u/TLPandTLC

The following weekend, the twins put their next plan into motion. Cousin Liam had always been the quiet, sporty one in the family — twenty-two, Mark’s nephew on their late mother’s side, with the same dark hair and green eyes as the twins but a slightly stockier, rugby-player build. He was home from uni for a few days and had no idea what he was walking into when Alex texted him: “Come crash at ours Saturday night. Dad and Uncle Ryan are here, plus our mate Ethan. Proper family get-together.”

Liam arrived mid-afternoon with a six-pack and a gym bag, wearing a fitted polo and shorts that hugged his thick thighs and the promising bulge between them. The moment he stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. The others were already half-dressed, the air heavy with anticipation.

“Alright, cuz?” Jordan grinned, pulling Liam into a tight hug that lingered just a second too long, letting their bodies press together.

Liam chuckled, then froze when he saw the scene in the living room: Mark and Ryan shirtless on the sofa, Ethan lounging in just his boxers, and the twins already palming each other through their shorts.

“What the fuck is this?” Liam asked, eyes wide but his cock visibly twitching in his shorts.

Alex stepped behind him, hands sliding round his waist. “This is us finally getting what we’ve all wanted for years. You in, Liam? Or are you gonna pretend you haven’t been checking out the twins’ arses since we were teenagers?”
Liam swallowed hard, then let out a shaky laugh. “You lot are mental… but fuck it. I’m in.”

Clothes came off in a rush. Liam’s body was solid — broad chest, thick cock (uncut and heavy, already leaking) and a firm, rounded arse the twins had fantasised about for years. They dropped to their knees together, sharing their cousin’s dick while Mark, Ryan and Ethan watched, stroking themselves.

“Christ, you two are proper slags,” Liam groaned, threading his fingers through their identical hair as they licked and sucked him in tandem, tongues swirling around his shaft and foreskin.

They moved to the bedroom, the big bed now a proper playground for six. Mark bent Liam over the edge first, slicking his thick cock and pushing into his nephew’s tight hole in one slow, deep thrust. Liam moaned loudly, gripping the sheets.

“Uncle Mark… fuck, you’re big,” he gasped.
Ryan slid underneath Liam, feeding his cock into his nephew’s mouth while the twins took turns eating Liam’s arse alongside their dad’s thrusting shaft, tongues flicking over where they joined. Ethan knelt behind Alex, fucking him steadily as Alex licked and sucked his cousin’s balls.

The rotation was relentless and filthy. Jordan fucked Liam next, pounding him hard while Ethan took Liam’s mouth. Then Mark and Ryan double-penetrated their nephew, stretching his hole wide around both thick cocks until Liam was shaking and begging incoherently. The twins lay beneath, licking up every drop of sweat and precum, occasionally pushing their own cocks in alongside for a moment of overwhelming tightness.

Liam came first — hands-free, shooting thick ropes across the sheets while both uncles were buried inside him. The sight triggered a chain reaction. Mark and Ryan unloaded deep in his guts, flooding him until cum squirted out around their cocks with every thrust. Alex and Jordan followed, painting Liam’s chest and face. Ethan finished last, pulling out of Jordan and adding his load to the mess on Liam’s tongue.

They all collapsed in a sweaty, cum-covered pile, bodies tangled. Liam lay in the middle, panting, a dazed, satisfied grin on his face as cum leaked from his wrecked hole.
“Best family reunion ever,” he murmured, voice hoarse. He reached out to squeeze both twins’ cocks. “You two planning on keeping this going all summer?”

Alex kissed his cousin’s cum-smeared lips. “Every weekend you’re free, cuz.”

Jordan nuzzled into Liam’s neck. “And next time we’re thinking of inviting a couple more lads from the rugby club…”

Mark chuckled deeply, pulling everyone closer. “You boys are going to turn this house into a proper fuck den.”

Ryan just groaned in agreement, already hardening again against Liam’s thigh. “And none of us are complaining.”
Liam laughed breathlessly. “Count me in. Fuck… I’m never leaving.”  

The twins had been texting their college mate, Ethan, all week. Ethan was their closest friend on the football team - twenty-one, mixed-race with smooth dark skin, a lean-muscled swimmer’s build, and a thick, uncut cock the twins had both secretly admired in the shared showers after training.

He was openly bi and always up for adventure, so when Alex casually mentioned “a very private family weekend at home with some fun” and sent a cheeky photo of the four of them shirtless by the pool, Ethan replied in under a minute: “I’m in. When?”

He arrived on Friday evening, bag slung over one shoulder, wearing tight joggers that already showed the outline of his growing interest.

Mark and Ryan were waiting in the living room with cold beers. The moment the front door closed, Alex and Jordan wasted no time. They pushed Ethan against the wall, kissing him hungrily while their hands roamed under his T-shirt.

“Fuck, you two weren’t joking,” Ethan groaned, eyes flicking to the two older men watching with obvious lust. “This is your dad and uncle?”

“Yep,” Jordan murmured against his neck, palming Ethan’s hardening cock through his joggers. “And they’re both hung like horses. You good with that?”

Ethan’s grin was filthy. “I’m good with anything.”
They moved upstairs in a tangle of hands and mouths. Clothes hit the floor before they even reached the bedroom. Ethan was rock-hard, his thick brown cock curving upward, the foreskin already pulled back to reveal a shiny, leaking head.

Mark stepped forward first, pulling the younger man into a deep kiss while Ryan dropped to his knees and swallowed Ethan’s cock in one smooth motion. The twins watched, stroking each other, as their dad and uncle worked their friend over - Mark feeding Ethan his own heavy dick, Ryan sucking and licking until spit ran down Ethan’s balls.

Alex and Jordan joined in. Soon Ethan was on all fours in the centre of the big bed. Jordan slid underneath him, taking his cock into his throat while Alex pushed into Ethan’s tight arse from behind. Mark knelt in front of Ethan, letting the college lad suck him sloppily. Ryan positioned himself behind Alex, burying his thick cock into his nephew’s hole so that every thrust Alex gave Ethan pushed him back onto Ryan.

The room filled with raw, wet sounds - skin slapping, moans, filthy encouragement.

“Take my son’s cock, mate,” Mark growled, gripping Ethan’s hair. “Good boy.”

Ethan could only whimper around Mark’s shaft, his own dick throbbing in Jordan’s mouth as Alex pounded him deep and hard. Ryan reached around to stroke Ethan’s chest and pinch his nipples, driving the young man wild.

They rotated positions for hours. Ethan fucked both twins in turn while Mark and Ryan took turns using his willing mouth and arse. At one point Ethan was sandwiched between father and uncle, their thick cocks stretching him open at the same time while the twins fed him theirs. He came first, untouched, shooting across Jordan’s stomach with a broken cry.

The others followed quickly. Mark and Ryan painted Ethan’s back and chest with thick loads. Alex and Jordan finished inside him, one after the other, until cum was dripping down his thighs.

Afterwards they all collapsed in a sweaty pile, bodies pressed together, hands lazily stroking whatever skin they could reach. Ethan lay between the twins, grinning breathlessly.

“Best fucking weekend invite ever,” he laughed, voice hoarse. “You lot do this every summer?”

Alex kissed his neck, while Jordan licked a streak of cum from his chest. “Not yet,” Jordan said. “But we’re thinking of making it a regular thing. You free next month?”

Ethan’s cock twitched against Alex’s thigh. “Try and stop me.”

Mark chuckled from the other side of the bed, pulling everyone closer. “Plenty of room in this house… and plenty more loads to go around.”

Ryan just groaned contentedly, already half-hard again against Ethan’s arse. “Welcome to the family, kid.”

The rest of the bank holiday weekend dissolved into a nonstop haze of sweat, cum, and raw fucking.

By Sunday afternoon, the four of them had barely left the twins’ bedroom except to grab more lube, beer, and snacks. The air was thick with the smell of sex. Mark and Ryan lay sprawled on the big bed, naked and glistening, their thick cocks resting heavy against their thighs. Alex and Jordan, still buzzing with energy, crawled between their father and uncle like eager kittens.

“You two have been using our holes all weekend,” Jordan said, running his tongue up Ryan’s spent shaft. “Time to switch things up.”

Alex grinned, already slicking his fingers with lube. “Yeah. We want to fuck our dad and uncle today.”

Mark let out a low, amused groan, but his cock twitched and began to thicken again. “You boys are insatiable.”
Ryan smirked, spreading his legs without hesitation.

“Been a while since anything’s been up there. Go easy on your old uncle… at first.”

The twins didn’t need telling twice. They worked together with practised coordination. Jordan straddled Mark’s chest, feeding his hard cock into his dad’s mouth while Alex pushed Mark’s thick thighs apart and pressed his slicked fingers against his father’s tight hole. Mark moaned around Jordan’s shaft as Alex worked him open, first one finger, then two, then three, curling them against his prostate until Mark’s cock leaked steadily onto his own stomach.

At the same time, Ryan was on all fours beside them. Alex had his face buried between his uncle’s firm cheeks, tongue fucking the older man’s hole while Jordan reached over to stroke Ryan’s heavy balls.

“Fuck… you two really are dirty little sluts,” Ryan growled, pushing back against Alex’s mouth.

When both men were properly prepped and panting, the twins lined up. Alex pressed the head of his cock against Mark’s hole and sank in slowly, savouring the tight heat. Mark’s back arched, a deep guttural sound escaping around Jordan’s dick.

Jordan did the same with Ryan, sliding in balls-deep in one smooth thrust. “God, Uncle Ryan… your arse feels incredible.”

They started fucking their father and uncle in perfect sync, hips snapping forward, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. Alex and Jordan leaned over the older men, kissing each other deeply while they pounded away. Mark and Ryan groaned and cursed, pushing back to meet every thrust.

“Harder, son,” Mark rasped, pulling off Jordan’s cock for a second. “Fuck your dad properly.”

Ryan was even filthier. “Come on, boys. Wreck your uncle’s hole. Fill me up.”

The twins obliged, slamming in deep and fast. Alex reached around to stroke his dad’s throbbing cock in time with his thrusts, while Jordan did the same for Ryan. The older men came first — Mark shooting thick ropes across his own chest with a muffled shout, Ryan bellowing as his load splattered the sheets beneath him.

Alex and Jordan didn’t pull out. They kept fucking through the spasms until they both unloaded, pumping their hot cum deep into their father and uncle. When they finally withdrew, creamy seed leaked from both well-fucked holes. The twins immediately dropped down to lick and slurp it up, sharing messy, cum-soaked kisses with each other and then with Mark and Ryan.

That night they all showered together, bodies pressed tight under the hot spray, hands roaming, cocks half-hard again. As they dried off, Alex looked at Jordan with that familiar wicked glint.

“So… what do you reckon about inviting Cousin Liam next time he’s in town?”

Jordan laughed softly, reaching down to squeeze his brother’s cock. “One step at a time, bro. But fuck… the family reunions are about to get a lot more interesting.”
Mark pulled both boys against his chest, Ryan pressing in from behind. “You two are going to kill us all before the end of summer.”

Alex kissed his dad’s neck, then looked up with a sweet, filthy smile. “Worth it, though. Right, Dad?”

Mark’s only answer was a deep, resigned groan as four hands began stroking him hard again.

theLazyPornographer for more cock and sweaty fucks:TheLazyPornographer @ Substack

TheLazyCoach for all things advice - from coming out to sticking things up your arse:thelazycoach @ Substack

The weeks that followed were a blur of stolen nights and lazy afternoons. Mark had given in completely, fucking his twin sons in every room of the house, filling their tight holes with load after load while they moaned “Daddy” and begged for more. But Alex and Jordan had one more fantasy they whispered about in the dark, their bodies still sticky with their father’s cum.

Their uncle Ryan, Mark’s younger brother, had always been the cool, rugged one. Thirty-nine, divorced, with the same broad build and thick cock the twins had glimpsed during family holidays. He was visiting for the long bank holiday weekend, and the twins decided it was time.
On Saturday night, after a barbecue and plenty of cold beers, the four of them lounged in the living room.

Mark sat in his usual armchair, looking relaxed but knowing exactly what his boys were planning. Ryan stretched out on the sofa in a tight black T-shirt and shorts that did nothing to hide the heavy bulge between his legs.

Alex and Jordan exchanged a glance, then stood up together.

“Uncle Ryan,” Jordan said sweetly, “we’ve got something to show you upstairs. Dad already knows about it.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Yeah? What are you two troublemakers up to now?”

“You’ll see,” Alex grinned, grabbing his uncle’s hand and tugging him toward the stairs. Mark followed, already palming his growing erection through his shorts.
In the twins’ bedroom, the lamp was low and the air warm. Alex and Jordan didn’t waste time.

They stripped each other slowly in front of their father and uncle, kissing deeply, cocks hard and leaking. Ryan’s eyes widened as he watched his nephews drop to their knees in front of Mark, pulling their dad’s thick cock out and worshipping it side by side, licking, sucking, slurping noisily while Mark groaned and stroked their hair.

“Fucking hell…” Ryan muttered, his own shorts tenting obscenely. “You serious?”

Mark looked over at his brother, voice rough with lust. “They’ve wanted you too, Ry. Join us.”

That was all the invitation Ryan needed. He shoved his shorts down, revealing a fat, veined cock almost as big as Mark’s, the head already glistening. The twins turned to him like hungry animals. Jordan took his uncle’s cock straight into his throat while Alex sucked on Ryan’s heavy balls, moaning at the musky taste.

“Jesus Christ, you boys are filthy,” Ryan growled, gripping Jordan’s head and fucking his face gently at first, then harder.

They moved to the big bed. Mark lay back against the headboard, legs spread. Alex straddled him reverse-cowboy, sinking down onto his dad’s cock with a long, satisfied moan, riding him slow and deep so Ryan could watch every inch disappear into his nephew’s tight arse.

Ryan couldn’t hold back. He knelt behind Alex, rubbing his slick cock against the stretched hole where his brother was already buried. “Think you can take us both, kid?”

Alex whimpered, nodding frantically. “Please, Uncle Ryan… stretch me.”

Ryan pushed in alongside Mark, the twins’ hole impossibly full as father and uncle’s thick cocks rubbed together inside Alex. Alex cried out in pleasure, body shaking, his own cock bouncing and leaking onto his dad’s stomach. Jordan knelt beside them, feeding his cock into Alex’s mouth while stroking himself.

The room filled with wet, obscene sounds—skin slapping, grunts, desperate moans. Ryan and Mark found a rhythm, thrusting in unison, their cocks dragging against each other in Alex’s clenching heat.

“Fuck, he’s so tight,” Ryan groaned, gripping Alex’s hips.
Mark’s hands roamed over his son’s body. “Come on, baby. Show your uncle how well you take cock.”

Alex came first, untouched, shooting thick ropes across Mark’s chest with a muffled scream around Jordan’s dick. The sensation pushed both men over the edge. Mark and Ryan buried themselves deep and unloaded together, flooding Alex’s guts with hot, pulsing cum until it leaked out around their shafts.

They pulled out slowly, creamy white seed dripping from Alex’s ruined hole. Jordan immediately dove in, licking and sucking the mixed loads from his brother while the two older men watched, cocks still half-hard.

Ryan chuckled breathlessly, pulling Jordan up for a deep, filthy kiss. “You two are going to be the death of us.”
Alex, still trembling, smiled wickedly and looked between his dad and uncle. “We’ve got all weekend. And we haven’t even started on Uncle Ryan’s arse yet.”

Mark laughed low, stroking his spent cock back to life. “That’s my boys.”

Ryan grinned, already reaching for the lube. “Well, fuck. I’m not going anywhere.”

The summer after their second year at university, identical twins Alex and Jordan returned home to their dad’s quiet suburban house. At twenty, the boys were lean and athletic, with the same tousled dark hair, sharp jawlines, and mischievous green eyes. They had shared everything since birth - clothes, secrets, and, for the past two years, each other’s bodies in the privacy of their dorm room. But their deepest, most forbidden fantasy had always centred on the man who had raised them alone: their father, Mark.

Mark was forty-four, still powerfully built from years of manual labour and weekend gym sessions. Broad shoulders, thick arms, and a dusting of salt-and-pepper hair across his chest that disappeared enticingly beneath the waistband of his loose shorts. The twins had spent countless nights whispering about him, how his cock looked when he walked around the house in just a towel, the low rumble of his voice, the way his strong hands gripped a beer bottle. They wanted him. Badly.

One humid evening, after Mark had gone to bed, Alex and Jordan sat cross-legged on Alex’s bed, both in nothing but boxer briefs, their identical cocks already half-hard from the conversation.

“We’ve waited long enough,” Jordan murmured, stroking his brother’s thigh. “Dad’s been single for years. He jerks off in the shower every morning - I’ve heard him. We just need to push him over the edge.”

Alex grinned, leaning in to kiss his twin deeply, tongues sliding together. “Tomorrow night. We’ll get him drunk on those strong IPAs he likes, then ‘accidentally’ leave our bedroom door open while we fuck. Let him watch. Once he sees how much we want it… he won’t be able to resist.”

The plan was simple, and it worked almost too well.

The next evening the three of them sat in the living room, the air thick with the scent of pizza and cold beer. Mark laughed easily, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol, his big frame relaxed on the sofa in a worn grey T-shirt and shorts. The twins kept refilling his glass, brushing against him as they moved, letting their hands linger.

Around midnight, Mark stood up, swaying slightly. “Fuck, I’m knackered. Night, boys.”

“Night, Dad,” they chorused, eyes gleaming.

Ten minutes later, their bedroom door was wide open. The bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the twins as they stripped each other slowly, kissing, groping. Jordan dropped to his knees and took Alex’s stiff cock into his mouth, sucking noisily, moaning around the thick shaft. Alex gripped his brother’s hair, thrusting gently, eyes fixed on the dark hallway.

They didn’t have to wait long.

Mark appeared in the doorway, frozen, one hand still on the frame. His shorts tented obscenely. “What the… fuck are you two doing?”

Jordan pulled off Alex’s cock with a wet pop, lips shiny. “We know you’ve been watching us, Dad. We’ve seen the way you look at us.” He stood, both twins turning to face their father, their identical erections pointing straight at him.

Mark’s breathing grew ragged. “This is wrong. You’re my sons…”

“We’re adults,” Alex said softly, stepping closer. “And we want you. Both of us. Let us make you feel good.”

For a long second, Mark just stared. Then, with a low groan of surrender, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

The twins moved like predators. They peeled Mark’s T-shirt off, mouths latching onto his nipples, hands roaming over his muscled chest and stomach. Jordan dropped to his knees again, tugging his dad’s shorts and boxers down in one motion.

Mark’s cock sprang free, thick, veined, and rock-hard, the head already leaking. It was bigger than either twin’s, and they moaned in unison at the sight.

“Fuck, Dad… you’re huge,” Alex whispered, wrapping his fingers around the base. He leaned in and licked a long stripe up the underside while Jordan sucked one heavy ball into his mouth.

Mark’s head fell back. “Jesus Christ…”

They worshipped him together, licking, sucking, taking turns deep-throating him until spit ran down their chins and Mark’s thighs trembled. Then they led him to the bed.

Alex lay on his back, legs spread. Jordan slicked his brother’s hole with lube and guided Mark’s cock to the tight entrance. “Fuck him, Dad. He’s been dreaming about this.”

Mark pushed in slowly, groaning at the impossible heat and tightness. Alex cried out in pleasure, pulling his dad down into a fierce kiss while Jordan knelt beside them, stroking himself and feeding his cock into Alex’s mouth. The room filled with the wet sounds of flesh and desperate moans.

Soon they switched. Jordan bent over the edge of the bed, ass up, while Mark pounded into him from behind, hard and deep. Alex knelt beneath them, licking where they joined, tasting his brother and father together. Mark’s big hands gripped Jordan’s hips, pulling him back onto every thrust.

“I’m gonna come,” Mark growled, voice wrecked.
“Come inside me, Dad,” Jordan begged. “Fill your son up.”
With a guttural roar, Mark buried himself to the hilt and came, pulsing hot and thick inside Jordan’s clenching hole.

Alex quickly pushed his face in, licking up the creamy load that leaked out.

Then the twins pushed their father onto his back and took turns riding him until they both came - Alex painting his dad’s chest, Jordan shooting across his abs.

They collapsed together in a sweaty, cum-stained tangle, Mark’s strong arms around both boys.

“Fuck… what have we done?” he murmured, but there was no regret in his voice, only exhausted satisfaction.
Alex kissed his father’s jaw. “We’ve only just started, Dad.”

Jordan smiled against Mark’s chest. “Summer’s long. And we’re very, very patient.”

Mark’s cock twitched again between them, already stirring for round two.

Part two very soon…

Am working on a Substack series of short stories called confessions, where I craft a story based on your deepest, darkest, dirtiest stories or fantasies….who’s gonna go first? Message me and see if you can shock me?

The accident shattered more than just bones. Jake, my twenty-one-year-old son, had been cycling back from a late university lecture when a car clipped him. Both arms were broken in the fall, now encased in heavy white plaster from fingertips to shoulders, and his right knee was wrecked, leaving him barely able to put weight on it.

The hospital sent him home into my sole care. I was a single widowed father; my wife had died years ago, and it had always been just the two of us. I took three weeks off work without hesitation, set up my laptop at the kitchen table, and turned the living room into his recovery space, bed moved downstairs, sofa piled high with pillows, everything arranged for a young man who couldn’t lift a finger.

The early days were practical, almost clinical. I’d slide an arm around his waist each morning, his heavy casts dangling uselessly, and half-carry him from bed to sofa while he hopped on his good leg, muttering curses. “Easy, Dad,” he’d grunt, face flushed with humiliation as I lowered him down. I spoon-fed him porridge for breakfast, wiping his mouth with a napkin like I had when he was small. Meals were the same, forkfuls of pasta or curry held to his lips while I sat close, the familiar scent of my son filling the air. Mundane tasks I’d done a thousand times before.

But the bathroom changed everything.
The first time he needed to piss, Jake stared at the floor, jaw clenched. “Dad… I can’t do this myself.” His voice was tight with shame. I didn’t hesitate. I helped him stand, tugged his trackies and boxers down with one hand while steadying him with the other, and aimed his cock at the toilet bowl. It was soft, heavy and warm in my palm, the weight of it surprising after all these years. He relieved himself, cheeks burning, and I shook him gently before tucking him away.

By day three it was routine, as was the ass wiping. By day five I noticed how his cock would twitch and swell the instant my fingers touched it. He was getting hard almost every time now, thick morning wood straining against his boxers, impossible for him to hide or relieve. When my fingers accidentally touched his hole, he’d be rigid.

He never asked outright at first. But the frustration was obvious: the restless shifting on the sofa, the shallow breathing when I washed him. Sponge baths in the downstairs shower room became torturous. I’d strip him slowly, peeling off his T-shirt and trackies, leaving him naked except for the casts and the waterproof wrap on his knee.

His body was lean and athletic from college rugby, sharp muscles carved across his chest and abs, but now completely helpless, every inch exposed. I soaped his back, his chest, his thighs. When my hand moved between his legs he’d groan, cock surging upright, thick, veined, the head flushed dark and already leaking a steady bead of pre-cum.

“Dad… fuck, I’m sorry,” he rasped the first time, eyes squeezed shut. “It’s been days. They ache.”

Blue balls. The heavy, throbbing ache of unrelieved need while he lay there immobile. I’d seen him adjust himself as a teenager, caught glimpses of his changing body, but never like this, never with his fat cock pulsing inches from my face as I knelt to wash his calves.

On the sixth night I couldn’t watch him suffer any longer. He was sprawled on the sofa after his evening wash, legs spread, erection tenting the thin sheet obscenely. His balls looked swollen, tight and full beneath that rigid shaft.

“Jake,” I said quietly, sitting beside him. “You’re in pain. Let me take care of it, of you.”

His eyes snapped open. “Dad… what?”

I pulled the sheet aside and wrapped my hand around him, hot, silky skin over steel. He was thicker than I’d imagined, my fingers barely meeting. Jake gasped, hips jerking uselessly, casts thudding against the cushions. “Oh God…”

I stroked him with slow, firm pulls, base to tip, thumb smearing the slick pre-cum over the swollen head on every upstroke. “That’s it, son,” I murmured. “Let Dad sort those aching balls.” The words felt filthy and right. He came in under a minute, thick, powerful ropes of cum shooting across his abs and chest, one spurt even hitting his chin as he moaned my name like a plea. I kept pumping until he was drained, then cleaned him tenderly with a warm flannel, both of us breathing raggedly.

It became our secret routine. Every morning after breakfast, every evening after his wash. My hand working his thick cock with long, twisting strokes while he lay helpless, whispering “Dad… fuck, Dad…” as I drained those heavy balls dry. I started using both hands—one pumping the shaft, the other cupping and rolling his sac, until he was begging, hips stuttering, cum exploding so hard it sometimes painted his own face.

But it escalated quickly, the hunger between us igniting like dry tinder.

By day ten I was on my knees between his spread thighs, mouth watering. “I need to taste you,” I told him, voice low and rough. His eyes widened with raw lust and he nodded desperately. I leaned in and took him deep, lips stretching wide around that fat cock until my nose pressed into his dark pubes.

He tasted salty, musky, intensely male. I sucked him greedily, hollowing my cheeks, tongue swirling under the sensitive head, one hand massaging his balls while the other steadied the base. Jake came with a broken groan, flooding my throat in hot, pulsing jets. I swallowed every drop, licking him clean as he trembled.

After that, boundaries dissolved. The next afternoon I straddled his good leg on the sofa, lowered myself onto him bare. No underwear under my shorts. His thick cock split my arse open, stretching my tight hole until I groaned deeply. I rode him carefully, mindful of his injuries, hands braced on his casted shoulders while my own cock slapped against his abs. He couldn’t grab me, couldn’t thrust, but the desperate hunger in his eyes made me clench around him harder.

“Fuck me, Dad,” he growled. “Your arse is so tight… so hot around your son’s cock…”

I came first, grinding down, my hole milking him as ropes of cum spurted across his chest. He followed moments later, pumping me full of thick, endless seed that leaked out around his shaft and dripped down his heavy balls onto the sofa. We stayed locked together, panting, while I kissed his neck and whispered how perfectly he filled me.
From then on it was constant.

Mornings I’d wake him with my mouth, sucking him slow and deep. Afternoons I’d ride him reverse, letting him watch my arse bounce on his cock. Evenings I’d sit on his face, careful of the casts, and let him devour my hole with his tongue while I sucked him in a messy, desperate sixty-nine. He begged me to finger myself while I jerked him, to let him watch me come before I took his load down my throat.

I did things I’d never imagined, licking and sucking his balls, rimming his tight arse while stroking him until he shouted, fucking my throat raw, even letting him watch me open myself up with my fingers before sinking back onto him.

By the end of the second week I was addicted to the feeling of my own son’s thick cock stretching me, claiming me, filling me deeper than anyone ever had. And Jake, helpless, plastered, completely dependent, had never looked more alive or more mine.

When the casts finally came off and his knee healed, I already knew nothing would ever go back to how it was. Some care is simple duty.

Some care becomes everything.

The casts came off on a warm Thursday afternoon, three weeks after the accident. I drove Jake back from the hospital with the windows down, the breeze ruffling his hair. His arms looked pale and thin after weeks trapped in plaster, but the muscles still flexed when he tested them, gingerly at first, then with growing confidence.

His knee was still tender, he walked with a slight limp, using a crutch for a few more days, but he was no longer helpless. The doctor had warned him to take it easy, but the hunger in my son’s eyes when he glanced across at me in the car said he had no intention of listening.

The moment we stepped through the front door, the air thickened. Jake dropped the crutch, backed me against the hallway wall with surprising strength, and kissed me like a man starved. His hands, free at last, roamed everywhere: sliding under my shirt, gripping my waist, cupping the growing bulge in my jeans. “Dad,” he growled against my mouth, voice rough with weeks of pent-up need. “I’ve waited so fucking long to touch you properly.”

We barely made it to the living room. Clothes came off in a frantic trail, his T-shirt, my polo, his trackies shoved down. His cock sprang free, already rock-hard and leaking, thicker and heavier than I remembered from the careful handjobs and rides I’d given him while he was immobilised.

I dropped to my knees right there on the rug, taking him deep in one hungry motion. Jake’s newly freed hands tangled in my hair, guiding me, not roughly but with clear ownership. He fucked my throat in shallow thrusts, groaning loudly as I swallowed around him, saliva dripping down my chin onto his heavy balls.

“Fuck, Dad… your mouth feels even better when I can hold you.” He pulled me off with a wet pop, eyes dark. “Bed. Now. I need to be inside you.”

We stumbled upstairs, his limp barely slowing him, and collapsed onto my king-sized bed, the one that had felt too empty for years. Jake pushed me onto my back, spreading my legs wide with those strong hands. He took his time now that he could, licking and sucking my cock until I was leaking and desperate, then moving lower.

His tongue circled my hole, wet and insistent, pushing inside me while one finger, then two, stretched me open. I gripped the sheets, moaning his name as he worked me open, tasting the place only he had claimed these past weeks.

When he finally knelt between my thighs, cock slick with lube and pre-cum, the look on his face was pure reverence and lust. “Tell me you want your son’s cock, Dad.”

“I want it,” I rasped, voice breaking. “Fuck your father, Jake. Fill me.”

He pushed in slowly at first, savouring every inch as my tight heat swallowed him. Once seated to the hilt, balls-deep and grinding, he let out a broken moan. Then the dam broke. His hips snapped forward - hard, deep strokes that made the bed creak.

His hands pinned my wrists above my head, his mouth claiming mine in messy kisses while he pounded me. Every thrust dragged across my prostate, sending sparks through me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, heels digging into his arse, urging him deeper.

“Harder,” I begged. “I can take it.”

Jake obliged. He fucked me like he’d been dreaming of it every helpless night, long, powerful strokes that left me gasping. Sweat slicked our bodies. His free hand wrapped around my cock, stroking me in time with his thrusts until I came first, shooting thick ropes across my own chest and stomach with a shout.

My hole clenched around him, milking his shaft, and Jake followed with a guttural groan. He buried himself deep and unloaded, pulse after pulse of hot cum flooding me until it leaked out around his cock with every shallow thrust.

We didn’t stop there.

He flipped me onto all fours, re-entering me in one smooth glide, his newly mobile hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. I pushed back to meet him, arse rippling with every impact as he railed me from behind. Later, I rode him - straddling his lap, hands braced on his chest while he looked up at me with awe, thrusting up to meet every downward grind. He came again like that, filling me a second time while I painted his abs with my own release.

By evening we were spent, tangled together in sweat-damp sheets. Jake’s fingers traced lazy patterns on my back, exploring freely now. “I don’t want this to end, Dad,” he whispered against my neck. “Not when the knee’s better. Not ever.”

I kissed his forehead, heart full and aching at the same time. “It doesn’t have to. You’re home for the summer… and after that, we’ll work it out.”

The weeks that followed were a blur of rediscovered freedom and raw need. Morning showers turned into slippery, soapy fucks against the tiles. Lazy afternoons on the sofa became Jake bending me over the armrest, pounding me while the TV played forgotten in the background.

Evenings he’d rim me for ages, tongue and fingers working me open until I was begging, then fuck me slow and deep while we kissed like lovers. He loved watching his cum drip from my used hole, pushing it back in with his fingers before sliding back inside me again.

Some nights he was gentle, worshipping my body with his mouth and hands. Others he was rough, pinning me down and using me until we were both hoarse and shaking. I taught him how to edge me for hours, how to milk my prostate until I came untouched. He taught me how much I loved being marked—his teeth on my neck, his fingers digging into my hips, his cum drying on my skin.

When university called him back in September, the house felt unbearably quiet again. But he came home most weekends, and the moment the door closed behind him the clothes came off. The accident had broken his bones.
What it built between us was stronger than either of us had ever imagined.
 
Find me here:

theLazyPornographer for more cock and sweaty fucks:TheLazyPornographer @ Substack

TheLazyCoach for all things advice - from coming out to sticking things up your arse:thelazycoach @ Substack

The fluorescent glow from the streetlamp outside leaked through the thin curtains of Jamie’s bedroom, casting a hazy orange light over their tangled bodies. David lay on his back, chest still heaving, one arm draped heavily around the younger man’s shoulders. Jamie’s skin was warm and slick with sweat, his lithe frame pressed close, that half-hard cock already twitching against David’s thigh like it had a mind of its own.

“Stay,” Jamie had whispered, and David had nodded before he could overthink it. Now, twenty minutes later, the lad was tracing lazy circles through the grey hair on David’s chest, green eyes half-lidded but sparkling with that same cheeky hunger.

“You really do fancy me, don’t you?” David murmured, half-laughing, still dazed. His hand slid down Jamie’s back, cupping the firm curve of his arse. The boy shivered.

“Proper obsessed, more like.” Jamie pushed himself up on one elbow, curls messy and damp. “Thought about you every shift. You’d come in with your little basket, looking all quiet and fit, and I’d be behind the till trying not to get hard in my work trousers. Reckon I’ve wanked in the staff toilet more times than I can count.”

David’s cock gave a interested twitch beneath the duvet. Christ, the boy’s mouth was filthy even when he wasn’t sucking him off.

Jamie noticed. Of course he did. He grinned, sliding a hand down to wrap long fingers around David’s thickening length. “Still got more in you, silver daddy? Good. Because I’m not done.”

He kissed his way down David’s body, slow this time—no frantic hallway desperation. Soft, open-mouthed kisses across the soft swell of his belly, tongue dipping into his navel, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just above his pubic hair. When he reached David’s cock, he nuzzled it lovingly, rubbing his cheek against the thickening shaft.
“Love how heavy you are,” Jamie breathed, licking a broad stripe from balls to tip. “Love how you smell after you’ve come. Musky. Proper man.”

David groaned, fingers threading back into those dark curls. Jamie took his time now, savouring every inch—sucking one bollock into his mouth, then the other, tongue swirling, before sliding back up to swallow him deep again. No rushing. Just wet, obscene sounds and the occasional moan vibrating around David’s cock.
“Jamie… fuck, lad…”

The boy pulled off with a wet pop, lips shiny. “Want you to fuck me again. Bare this time. I’m on PrEP, tested last month. Want to feel you proper.”

David’s breath caught. “You sure?”

Jamie crawled up his body and kissed him, deep and dirty. “I’m sure. Want your load inside me. Want to feel it drip out tomorrow when I’m stacking shelves.”

He reached for the lube again, slicking David’s cock with generous strokes before straddling him once more. This time he sank down slower, eyes locked on David’s face, mouth falling open in a silent gasp as bare skin met bare skin.

“Fuuuuck,” Jamie hissed, head tipping back. “So hot. So thick. Filling me right up.”

David gripped his hips, thumbs pressing into the grooves of his pelvis, and let the boy set the pace. Jamie rode him with long, rolling movements, grinding down deep on every stroke so David’s cock rubbed right against that sweet spot inside him. The wet sound of lube and skin filled the small room, mixed with Jamie’s running filth.

“Look at that belly move when I bounce on you,” he panted, one hand braced on David’s soft middle. “Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Want you to pin me down with it. Want you to crush me while you breed me.”

David flipped them without warning, pressing Jamie into the mattress with his heavier frame. The lad’s legs wrapped around his waist instantly, heels digging into his back.

“Yes…fuck…harder, Daddy,” Jamie begged, nails raking down David’s shoulders. “Own this hole. It’s yours.”
David thrust deep and steady, hips snapping, the slap of skin loud in the quiet flat. Jamie was loud, moaning, cursing, telling him exactly how good it felt, how no boy his age could ever stretch him like this, how he wanted David’s come so deep he’d taste it.

When David felt his orgasm building again, he buried his face in Jamie’s neck, biting down on the smooth skin as he drove in hard. Jamie came first with a broken cry, untouched, painting both their stomachs with fresh ropes of spunk. His hole clenched rhythmically, milking David until he followed with a deep groan, pulsing hot and bare inside the tight heat.

They stayed locked together afterwards, David’s softening cock still buried deep, Jamie’s arms and legs wrapped around him like he never wanted to let go.

“Reckon I’m keeping you,” Jamie mumbled sleepily against his ear, pressing a soft kiss to the grey stubble. “Every Friday. Maybe Tuesdays too. Whenever you fancy getting your cock sucked by a greedy nineteen-year-old who can’t get enough of your dad bod.”

David chuckled, low and warm, pulling the duvet over them both. For the first time in years, the hollow feeling was gone. Replaced by the steady heartbeat of the boy in his arms and the quiet promise of more.

Outside, the Tesco Express lights still hummed in the distance. Inside, Jamie was already stirring again, hips giving a lazy roll.

“Round three in the morning, yeah?” he whispered.
David smiled into the dark. “Yeah. Round three.”

theLazyPornographer for more cock and sweaty fucks:TheLazyPornographer @ Substack

TheLazyCoach for all things advice - from coming out to sticking things up your arse:thelazycoach @ Substack

The water kept falling in warm sheets around us, steam curling thick in the shower area. My legs were still trembling, one hooked high around his waist as his thick black cock pulsed softly inside me, the last heavy spurts of his cum filling me deep. He didn’t pull out. Instead, he stayed buried to the hilt, his powerful body pressed flush against mine, holding me up against the slick tiles with effortless strength.

“Easy, boy,” he murmured in that rich, husky voice, lips brushing my ear. One big hand slid up my back in slow, soothing circles while the other cradled the back of my head, fingers threading gently through my damp hair. His dreads hung heavy and wet over his shoulders, brushing my chest as he leaned in. Those thick black nipples, still hard from earlier attention, grazed my skin with every breath he took.

He kissed me then, not the hungry clash of mouths from before, but something slower, deeper. His full lips moved tenderly against mine, tongue sliding in lazy strokes that made my spent cock twitch between our bodies. When he finally broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against mine, eyes half-lidded and warm. “You took me so well,” he whispered, voice low enough that it felt private even with the small crowd still watching, stroking themselves quietly. “Such a tight, sweet hole… and you gave it to me so beautifully.”

I whimpered softly as he shifted his hips in the gentlest roll, not thrusting but stirring his softening length inside me, letting me feel every inch of him, every thick vein. His cum was already starting to leak out around his shaft, trickling down my thighs with the water, but he didn’t seem to mind. One hand moved down to my arse, massaging the cheek he’d been gripping earlier, kneading the muscle with firm, caring pressure to ease the ache.m

“You’re shaking,” he noticed, smiling that slow, knowing smile. He reached for the gel again, squeezing some into his palm and working it into a rich lather. With exquisite care he began to wash me, big, soapy hands gliding over my chest, thumbs circling my sensitive nipples, then down my stomach to clean the streaks of my own cum from my skin.

His cock slipped out halfway as he did it, but he kept one thick finger pressed lightly against my stretched hole, keeping me open, letting his load drip out slowly while he soothed the tender ring of muscle with gentle circles.

“Relax for me,” he coaxed, voice like warm velvet. He slipped that soapy finger just inside, massaging me from within with tender strokes that made my eyes flutter. Not to fuck - just to care for me, to ease the stretch he’d given me. I moaned into his neck, clutching his broad shoulders, feeling the hard muscle and smooth dark skin under my fingers.

He rinsed me thoroughly under the spray, then washed himself too, but never fully stepped away. His free arm stayed wrapped around my waist, holding me close against his solid chest. Every so often he’d press a soft kiss to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth.

“Good boy,” he kept murmuring, the praise sinking into me deeper than his cock had. “My good boy tonight.”
When the water had washed us both clean, he finally turned it off and grabbed a couple of fresh towels from the stack nearby.

He dried me first, patting me gently, paying special attention to my sore arse and spent cock, then wrapping the towel around my waist with surprising care. Only then did he dry himself, those powerful arms and chest flexing as he moved. His big black cock hung heavy and thick between his thighs, still glistening, still impressive even soft.

He pulled me close again under the warmer lights of the changing area, sitting on the bench and guiding me onto his lap so I straddled him. My head rested against his shoulder as his arms encircled me, one hand stroking slow lines up and down my spine. The dreads tickled my face; I could smell the clean scent of soap on his skin mixed with something deeper, masculine.

“Stay with me a while,” he said quietly, lips against my hair. “Don’t rush off like those other men make you. Let me hold you.” His fingers traced lazy patterns on my thigh, occasionally brushing teasingly close to my hole again, as if he couldn’t quite stop touching what he’d just claimed. There was no rush in him - just this enveloping, protective warmth that left me boneless and safe in his arms, even as curious eyes still lingered from across the room.

For the first time in this sauna, I didn’t feel used. I felt wanted. Cherished, even. And when he tilted my chin up for another slow, lingering kiss, I melted into it completely, already hoping this wouldn’t be the last time his big hands touched me with such tender care.m

Find me here:

the lazy pornographer @ linktree

The fluorescent lights of the Tesco Express hummed overhead as David pushed his basket along the conveyor belt. At fifty-eight, he’d long since stopped expecting anything from life beyond a quiet pint at the pub and the occasional anonymous grind on Grindr that left him feeling more hollow than satisfied.

He was average in every way that mattered: salt-and-pepper hair thinning at the temples, a soft dad-bod hidden under a loose jumper, and a face that had once been called handsome but now simply looked kind. He didn’t expect the checkout boy to look twice.
But the lad behind the till did more than look.

His name badge read Jamie, 19. Nineteen. Christ. Tall and lean in that effortless way only the young managed, with a mop of dark curls that flopped over one bright green eye and a smile that could melt butter. The black Tesco polo clung to his narrow chest and the swell of his biceps as he scanned David’s items. When his fingers brushed David’s while taking the contactless card, the touch lingered half a second too long.

“Evening, handsome,” Jamie said, voice low and warm, like he was sharing a secret. “You’re in here a lot. Always Friday nights, right? I’ve been waiting for you.”
David blinked, sure he’d misheard. “Sorry?”

Jamie’s grin widened, cheeky and unafraid. He leaned forward on the till, elbows planted, so the V of his polo gaped and showed the smooth, tanned skin beneath. “You. I fancy the fuck out of you. Proper proper. Been watching you shuffle down aisle three every week like you don’t know you’re the fittest thing in this entire shop. Older blokes do it for me, yeah? The silver in your hair, the way your jumper stretches across your belly… makes me hard just scanning your bloody milk.”

David’s face burned. He laughed, embarrassed, glancing around to see if anyone else had heard. The shop was dead this late. “You’re taking the piss.”

“Am I?” Jamie’s eyes flicked down to David’s crotch, then back up, slow and deliberate. “Tell you what. My shift ends in ten. I live two streets over. Flatshare, but my mate’s out. You come back here when I’m done, I’ll show you exactly how much I fancy you. I want to taste every inch of that silver fox body. Want you to fuck my throat till I’m choking on you, then bend me over and hammer me raw. Sound good?”

David’s cock twitched hard in his jeans. He was hard. Actually, painfully hard. The boy, barely legal, Jesus….had just laid it out like he was ordering a pint. No games. No coy glances. Just raw, hungry want.

Ten minutes later, David was waiting by the bike racks like a teenager, heart hammering. Jamie strolled out in a black hoodie and joggers that did nothing to hide the thick outline of his erection. He didn’t say a word, just grabbed David’s hand and pulled him along the pavement, fingers laced tight.

Inside the tiny flat, the door had barely clicked shut before Jamie was on him. He shoved David against the wall, kissing him filthy and deep, tongue sliding in like he owned him. “Been wanking over you for weeks,” he muttered against David’s mouth. “Thinking about this belly pressing me down, your thick cock splitting me open. Fuck, you’re even hotter up close.”

Clothes came off in a frantic tangle. Jamie dropped to his knees right there in the hallway, yanking David’s jeans down and swallowing him to the root in one wet glide.

David groaned, hand fisting in those dark curls. The lad sucked like he was starving - messy, eager, spit running down his chin as he looked up with those green eyes, mascara of tears already forming. “Love sucking older cock,” he gasped between deep-throating him. “Love how heavy it feels on my tongue. Come on, fuck my face, Daddy. Use me.”

David did. He held Jamie’s head and thrust, hips snapping, until the boy was gagging and moaning around him, throat fluttering. When he finally pulled off, strings of saliva connected his swollen lips to David’s glistening cock.

“Bedroom,” Jamie panted, voice wrecked. “Now.”
They barely made it. Jamie shoved him onto the unmade double bed and stripped the last of his own clothes, revealing a smooth, lithe body and a long, pretty cock already leaking against his flat stomach. He climbed on top, straddling David’s thighs, and ground down, rubbing their cocks together.

“Tell me you want this,” Jamie whispered, rolling a condom on with practised fingers and slicking himself open with lube from the bedside drawer. “Tell me you believe I fancy you stupid.”

“I… Christ, yes,” David managed. “I believe you.”
Jamie sank down onto him in one long, slick push, eyes rolling back. “Fuuuuck. So thick. So perfect.”

He rode him hard from the start, hands planted on David’s chest, nails digging in as he bounced. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, mixed with Jamie’s filthy running commentary. “Look at you. My hot silver daddy. Been dreaming about this cock stretching my hole for weeks. Gonna come just from you filling me up.”

David gripped those narrow hips, thrusting up to meet him, watching the boy’s cock slap wetly against his own belly with every bounce. Jamie was loud, shameless—moaning, cursing, telling David exactly how much he loved the way his older belly jiggled, how he wanted to be covered in his come, how no one his own age could fuck him like this.

When David flipped them over and drove in deep, pinning Jamie’s legs back, the lad lost it. “Yes—harder—fuck me like you own me…gonna come…gonna…” He shot across his own chest in thick ropes, untouched, hole clenching so tight around David that it dragged him over the edge too. David buried himself to the hilt and came with a guttural groan, pulsing inside the condom as Jamie milked every drop.

They collapsed in a sweaty, sticky tangle. Jamie nuzzled into David’s neck, pressing soft kisses to the grey stubble there.

“Stay the night,” he murmured, voice sleepy and sated. “I’m not done fancying you yet. Not by a long shot.”
David smiled into the dark, heart still racing, and pulled the boy closer.

For the first time in years, he felt wanted. Really, properly wanted. And the checkout boy who’d made it crystal clear he fancied the hell out of him was already half-hard again against his thigh, ready to prove it all over again.

TtheLazyPornographer for more cock and sweaty fucks:TheLazyPornographer @ Substack

TheLazyCoach for all things advice - from coming out to sticking things up your arse:thelazycoach @ Substack

The steam from the shower still clung to the air in the locker room long after the rest of the team had left. Jack lingered under the spray, letting the hot water pound against his shoulders, his mind replaying the match – the way Ben had charged down the pitch, muscles flexing under those tight shorts, sweat glistening on his dark skin. They’d been rivals for years, two strikers always trying to outshine each other.

Tonight, though, something had shifted. A heated glance in the tunnel. A brush of bodies that lingered too long.

Ben stepped into the showers a few minutes later, towel slung low on his hips. “Thought you’d be gone,” he said, voice low and rough, echoing off the tiles.

Jack turned, water cascading down his chest, tracing the defined lines of his abs. “Couldn’t stop thinking about that tackle in the second half.” His eyes dropped deliberately to Ben’s broad chest, the water already beading on his smooth, powerful torso.

Ben’s lips curved into a smirk. He dropped the towel. His cock hung heavy, already half-hard, thick and uncut. “Yeah? Felt like you were pressing into me on purpose.”
The space between them vanished. Jack reached first, fingers sliding over Ben’s wet shoulder, pulling him under the spray. Their mouths crashed together – hungry, demanding.

Tongues tangled as Ben backed Jack against the cool tiles, one large hand gripping his hip while the other wrapped around both their cocks, stroking them together in a slick, firm rhythm.

“Fuck,” Jack groaned into his mouth, hips bucking. Ben’s grip was perfect – calloused from years of training, squeezing just right at the head on every upstroke. Precum mixed with the water, making everything glide obscenely.

They broke apart only long enough for Ben to drop to his knees. The sight of him there, water streaming down his back, those full lips parting, was enough to make Jack’s knees weak. Ben took him deep in one smooth motion, throat relaxing around the thick length until his nose pressed against Jack’s trimmed pubes. He sucked hard, tongue swirling around the underside, one hand cupping Jack’s balls and rolling them gently.

“Christ, Ben… your mouth—” Jack’s fingers threaded through his short curls, guiding but not forcing. Ben hummed around him, the vibration shooting pleasure up Jack’s spine. He bobbed faster, cheeks hollowing, saliva dripping down his chin to mix with the shower.

Just as Jack felt his balls tightening, Ben pulled off with a wet pop. “Not yet.” He stood, spinning Jack around to face the wall. Strong hands spread his cheeks, and then that hot, insistent tongue was there – licking over his tight hole in broad, filthy strokes.

Jack moaned shamelessly, pushing back. Ben ate him like a man starved, tongue fucking inside, circling the rim, then diving deep again. One thick finger joined, slick with spit, stretching him open. Then two, scissoring, curling to brush that spot that made stars burst behind Jack’s eyes.
“Want you,” Jack gasped. “Now.”

Ben straightened, cock nudging against Jack’s entrance – hot, heavy, leaking. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, the burn giving way to full, delicious stretch. When he bottomed out, balls deep, they both groaned. Ben’s chest pressed to Jack’s back, one arm wrapping around to stroke him in time with his thrusts.

The pace built – hard, deep strokes that slapped wetly against skin. Ben fucked like he played: relentless, powerful, hitting that prostate with every snap of his hips. “So tight,” he growled against Jack’s neck, biting down. “Gonna fill you up.”

Jack came first, untouched except for Ben’s hand, shooting thick ropes against the tiles with a strangled cry. His hole clenched rhythmically, milking Ben until he followed, burying himself to the hilt and flooding Jack with hot pulses of cum.

They stayed locked together under the cooling water, breathing hard. Ben kissed the back of his neck softly. “Round two at my hotel?” he murmured.

Jack smiled, turning to claim another deep kiss. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Find me here:
TheLazyPornographer for more cock and sweaty fucks:TheLazyPornographer @ Substack

TheLazyCoach for all things advice - from coming out to sticking things up your arse:thelazycoach @ Substack

In the sleepy hollow of Willow Creek, Nebraska - a town where cornfields stretched like golden oceans under endless skies and the biggest news was the annual county fair, Sheriff Harlan Graves had reigned for thirty-five years. At seventy, Harlan was a fixture, his weathered face etched with lines from decades of patrolling dusty roads, breaking up bar fights, and chasing off coyotes from livestock.

His silver hair was cropped short under his Stetson, his broad frame still imposing despite the slight stoop in his shoulders and the arthritis that nagged his knees. He lived alone in a modest ranch house on the outskirts, his bachelor status a subject of whispered rumors among the locals. “Never married, no kids- must be somethin’ there,” they’d say at the diner, but Harlan ignored it all, his steely gray eyes deflecting questions with a gruff chuckle and a change of subject.

That changed on a muggy August afternoon in 2025, when Elias Thorne rolled into town. Elias, sixty-eight, was a freelance journalist from Chicago, his byline gracing magazines on everything from urban decay to rural resilience.

Slim and scholarly, with wire-rimmed glasses perched on a hawkish nose and a mop of white hair that refused to lie flat, Elias had come for a story on “aging in rural America.” His editor wanted human interest - portraits of folks defying time in forgotten places. Harlan, the enduring sheriff, was his centerpiece.

The interview started in Harlan’s office at the county jail, a cramped room with peeling wallpaper and a desk buried under stacks of reports. Elias set up his recorder, his khaki vest pockets bulging with notebooks and pens.

“Sheriff Graves, thanks for your time,” Elias began, his voice smooth with a faint Midwestern twang. They talked shop: Harlan’s daily routines, the challenges of policing a shrinking population, the loneliness of empty nests. Harlan’s answers were clipped but honest, his callused hands gesturing as he spoke of sunrises over the fields and the satisfaction of a quiet life.

As dusk fell, thunder rumbled in the distance, the sky bruising purple. “Storm’s brewin’,” Harlan muttered, glancing out the window. Elias nodded, packing his notes, but the first fat raindrops splattered the glass, followed by a gale that howled like a banshee. Lightning cracked, and the power surged once, twice - then died, plunging the office into shadow.

The emergency generator hummed to life briefly before sputtering out, leaving only the faint glow of Harlan’s desk lamp, powered by a backup battery.

“Damn lines are down again,” Harlan grumbled, lighting a kerosene lantern that cast flickering orange light across the room. Elias hesitated at the door, rain lashing the windows like gunfire. “No sense drivin’ in this. My place is just up the road - got a spare room if you need it.” Elias agreed, and they dashed through the torrent to Harlan’s truck, arriving soaked at the ranch house.

Inside, the house was spartan: worn leather couches, a stone fireplace, shelves lined with Western novels and faded photos. Harlan tossed Elias a towel and dry clothes - an oversized flannel shirt and sweatpants - while he changed into jeans and a tee that hugged his barrel chest.

They settled in the living room with whiskey from Harlan’s cabinet, the storm raging outside, wind rattling the shutters. Conversation flowed easier now, loosened by the liquor and the intimacy of shared shelter.

Elias’s eyes wandered to a small framed photo on the mantel: a younger Harlan, maybe thirty, arm slung around another man in a crowded bar, rainbow flags in the background. “That’s Stonewall,” Elias said softly, pointing. Harlan froze, glass midway to his lips. “The riots? You were there?”

Harlan set his drink down, his face a mask of old shadows. “Not the riots themselves, too young for ’69. But the anniversary march in ‘89. Met him there, Tom. We… well, it was a different time.” The rumors crystallized in Elias’s mind: the bachelor sheriff, the whispers of “confirmed bachelor.” Elias leaned forward, his own secrets bubbling up. “I covered Stonewall for a small paper back then. Lost a lover to AIDS in the ’80s. Never married after that.”

The air thickened, charged like the storm outside. Harlan’s gaze met Elias’s, gray eyes softening with recognition. “Folks here don’t know. Can’t know.” Elias reached out, his hand covering Harlan’s, fingers intertwining. “Your secret’s safe. But tonight… no one’s watching.”

What started as a tentative touch ignited decades of pent-up longing. Harlan pulled Elias close, their lips meeting in a kiss that tasted of whiskey and rain - slow at first, exploratory, then deepening with urgency.

Elias’s hands roamed Harlan’s back, feeling the solid muscle beneath the shirt, the warmth of skin long denied affection. Harlan groaned, a low rumble in his chest, as he tugged Elias’s borrowed shirt open, buttons popping free.

They stumbled to the bedroom, the lantern’s glow following them. Harlan’s room was simple: a king bed with a quilt his mother had sewn, a nightstand with a Bible and a revolver. Clothes shed in a frenzy, Elias’s lean body revealed, pale skin marked by age spots and faint scars, his chest sparsely haired, nipples dark and pert. Harlan stripped slower, his jeans dropping to reveal thick thighs dusted with silver hair, his cock stirring in faded boxers, heavy and half-erect.

Elias knelt first, his glasses fogging as he nuzzled Harlan’s crotch, inhaling the musky scent of clean sweat and arousal. He tugged the boxers down, Harlan’s cock springing free - thick and veined, the foreskin retracting to expose a bulbous head flushed purple, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the slit. At seventy, it wasn’t as rigid as in youth, but desire made it throb, curving slightly upward from a nest of gray pubic hair, balls hanging low and full in a wrinkled sac.

Elias’s mouth enveloped him, lips stretching around the girth, tongue swirling the underside, tasting salt and skin. Harlan’s hands gripped Elias’s hair, hips rocking gently, a gasp escaping as Elias took him deeper, throat relaxing to accommodate. “God, Eli… been so long.” Saliva dripped, slicking the shaft, Elias’s hand pumping the base while he sucked, cheeks hollowing, his own cock hardening against his thigh - slimmer, straight, the head peeking from foreskin, leaking steadily.

Harlan hauled Elias up, flipping him onto the bed, the mattress creaking under their weight. He explored with hands and mouth: kissing down Elias’s neck, sucking a nipple until it pebbled, eliciting moans that drowned the thunder. Lower, he parted Elias’s legs, fingers tracing the inner thighs, then cupping his balls, rolling them gently.

Elias’s hole winked in the lamplight, a tight ring surrounded by sparse hair. Harlan’s tongue darted out, lapping wetly, probing inside, the taste earthy and intimate. Elias arched, fingers clawing the sheets, “Harlan… please.”

Lube from the nightstand - Harlan’s secret stash, unused for years - slicked his fingers. One pushed in, then two, scissoring, crooking to hit that spot that made Elias shudder, pre-cum pooling on his belly. Harlan’s cock ached, fully hard now, and he positioned himself, rubbing the head against Elias’s entrance. “You sure?”

A nod, and Harlan thrust slowly, inch by inch, the heat and tightness gripping him like a vice. Elias gasped, legs wrapping around Harlan’s waist, pulling him deeper until balls-deep, their bodies flush.

They moved together, Harlan’s hips snapping, skin slapping skin, the bedframe groaning in rhythm. Sweat slicked them, dripping down Harlan’s back, pooling where they joined. Elias’s hand flew to his cock, stroking frantically, the wet sounds mingling with their grunts. “Harder,” Elias begged, and Harlan obliged, pounding deeper, one hand bracing on the headboard, the other pinching Elias’s nipple.

Climax built like the storm’s peak - Elias first, body tensing, cock erupting in thick spurts that splattered Harlan’s chest, warm and sticky, one jet hitting his beard. The sight, the clench around him, pushed Harlan over: he buried deep, roaring as he came, pulsing inside Elias, filling him with hot ropes of semen, each wave a cathartic release.

They collapsed, tangled and panting, the storm ebbing outside. Harlan pulled out gently, cum leaking from Elias’s hole, a sight that stirred a final twitch in his spent cock. They lay entwined, whispers of shared histories filling the quiet. Morning would bring the town, the rumours - but for now, in the afterglow, two old men found unexpected solace, their twist of fate sealed in the dark.

Find more here:

https://open.substack.com/pub/thelazyp

 

Alex killed the last enemy with a headshot and tossed his controller onto the coffee table, the victory music still blaring from the TV. Empty beer bottles littered the floor of Jordan’s cramped uni flat, and the room smelled of lager, pizza, and the faint musk of two lads who’d been sitting too close for too long.

Jordan leaned back against the sofa, T-shirt riding up to reveal the dark trail of hair disappearing into his joggers. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and something else.

“Mate,” he said, voice low, “ever… ever wondered what it’d be like? With a bloke, I mean.”

Alex’s stomach flipped. He’d been half-hard for the last hour, hyper-aware of Jordan’s bare foot brushing his under the blanket they’d been sharing. He laughed, too loud, then shrugged.

“Been curious once or twice,” he admitted, throat dry. “You offering to help me find out?”

The silence stretched, thick and electric. Then Jordan lunged.

They crashed together, mouths clumsy at first (teeth clacking, noses bumping), but the second Alex tasted Jordan’s tongue, something snapped. Hands were everywhere: Jordan yanking Alex’s T-shirt over his head, Alex palming the thick bulge straining against Jordan’s joggers. They were both breathing like they’d sprinted a mile.

“Fuck, you’re hard,” Jordan muttered against Alex’s neck, grinding forward so their clothed cocks dragged together. The friction made Alex groan, hips jerking.

Jordan shoved him flat on the sofa, climbing on top, pinning Alex’s wrists above his head with one hand. Their bare chests slid together, sweat already slicking the way. Jordan’s free hand shoved into Alex’s boxers, wrapping around his leaking cock and stroking once, twice, firm and sure.

“Like that?” Jordan rasped, thumb swiping over the wet head.

Alex could only nod, hips bucking into the grip. “Don’t stop, fuck—”

Jordan didn’t. He jerked Alex with rough, perfect strokes, watching his face like he wanted to memorise every twitch. Alex writhed, then got brave—shoved his own hand down Jordan’s joggers and gripped him back. Jordan’s cock was thicker than he’d imagined, hot velvet over steel, and the broken moan Jordan let out went straight to Alex’s balls.

They were rutting like animals now, mouths fused, hands pumping each other frantically. But it wasn’t enough.

“Want your mouth,” Alex gasped against Jordan’s lips.

Jordan’s eyes went dark. “Yeah?”

They scrambled, shedding the rest of their clothes in a tangle of limbs. Jordan lay back, pulling Alex on top so they lined up head-to-toe. The first swipe of Alex’s tongue over Jordan’s cock made them both shudder; the first time Jordan’s lips closed around Alex’s head, Alex nearly came on the spot.

They found a rhythm fast—sloppy, greedy, perfect. Alex hollowed his cheeks and took Jordan deep, gagging when the head hit the back of his throat but pushing through because the noises Jordan made were filthy. Jordan wasn’t gentle either—sucking hard, tongue swirling, one hand cupping Alex’s balls and rolling them while the other teased lower, a single fingertip circling Alex’s hole.

Alex pulled off just long enough to groan, “Do it,” before swallowing Jordan again.

Jordan pressed one spit-slick finger inside, crooking it, and Alex saw stars. He retaliated by shoving two fingers into Jordan’s mouth alongside his cock, letting Jordan suck them wet before reaching back and pushing them into Jordan’s tight heat. They were both moaning around each other now, hips rocking, fingers thrusting in time with mouths.

It hit them at once.

Alex came first—hips jerking, cock pulsing as he shot thick ropes down Jordan’s throat. Jordan swallowed greedily, groaning as his own orgasm followed seconds later, flooding Alex’s mouth with hot, salty release. They kept sucking through it, drawing out every aftershock until they were both shaking and oversensitive.

Eventually Alex rolled off, collapsing beside Jordan on the narrow sofa. Their legs tangled, chests heaving, cum and spit still shining on their lips. Jordan licked his lower lip, catching a stray drop, and grinned.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” Alex panted. “One-off, though. Right?”

Jordan turned his head, eyes glinting in the glow from the TV menu screen. “Course, mate.”

They both knew they were full of shit.

By morning, the sofa cushions were on the floor, the blanket was somewhere across the room, and Jordan was already half-hard again watching Alex stretch naked in the kitchen while making tea. Alex caught the look, smirked, and set the kettle down.

“Best of three?” he asked.

Jordan was on him before the water even boiled.

The dim, steamy haze of the local gay sauna wrapped around Alan like a second skin. At thirty-four, he kept himself lean and defined, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, dark hair still damp from the showers, but it was the secret heat that lived low in his belly that really brought him here tonight. That particular hunger. The one most men pretended didn’t exist.

He sat on the upper tiled bench in the darkest corner of the wet sauna, legs spread just enough to let the heat sink into his inner thighs. A thin white towel lay loosely across his lap, already clinging where pre-cum had begun to darken the cotton. His cock lay thick and heavy beneath it, half-interested, waiting.

The door hissed open. A tall, thick-set man stepped inside, late thirties maybe, close-cropped beard, chest and forearms dusted with dark hair, the kind of body that looked like it had been built through labour rather than gym mirrors. His towel hung low on narrow hips and did nothing to hide the meaty outline of a cock already lifting. He scanned the room once, eyes landing on Alan, and a slow, knowing grin spread across his face.

No preamble. No small talk. The stranger crossed the slick tiles in three strides and stopped directly in front of Alan, close enough that Alan could smell clean sweat and the faint musk of arousal beneath the eucalyptus steam.

“Been watching you sit there, legs open like you’re waiting for communion,” the man said, voice gravel-low. “You want it, don’t you?”

Alan’s throat clicked when he swallowed. He gave a single, slow nod.

The stranger reached down, tugged the knot of his own towel free and let it drop. His cock sprang up—uncut, heavy, already glistening at the tip. He stepped forward, planting one foot on the bench beside Alan’s hip so he straddled him without quite sitting. One large hand wrapped loosely around the base of his shaft, aiming.

“Open,” he ordered quietly.

Alan tilted his head back against the warm tiles and parted his lips.

The first splash hit his chest, hot, forceful, golden. It struck just below his collarbone and fanned out in rivulets, racing down the ridges of his pecs, over the tight peaks of his nipples, pooling briefly in the shallow dip of his navel before spilling lower. The heat of it shocked his skin awake; Alan gasped, cock jerking hard beneath the sodden towel.

“Fuck, that’s it,” the stranger muttered, adjusting his aim.

The stream moved higher—across Alan’s throat, then his parted lips. He opened wider. The jet hit his tongue in a warm, salty rush. Sharp. Tangy. Musky. Unmistakably male. Alan moaned around the flood, letting it fill his mouth until his cheeks bulged, then swallowing in greedy gulps. The excess spilled from the corners of his lips, streaking down his jaw, dripping onto his chest in glistening trails. Every time he swallowed, the stranger groaned like the sound was being pulled out of him.

When the flow dipped lower, Alan instinctively arched. The man directed the stream straight onto his towel-covered cock. The wet cotton instantly turned transparent, clinging to every ridge and vein. Hot piss soaked through, bathing Alan’s shaft and balls in liquid heat. He whimpered, hips lifting off the bench, chasing more contact. The stranger gave it to him, aiming carefully now, painting long, deliberate lines up and down the length of Alan’s erection until the towel was useless, plastered to him like a second skin.

Alan couldn’t wait any longer. He yanked the towel away, exposing his flushed, leaking cock to the air. The stranger’s stream played directly over the sensitive head, sluicing down the shaft, dripping off his tight sac. Alan wrapped a fist around himself and stroked once, twice—slick with piss and pre-cum, groaning at how obscenely wet everything felt.

The flow finally tapered to a few last warm drops. The stranger stepped closer, gripping Alan by the hair and tilting his head back again.

“Taste yourself on me,” he growled.

Alan surged forward, mouth open, and took the softening-but-still-heavy cock between his lips. He sucked hard, tongue swirling around the slit to catch the final beads, tasting salt and bitterness and the faint echo of his own skin where the piss had run down. The stranger hissed, hips jerking once, then hauled Alan up by the hair for a brutal, open-mouthed kiss.

Their tongues slid together, slick with shared piss and spit. Alan could taste himself in the stranger’s mouth, could taste the man in his own and the filthy feedback loop made his head spin. He clawed at the man’s back, nails digging into muscle, urging him closer.

The stranger spun him around in one rough movement, bending Alan over the tiled bench so his forearms braced against the warm surface and his arse was presented. No preamble, no fingers, just spit-slicked cock pressing insistently at his hole. Alan bore down, eager, and the thick head popped inside on the next push.

They both groaned.

The stranger didn’t go slow. He fucked like he meant to mark every inch of Alan from the inside out—deep, punishing strokes that slapped wetly against skin already drenched in sweat and piss. Alan shoved back to meet every thrust, arse clenching greedily around the invading length. The smell of it all, sweat, piss, pre-cum, overheated skin, hung thick in the steam, dizzying.

One of the stranger’s hands wrapped around Alan’s dripping cock, jerking him in rough counter-rhythm. The other slid up Alan’s spine, pressed between his shoulder blades, pinning him down like he might try to escape.

“You’re fucking soaked,” the man rasped against Alan’s ear. “Dripping with me. Gonna come like this, aren’t you? Marked. Claimed.”

Alan could only whine, high, broken, desperate. His balls drew up tight. The stranger slammed in one last time, grinding deep, and Alan shattered. He came in thick, pulsing ropes across the bench tiles, body shaking, arse clamping rhythmically around the cock still buried inside him.

The stranger followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt and unloading with a guttural curse. Alan felt every hot spurt, felt himself filled, felt the slow, filthy drip as the man finally pulled out.

They stayed like that for a long moment, panting, slick, ruined, until the stranger leaned down, pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to the nape of Alan’s neck, and murmured, “Good boy.”

Then he was gone, towel retrieved, door hissing shut behind him.

Alan remained bent over the bench a little longer, legs trembling, chest heaving, every inch of his skin still tingling with the memory of hot golden streams and ruthless claiming.

He smiled, slow and filthy, already wondering when he could come back for more.

London, Present Day – The Gym Sauna

The gym was almost empty by 10 p.m. on a humid Thursday night. Twenty-year-old Cian, a pale Irish university student with milky skin, freckles across his shoulders, and a lean swimmer’s build, had stayed late for a final workout. After his shower, still damp and wrapped in nothing but a small white towel, he wandered into the cedar sauna on the top floor, hoping the heat would ease his aching muscles.

He wasn’t alone.

Thirty-year-old Malik, a personal trainer with smooth dark skin, powerful shoulders, a broad chest, and the kind of sculpted physique that came from years of disciplined training, was already there. He sat completely naked on the top bench, legs spread comfortably, his thick, uncut cock resting heavy against his thigh, half-hard from the intense heat. Beads of sweat glistened on his skin like polished obsidian.

Malik’s dark eyes lifted and locked onto Cian the moment he stepped inside. A slow, knowing smile curved his full lips. He crooked one finger.

Cian’s heart slammed against his ribs. Without a word, he let his towel drop to the cedar slats. His own cock was already twitching to life under Malik’s hungry gaze.

He crossed the small, steamy space and dropped to his knees between Malik’s powerful thighs.

The heat of the sauna made everything feel heavier, more intense. Cian leaned forward and took Malik’s thick, heavy length into his mouth. He struggled at first, the girth stretching his lips wide, but he was eager, sucking with clumsy determination until he managed to take more and more. Tears pricked at his eyes as the blunt head nudged the back of his throat, but he didn’t pull away.

Saliva dripped down his chin and onto the wooden bench as he bobbed his head, hollowing his cheeks, worshipping the older man’s cock with wet, desperate enthusiasm.

Malik groaned low in his throat, one large hand resting gently but firmly on the back of Cian’s head, guiding him deeper. “That’s it… good lad. Take it all.”

After several intense minutes, Malik hauled Cian up, spun him around, and bent him over the lower bench. Cian braced his forearms on the hot cedar, arse presented. Malik dropped behind him, spread his pale cheeks wide, and buried his face between them.

He ate Cian’s tight pink hole with filthy hunger - long, broad licks followed by deep, thrusting stabs of his tongue. His beard scraped deliciously against the sensitive skin while his hands gripped Cian’s narrow hips, holding him steady. Cian’s legs shook violently as waves of pleasure rolled through him, soft, broken moans spilling from his lips.

When Cian was dripping with spit and whimpering, Malik stood. He spat into his palm, slicked his thick, dark cock, and pressed the blunt head against the younger man’s spit-slicked entrance. He pushed in raw, slow at first, letting Cian feel every thick inch stretch him open, until he was buried to the hilt, heavy balls resting against Cian’s pale arse.

Both men groaned at the intense heat and tightness.

Malik fucked him with deep, deliberate strokes, slow and powerful at first, then harder, more possessive. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed in the small sauna as he drove into Cian again and again. Cian bit down hard on his own forearm to stay quiet, tears of overwhelming pleasure running down his cheeks.

Malik reached around, wrapped his large hand around Cian’s leaking cock, and jerked him in firm, fast strokes in time with his thrusts.

Cian came untouched with a choked cry, thick ropes of cum splattering across the cedar bench as his hole clenched rhythmically around Malik’s pounding cock.

The intense contractions pulled Malik over the edge. With a deep, guttural groan he slammed in to the hilt and pumped Cian full - pulse after heavy pulse of hot cum flooding his insides until it began to leak out around his thick shaft and run down the pale, freckled backs of Cian’s trembling thighs.

They stayed locked together for a long moment, breathing hard in the thick, steamy air. When Malik finally pulled out, a thick trickle of his seed continued to drip down Cian’s legs.

They now meet every Tuesday and Thursday “for extra sessions.”

Cian always books the 10 p.m. slot. He arrives already half-hard, towel barely tied, and leaves the sauna walking bow-legged, Malik’s cum still warm and leaking inside him as he makes his way home through the quiet London streets.

Two men who started with nothing more than a shared sauna have found something far more addictive and neither of them has any intention of stopping.

Find me here:

https://open.substack.com/pub/thelazyp

The late afternoon sun spilled across the bed, bathing the young man in warm, golden light as he lay on his back with his legs pulled high and wide. His powerful, athletic body was completely naked, smooth skin stretched tight over lean muscle.

Both arms were locked behind his head, elbows flared, biceps bulging, while his hands formed a playful heart shape above his head. A bright, genuine smile lit up his face, showing perfect white teeth and crinkling the corners of his dark eyes.

His legs were bent at the knees and spread wide apart, the soles of his feet pointing toward the ceiling. This position lifted and opened his arse completely, putting everything on shameless display. His thick, semi-hard cock rested heavily against his lower belly, the smooth shaft already beginning to thicken.

Below it, his smooth balls were pulled tight against his body, and just beneath them, his tight, pink hole was fully exposed - a perfect, inviting little ring framed by the smooth skin of his perineum.

He held the pose effortlessly, chest rising and falling with slow, relaxed breaths, the faint trail of dark hair on his lower belly leading down to the base of his cock. A small tattoo was visible on the inside of his left bicep as he kept his arms raised.

“Been lying here like this for the last twenty minutes,” he said, his voice low and teasing, still smiling that bright, wicked smile. “Legs up, hole on show, cock starting to leak… just waiting for you to walk in and see what a greedy boy I am today.”

He flexed his abs and rocked his hips upward slightly, making his cock slap gently against his stomach and causing his hole to twitch visibly in the sunlight.

“I want you to come over here and bury your face between my legs,” he continued, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Lick my balls first, then slide your tongue lower and eat my arse nice and deep. Get me wet and sloppy until I’m moaning and pushing back against your mouth.”

His thick cock continued to swell, now fully hard and pointing toward his chest, a shiny bead of pre-cum forming at the tip and slowly rolling down the underside.

“And when I can’t take it anymore,” he added, voice dropping into a husky growl, “I want you to climb on top and slide your cock straight into this tight hole while I keep my legs up and my hands behind my head. Fuck me deep and steady so I can watch your face while you breed me.”

He held the heart shape above his head, legs still spread wide, hole on full display, cock throbbing and leaking as he smiled up at you with pure, shameless invitation.

“So what are you waiting for?” he asked, still grinning.

“Come and take what’s yours.”

More here:

https://open.substack.com/pub/thelazyp