his thick blonde hair back
from his forehead, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Like Adam in the Garden of Eden,” Stan grinned, admiring the
young man’s naked form.

And that was how he got his new name. Everyone, doctors and nurses
alike, thought it seemed somehow appropriate, as though no other name
would have fitted the good-looking mystery man quite as well. Even
Adam himself took to it, but, after all, he had nothing better.

Eventually the day he’d been dreading arrived, and he was uncere-
moniously discharged from hospital, thrown out into the real world to
stand or fall on his own merits. He’d drifted around the town aim-
lessly for a while, heading no-where in particular, until he had found
himself in the park, sitting here on the hard bench watching the
ducks.

“I thought it was you,” a familiar voice said. He glanced to his
left to find himself gazing at Stan’s smiling face. “What are you do-
ing here? Taken a fancy to ducks, have you?”

“Where else have I to go?” Adam asked, without self-pity.

“Still no lodgings, huh?” Stan sighed, seating himself next to
Adam on the bench. “What about that church hostel thing the hospital
social worker told you about?”

Adam shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’d just rather not go
there.”

Stan stood up. “Then there’s only one other alternative. You’ll
have to kip on my couch for a few nights until you get fixed up.”

“Won’t your family mind?”

Stan shook his head. “I live alone. I have a small flat, nothing
fancy, but big enough for me.” He smiled again, and Adam realised for
the first time what a pleasing smile Stan had. “You’re quite welcome
to the couch, if you want it.”

Adam smiled back. “Thanks.”

Stan’s flat was nicer than he’d let on. The lounge carpet was
thick and soft, and the decor was more tasteful than Adam would have
expected from his new friend. The couch was a large 3-seater job, eas-
ily long enough to accommodate Adam’s six foot frame.

Stan spent the rest of the afternoon settling his guest in, fuss-
ing over the young guy like a mother hen. His next shift at the hospi-
tal wasn’t until six the next morning, so they had plenty of opportu-
nity to talk, something they had never really been able to do on the
ward. Stan was warm and friendly, and, Adam noticed, quite attractive
in a bland, unexciting kind of way. He had dark curly hair and equally
dark eyes, and his complexion was duskily smooth.

The day passed quickly. In the evening Stan phoned for a pizza,
which they put away along with a bottle and a half of sweet white
wine. Adam couldn’t ever remember having had wine before, but he took
an instant liking to it and downed so much of the stuff that he became
a bit merry.

“Come on, mate,” Stan muttered at just after midnight. “I think
it’s time we both turned in. You’ve only just got out of hospital, and
I have to be up at the crack of dawn.”

He brought a large bundle of sheets and a couple of pillows from
the bedroom and expertly made up Adam’s bed on the couch. “There you
go,” he said. “I’ve a spare toothbrush in the bathroom, the red one’s
mine, so help yourself.” Adam nodded unsteadily. The wine had really
gone to his head. “I’ll say goodnight then,” Stan said. “If you need
anything, just shout, okay?”

“Okay,” Adam replied, “‘night!”

Stan headed for the bedroom, glancing back just once to catch
sight of Adam wrestling with one of his socks. Then he closed the
door, undressed quickly, and slipped naked into his bed. It was late
and it had been a long day, and to say Stan was tired was an under-
statement. He fell asleep almost the instant his head touched the pil-
low.

He awoke again with a start after what seemed just seconds. The
luminous clock on the bedside cabinet read 3.35 am. Something had bro-
ken his sleep, some kind of noise loud enough to disturb him. Stan
threw back the covers and clambered out of bed, creeping across the
room and gingerly opening the door.

The lounge was in darkness save for the shaft of moonlight which
was shining in through the large window. Standing in front of the win-
dow, one hand resting on the pane and his head leaned on the back of
his hand, was Adam. He was naked, the moonlight causing his skin to
glow an eerie silver, the deep black of the shadows accentuating every
curve and hollow of his muscular torso. He looked the epitome of sor-
row.

Stan opened the door wider and quietly crossed the lounge to where
his friend was standing. He placed his right hand on Adam’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” he asked tenderly.

Without looking up Adam spoke. “I just feel so lonely,” he said.

Stan squeezed his shoulder in a gesture of affection. “You don’t
have to be lonely,” he said. “I’m here.”

Adam looked up, and in the moonlight Stan thought he saw the glint
of an odd tear. “Hold me,” Adam said, turning towards Stan and slip-
ping his strong arms around Stan’s waist.

It was at that moment that Stan became aware of his own nudity.
Their bodies touched, Adam’s large muscular thigh brushing against
Stan’s leg. Like a child, Adam laid his head on Stan’s shoulder, nuz-
zling his face against the nurse’s neck. His breath was warm and
moist.

Stan pulled him closer, until their stomachs lay flat together. He
could feel Adam’s hard nipples against his chest, and lower, much
lower, he could feel the hot softness of Adam’s large and magnificent
cock pressing into his own pubic bush. As he held the guy, he wondered
if Adam even knew or cared that he was getting an erection, his prick
throbbing and pushing against the soft fluttery skin of Adam’s belly.

Stan let his hand slide slowly down Adam’s back, his fingers glid-
ing over the smooth flesh. His first finger traced a line along the
furrow caused by Adam’s spine, and Adam flinched just a shade, his
hips jutting forward so that their cocks rubbed together. Stan allowed
his hand to continue on its downward path until it came to rest
lightly on Adam’s tight hard buttocks.

Pressed together, Stan could feel that Adam was beginning to re-
spond. The huge prick was growing bigger, swelling to its full size,
throbbing against Stan’s thigh. Encouraged, Stan slid his hand into
the cleavage of Adam’s buttocks, his fingers exploring, searching,
then finding the rough tight lips of Adam’s anus, which he stroked
lovingly. For Adam it was an experience he had never known the like
of. The warmth of another human body next to his, the pure pleasure of
being touched as intimately as Stan was touching him at that moment.
Somewhere, deep in his mind, he was vaguely aware that what they were
doing was “not right” to the majority of people, but frankly he did
not give a fuck.

Stan was caressing his buttocks, taking care to rub his anus gen-
tly. Adam’s prick was now fully erect, as was his lover’s, two thick
hard rods rubbing against each other. Adam felt Stan let go of his em-
brace slightly, then felt the warm wetness of Stan’s mouth on his
smooth, hairless chest, licking the nipples, nipping them lightly with
his teeth. Stan’s tongue traced a silvery line of saliva down Adam’s
body, taking a slight pause while he licked at the hollow of his
navel, then continuing on it’s path towards the most sensitive of re-
gions. Adam gasped as Stan kissed the tip of his dick, then closed his
eyes and allowed the sensations to flow over him as Stan took his full
seven inches into his mouth.

He was a master of cock-sucking, his tongue working marvels which
drove Adam into fits of ecstasy. Stan ran his hot tongue around the
swollen silky glans, curling it behind the fleshed back rim of Adam’s
foreskin, exploring the dark little piss-hole which was already drool-
ing salty pre-cum which mingled with Stan’s saliva. Stan took the hard
cock deep into his throat, pulling on Adam’s buttocks and pushing his
face deep into the boy’s pubic hair. The wrinkled sac of Adam’s scro-
tum nestled in the cleft of Stan’s chin, and he became aware of a
change in it’s form, a tightening, the flesh drawing in to enclose the
large heavy balls, and he knew Adam’s climax was near.

Stan worked harder, drawing the long shaft of his lover’s prick
almost out of his mouth completely, then closing down on it quickly,
tickling the thick veined underside with his tongue. The boy was now
breathing heavily, almost gasping, until, with a groan that the whole
town must have heard, Adam came. Spunk, thick and warm and salty, be-
gan to spurt from the head of his dick, filling Stan’s mouth and slid-
ing down the back of his throat in a river of cum. Adam grabbed Stan’s
hair and rammed his cock into his mouth with force, almost causing
Stan to gag and choke. And then the climax was over. Adam dropped to
his knees in front of Stan, exhausted, shattered by what had taken
place. He sagged forward, into Stan’s arms. Stan’s erection stood up
almost vertically from the forest of curls at his crotch.

“Why did you do that?” Adam gasped, genuinely shocked by the fe-
rocity of their passion.

Stan smiled. “Because I wanted to. I’ve wanted to make love to you
ever since that day in the shower.” Stan leaned forward and kissed
Adam on the lips. He was pleased to feel the pressure as Adam kissed
back. “Stay here with me,” Stan said. “Let me take care of you, at
least for a while.”

Adam smiled. “At least for tonight,” he said, slipping his hand
between Stan’s hairy thighs and caressing his erect prick. “What you
just did was incredible… I don’t think anyone’s ever done that to me
before. I can’t remember, anyway, so I guess it’s the same thing.”

He began to pull slowly on Stan’s cock, teasing the foreskin back
over the wet head then allowing it to retract again. “Don’t be angry,
but I don’t know if I could do the same to you… not yet, at least,
but maybe soon…”

Stan smiled. “That’s okay,” he said, closing his eyes and enjoying
the feel of Adam’s strong grip as he wanked him slowly. “Just keep do-
ing what you’re doing and I’ll be happy enough.”

Stan didn’t take long to come. Like Adam he was highly excited,
and it was mere moments before his cock exploded in a fountain of
spunk, covering Adam’s hand and dripping in thick goblets onto the
carpet. Then they lay together, in each other’s arms on the couch in
the moonlight.

“Stay with me,” Stan repeated. “Stay here forever. Put the past
behind you. We can be happy, I know it.”

Adam sighed. “I’ll stay for a while, but I have to know who I am,
where I come from.” He kissed Stan tenderly. “I’ll stay until I can
please you just like you’ve pleased me, but then I have to go.”

Stan remained silent. Eventually they slept, and before long morn-
ing had come with a vengeance. Stan left Adam asleep on the couch as
he washed, dressed and got his things together ready for his shift at
the hospital. Taking one last lingering look at the blonde Adonis on
the couch, he let himself out of the flat and went to work.

Two hours later Adam sat at the kitchen table, a blanket wrapped
round him, and studied the contents of the battered leather wallet
which belonged to him. Eleven pounds and seventy-three pence, a dog-
eared bus ticket, and a crumpled piece of paper on which was written a
number… a phone number! Adam’s heart leaped.

Why hadn’t the police or hospital staff noticed this? It seemed so
obvious. He picked up the paper and walked across to Stan’s phone,
lifted the receiver and dialled the number. Nothing. Only the constant
tone that told him the number was unobtainable.

Replacing the receiver, he picked up the telephone directory,
turned to the front and started searching. After a few seconds he
found it… 091, the area code for Newcastle-Upon-Tyne. At last he had
a starting point. It was not much to work from, but it was a start!

He sat for a long time, staring at the phone number, wondering and
fantasizing about it. He did some serious thinking that day, and he
made up his mind. He would stay with Stan for as long as he had agreed
to, but no longer. He had to find out the truth about himself, he had
to. He really had no alternative.

People all around grabbed their belongings and scattered in all. Brip, brap, sputter. Wheels on tile. Click, clack, click, dress shoes and stiletto hills cut through the din with a rhythm ignored. I followed at a short distance and saw that she was laughing at something тАУ that same girl heТd sat next to on the train. Part of me wondered if she was trying too hard. It wasnТt my business, but I kept wondering. A friend had been generous enough to offer me his spare bedroom for my little weekend holiday in Chocolate City. There had always been something about the air in Washington that allowed the little head to take control of all higher functions. It was evident in the eyes of every man. Symbolic islands drifting together pulled by the gravity of pulsing cocks. I thought I had drawn a line that I wouldnТt cross, but the older I get the harder it becomes to see. I told myself as a consolation, he was ugly. But in truth, I wanted the sensation of his hips pressed against my thighs.

I was hungry. The smell of burgers with bacon, double meat and trans fats announced as neon beacons asking – clog thy Willie? I think not! Instant Chinese wasnТt much better, but it wasnТt as bad as the burger and fries. The food court on the second floor proved interesting. I found a spot advantageous to people watching with all the gender bias I could put into the art. The “obvious” twenty somethingТs were wearing their jeans teasingly snug in the crotch and hips, cut low around the waist – the next reincarnation of fashion. I shot the obligatory glance at a fine woman here and there just to throw a little confusion to anyone who caught me staring. Old habit. Still single and horny at 42, perhaps I could have done things a bit differently. I wondered if IТd be telling myself that ten years from that moment. It didnТt matter. Nature was calling.

I sipped more tea and kept an eye peeled on the bathroom to see who was going in, how long they stayed, and if instinct cast its veil. The traffic around the food court was pretty heavy and the layout of the restroom was all wrong. The lower level proved to be buzz worthy of what I was looking for. Finishing off the last of my snack, I headed toward the down escalator. There was a bookstore, coffee stand and a luggage shop that gave a partial view of who went in and out of the menТs room. Not a lot of traffic between arrivals and departures, and the entryway provided plenty warning. Turning into the bookstore I caught glance of a familiar profile out the corner of my eye. Pretending not to notice that he had noticed, I turned my back and picked up an issue of Ethnic Cuisine. His wife or so I thought, was saying something about the time. Something about a delay and souvenirs. Business. Kids. Crowded. Love. Concert. Wonderful friend. A lot of cooing. She was definitely trying too hard! I stopped listening. Shortly after they went to the seating area where he left her engrossed in the pages of a book and headed toward the toilet. After about a minute or so I figured he was involved in some serious number two or waiting. “Can I help you find anything?” His wife was an attractive woman, perhaps eight or nine years his junior. Why was I trying to figure that out?

“Sir?” I hadnТt noticed the sales clerk speaking to me. She reminded me of Carol Burnett. I smiled graciously and put back the magazine.

“No thank you. I was just browsing.” I left the store and headed toward the bathroom. Rounding the corner I slowed my pace intentionally as though trying to sneak up on a cat, kept my steps soft and pushed the door. He was standing at the urinal with two empty spaces to his right. No dividers. Perfect. I slid my bag over by the sink next to his and he turned to see who had walked in. I gave a polite nod and stepped over. With practice you can check out a guys cock without him even knowing. The guy next to me still had work to do in that department. When I saw his head angling for my prick, I turned to look him in the eye and gave a half smile. Redness shot into his face. He swallowed, shifted then fumbled for his zipper. “So where are you headed” I asked, which threw him a bit and he just sort of stood there holding his dick not knowing whether to put it away or to play out the scene.

“Um. Actually a business trip” New York or some place East. I didnТt really care what his answer had been. I just wanted to get my rise and get out.

“Business trip. With your wife?”

“SheТs not my wife” he started but then trailed off. I looked down at his cock and thrust my chin forward as if to point out that he wore a wedding band. Yes, he was married but the lady hanging on his arm was not the Misses.

“No need to explain” I said and started to piss. On queue my dick started to swell and slow the flow to a trickle. I let out a breath of relief that was a little unnecessary, I could see that his cock had started doing a little rising of its own. I realized I was already crossing the imaginary line IТd drawn earlier. What excuse had I made to dismiss him? He slyly started stroking his cock and turned without shame to stare at me and did something I hadnТt expected, he reached over, grabbed my throbbing meat and pulled me to him. The precum oozed out and lubed the head of my fully erect prick. I smirked at the shine his drip gave. His hand found the back of my neck and before I could stop him our mouths came together. I didnТt really want to stop and was turned on by my flow of nerves. I could smell sex, cum, piss, pine, chlorine, sharp and penetrating. The pressure between my thighs, his shaft pressed against mine, his clear silky seed glistened in my pubes. I thought I heard someone. I had to stop before I turned a deaf ear to the door. I started to pull away. “Wait” he begged. His voice was a tremble. A look of hunger and desperation flooded his face. He jerked off furiously and grabbed me harder than I liked as though trying to pull my cock from where it stood. I reached for and fastened the button of my pants. Tried to straighten my shirt thinking about the time IТd gotten caught. He saw what I was doing and quickly dropped to his knees before I could take the next step. “IТm Jason” he whispered.

In my head I was already out the door. IТd seen what I came to see, got my sexual buzz on, and now it was no longer safe. “I could get arrested” was drowned out by the sound of my heart racing in my ear and then the sweetest thing IТd felt, the inside of a warm mouth. I froze and he gripped the back of my hips forcing the thrust that came too willingly. He gagged a little, and I felt myself slide in and curve down the back of his throat and all memories of consequence seeped down the drain. Looking down I saw his cock point straight up pressed against his belly. I wasnТt certain if that was its natural angle or simply the fact that he was resting his butt on the heels of his feet. There was a cool feeling in one of my hands as my leg had started to shake uncontrollably. The pleasure I felt at losing my body to that man had taken over. I grabbed a pipe to shift my weight. The moisture that had collected there felt cool to the touch. The timing of my thrust had increased to some rhythm with origins in some primitive life. Humping his mouth to bring on the nut, I hoped heТd swallow. He looked as though heТd do anything to please me. “Yeah. You like sucking a strangers cock donТt you Jason?” I goaded him and he responded that heТd take all I had to give. “You donТt get much dick from your girl” I laughed. He responded by cupping my balls in his hands, pulled them so that they hung outside my fly and started to bath me with his tongue. “You deserve some cock in your life donТt you boy! You need some cock Jason. Is that what you want?” He looked at me and begged.

“Can you fuck me, please. I just need to get fucked is all.” I smiled and slapped my dick across his face and the sound echoed in the silence of solid walls. I dragged and pushed the head against his closed eye leaving a moist trail. Brip. Then bending down to reach behind him I slid my hand that was wet from the pipes down the back of his pants. The crack of his ass served as the map to what I might find. My index finger and its closest friend found joy in the thickening fur the closer I edged them to the final stop. Brap. He arched, head bent down to the floor, his hands anchored my feet and my finger slid in. “Yes” was what I heard and then a final click, someone was coming. I could feel his ass grip my finger three quick times in secession before I removed it from his puckered hole. He gasped and realized the sound of wheels on tile and shot up from the floor grazing the side of my face. Ouch. We both snapped to attention facing the urinal as though a sergeant had yelled ATTENTION! My heart was pounding, his shirt half un-tucked, and my balls not cooperating got nicked by my zipper. Two throbbing cocks hovering over urinals refusing to surrender. The proverbial white flag was the cum rag offered through the intrusion of a stranger.

The guy that came checked himself in the mirror and headed toward the stalls. Jason was slowly stroking his cock to the rhythm of the other mans steps that neither of us had turned to see. His foot falls stopped behind us and changed direction where he parked right next to me, and whipped out a semi hard uncut dark brown Asian cock. It was obvious what was going on but he seemed stiff and too afraid to look. There was a recognizable gasp from my left and I saw Jason wasting his seed in the urinal. One, two, three, too many bullets to count. Wads onto the porcelain. Drip drop. It raced down like stallions at a six lane track in distinct trails. His body involuntarily slumped forward, back, then forward again. The guy next to me pretended not to notice. Jason quickly became the outward heterosexual on a business trip with his mistress after his spasm. Tucked his shirt, started to say something but didnТt and was gone before his jizz had even settled. After a moment I turned to the guy standing next to me. I looked down at his cock and thrust my chin forward pointing out that he wore a wedding band. I returned his knowing smirk, zipped up, grabbed my bag and left him in the echoes of my footsteps. Outside in the fresh air, I lit a cigarette and felt the stickiness of Jason on my balls. My friends Toyota rounded the corner shortly after I finished my stag and he greeted him with a warm familiar smile. “You havenТt been waiting too long I hope.”

“Nah. The train just got here only a few minutes ago.”

“Are you hungry?”

“IТm starved” I told him. “LetТs go to that little place you like. What was the name of it?”

“Cafe Asia.”

“ThatТs it. For some reason IТm craving Pan Asian.”

I always did have a big appetite.