u/healing-hearts-love

All the characters are 18+

~~~

By nine that night, I was the only person left on my floor… or at least, I thought I was.

Then I heard the quiet click of a keyboard from the cubicle beside mine.

I looked over and saw Mark.

He was still at his desk, staring at his monitor, one hand resting on the mouse while the other moved across the keyboard. His glasses had slipped slightly down his nose, and every few minutes he’d push them back up without even looking away from the screen.

I’d worked with him for months, but I barely knew the guy.

Mark was quiet. Not awkward, exactly. He just didn’t seem interested in being part of the office chatter. In meetings, he usually sat near the end of the table and spoke only when someone asked him something directly. He’d come in before most of us, disappear into his cubicle, and somehow still be there when everyone else had gone home.

I’d noticed him before, obviously. You’d have to be blind not to.

But that night was the first time I found myself wondering what he was actually like when nobody else was around.

I gathered my things, stretched my sore neck, and was about to head for the elevator when I heard the soft click of the door to Mark’s cubicle locking. I froze, heart thudding against my ribs. Why would he lock it? I wondered, a flicker of something... anticipation, maybe fear... tracing up my spine.

I turned slowly, and there he was, standing just inside the doorway, his back to me, shoulders tense. He didn’t look up when I approached.. instead, he slipped a key into the lock and turned it, the mechanism giving a soft, final click. The hallway lights flickered once, then steadied, casting a pale glow over the linoleum.

“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual. “You staying late too?”

He finally turned, his eyes meeting mine for a brief second before dropping to the floor. His face was pale, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah,” he muttered, voice low, almost a whisper. “Just… need to finish up.”

I nodded, feeling the odd tension in the air. He’s nervous, I thought. Or maybe he’s hiding something. I took a step closer, the scent of his cologne... something sharp and clean... mixing with the stale office air. “Can I help?” I offered, not really expecting him to say yes.

He hesitated, then glanced at the door again, as if making sure it was truly locked. “No,” he said, voice barely audible. “I… I just need to be alone for a minute.”

I frowned, confusion mixing with a sudden, inexplicable urge to stay. What’s going on? I wondered, my mind racing. I took another step, and before I could react, he lunged forward, grabbing my wrist with a strength that surprised me. His grip was firm, his fingers digging into my skin as he yanked me toward the desk.

“What the... ” I started, but he cut me off with a harsh shove that sent me stumbling backward until my back hit the cool metal of his desk. The impact knocked the breath out of me, and I stumbled, my hands flailing for balance. He was already moving, his other hand sliding under my shirt, fingertips brushing the skin of my abdomen, sending a jolt of heat through me.

What the fuck is he doing? I thought, panic and arousal tangled together because of his touches. I tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron. He shoved me harder, and I felt myself tip over the edge of the desk.

Another shove and I was tipping backward, sliding until my head was under the desk, cheek pressed to the cold metal drawer.

He didn’t say shit at first. Just stood there, hips right in my face, thick bulge already straining against his slacks. I could feel the heat of it through the fabric. My brain was screaming this is crazy, get the fuck out, but my dick was already twitching like a traitor.

Then he spoke with voice rough and shaking.

“Sorry… fuck, I’m sorry… I can’t keep this in anymore. Been staring at you for months.”

I didn’t even get a full thought out before he was unzipping. The sound of that zipper in the quiet office was filthy as hell. Pants shoved down just enough and there it was… long, thick, veiny, head already shiny with precum. Bigger than I expected from the quiet guy who never talked. My mouth went dry.

“Jesus Christ,” I breathed.

“Sorry for doing this… But fuckkk…. I can’t hide my lust for you anymore”

What? WHATTT… FUCKKK.. THIS IS SO HOT…SO FUCKIN HUGEEEE

It was long dude… so fucking hung…. veined and impossibly thick, the head a deep, angry red that pulsed with each beat of his heart.

Oh god, I thought, my throat tightening. It’s fuckin huge… How the fuckin hell he packed in that hung all the fuckin time…

“Sorry… sorry… Damn it.. Fuckkkk… your lips are so fucking hot”

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and shoved the head past my lips before I could close them. I gasped at the sudden invasion shocking me. His cock slid past my lips, the tip hitting the back of my throat before I could even register what was happening. I gagged hard, eyes watering instantly. He didn’t ease up. Just kept feeding it in his length, hips rolling, forcing more of that fat cock down my throat until my nose was almost against his stomach

 

I choked, spit running down my chin, but he held me there, using my hair like a handle. Every time I tried to pull back he pushed deeper. The underside of his cock dragged across my tongue, thick veins pulsing. My own dick was rock hard and leaking in my pants, pressing painfully against the zipper.

I can’t… I can’t take this… I thought, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. Yet, as he thrust harder, a moan escaped me, low and guttural, vibrating around his length. “Mmmph…” I managed, the sound muffled by his girth.

“Arrrggghhh… fuckkk… mmgghhh.. Sooo hottt…. ugghh”

He groaned in response, a deep, throaty sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep within his chest. “Fuck… you’re so fucking hot…sooo goooddd… sooo gooddd… fuckkk..” he rasped, his voice raw with desire. His hips began to move faster, each thrust more urgent than the last. He was fucking my throat with a relentless rhythm, his balls swinging lightly against my chin with each forward motion.

I tried to relax my throat, to let him slide in and out without fighting. The sensation was bizarre... my throat stretched, my jaw aching, yet there was such heat in being used so completely, to feeling his power over me. My own cock grew, a hot coil tightening in my belly as I felt the pre-cum leak from my own cock, staining the front of my underwear.

God, I’m fuckin loving this, I thought, surprised at myself. I never imagined…I would get used like this… fuckkk The thought was both shocking and exhilarating. I could hear my own breathing turn into ragged gasps, each one punctuated by a soft moan that escaped despite my efforts to stay quiet. “Ahh… ahh…” I whispered, the sounds escaping my lips as he drove deeper.

His hands tightened in my hair, pulling my head back just enough to let him see my face. I could see the intensity in his eyes, the raw hunger, the way his brows furrowed with concentration. He was lost in the moment, his focus solely on the feeling of my throat gripping his cock and milking it.

“Take it slut,” he commanded, his voice a hoarse whisper

“Take it… takeee… aarrggghhhh” he rasped, hips snapping. “Take every fucking inch, slut. Been thinking about this shit for so long…. watching you walk around in those tight pants, wondering how deep that throat goes… FUckkkkk.”

Fuckkkk… that’s so hot

The word “slut” from his mouth… a fuckin quiet coworker mouth… definitely… hit different. My cock throbbed so hard and it hurt. I relaxed my jaw as much as I could and let him use me. He bottomed out, cock head pushing into my throat, and held it there while I sputtered and drooled around him.

When he finally pulled back I gasped for air, strings of spit connecting my lips to his shiny shaft.

He didn’t give me long…. To fill my fuckin lungs… He fuckin shoved back in and started railing my throat like he was trying to rearrange it. Both hands in my hair, holding my head still so he could pound away. My eyes rolled. Every thrust forced more spit out of me. My pants were soaked at the front from how much I was leaking.

“Fuck… yeah,” he growled, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. He was fucking my face now, his cock pounding the back of my throat with each thrust. I could feel his precum leaking more freely, mixing with my saliva, creating a slick, hot mess that made each slide easier, yet no less intense.

“Fuck… your mouth… shit, look at you…” he groaned, voice cracking. “Sorry, sorry… goddamn it… fuckkk… your lips look so fucking good stretched around me.”

My own moans grew louder, unrestrained now. “Mmm… ahh… fuck…” I cried out, the words broken and breathless. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through me, my own cock throbbing painfully against the fabric of my pants, begging for release.

He seemed to sense my desperation, his movements becoming even more frantic. He grabbed the back of my head with both hands, using it as leverage to drive himself deeper, his pelvis slamming against my face. The pressure was intense, his cock filling me completely, the head bumping against the back of my throat with each inward thrust. I could feel the veins of his shaft pulsing, the heat radiating outward, and I knew he was close.

He’s going to cum, I thought, a mixture of awe and need flooding me. I want it… I want to feel it.

His breathing grew ragged, his moans turning into low, guttural grunts. “I’m… I’m gonna…” he gasped, his voice breaking. “Fuck… I’m gonna cum…”

“Fuck, I’m so… arrrghhhh… fuckkk… close… gonna fill that pretty mouth…” His voice was pure grit. “Swallow it. Don’t you fucking waste a drop.”

I braced myself, tightening my throat around him, wanting to take every drop. He shuddered, his body tensing, and then with a deep, guttural roar that seemed to shake the desk, he came. Hot, thick jets of cum flooded my mouth, hitting the back of my throat with surprising force. I gagged momentarily, but his grip held me steady, forcing me to swallow.

The taste was salty, bitter, and intensely masculine. I felt each spurt coat my tongue, the volume surprising me... he seemed to pour out an endless stream.

“Ahhh… fuck… fuck.. yeaahhhh… FUCKKKK…” he moaned, his hips jerking as he rode out his orgasm, each pulse sending another wave of cum into my mouth.

I swallowed on instinct, throat working around his cock, but there was so much some of it leaked out the corners of my mouth and ran down my neck. He kept twitching, pumping more, hips jerking like he couldn’t stop.

When the last spurt finally subsided, he remained buried deep inside me for a moment, his breathing got heavy, his chest rising and falling against my back. I could feel his heart pounding through his chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.

Holy shit…. I just swallowed his fuckin cum… 

The realization hit me like a wave, mixing disbelief with a fierce, lingering arousal. My own cock was aching, a painful throb that demanded attention.

When he finally pulled out, a thick string of cum and spit stretched from my lips to his cockhead. I stayed under the desk for a second, breathing hard, throat aching, jaw aching, face a complete mess. My own dick was throbbing so bad I thought I might come just from the air hitting it.

He stared at me, his eyes wide, a mixture of shock and something else... maybe embarrassment, maybe satisfaction.

I sat up slowly with my mind buzzing. My mouth was feeling so sticky because of his cum and my own saliva. My own pants were damp at the front, a dark spot spreading where my precum had leaked.

Mark stared down at me, chest heaving, looking half-shocked at what he’d just done. He looked away, his cheeks flushed. “I… I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to.. But.. I… I.. I wanted y-. ”

“I… fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be that rough… It’s my carnal lust over you… I just… I’ve wanted you for so goddamn long.”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, smearing the mess, and let out a hoarse laugh.

“Don’t…. uh… don’t apologize. That was the hottest shit that’s ever happened to me in this building.”

His eyes dropped to the obvious tent in my pants. “You… actually liked that?”

“Liked it? Dude… I’m about to nut in my underwear.”

“Sorry.. I…”

“Don’t be sorry,” I said, my voice rough. “That was… fucking intense.”

I smirked, despite the soreness. “I loved that dominance… I just… didn’t expect this from ye.. honestly… I’m still hard as a rock.” I shifted slightly, feeling the uncomfortable pressure of my erection against the desk leg.

He let out a breath that sounded like a mix of relief and amusement. “I’ve… never done that before.”

“WHAT????”

He glanced at the locked door, then back at me. “Yeah…I-I’ve always… fantasized about you..”

“Fuckk…. Damn…. You’re really good at using a throat for someone who supposedly never did that before.”

“I never thought… Fuck…. I’d actually do this with ye”

I stood, stretching my sore limbs, feeling the ache in my muscles and the lingering heat in my groin. “Well, you did,” I said, stepping closer. “And I’m not complaining.. So… take it easy.”

He looked up at me, his eyes dark with a mix of lust and something softer... maybe gratitude, maybe a newfound connection. Without a word, he reached out, his hand finding the front of my pants. His fingers brushed the bulge, eliciting a sharp gasp from me.

Fuck, I thought, his touch sending sparks through me. He’s actually going to…

He unzipped my fly with deliberate slowness, his fingertips grazing the elastic of my underwear as he pulled them down. My cock sprang free, already slick with precum, the head flushed and throbbing. He stared at it for a moment, his gaze intense, then leaned in, his breath hot against my skin.

I moaned as his tongue flicked out, tracing a slow line from the base to the tip. The sensation was electric, sending shivers up my spine. He wrapped his lips around the head, sucking gently, his cheeks hollowing as he drew me in. I could feel his tongue swirling around the ridge, teasing the sensitive underside, each motion deliberate and expert.

“Oh fuck… Ugghhh… fuckkk….yes,” I gasped, my hands gripping the edge of the desk for support. His mouth moved lower, taking more of my length, his throat working around me as he began to bob his head. The sight of him... quiet, usually reserved Mark... now on his knees, mouth stretched around my cock, was incredibly erotic.

He groaned around me, the vibration sending pleasant ripples through my shaft. I could feel his hands gripping my hips, holding me steady as he set a rhythm, each descent deeper than the last. My cock slid past his lips, hitting the back of his throat, and I heard him gag softly, but he didn’t pull back. Instead, he relaxed, letting me fill him completely.

He’s taking it all… Fuckkk…. He is taking it all…. He’s really going deep.

I started to thrust gently, matching his pace, feeling the wet heat of his mouth envelop me. His moans were muffled, but I could hear them... low, needy sounds that vibrated against my cock. The office was silent except for our breathing, the wet sounds of suction, and the occasional creak of the desk as we moved.

“Shit, Mark…fuckkkk…. your mouth feels fucking incredible… gonna come if you keep that up…”

I could feel my orgasm building, a tight coil low in my belly that threatened to snap at any moment. My balls tightened, and I could feel the familiar pressure rising, the need to release growing urgent.

“Mark… I’m gonna…” I warned, my voice hoarse.

He doubled down, sucking harder, swallowing around the head every time it pushed into his throat. That did it. My balls drew up tight and cock twitched inside his mouth so hard.

With a choked cry, I came so hard, hot jets of cum flooding his mouth. He gasped, but didn’t pull back, swallowing greedily as I pulsed. Each spurt was thick and warm, filling his mouth, and I could feel his throat working to keep up, his cheeks hollowing as he drew me in.

“Fuck… yes…fuckkkk… ugggghhhh” I moaned, my body trembling as the waves of pleasure washed over me. My hips jerked involuntarily, driving myself deeper into his mouth with each pulse. He held me steady, his hands firm on my hips, letting me ride out my orgasm.

He swallowed every pulse of my hot cum, humming like he liked the taste, milking me with his tongue until I was oversensitive and twitching.

When the last spurt faded, he slowly withdrew, my cock slipping from his lips with a wet pop. A strand of cum clung to his chin, glistening in the low light. He looked up at me, his eyes bright, his lips swollen from the effort.

I was breathing hard, my chest heaving, my cock still throbbing, though the urgent need had eased. I leaned back against the desk, trying to catch my breath, my mind swirling with the intensity of what had just happened.

Mark sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. “Wow,” he whispered, voice rough. “That was… incredible.”

I let out a shaky laugh, still feeling the aftershocks. “Yeah,” I replied, my voice hoarse. “You are so good…. at this. You are damn…. Full of surprises.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I guess I’ve been holding back a lot.”

I stood, adjusting my clothes, feeling the damp spot on my underwear where my precum had leaked. “We should… maybe clean up?” I suggested, glancing at the desk, which was now a mess of saliva, cum, and our combined sweat.

He nodded, standing as well, and we both moved to the small sink in the corner of the cubicle. He turned on the faucet, the water sputtering to life, and we washed our hands, the cold water shocking against our heated skin. I caught my reflection in the mirror above the sink... my hair disheveled, my lips slightly swollen, my eyes still glazed with lust.

What just happened? I thought, staring at myself. I never imagined… The thought was both thrilling and a little terrifying. I had always been the quiet observer, the one who kept to himself, never daring to act on the fantasies that flickered in the back of my mind. And now, here I was, throat fucked and cum swallowed, my body still humming with the echo of our encounter.

Mark dried his hands with a paper towel, tossing it into the trash. He glanced at me, his expression softening. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “For… not freaking out and not punching me.”

“Anytime. Seriously.” I adjusted my pants, still half-hard just from looking at him. “You wanna do this again sometime?”

“Really??? Y-You… you wanna do this again?” he asked, his voice tentative but hopeful.

"Yeah... definitely"

He smiled....real smile this time, the kind I’d never seen on him during work hours. “Thanks.... Maybe next time I’ll ask first instead of just… attacking you.”

“Deal.... But don’t act like the attacking wasn’t hot as fuck.”

"That's so fuckin hot"

We grabbed our things and headed for the elevator, neither of us saying much. It felt strange walking through the empty office after everything that had just happened, like we'd both agreed to keep it between us. But it wasn't awkward.

I glanced at Mark and caught him smiling.

I couldn't help smiling back.

As the elevator doors opened

Well.... staying late doesn't seem so bad anymore.

 
---

💦🥴

All characters are 18+ and fully consenting

--

I’m 28, drive for one of those late-night delivery apps in a mid-sized city that empties out after midnight. Usual shit... pizza, wings, late-night McDonald’s for drunk college kids. I’m not some muscle-god delivery fantasy. Average height, dark hair that never stays neat, a little soft around the middle from too many free fries. Beard that grows in patchy if I let it. I’ve done the job long enough that most houses blur together.

Last Thursday, 1:47 a.m. Order comes in for a 24-hour Chinese place: two orders of General Tso’s, egg rolls, large fried rice, extra fortune cookies. Address is in this quiet older neighborhood, one of those streets where the houses sit far back from the road and the porch lights are always half-burned out. Tip is solid... eighteen bucks... so I take it.

I pull up, bag in hand, and the house looks dark except for one upstairs window glowing blue like a TV’s on. I knocked…

Wait for some seconds… and knock again. 

Finally the door opens about six inches and this voice says, low and rough, “Just leave it.”

I’m already reaching for my phone to mark it delivered when the door swings wider.

The guy standing there is maybe early twenties, taller than me, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants that are riding low, a lil bulge that's hard to not notice and a thin gold chain. Chest hair dark and thick, trailing down into the waistband. He’s got this sharp jaw and eyes that look too alert for almost two in the morning. There’s a smear of something... sauce? lube?... on his lower lip. He smells like sweat and weed and whatever he was just doing.

“Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “I was… occupied.”

I hold out the bag. “No problem. Have a good one.”

He doesn’t take it. Just looks at me for a second too long. Then he steps back and says, “You want to come in for a second? My card declined on the tip. I can Venmo you extra if you wait.”

That’s the first lie of the night. Apps don’t work that way and we both know it. But the way he said it... quiet, like he was testing the water... made something in my gut tighten. I should’ve said no. I had two more orders stacked. Instead I stepped inside.

The living room was a mess of takeout containers from earlier, an open laptop on the couch playing some grainy video with the sound off, and a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. He locked the door behind me. The click was loud.

“Kitchen’s this way,” he said, and walked ahead of me. The sweatpants did nothing to hide the thick outline of his cock shifting against his thigh. He wasn’t even hard yet and it was already heavy-looking.

I set the bag on the kitchen counter. He turned, leaned back against the island, and just stared at me.

“You look tired,” he said.

“Long night.”

“Yeah.” He reached down and adjusted himself openly, palm pressing the length of it against his leg. “I’ve been up for a while too.”

I should’ve left. Instead I asked, “You want me to just wait for the Venmo?”

He smirked, slow. “I want you to take your shirt off.”

The words landed like a slap. Not aggressive. Just matter-of-fact, like he was telling me the total on a receipt. My face went hot. I laughed once, short and stupid.

“What?”

“You heard me.” He pushed off the counter and closed the distance until we were almost chest to chest. Up close he smelled stronger... skin and salt and the faint chemical tang of lube. “I’ve been edging for three hours waiting on this food. I’m so fucking wound up I can’t think. And you walked in looking like you’d let me ruin you if I asked nice.”

My mouth was dry. “I don’t… I’m not... ”

“You are.” His hand came up and rested on my chest, fingers spreading over my shirt. “I can smell it on you. The way you looked at my cock when I opened the door. You want this.”

I didn’t answer. I just stood there while he pulled my shirt up and over my head. The air in the kitchen was warm. His palms slid down my sides, thumbs brushing the soft part of my stomach, and then he dropped to his knees right there on the tile like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my jeans and looked up. “Tell me to stop and I will. But I am certain, you won’t.”

Yes, he was so right. I didn’t tell him to stop.

He got my belt open, jeans shoved down to mid-thigh, and my cock was already half-hard just from the way he was breathing on it. He didn’t tease. He spat a thick rope of spit directly onto the head, watched it drip, then took me into his mouth in one slow, wet slide until his nose was pressed against my stomach.

The sound he made was filthy... guttural, like he was starving…. His throat flexed around me and I felt myself thicken fully inside the heat of him. He held me there, gagging quietly, spit already spilling out the corners of his mouth and running down his chin onto his chest hair. When he finally pulled back it was with a long string of saliva connecting his bottom lip to my cock.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice wrecked already. “You taste like you’ve been sweating in that car all night. I love it.”

He went back down harder. No rhythm at first... just messy and such a greedy sucking, the kind where his teeth scraped lightly and he didn’t seem to care. One hand pumped the base while the other shoved into his own sweatpants, stroking himself in the same desperate tempo. Every time he took me deep he moaned around it, vibrations traveling straight up my spine. Spit was everywhere... down my balls, soaking the front of his sweatpants, dripping onto the kitchen floor in little clear puddles.

“Fuckk… ughhh…mmmhhgghhhh”

I grabbed the edge of the counter because my knees were starting to shake. He noticed and pulled off with a wet pop, strings of spit still connecting us.

“Don’t you dare come yet,” he said, voice hoarse. “I’m not done being a fucking pig for this.”

He stood up just long enough to shove his sweatpants down. His cock sprang free... thick, darker than the rest of him, veins standing out, the head shiny and leaking. He was bigger than me. He wrapped one hand around both of us together, smearing his precome and my spit all over, and jerked us in short, rough strokes.

“Fuckkkk… arrggghhh… fuckkk.. Goddddd… yeahhhh”

The moans of mine, made him catch my lips in a kiss. FUCKK…

The kiss was worse than the blowjob. Open-mouthed, all tongue and spit, like he was trying to feed me the taste of my own cock. I could feel how hard he was against me, how his hips kept stuttering forward like he wanted to fuck something... anything.

Then he dropped again.

This time he went full animal. He buried his face in my crotch and sucked my balls into his mouth one after the other, tongue working the seam, then licked lower, shoving my jeans further down so he could get at the skin behind them. He spat on his fingers and pressed two of them against my hole while he took my cock back into his throat. I wasn’t ready for it. 

“Fuckkk…. Jesusss…. aaaahhhh”

The stretch burned for a second and then melted into something hotter. He fingered me open right there against the kitchen cabinets, while he throat-fucked himself on my dick until his eyes watered and snot ran from his nose.

I came the first time without warning... just a sudden hard pulse that caught us both off guard. He didn’t pull off. He swallowed around me, throat kept working, and he kept sucking through it like he was trying to milk every drop. When I finally twitched too hard and tried to push him away he only went deeper, humming, until I was oversensitive and shaking.

He stood up, face a complete mess... spit, snot, cum, all of it shiny under the kitchen light. His cock was dark red and throbbing. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looked at the mess he’d made of me, and laughed under his breath.

“Still hungry,” he said.

He turned me around, bent me over the island, and spat between my cheeks. I felt the thick wetness slide down. Then the blunt head of his cock pressed against me.

“Tell me if it’s too much.”

“Mmmggghh.. Fuckkkkk”

It was too much. He pushed in anyway... slow at first, then all at once when the head popped past the ring. The burn was sharp and perfect. He didn’t give me time to adjust. He started fucking me in deep, grinding strokes, one hand on the back of my neck, the other reaching around to stroke my half-hard cock back to life. Every thrust punched a wet sound out of me. The bag of Chinese food was right next to my face. I could smell the General Tso’s while he used me.

“Look at you. Delivery boy bent over my counter with a stranger’s cock in his ass at two in the morning” 

“You’re dripping on my floor. You gonna come again just from getting fucked?... Fuckkkk… damnnn…”

He reached under me, scooped up some of the spit and cum still leaking from my cock, and shoved his fingers into my mouth so I could taste it. I sucked on them without thinking. He groaned and started slamming harder, the gold chain around his neck swinging and tapping against my back with every thrust.

I came a second time with him buried to the hilt, clenching around him so tight he cursed and had to slow down. He didn’t stop though. He fucked me through it until I was making these broken little sounds I didn’t know I could make.

“Uh.. uh… ugh… aah…mmgghh… fuckkkkk”

When he finally pulled out I thought he was going to finish on my back. Instead he spun me around again, dropped to his knees one more time, and took my spent, oversensitive cock into his mouth while he jerked himself furiously. He was licking up everything... my cum, his own precum that had leaked out of me, the sweat. His free hand reached up and two fingers pushed back inside my loose hole, curling, like he couldn’t stand not having some part of himself in me.

“Arrrggghhh…. uggghhh..f-furrggghhkkk”

He came with my cock still in his mouth, groaning around it, thick ropes of come shooting across the kitchen floor and up my shins. Some of it hit my shoes. He kept sucking weakly while he finished, like he didn’t want to waste the last of the taste.

For a long minute the only sound was both of us breathing hard. He rested his forehead against my hip. My legs were shaking so bad I had to keep leaning on the counter.

Eventually he stood up, wiped his face with a dish towel, and looked at me with this strange, soft expression that didn’t match anything that had just happened.

“V-venmo’s under the n-name on the order,” he said quietly. “I added seventy*. For the trouble.”*

I nodded and pulled my jeans up with numb fingers. My shirt was somewhere on the floor. I found it, put it on inside-out without noticing. He walked me to the door. Before I stepped out he caught my wrist.

“Same time next Thursday,” he said, and I could see that its not a question. “Order whatever you want. I’ll pay. Just… come hungry.”

I nodded like an idiot and walked back to my car on legs that still felt like they belonged to someone else. I sat in the driver’s seat for ten full minutes before I could turn the key. The whole car smelled like sex and soy sauce that’s coming from my body.

At some point I grabbed the receipt that had fallen on the passenger seat. Just force of habit. I finally looked at the name.

The name hit me first.

Then I checked the address again, just to be sure.

It was the same house. 

The one my ex’s parents owned before they moved.

Fuck…. I got fucked by my ex’s younger brother.

A small ding from my phone cut through the shocked silence in the car.

New order already scheduled. Next Thursday. 1:45 a.m. Same address.

But the special instructions field isn’t empty this time.

It says:

Door will be unlocked. Extra tip in cash. Just incase, I’ll leave the spare key under the mat.

I just sat there staring at the screen, heart slamming so hard I could feel it in my throat

.Of course….Of fucking course… Are you leaving a key for me??? Damn kid… I still have the key to that back door on my keyring

How fucked up!!!

👅💦🥴

All characters are 18+ and fully consenting

Alright, buckle up, folks....

So, there's this guy, right? Let's call him Mike. We've been best friends since high school, done everything together. But there was always this... tension between us. We'd never acted on it, but it was there, like a third person in the room.

We were driving cross-country, no real plan, just seeing where the road took us. We'd been on the road for a few days, staying in cheap motels, eating fast food, laughing like we were teenagers again.

But then, things started to change. We were in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere, and we'd run out of gas. We were stranded, and it was getting dark. There was this old motel at the edge of town, the only place for miles. We checked in, got a room with two twin beds, and tried to act like everything was normal.

But it wasn't. The tension was thicker than ever. We were both on edge, snapping at each other over stupid shit. I could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at me. He wanted me and fuck, I wanted him too.

We ordered room service, ate in silence, the TV droning on in the background. I was wound up tight, my heart pounding, my dick hard. I needed to do something, to release some of this tension.

So, I stood up, walked over to the window, and looked out at the dark night. I could see Mike's reflection in the glass, his eyes on me. I turned around, leaned against the window, and looked at him.

"What's going on, Mike?" I asked, my voice low.

He looked at me, his eyes dark. "What do you mean?"

I pushed off from the window, walked over to him, and stopped right in front of him. "I mean, this tension between us. It's fucking killing me."

He stood up, his eyes never leaving mine. "What do you want me to say, Alex?"

I leaned in closer, my voice barely a whisper. "I want you to say what you're thinking. What you're feeling."

He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "I'm thinking... I'm thinking about you. About us. About all the times I've wanted to kiss you, to touch you."

I felt my heart pound in my chest. This was it. The moment we'd both been waiting for. I leaned in, my lips barely a inch from his. "And what about now, Mike? What are you feeling now?"

He reached up, his hand cupping the back of my neck, pulling me in. "I'm feeling like I can't wait any longer."

Then, he kissed me. It was hard, fierce, all the pent-up frustration and desire pouring out of him. I kissed him back, my hands going to his hips, pulling him in. He groaned, his tongue pushing into my mouth, his hands exploring my body.

We stumbled back, falling onto the bed, our bodies pressed together. I could feel his hard dick against mine, and fuck, it felt good. I grinded against him, making him moan, making him bite my lip.

He pushed me onto my back, his hands going to my belt, unbuckling it, popping the button on my jeans. He looked at me, his eyes dark, and said, "I've wanted to do this for so fucking long."

I helped him, pushing my jeans and boxers down, kicking them off. He did the same, and then we were both naked, our dicks hard, our bodies pressed together. He kissed me again, his hand wrapping around both of our dicks, stroking us together.

I moaned, my head falling back, my eyes closing. It felt so fucking good, his hand on us, his body against mine. I could feel my orgasm building, my balls tight, my dick throbbing.

He pulled back, looked at me, and said, "I want to taste you, Alex."

I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. "Fuck yes."

He moved down, his mouth going to my dick, taking it in. I moaned, my hands going to his head, holding him there. He sucked me, his tongue swirling around the head, his hand pumping the shaft. It felt so fucking good, I could barely stand it.

But then, he stopped. He moved back up, his mouth finding mine, his dick pressing against mine. "I want you to fuck me, Alex," he whispered.

I felt a jolt of electricity run through me. I'd never topped before, but fuck, I wanted to. I wanted to be inside him, to make him feel as good as he was making me feel.

I reached over, grabbed the lube and condoms from my bag, and handed them to him. He lubed up his fingers, then reached behind him, preparing himself. I watched, my dick hard, my heart pounding, as he fingered himself, his eyes closed, his mouth open in a silent moan.

When he was ready, he handed me the condom. I rolled it on, then positioned myself at his entrance. I looked at him, my heart in my throat. "Are you sure about this, Mike?"

He nodded, his eyes dark. "Fuck yes. I want you, Alex. All of you."

I pushed in, slowly, feeling him stretch around me. He moaned, his hands going to my hips, pulling me in. I went slow, letting him adjust, but fuck, it felt so good. He was so tight, so hot, and I could feel my orgasm building already.

When I was all the way in, I leaned down, kissed him, and started to move. I pulled out, then pushed back in, my hips moving steady. He moaned, his hips meeting mine, his hands exploring my body.

I could feel my orgasm building, my balls tight, my dick throbbing. I reached between us, grabbed his dick, and started to stroke him in time with my thrusts. He moaned, his head falling back, his eyes closed.

"Fuck, Alex," he moaned. "I'm gonna come. I'm gonna fucking come."

I could feel it too, my orgasm right there, ready to explode. I stroked him faster, fucked him harder, our bodies slapping together, our moans filling the room.

And then, we were both coming. He came first, his dick pulsing in my hand, his cum shooting out, landing on his stomach, his chest. I came a second later, my body convulsing, my dick throbbing, my cum filling the condom.

I collapsed on top of him, our bodies pressed together, our breaths coming in short gasps. We lay there for a while, neither of us saying anything, just enjoying the moment.

But then, reality set in. I rolled off him, disposed of the condom, and looked at him. "What now, Mike?"

He looked at me, his expression serious. "I don't know, Alex. But I do know that I can't just pretend this didn't happen."

I nodded, feeling the same way. "Me neither"

We lay there, side by side, our hands entwined, our eyes on the ceiling. We didn't know what the future held, but we knew one thing for sure...

- our road trip had just taken a very unexpected turn

~~

All characters are 18+ and fully consenting...

~(* v *)~

It was a regular Tuesday… I had the afternoon free and the apartment felt too quiet so I drove over to the big mall downtown just to walk around. Bought a coffee, wandered through a couple stores, checked my phone more than I needed to. Nothing special. Then I had to piss.

The men’s room on the second floor near the food court is usually quieter. Bigger too, with a row of stalls and three urinals. I pushed the door open and the place was empty except for one guy at the far urinal. Tall, early thirties maybe, dark jeans, black hoodie, solid through the shoulders. He didn’t look over when I came in. Just stood there finishing up.

I took the urinal two down from him. Unzipped and started going. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him give himself a couple slow strokes after he finished pissing, like he was deciding whether to put it away or not. He was thick and so heavy looking and cut. My own dick twitched hard in my hand before I could stop it. I stared at the wall and told myself to finish and walk out. Instead I kept standing there longer than I needed to, heart starting to pick up speed.

He zipped halfway and walked past me to the sinks. Water ran for a few seconds then stopped. Silence. I finished, shook off, and turned around. He was leaning against the counter watching me in the mirror. Just looked, without any smile

I walked over to the sink next to him and washed my hands like everything was normal. My fingers were a little unsteady under the water. I could smell his cologne mixed with warm skin.

He spoke first, voice low and even.

“You always look that long or was it just me?”

My face got hot. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to..”

“It’s fine.” He turned so he was facing me fully. “I looked too. You’re not exactly subtle.”

I dried my hands too fast and almost walked out right then. This was the kind of thing that could go real bad real quick. But he didn’t look like he was about to start something ugly. Just calm. And clearly hard again. I could see the outline pressing against the front of his jeans.

He reached down and adjusted himself without any attempt to hide it. “You trying to leave or you actually interested?”

I swallowed. My mouth had gone dry. “Interested in what exactly?”

He gave a small shrug. “What it looked like you were thinking about at the urinal. Stall’s open… Er?  Door locks…. Your call.”

I stood there for a second just staring at him. Every sensible part of my brain was screaming to walk out and go home. Instead I heard myself say, “Yeah. O-okay.”

He nodded once and headed for the big accessible stall at the end. I followed. He stepped in, I stepped in, and he locked the door. The click sounded way too loud.

The space was tight. He leaned back against the wall, unbuckled his belt, and shoved his jeans and boxers down just far enough. That thick cock came out already half hard and getting harder by the second. He wrapped his hand around the base and looked at me.

“You good?”

I nodded. My voice came out quieter than I meant. “Yeah.”

“Then get down.”

I dropped to my knees on the cold tile. My heart was slamming so hard I could feel it in my throat. I reached out and wrapped my fingers around him first, just feeling the weight and the heat. He was thicker up close. I leaned in and licked across the head. He let out a short breath through his nose.

“Fuckk…Umm…Ughh…that’s it…yeahhh….o-open up.”

I took him into my mouth slow because of the thickness. My jaw stretched around him. He pushed a little deeper and I gagged once, eyes watering, but I stayed on it. His hand settled on the back of my head, not forcing hard, just steady pressure. I started working him, sucking, using my tongue, taking as much as I could manage. Spit was already running down my chin..The wet sounds felt filthy and way too loud in the small stall.

Footsteps came into the bathroom… A zipper… I heard someone started pissing at one of the urinals. I froze with his cock still in my mouth. He didn’t. He just kept rolling his hips in short quiet strokes, feeding it to me while the other guy finished up, washed his hands, and left. The door swung shut. My pulse was racing so hard I felt lightheaded.

He looked down at me and spoke barely above a whisper. “You’re still good?”

I pulled off just long enough to answer. “Yeah… K-keep going.”

“Then put it back in your mouth.”

I did. He started thrusting a little more deliberately, still controlled. I kept both hands on his thighs. Every time the stall door rattled even a little from the movement my stomach flipped, but I didn’t stop. I wanted it too much.

He muttered, “You like this shit? Getting on your knees for some random guy in a mall bathroom?”

I made a noise around him that was pure agreement. He huffed out a quiet laugh. “Yeah…fuckkk… thought so. Damn…. Fuckkk… filthy fucking mouth.”

I sucked harder. Used one hand to stroke what I couldn’t fit and the other to cup his balls. They were full and tight. He was breathing heavier now. “Take it deeper. Come on.”

I tried. Gagged again, drooled more, kept going. The taste of him was strong, precum and skin. My own cock was leaking inside my jeans, untouched and aching. I reached down to squeeze myself through the fabric just to take the edge off. He noticed.

“Don’t..Argggh…. You come after I do… Fuckkk… Hands off.”

I stopped touching myself and focused on him. He got closer fast after that. His breathing changed. His fingers tightened in my hair. “Fuck. I’m close. You swallowing?”

I nodded as best I could with him still in my mouth. He pushed deep and held there. Hot pulses hit the back of my throat. I swallowed hard, again and again, taking all of it. It was a lot. Thick. I kept sucking gently until he was finished and starting to soften. When he finally pulled out a string of spit and cum connected us for a second before it broke.

He stayed leaning against the wall breathing hard, looking down at me. “Stand up.”

I did. My legs felt unsteady. He reached out, unzipped me, and pulled my cock free. I was so hard it almost hurt. He spit in his palm and started stroking me with a tight fast grip. No teasing. His other hand came up and wiped some of the mess off my chin with his thumb, then pushed the thumb into my mouth. I sucked it clean without thinking.

“You’re a dirty one,” he said, voice still low. “Coming in here and sucking strange cock like that.”

I couldn’t form a real answer. I just fucked into his fist. It took maybe twenty seconds. The orgasm hit so hard my knees almost gave out. I came all over his hand and the front of his jeans in thick ropes, biting down on my lip to stay quiet. The pleasure was sharp and overwhelming, better than anything careful or planned. It felt completely wrong and completely right at the same time.

He kept stroking me through it until I was too sensitive and had to push his hand away. Then he looked at the mess on his fingers, shrugged, and wiped it on the front of my shirt. “There there… there... Souvenir.”

We fixed our clothes in silence. He unlocked the stall. Outside the bathroom was empty again. He walked to the sinks, washed his hands, and glanced at me in the mirror one last time.

“You gonna be around next week?”

My voice still sounded rough. “Maybe.”

“Same time. Same stall. If you want more.”

Then he left. Just walked out like nothing had happened.

I stood there for a full minute trying to get my breathing back to normal. My mouth still tasted like him. My shirt had a wet spot where he’d wiped his hand. My hole was clenched and empty and somehow jealous of my throat. I washed my face, rinsed my mouth at the water fountain outside, and walked back into the mall like I hadn’t just had a stranger’s cum in my stomach.

I drove home with the windows down because I still smelled like sex and public bathroom tile. The second I got inside I stripped and jerked off again thinking about how casually he’d told me to get on my knees. How he’d kept fucking my mouth while some random guy pissed a few feet away. How he’d made me swallow and then jerked me off like he had every right to.

I’ve gone back twice since then. He was there the second time. Same stall. Same low voice telling me what to do. This time he made me edge myself while I sucked him and only let me come after he’d painted my tongue again. The third time someone tried the door handle while I had his balls in my mouth and we both froze, hearts pounding, until the footsteps walked away. He came so hard after that he had to bite his own wrist to stay quiet.

I still don’t know his name. Don’t know if I’ll ever see him outside that bathroom… Don’t really care. Every time I walk into that mall now my cock starts filling before I even reach the second floor. I tell myself I’m just going to shop. Then I end up in that stall with my knees on the tile and a stranger’s cock stretching my throat and the whole world reduced to the sound of someone else using my mouth.

Last time, after he finished and I was still on my knees wiping my mouth, he pulled out his phone and showed me a photo. It was me…. From the first time. He must have taken it while I was sucking him, head down, spit everywhere, eyes half closed. He didn’t say anything threatening. Just looked at me and said, “You look good like that. Thought you might want to know, I kept it.”

Then he put the phone away, unlocked the stall, and left again.

I stood there staring at the empty space where he’d been, heart slamming for a completely different reason. Part of me wanted to chase him down and demand he delete it. The other part of me got hard all over again knowing that photo exists. Knowing he can look at it whenever he wants. Knowing that the next time I show up he’s already got proof of what I did...

I still haven’t decided if I’m going back next week. But I already know I will. And next time I might not be the only one taking pictures

~~

💦👅

All characters are 18+ and fully consenting...

Last summer I was crashing at my older cousin’s place while he was out of town. His roommate, Marcus, was this thick, quiet, straight-looking Black guy in his early thirties. Built like a powerlifter, always in gray sweatpants with that heavy dick swinging, never said much. I thought he was just being polite.

One night I came home drunk as shit around 2 a.m. The apartment was dark except for the light under his door. I heard it before I even got close.... wet, nasty, rhythmic fucking sounds and a low, deep groan.

I should’ve gone to my room. Instead I stood there like a pervert and listened. Then the door wasn’t fully closed. I pushed it open just enough.

Marcus was on his bed, completely naked, on his knees with his face buried in a pillow, two thick fingers buried knuckle-deep in his own hole, working it open while he stroked that fat, dark cock. He was muttering to himself between grunts...“Fuck me… stretch that hole… use me…Mmhhh”

Fuckk.. Ughh

I must’ve made a sound. He froze, pulled his fingers out with a wet sound... and looked straight at me over his shoulder. He didn't panic.... Just that heavy-lidded stare.

He didn’t tell me to leave either...

He said, voice rough... “Either shut the door and come over here or shut it and walk away... Your choice.”

I walked in and closed it.

He stayed on all fours, ass up, hole twitching and shiny with lube. “You ever eat a man’s ass before?”

I shook my head.

“Get on your knees and learn.”

I dropped... the second my tongue touched his hole he pushed back hard, grinding that musky, tight ring against my face. I ate him like I was starving.... tongue fucking him, sucking on the rim, burying my face between those thick dark cheeks while he stroked himself and called me a dirty little bitch for liking it so much.

After a few minutes he reached back, grabbed a handful of my hair, and yanked me up. “Clothes off.... Now.”

I stripped. My cock was already leaking down my thigh.

Marcus flipped onto his back, pulled his knees to his chest, and spit on his hole. “You’re gonna fuck me.... Hard... so harddd.... with no condoms. I want to feel every inch and I want you to dump every drop inside me.. Got it??”

I nodded so fast and pushed in. He was tight as hell even after fingering himself, that hot, slick channel clamping down as I sank all the way to the base. The sound he made when I bottomed out still lives in my head... half groan, half broken whimper.

Then he locked his legs around my waist and snarled, “Move.. Arrrgghh.”

I fucked him like an animal. Full, deep strokes that made his heavy balls bounce and that thick cock slap against his stomach. He kept talking the entire time, voice getting nastier the harder I pounded him:

“That’s it… rearrange my guts… use my hole like a fucking cumdump… harder.... fuckkk... you little slut, I can take it… yeah, just like that, breed me…”

When I got close he reached up, grabbed my throat, and forced me deeper. “Don’t you fucking pull out... I want every drop.. Every single drop.... Fill me up until it’s dripping down my crack.”

I came so hard my vision whited out, pumping load after load into that greedy hole. He kept clenching around me the whole time, milking every last spurt.

When I finally pulled out, a thick rope of cum followed and slid down over his balls. He scooped some up with two fingers, shoved them in his mouth, then pushed the rest back inside himself.

Then he looked at me, still breathing hard, and said the filthiest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

“Clean it up... With your tongue. Every drop that leaks out of me, you swallow. And when you’re done, you’re going to get hard again and fuck another load into me before the sun comes up.”

I did.

Twice more that night.

We’ve never talked about it since. We still act like nothing happened when other people are around. But every couple of weeks he texts me the same two words...

“Door’s open.”

And I go.

Every single time....

--

~👅💦

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting

~(* ~ *)~

It happened on my very first day working in Japan and I’ve been replaying it in my head ever since, getting hard every single time I think about it.

I got hired as a healthcare staff member at a small clinic outside Osaka. Everything was new…New country, new apartment that smelled like someone else’s laundry detergent, new train lines that made zero sense to me. My Japanese was shit. I could say “sumimasen” and “arigatou” and that was about it. The rest was English and hand gestures.

That morning I left early because I was terrified of being late. I found the metro station somehow, followed the signs, and stepped onto the platform right as the doors of a packed train opened… Bodies everywhere. I froze for a second, face probably looking like I’d just seen a crime, and this older guy next to me noticed.

“Peak hours,” he said in clear English. “Always crowded.”

I was so relieved to hear English I almost laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to look like that. First day.”

He just bowed a little, said something polite in Japanese I didn’t catch, and squeezed himself inside. I followed. Because I have no choice. The doors closed behind me and I was pressed in on every side.

People had their phones out, earbuds in, eyes down. Everyone in their own world. I was trying to keep my balance and not crush anyone when my phone slipped out of my hand. It hit the floor between someone’s shoes. I muttered “shit” under my breath and bent down to grab it.

That’s when I saw them.

Two university-looking guys, both lean, both in those standard black school jackets even though they looked old enough to be in college. One stood right behind the other. From above you wouldn’t notice a damn thing. But from down low, with my face near their hips, it was clear as day.

The one in back had his hips pressed tight against the other guy’s ass. Not grinding hard. Just slow, steady pressure. His clothed dick was nestled right between the cheeks, moving in tiny circles. At the same time his hand was down in front of the other guy, inside the front of his pants, working him slow. You could see the wrist moving under the fabric. Just enough to keep it going without making the jacket flap or anything obvious.

Holy fuckkkk…. They’re actually doing this. In here. With all these people.

I stayed bent longer than I needed to, pretending the phone was stuck or something. My own cock twitched hard against my zipper. I straightened up slowly and found a spot where I could still see them without being obvious. We were packed tight enough that nobody was looking around. Everyone just stared at their phones or the ads above the doors.

The guy in front had his eyes half-closed. He was biting the inside of his cheek. The one behind leaned in close to his ear and whispered something, it was so quiet it almost sounded like breathing. If I hadn’t been right there, I never would’ve heard their whispers...

“Motto, hayaku shinaide… mada…” (More, don’t go faster… not yet…)

Then a little later, lower:

“Kimochi ii… uchi de yaru yori ii…” (Feels good… better than doing it at home…)

The front guy answered so quiet I almost missed it.

“Yameru na… sono mama…” (Don’t stop… just like that…)

I could feel my face getting hot. My dick was fully hard now, pressing against the front of my pants. I shifted my bag in front of me so nobody would notice. The train rocked and swayed and every time it did the guy in back used the motion to push a little deeper against that ass. His hand never stopped, it kept slowly stroking him. His tight grip under the fabric… That I could see the outline of the front guy’s cock getting thicker, the head pressing against the cloth near the zipper.

They’re gonna come in their pants right here…. In front of all these people who have no idea.. FUCKKK.

I kept watching. Couldn’t look away. The back guy’s breathing got a little heavier. He kept whispering.

“Iki so… demo gaman… eki made…” (I’m close… but hold it… until the station…)

The front one nodded once, barely. His hips started making tiny movements too, pushing back into the dick behind him and forward into the hand at the same time. Still so small nobody around them reacted. One salaryman next to them even shifted closer to make room for someone else and never glanced down.

My own cock was leaking. I could feel the wet spot starting on my underwear. I wanted to touch myself so bad but there was no way, too many bodies and too many eyes that might look up at any second.

The train stopped at a station. Doors opened. A few people got off. A few more squeezed on. The two guys didn’t move. They just adjusted their stance a little so they stayed pressed together. The hand inside the pants kept working. The hips kept that slow… dirty grinds

I heard the back guy again, right against the other’s neck.

“Dashite… soto ja naku… naka ni…” (Come… not outside… inside…)

I realized with my broken Japanese and highly intelligent sex knowledge that he wants him to cum inside.. The front guy’s shoulders tensed. His mouth opened just a little. He was breathing through his nose hard. The hand on his cock sped up the tiniest bit, still careful and very hidden.

Fuck, look at them. They’re both about to blow and nobody knows.

I was so hard it hurt. My balls felt tight. I kept thinking about what it would feel like to be in either of their places. Pressed up against a stranger’s ass in a packed train, or having a hand in my pants while someone rubbed off on me from behind. The risk of it. The fact that one wrong move and the whole people would see.

The train started moving again. The back guy’s hips jerked once, hard, then settled back into the rhythm. He whispered something that sounded almost like a groan mixed with words.

“Deru… deru yo…” (I’m coming… I’m coming…)

His body locked up for a second. You could see the tension run through his thighs. He kept the pressure against the ass in front of him while he finished, small pulses, nothing dramatic. Then his hand on the other guy’s cock moved faster, more deliberate.

The front guy’s eyes squeezed shut. His free hand grabbed the overhead strap tighter. He came without making a sound. Just a long exhale through his nose and a full-body shiver that he controlled so it looked like he was just adjusting his stance. The hand in his pants kept stroking him through it, slow now, milking it out under the fabric.

They stayed like that for another minute, both breathing a little heavier than the people around them. Then the back guy slowly pulled his hand out. His fingers looked a little shiny before he wiped them casually on the inside of his own jacket. The front guy fixed his pants, tugged the jacket down so the wet spot wouldn’t show, and stared at the floor like nothing happened.

I was still rock hard. My underwear was soaked. I had to shift again so the bag covered me better.

We reached my stop a few minutes later. The doors opened. I stepped off with the crowd, legs a little unsteady. Behind me the two guys stayed on the train. I glanced back once. They weren’t looking at each other anymore. Just standing there like any other pair of students on their way to class.

I walked to the clinic in a daze. My first day on the job and all I could think about was the wet spot cooling against my thigh and the sound of those quiet Japanese words in a packed train car.

I jerked off three times that night in my tiny apartment. Once thinking about being the guy in front. Once thinking about being the one behind. And once just replaying the whole thing from my view on the floor, phone in hand, staring at two strangers getting each other off in public while the rest of the world scrolled on their phones and never noticed.

I still ride that same line to work. My eyes still search for them but, I haven’t seen them again. But every time the train gets that crowded and somebody presses up behind me, my cock remembers. And I wonder if anyone else is doing the same thing I saw that morning, right under everyone’s noses, whispering those same quiet words while they finish inside their clothes and step off at the next station like nothing ever happened.

-

Will I ever get the chance to see them again? 🤔🤔😋

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting

~(- __ -)~

My best friend Jake has been listed as my emergency contact for ten years straight… Last month when I got that minor car accident and the hospital called the number I gave them, it wasn’t my sister who showed up. It was Jake. He walked into the exam room looking like he’d driven straight from work, still in his button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and the nurse told me he was listed as primary. I stared at him and said, “You’re still on my forms?”

He just nodded and sat down like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah. Guess I never took myself off.”

Later that night I went through my own paperwork and saw his name still sitting there under emergency contact. Then I pulled up the copy of his insurance card he’d once texted me years ago and realized I was still listed as his. He’s been married to Lauren for three years.

I didn’t say anything for two days. I just kept thinking about it. We’ve known each other since freshman year of college. Shared a shitty apartment, got each other through breakups, stood up at each other’s weddings... well, I stood up at his. He got married in a backyard ceremony and I gave a speech that made people cry. I never told him that half the reason I could barely get the words out was because watching him put a ring on someone else felt like something cracking open in my chest that I had spent years pretending wasn’t there. I dated women. I fucked women. I told myself the way I looked at him was just friendship. Best friends notice things. Best friends remember how the other one takes their coffee and which side of the bed they prefer when they’re drunk. Best friends don’t get hard when the other one changes in the same room after the gym.

The night after the hospital I went over to his place. Lauren was out of town for a work conference. He opened the door in sweatpants and an old t-shirt, hair still damp from a shower, and the second I stepped inside I could smell the soap he always uses. I didn’t even take my shoes off before I said, “Why the fuck am I still your emergency contact?”

He looked at me for a long second. Then he closed the door and said, “Because I never changed it.”

“You’ve been married three years.”

“I know.”

“You have a wife.”

“I know that too.”

“Then why the hell is my name still sitting there on your forms? And why are you still on mine?”

He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “I just… never got around to updating it. Every time I thought about it I put it off. You still listed me too.”

“That’s not an answer, Jake.”

“What do you want me to say? What huh?”

He went quiet for a few seconds. “You really want me to tell you why?”

I didn't answer.

“Because every time I thought about changing your name, it felt wrong.”

I stood there in his living room with my hands in my pockets and my heart slamming so hard I could feel it in my throat. He didn’t look away. He just kept watching me like he was waiting for me to do something. So I did. I walked right up to him, grabbed the front of his shirt, and kissed him. It wasn’t soft. It was messy and desperate and I tasted the mint of the gum he’d been chewing. He made this low sound in his throat and then his hands were on my waist, pulling me in hard. We stumbled backward until his back hit the wall. I could feel him getting hard against my thigh and the reality of it made my head spin. This was Jake. My Jake. The guy who’d held my hair back when I puked after my twenty-first birthday. The guy who’d driven four hours to pick me up when my car died on the side of the highway. The guy who was married.

I broke the kiss just long enough to say, “This is fucked up.”

He breathed out, “I know,” and then he kissed me again, harder, like he was trying to shut me up. His tongue pushed into my mouth and I sucked on it. My hands slid under his shirt and I felt the warm skin of his stomach, the trail of hair leading down. He was already leaking in his sweatpants. I could feel the wet spot when I cupped him through the fabric. He groaned into my mouth and thrust against my hand.

“Jesus,” he muttered against my lips. “Don’t stop.”

We didn’t make it to the bedroom. I shoved his pants down just far enough to get his cock out. Thick, cut, already dripping. I wrapped my fingers around it and stroked him slow, watching the way his face changed. His eyes were half-lidded and his mouth was open.

“Fuck, look at you,” I said. “You’re already dripping.”

“Been thinking about this,” he answered, voice rough. “Longer than I should’ve.”

I dropped to my knees right there on the living room floor and took him into my mouth. The taste of him hit my tongue... salt and heat and something purely Jake. I swallowed him as deep as I could, gagging a little when the head hit the back of my throat. He grabbed my hair and held on, not forcing, just steadying himself while I sucked.

“Shit… yeah, just like that,” he said. “Take it. God, your mouth.”

I could hear how wet it was, the filthy sounds filling the quiet house. His hips started moving in short thrusts. I looked up at him while I worked my tongue along the underside of his cock and the expression on his face was something I’d never seen before. Hungry and guilty, all at once.

“You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up,” he warned.

He pulled me off before he could and hauled me up by the arms. We kissed again, messy, and I could taste myself on his tongue from earlier. He yanked my jeans open and shoved them down. My cock sprang free, hard and leaking against his. He spit in his hand and wrapped it around both of us, stroking us together. The friction was almost too much. I buried my face in his neck and bit down on the muscle there while he jacked us. His other hand slid around and gripped my ass, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.

“I want to fuck you,” he said against my ear, voice rough.

“Then do it,” I told him. “Stop talking and do it.”

I didn’t answer with more words. I just turned around, braced my hands on the wall, and pushed my ass back toward him. He spit again, worked two fingers into me slow, stretching me open while I cursed under my breath.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said. “Relax for me.”

“I’m trying. Just… more.”

It burned in the best way. When he added a third finger I pushed back harder, taking them deeper.

“Yeah, take it,” he muttered. “That’s it.”

He pulled them out, lined up, and pushed the head of his cock against my hole. I breathed out and forced myself to relax. He sank in inch by inch, thick and relentless, until his hips were flush against my ass. We both stayed still for a second, breathing hard.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah. Move.”

Then he started to move. He fucked me like he’d been holding it back for a decade. Deep, steady strokes that made my knees weak. Every time he bottomed out he ground against that spot inside me that made my vision blur. I could hear how wet I was around him, the slick sound of his cock sliding in and out. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise.

“Harder,” I said. “Come on.”

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

I reached down and stroked myself in time with his thrusts, already close. He leaned over my back and bit the side of my neck, then licked the spot. His breath was hot against my skin.

“You’re still my emergency contact because I never wanted anyone else to be the one they called if something happened to me,” he said, voice breaking a little. “Not even her.”

“Jake... ”

“I mean it. Not even her.”

I came hard, spilling over my fist and onto the wall. My hole clenched around him and he groaned, thrusting deeper, faster, chasing his own orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he said. “You want it?”

“Yeah. Give it to me.”

When he came he buried himself all the way in and I felt the pulse of him emptying inside me, hot and thick. He stayed there for a long moment, forehead pressed between my shoulder blades, breathing like he’d just run a mile.

“Shit,” he whispered. “Shit.”

We didn’t talk right away. He pulled out slow and I felt his come start to leak down my thigh. We fixed our clothes in silence. Then he went to the kitchen and came back with two beers. We sat on the couch and drank them without looking at each other at first. The house was quiet. Lauren’s photo was still on the mantel.

Finally I said, “What the fuck do we do now?”

He stared at the floor. “I don’t know. I’ve been in love with you since junior year. I married her because I thought if I just did the normal thing it would go away. It didn’t.”

I felt something twist in my chest. Anger. Relief. Guilt. All of it tangled. “You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“I would have... ” I stopped. I didn’t know what I would have done. Maybe the same thing. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.

“You would have what?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Something. Anything. Instead of letting me stand up there and watch you marry her while I felt like my chest was caving in.”

He set the beer down and looked at me. “Stay tonight.”

“Jake…”

“Please... Just stay.”

I should have said no. I should have walked out and never come back. Instead I nodded. “Okay.”

We went upstairs. His bedroom still smelled like the laundry detergent they both used. We stripped down and got into the bed he’d shared with his wife for three years. He pulled me against him and we kissed slower this time, like we were trying to memorize it.

“You sure about this?” he asked quietly.

“No. But I’m not leaving.”

His hand slid down and found my cock again, already half hard. I pushed him onto his back and straddled him.

“You want me to ride you?” I asked.

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

I spit into my hand, slicked him up, and sank down onto his cock in one long slide. He gripped my thighs and watched my face while I rode him.

“Jesus, look at you,” he said. “Taking every inch.”

Slow at first, then harder, grinding down so he was as deep as he could go. The headboard knocked against the wall. I didn’t care.

“Talk to me,” I said.

“You’re so fucking tight. I’ve jerked off thinking about this more times than I can count.”

I leaned forward and braced my hands on his chest, fucking myself on him until we were both sweating and cursing.

“I’m close,” I told him.

“Come on me. Let me feel it.”

When I came the second time it was with his name in my mouth. “Jake... fuck... ”

He followed right after, filling me again. “Shit… yeah… take it.”

We fell asleep tangled together. In the morning I woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand. Lauren’s name on the screen. He stared at it for a long time before he silenced it and set it face down.

“You gonna answer?” I asked.

“Not right now.”

Neither of us said anything else for a minute. He just rolled over and kissed me again, slower, deeper, like the outside world didn’t exist yet.

“I should go,” I said.

“Stay a little longer.”

His hand slid between my legs and I opened for him without hesitation.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah… Fuck me again.”

He fucked me on my side that time, one of my legs hooked over his hip, his mouth on the back of my neck. It was quieter, almost careful, but still filthy... the wet sounds, the way he whispered how tight I was, how long he’d wanted this.

“You feel that?” he murmured. “How deep I am?”

“Yeah. Don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping. Not until I fill you up again.”

When he came he stayed inside me and held me until he softened.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said against my skin.

“Neither do I.”

I left around noon. He walked me to the door and we stood there for a minute like neither of us knew how to say goodbye.

Finally he said, “You’re still listed. I’m not changing it.”

I looked at him and felt the weight of everything settle in my chest. Friendship. Betrayal. Love. Lust. All of it still there, thicker than ever.

“Neither am I,” I said.

“Come back soon.”

“I will.”

I got in my car and drove home with his come still drying on my skin and the taste of him in my mouth. That was six weeks ago. We’ve fucked four more times since then. Always when Lauren is gone. Always in the house they share. Always with the knowledge that what we’re doing is wrong and neither of us is stopping.

Last night he bent me over the kitchen counter and took me so hard I had to bite my own arm to keep from shouting.

“Harder,” I told him. “Fucking wreck me.”

“You want it rough?”

“Yeah. Give it to me.”

He did. When he finished he stayed buried in me and said, “I love you,” like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“I love you too,” I answered. “And I don’t know what the hell we’re supposed to do with that.”

“Neither do I. But I’m not stopping.”

“Me either.”

I don’t know how this ends. I only know that every time the phone rings and it’s him, my pulse still jumps the same way it did the night I found out I was still his emergency contact. And every time I answer, I already know I’m going to end up on my knees for him again.

***

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting

~(- __ -)~

My best friend Jake has been listed as my emergency contact for ten years straight… Last month when I got that minor car accident and the hospital called the number I gave them, it wasn’t my sister who showed up. It was Jake. He walked into the exam room looking like he’d driven straight from work, still in his button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and the nurse told me he was listed as primary. I stared at him and said, “You’re still on my forms?”

He just nodded and sat down like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah. Guess I never took myself off.”

Later that night I went through my own paperwork and saw his name still sitting there under emergency contact. Then I pulled up the copy of his insurance card he’d once texted me years ago and realized I was still listed as his. He’s been married to Lauren for three years.

I didn’t say anything for two days. I just kept thinking about it. We’ve known each other since freshman year of college. Shared a shitty apartment, got each other through breakups, stood up at each other’s weddings... well, I stood up at his. He got married in a backyard ceremony and I gave a speech that made people cry. I never told him that half the reason I could barely get the words out was because watching him put a ring on someone else felt like something cracking open in my chest that I had spent years pretending wasn’t there. I dated women. I fucked women. I told myself the way I looked at him was just friendship. Best friends notice things. Best friends remember how the other one takes their coffee and which side of the bed they prefer when they’re drunk. Best friends don’t get hard when the other one changes in the same room after the gym.

The night after the hospital I went over to his place. Lauren was out of town for a work conference. He opened the door in sweatpants and an old t-shirt, hair still damp from a shower, and the second I stepped inside I could smell the soap he always uses. I didn’t even take my shoes off before I said, “Why the fuck am I still your emergency contact?”

He looked at me for a long second. Then he closed the door and said, “Because I never changed it.”

“You’ve been married three years.”

“I know.”

“You have a wife.”

“I know that too.”

“Then why the hell is my name still sitting there on your forms? And why are you still on mine?”

He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “I just… never got around to updating it. Every time I thought about it I put it off. You still listed me too.”

“That’s not an answer, Jake.”

“What do you want me to say? What huh?”

He went quiet for a few seconds. “You really want me to tell you why?”

I didn't answer.

“Because every time I thought about changing your name, it felt wrong.”

I stood there in his living room with my hands in my pockets and my heart slamming so hard I could feel it in my throat. He didn’t look away. He just kept watching me like he was waiting for me to do something. So I did. I walked right up to him, grabbed the front of his shirt, and kissed him. It wasn’t soft. It was messy and desperate and I tasted the mint of the gum he’d been chewing. He made this low sound in his throat and then his hands were on my waist, pulling me in hard. We stumbled backward until his back hit the wall. I could feel him getting hard against my thigh and the reality of it made my head spin. This was Jake. My Jake. The guy who’d held my hair back when I puked after my twenty-first birthday. The guy who’d driven four hours to pick me up when my car died on the side of the highway. The guy who was married.

I broke the kiss just long enough to say, “This is fucked up.”

He breathed out, “I know,” and then he kissed me again, harder, like he was trying to shut me up. His tongue pushed into my mouth and I sucked on it. My hands slid under his shirt and I felt the warm skin of his stomach, the trail of hair leading down. He was already leaking in his sweatpants. I could feel the wet spot when I cupped him through the fabric. He groaned into my mouth and thrust against my hand.

“Jesus,” he muttered against my lips. “Don’t stop.”

We didn’t make it to the bedroom. I shoved his pants down just far enough to get his cock out. Thick, cut, already dripping. I wrapped my fingers around it and stroked him slow, watching the way his face changed. His eyes were half-lidded and his mouth was open.

“Fuck, look at you,” I said. “You’re already dripping.”

“Been thinking about this,” he answered, voice rough. “Longer than I should’ve.”

I dropped to my knees right there on the living room floor and took him into my mouth. The taste of him hit my tongue... salt and heat and something purely Jake. I swallowed him as deep as I could, gagging a little when the head hit the back of my throat. He grabbed my hair and held on, not forcing, just steadying himself while I sucked.

“Shit… yeah, just like that,” he said. “Take it. God, your mouth.”

I could hear how wet it was, the filthy sounds filling the quiet house. His hips started moving in short thrusts. I looked up at him while I worked my tongue along the underside of his cock and the expression on his face was something I’d never seen before. Hungry and guilty, all at once.

“You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up,” he warned.

He pulled me off before he could and hauled me up by the arms. We kissed again, messy, and I could taste myself on his tongue from earlier. He yanked my jeans open and shoved them down. My cock sprang free, hard and leaking against his. He spit in his hand and wrapped it around both of us, stroking us together. The friction was almost too much. I buried my face in his neck and bit down on the muscle there while he jacked us. His other hand slid around and gripped my ass, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.

“I want to fuck you,” he said against my ear, voice rough.

“Then do it,” I told him. “Stop talking and do it.”

I didn’t answer with more words. I just turned around, braced my hands on the wall, and pushed my ass back toward him. He spit again, worked two fingers into me slow, stretching me open while I cursed under my breath.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said. “Relax for me.”

“I’m trying. Just… more.”

It burned in the best way. When he added a third finger I pushed back harder, taking them deeper.

“Yeah, take it,” he muttered. “That’s it.”

He pulled them out, lined up, and pushed the head of his cock against my hole. I breathed out and forced myself to relax. He sank in inch by inch, thick and relentless, until his hips were flush against my ass. We both stayed still for a second, breathing hard.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah. Move.”

Then he started to move. He fucked me like he’d been holding it back for a decade. Deep, steady strokes that made my knees weak. Every time he bottomed out he ground against that spot inside me that made my vision blur. I could hear how wet I was around him, the slick sound of his cock sliding in and out. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise.

“Harder,” I said. “Come on.”

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

I reached down and stroked myself in time with his thrusts, already close. He leaned over my back and bit the side of my neck, then licked the spot. His breath was hot against my skin.

“You’re still my emergency contact because I never wanted anyone else to be the one they called if something happened to me,” he said, voice breaking a little. “Not even her.”

“Jake... ”

“I mean it. Not even her.”

I came hard, spilling over my fist and onto the wall. My hole clenched around him and he groaned, thrusting deeper, faster, chasing his own orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he said. “You want it?”

“Yeah. Give it to me.”

When he came he buried himself all the way in and I felt the pulse of him emptying inside me, hot and thick. He stayed there for a long moment, forehead pressed between my shoulder blades, breathing like he’d just run a mile.

“Shit,” he whispered. “Shit.”

We didn’t talk right away. He pulled out slow and I felt his come start to leak down my thigh. We fixed our clothes in silence. Then he went to the kitchen and came back with two beers. We sat on the couch and drank them without looking at each other at first. The house was quiet. Lauren’s photo was still on the mantel.

Finally I said, “What the fuck do we do now?”

He stared at the floor. “I don’t know. I’ve been in love with you since junior year. I married her because I thought if I just did the normal thing it would go away. It didn’t.”

I felt something twist in my chest. Anger. Relief. Guilt. All of it tangled. “You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“I would have... ” I stopped. I didn’t know what I would have done. Maybe the same thing. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.

“You would have what?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Something. Anything. Instead of letting me stand up there and watch you marry her while I felt like my chest was caving in.”

He set the beer down and looked at me. “Stay tonight.”

“Jake…”

“Please... Just stay.”

I should have said no. I should have walked out and never come back. Instead I nodded. “Okay.”

We went upstairs. His bedroom still smelled like the laundry detergent they both used. We stripped down and got into the bed he’d shared with his wife for three years. He pulled me against him and we kissed slower this time, like we were trying to memorize it.

“You sure about this?” he asked quietly.

“No. But I’m not leaving.”

His hand slid down and found my cock again, already half hard. I pushed him onto his back and straddled him.

“You want me to ride you?” I asked.

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

I spit into my hand, slicked him up, and sank down onto his cock in one long slide. He gripped my thighs and watched my face while I rode him.

“Jesus, look at you,” he said. “Taking every inch.”

Slow at first, then harder, grinding down so he was as deep as he could go. The headboard knocked against the wall. I didn’t care.

“Talk to me,” I said.

“You’re so fucking tight. I’ve jerked off thinking about this more times than I can count.”

I leaned forward and braced my hands on his chest, fucking myself on him until we were both sweating and cursing.

“I’m close,” I told him.

“Come on me. Let me feel it.”

When I came the second time it was with his name in my mouth. “Jake... fuck... ”

He followed right after, filling me again. “Shit… yeah… take it.”

We fell asleep tangled together. In the morning I woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand. Lauren’s name on the screen. He stared at it for a long time before he silenced it and set it face down.

“You gonna answer?” I asked.

“Not right now.”

Neither of us said anything else for a minute. He just rolled over and kissed me again, slower, deeper, like the outside world didn’t exist yet.

“I should go,” I said.

“Stay a little longer.”

His hand slid between my legs and I opened for him without hesitation.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah… Fuck me again.”

He fucked me on my side that time, one of my legs hooked over his hip, his mouth on the back of my neck. It was quieter, almost careful, but still filthy... the wet sounds, the way he whispered how tight I was, how long he’d wanted this.

“You feel that?” he murmured. “How deep I am?”

“Yeah. Don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping. Not until I fill you up again.”

When he came he stayed inside me and held me until he softened.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said against my skin.

“Neither do I.”

I left around noon. He walked me to the door and we stood there for a minute like neither of us knew how to say goodbye.

Finally he said, “You’re still listed. I’m not changing it.”

I looked at him and felt the weight of everything settle in my chest. Friendship. Betrayal. Love. Lust. All of it still there, thicker than ever.

“Neither am I,” I said.

“Come back soon.”

“I will.”

I got in my car and drove home with his come still drying on my skin and the taste of him in my mouth. That was six weeks ago. We’ve fucked four more times since then. Always when Lauren is gone. Always in the house they share. Always with the knowledge that what we’re doing is wrong and neither of us is stopping.

Last night he bent me over the kitchen counter and took me so hard I had to bite my own arm to keep from shouting.

“Harder,” I told him. “Fucking wreck me.”

“You want it rough?”

“Yeah. Give it to me.”

He did. When he finished he stayed buried in me and said, “I love you,” like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“I love you too,” I answered. “And I don’t know what the hell we’re supposed to do with that.”

“Neither do I. But I’m not stopping.”

“Me either.”

I don’t know how this ends. I only know that every time the phone rings and it’s him, my pulse still jumps the same way it did the night I found out I was still his emergency contact. And every time I answer, I already know I’m going to end up on my knees for him again.

***

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting

~(- __ -)~

My best friend Jake has been listed as my emergency contact for ten years straight… Last month when I got that minor car accident and the hospital called the number I gave them, it wasn’t my sister who showed up. It was Jake. He walked into the exam room looking like he’d driven straight from work, still in his button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and the nurse told me he was listed as primary. I stared at him and said, “You’re still on my forms?”

He just nodded and sat down like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah. Guess I never took myself off.”

Later that night I went through my own paperwork and saw his name still sitting there under emergency contact. Then I pulled up the copy of his insurance card he’d once texted me years ago and realized I was still listed as his. He’s been married to Lauren for three years.

I didn’t say anything for two days. I just kept thinking about it. We’ve known each other since freshman year of college. Shared a shitty apartment, got each other through breakups, stood up at each other’s weddings... well, I stood up at his. He got married in a backyard ceremony and I gave a speech that made people cry. I never told him that half the reason I could barely get the words out was because watching him put a ring on someone else felt like something cracking open in my chest that I had spent years pretending wasn’t there. I dated women. I fucked women. I told myself the way I looked at him was just friendship. Best friends notice things. Best friends remember how the other one takes their coffee and which side of the bed they prefer when they’re drunk. Best friends don’t get hard when the other one changes in the same room after the gym.

The night after the hospital I went over to his place. Lauren was out of town for a work conference. He opened the door in sweatpants and an old t-shirt, hair still damp from a shower, and the second I stepped inside I could smell the soap he always uses. I didn’t even take my shoes off before I said, “Why the fuck am I still your emergency contact?”

He looked at me for a long second. Then he closed the door and said, “Because I never changed it.”

“You’ve been married three years.”

“I know.”

“You have a wife.”

“I know that too.”

“Then why the hell is my name still sitting there on your forms? And why are you still on mine?”

He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “I just… never got around to updating it. Every time I thought about it I put it off. You still listed me too.”

“That’s not an answer, Jake.”

“What do you want me to say? What huh?”

He went quiet for a few seconds. “You really want me to tell you why?”

I didn't answer.

“Because every time I thought about changing your name, it felt wrong.”

I stood there in his living room with my hands in my pockets and my heart slamming so hard I could feel it in my throat. He didn’t look away. He just kept watching me like he was waiting for me to do something. So I did. I walked right up to him, grabbed the front of his shirt, and kissed him. It wasn’t soft. It was messy and desperate and I tasted the mint of the gum he’d been chewing. He made this low sound in his throat and then his hands were on my waist, pulling me in hard. We stumbled backward until his back hit the wall. I could feel him getting hard against my thigh and the reality of it made my head spin. This was Jake. My Jake. The guy who’d held my hair back when I puked after my twenty-first birthday. The guy who’d driven four hours to pick me up when my car died on the side of the highway. The guy who was married.

I broke the kiss just long enough to say, “This is fucked up.”

He breathed out, “I know,” and then he kissed me again, harder, like he was trying to shut me up. His tongue pushed into my mouth and I sucked on it. My hands slid under his shirt and I felt the warm skin of his stomach, the trail of hair leading down. He was already leaking in his sweatpants. I could feel the wet spot when I cupped him through the fabric. He groaned into my mouth and thrust against my hand.

“Jesus,” he muttered against my lips. “Don’t stop.”

We didn’t make it to the bedroom. I shoved his pants down just far enough to get his cock out. Thick, cut, already dripping. I wrapped my fingers around it and stroked him slow, watching the way his face changed. His eyes were half-lidded and his mouth was open.

“Fuck, look at you,” I said. “You’re already dripping.”

“Been thinking about this,” he answered, voice rough. “Longer than I should’ve.”

I dropped to my knees right there on the living room floor and took him into my mouth. The taste of him hit my tongue... salt and heat and something purely Jake. I swallowed him as deep as I could, gagging a little when the head hit the back of my throat. He grabbed my hair and held on, not forcing, just steadying himself while I sucked.

“Shit… yeah, just like that,” he said. “Take it. God, your mouth.”

I could hear how wet it was, the filthy sounds filling the quiet house. His hips started moving in short thrusts. I looked up at him while I worked my tongue along the underside of his cock and the expression on his face was something I’d never seen before. Hungry and guilty, all at once.

“You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up,” he warned.

He pulled me off before he could and hauled me up by the arms. We kissed again, messy, and I could taste myself on his tongue from earlier. He yanked my jeans open and shoved them down. My cock sprang free, hard and leaking against his. He spit in his hand and wrapped it around both of us, stroking us together. The friction was almost too much. I buried my face in his neck and bit down on the muscle there while he jacked us. His other hand slid around and gripped my ass, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.

“I want to fuck you,” he said against my ear, voice rough.

“Then do it,” I told him. “Stop talking and do it.”

I didn’t answer with more words. I just turned around, braced my hands on the wall, and pushed my ass back toward him. He spit again, worked two fingers into me slow, stretching me open while I cursed under my breath.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said. “Relax for me.”

“I’m trying. Just… more.”

It burned in the best way. When he added a third finger I pushed back harder, taking them deeper.

“Yeah, take it,” he muttered. “That’s it.”

He pulled them out, lined up, and pushed the head of his cock against my hole. I breathed out and forced myself to relax. He sank in inch by inch, thick and relentless, until his hips were flush against my ass. We both stayed still for a second, breathing hard.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah. Move.”

Then he started to move. He fucked me like he’d been holding it back for a decade. Deep, steady strokes that made my knees weak. Every time he bottomed out he ground against that spot inside me that made my vision blur. I could hear how wet I was around him, the slick sound of his cock sliding in and out. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise.

“Harder,” I said. “Come on.”

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

I reached down and stroked myself in time with his thrusts, already close. He leaned over my back and bit the side of my neck, then licked the spot. His breath was hot against my skin.

“You’re still my emergency contact because I never wanted anyone else to be the one they called if something happened to me,” he said, voice breaking a little. “Not even her.”

“Jake... ”

“I mean it. Not even her.”

I came hard, spilling over my fist and onto the wall. My hole clenched around him and he groaned, thrusting deeper, faster, chasing his own orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he said. “You want it?”

“Yeah. Give it to me.”

When he came he buried himself all the way in and I felt the pulse of him emptying inside me, hot and thick. He stayed there for a long moment, forehead pressed between my shoulder blades, breathing like he’d just run a mile.

“Shit,” he whispered. “Shit.”

We didn’t talk right away. He pulled out slow and I felt his come start to leak down my thigh. We fixed our clothes in silence. Then he went to the kitchen and came back with two beers. We sat on the couch and drank them without looking at each other at first. The house was quiet. Lauren’s photo was still on the mantel.

Finally I said, “What the fuck do we do now?”

He stared at the floor. “I don’t know. I’ve been in love with you since junior year. I married her because I thought if I just did the normal thing it would go away. It didn’t.”

I felt something twist in my chest. Anger. Relief. Guilt. All of it tangled. “You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“I would have... ” I stopped. I didn’t know what I would have done. Maybe the same thing. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.

“You would have what?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Something. Anything. Instead of letting me stand up there and watch you marry her while I felt like my chest was caving in.”

He set the beer down and looked at me. “Stay tonight.”

“Jake…”

“Please... Just stay.”

I should have said no. I should have walked out and never come back. Instead I nodded. “Okay.”

We went upstairs. His bedroom still smelled like the laundry detergent they both used. We stripped down and got into the bed he’d shared with his wife for three years. He pulled me against him and we kissed slower this time, like we were trying to memorize it.

“You sure about this?” he asked quietly.

“No. But I’m not leaving.”

His hand slid down and found my cock again, already half hard. I pushed him onto his back and straddled him.

“You want me to ride you?” I asked.

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

I spit into my hand, slicked him up, and sank down onto his cock in one long slide. He gripped my thighs and watched my face while I rode him.

“Jesus, look at you,” he said. “Taking every inch.”

Slow at first, then harder, grinding down so he was as deep as he could go. The headboard knocked against the wall. I didn’t care.

“Talk to me,” I said.

“You’re so fucking tight. I’ve jerked off thinking about this more times than I can count.”

I leaned forward and braced my hands on his chest, fucking myself on him until we were both sweating and cursing.

“I’m close,” I told him.

“Come on me. Let me feel it.”

When I came the second time it was with his name in my mouth. “Jake... fuck... ”

He followed right after, filling me again. “Shit… yeah… take it.”

We fell asleep tangled together. In the morning I woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand. Lauren’s name on the screen. He stared at it for a long time before he silenced it and set it face down.

“You gonna answer?” I asked.

“Not right now.”

Neither of us said anything else for a minute. He just rolled over and kissed me again, slower, deeper, like the outside world didn’t exist yet.

“I should go,” I said.

“Stay a little longer.”

His hand slid between my legs and I opened for him without hesitation.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah… Fuck me again.”

He fucked me on my side that time, one of my legs hooked over his hip, his mouth on the back of my neck. It was quieter, almost careful, but still filthy... the wet sounds, the way he whispered how tight I was, how long he’d wanted this.

“You feel that?” he murmured. “How deep I am?”

“Yeah. Don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping. Not until I fill you up again.”

When he came he stayed inside me and held me until he softened.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said against my skin.

“Neither do I.”

I left around noon. He walked me to the door and we stood there for a minute like neither of us knew how to say goodbye.

Finally he said, “You’re still listed. I’m not changing it.”

I looked at him and felt the weight of everything settle in my chest. Friendship. Betrayal. Love. Lust. All of it still there, thicker than ever.

“Neither am I,” I said.

“Come back soon.”

“I will.”

I got in my car and drove home with his come still drying on my skin and the taste of him in my mouth. That was six weeks ago. We’ve fucked four more times since then. Always when Lauren is gone. Always in the house they share. Always with the knowledge that what we’re doing is wrong and neither of us is stopping.

Last night he bent me over the kitchen counter and took me so hard I had to bite my own arm to keep from shouting.

“Harder,” I told him. “Fucking wreck me.”

“You want it rough?”

“Yeah. Give it to me.”

He did. When he finished he stayed buried in me and said, “I love you,” like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“I love you too,” I answered. “And I don’t know what the hell we’re supposed to do with that.”

“Neither do I. But I’m not stopping.”

“Me either.”

I don’t know how this ends. I only know that every time the phone rings and it’s him, my pulse still jumps the same way it did the night I found out I was still his emergency contact. And every time I answer, I already know I’m going to end up on my knees for him again.

***

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting

~(- __ -)~

My best friend Jake has been listed as my emergency contact for ten years straight… Last month when I got that minor car accident and the hospital called the number I gave them, it wasn’t my sister who showed up. It was Jake. He walked into the exam room looking like he’d driven straight from work, still in his button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and the nurse told me he was listed as primary. I stared at him and said, “You’re still on my forms?”

He just nodded and sat down like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah. Guess I never took myself off.”

Later that night I went through my own paperwork and saw his name still sitting there under emergency contact. Then I pulled up the copy of his insurance card he’d once texted me years ago and realized I was still listed as his. He’s been married to Lauren for three years.

I didn’t say anything for two days. I just kept thinking about it. We’ve known each other since freshman year of college. Shared a shitty apartment, got each other through breakups, stood up at each other’s weddings... well, I stood up at his. He got married in a backyard ceremony and I gave a speech that made people cry. I never told him that half the reason I could barely get the words out was because watching him put a ring on someone else felt like something cracking open in my chest that I had spent years pretending wasn’t there. I dated women. I fucked women. I told myself the way I looked at him was just friendship. Best friends notice things. Best friends remember how the other one takes their coffee and which side of the bed they prefer when they’re drunk. Best friends don’t get hard when the other one changes in the same room after the gym.

The night after the hospital I went over to his place. Lauren was out of town for a work conference. He opened the door in sweatpants and an old t-shirt, hair still damp from a shower, and the second I stepped inside I could smell the soap he always uses. I didn’t even take my shoes off before I said, “Why the fuck am I still your emergency contact?”

He looked at me for a long second. Then he closed the door and said, “Because I never changed it.”

“You’ve been married three years.”

“I know.”

“You have a wife.”

“I know that too.”

“Then why the hell is my name still sitting there on your forms? And why are you still on mine?”

He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “I just… never got around to updating it. Every time I thought about it I put it off. You still listed me too.”

“That’s not an answer, Jake.”

“What do you want me to say? What huh?”

He went quiet for a few seconds. “You really want me to tell you why?”

I didn't answer.

“Because every time I thought about changing your name, it felt wrong.”

I stood there in his living room with my hands in my pockets and my heart slamming so hard I could feel it in my throat. He didn’t look away. He just kept watching me like he was waiting for me to do something. So I did. I walked right up to him, grabbed the front of his shirt, and kissed him. It wasn’t soft. It was messy and desperate and I tasted the mint of the gum he’d been chewing. He made this low sound in his throat and then his hands were on my waist, pulling me in hard. We stumbled backward until his back hit the wall. I could feel him getting hard against my thigh and the reality of it made my head spin. This was Jake. My Jake. The guy who’d held my hair back when I puked after my twenty-first birthday. The guy who’d driven four hours to pick me up when my car died on the side of the highway. The guy who was married.

I broke the kiss just long enough to say, “This is fucked up.”

He breathed out, “I know,” and then he kissed me again, harder, like he was trying to shut me up. His tongue pushed into my mouth and I sucked on it. My hands slid under his shirt and I felt the warm skin of his stomach, the trail of hair leading down. He was already leaking in his sweatpants. I could feel the wet spot when I cupped him through the fabric. He groaned into my mouth and thrust against my hand.

“Jesus,” he muttered against my lips. “Don’t stop.”

We didn’t make it to the bedroom. I shoved his pants down just far enough to get his cock out. Thick, cut, already dripping. I wrapped my fingers around it and stroked him slow, watching the way his face changed. His eyes were half-lidded and his mouth was open.

“Fuck, look at you,” I said. “You’re already dripping.”

“Been thinking about this,” he answered, voice rough. “Longer than I should’ve.”

I dropped to my knees right there on the living room floor and took him into my mouth. The taste of him hit my tongue... salt and heat and something purely Jake. I swallowed him as deep as I could, gagging a little when the head hit the back of my throat. He grabbed my hair and held on, not forcing, just steadying himself while I sucked.

“Shit… yeah, just like that,” he said. “Take it. God, your mouth.”

I could hear how wet it was, the filthy sounds filling the quiet house. His hips started moving in short thrusts. I looked up at him while I worked my tongue along the underside of his cock and the expression on his face was something I’d never seen before. Hungry and guilty, all at once.

“You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up,” he warned.

He pulled me off before he could and hauled me up by the arms. We kissed again, messy, and I could taste myself on his tongue from earlier. He yanked my jeans open and shoved them down. My cock sprang free, hard and leaking against his. He spit in his hand and wrapped it around both of us, stroking us together. The friction was almost too much. I buried my face in his neck and bit down on the muscle there while he jacked us. His other hand slid around and gripped my ass, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.

“I want to fuck you,” he said against my ear, voice rough.

“Then do it,” I told him. “Stop talking and do it.”

I didn’t answer with more words. I just turned around, braced my hands on the wall, and pushed my ass back toward him. He spit again, worked two fingers into me slow, stretching me open while I cursed under my breath.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said. “Relax for me.”

“I’m trying. Just… more.”

It burned in the best way. When he added a third finger I pushed back harder, taking them deeper.

“Yeah, take it,” he muttered. “That’s it.”

He pulled them out, lined up, and pushed the head of his cock against my hole. I breathed out and forced myself to relax. He sank in inch by inch, thick and relentless, until his hips were flush against my ass. We both stayed still for a second, breathing hard.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah. Move.”

Then he started to move. He fucked me like he’d been holding it back for a decade. Deep, steady strokes that made my knees weak. Every time he bottomed out he ground against that spot inside me that made my vision blur. I could hear how wet I was around him, the slick sound of his cock sliding in and out. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise.

“Harder,” I said. “Come on.”

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

I reached down and stroked myself in time with his thrusts, already close. He leaned over my back and bit the side of my neck, then licked the spot. His breath was hot against my skin.

“You’re still my emergency contact because I never wanted anyone else to be the one they called if something happened to me,” he said, voice breaking a little. “Not even her.”

“Jake... ”

“I mean it. Not even her.”

I came hard, spilling over my fist and onto the wall. My hole clenched around him and he groaned, thrusting deeper, faster, chasing his own orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he said. “You want it?”

“Yeah. Give it to me.”

When he came he buried himself all the way in and I felt the pulse of him emptying inside me, hot and thick. He stayed there for a long moment, forehead pressed between my shoulder blades, breathing like he’d just run a mile.

“Shit,” he whispered. “Shit.”

We didn’t talk right away. He pulled out slow and I felt his come start to leak down my thigh. We fixed our clothes in silence. Then he went to the kitchen and came back with two beers. We sat on the couch and drank them without looking at each other at first. The house was quiet. Lauren’s photo was still on the mantel.

Finally I said, “What the fuck do we do now?”

He stared at the floor. “I don’t know. I’ve been in love with you since junior year. I married her because I thought if I just did the normal thing it would go away. It didn’t.”

I felt something twist in my chest. Anger. Relief. Guilt. All of it tangled. “You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“I would have... ” I stopped. I didn’t know what I would have done. Maybe the same thing. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.

“You would have what?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Something. Anything. Instead of letting me stand up there and watch you marry her while I felt like my chest was caving in.”

He set the beer down and looked at me. “Stay tonight.”

“Jake…”

“Please... Just stay.”

I should have said no. I should have walked out and never come back. Instead I nodded. “Okay.”

We went upstairs. His bedroom still smelled like the laundry detergent they both used. We stripped down and got into the bed he’d shared with his wife for three years. He pulled me against him and we kissed slower this time, like we were trying to memorize it.

“You sure about this?” he asked quietly.

“No. But I’m not leaving.”

His hand slid down and found my cock again, already half hard. I pushed him onto his back and straddled him.

“You want me to ride you?” I asked.

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

I spit into my hand, slicked him up, and sank down onto his cock in one long slide. He gripped my thighs and watched my face while I rode him.

“Jesus, look at you,” he said. “Taking every inch.”

Slow at first, then harder, grinding down so he was as deep as he could go. The headboard knocked against the wall. I didn’t care.

“Talk to me,” I said.

“You’re so fucking tight. I’ve jerked off thinking about this more times than I can count.”

I leaned forward and braced my hands on his chest, fucking myself on him until we were both sweating and cursing.

“I’m close,” I told him.

“Come on me. Let me feel it.”

When I came the second time it was with his name in my mouth. “Jake... fuck... ”

He followed right after, filling me again. “Shit… yeah… take it.”

We fell asleep tangled together. In the morning I woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand. Lauren’s name on the screen. He stared at it for a long time before he silenced it and set it face down.

“You gonna answer?” I asked.

“Not right now.”

Neither of us said anything else for a minute. He just rolled over and kissed me again, slower, deeper, like the outside world didn’t exist yet.

“I should go,” I said.

“Stay a little longer.”

His hand slid between my legs and I opened for him without hesitation.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah… Fuck me again.”

He fucked me on my side that time, one of my legs hooked over his hip, his mouth on the back of my neck. It was quieter, almost careful, but still filthy... the wet sounds, the way he whispered how tight I was, how long he’d wanted this.

“You feel that?” he murmured. “How deep I am?”

“Yeah. Don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping. Not until I fill you up again.”

When he came he stayed inside me and held me until he softened.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said against my skin.

“Neither do I.”

I left around noon. He walked me to the door and we stood there for a minute like neither of us knew how to say goodbye.

Finally he said, “You’re still listed. I’m not changing it.”

I looked at him and felt the weight of everything settle in my chest. Friendship. Betrayal. Love. Lust. All of it still there, thicker than ever.

“Neither am I,” I said.

“Come back soon.”

“I will.”

I got in my car and drove home with his come still drying on my skin and the taste of him in my mouth. That was six weeks ago. We’ve fucked four more times since then. Always when Lauren is gone. Always in the house they share. Always with the knowledge that what we’re doing is wrong and neither of us is stopping.

Last night he bent me over the kitchen counter and took me so hard I had to bite my own arm to keep from shouting.

“Harder,” I told him. “Fucking wreck me.”

“You want it rough?”

“Yeah. Give it to me.”

He did. When he finished he stayed buried in me and said, “I love you,” like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“I love you too,” I answered. “And I don’t know what the hell we’re supposed to do with that.”

“Neither do I. But I’m not stopping.”

“Me either.”

I don’t know how this ends. I only know that every time the phone rings and it’s him, my pulse still jumps the same way it did the night I found out I was still his emergency contact. And every time I answer, I already know I’m going to end up on my knees for him again.

***

All characters are 18+ and fully consenting....

---

Mark’s cock is heavy on my tongue and the kitchen light is still on.

I’m on my knees on the linoleum between his spread legs. He’s leaning back against the counter in those old basketball shorts pulled down to his thighs. One of his hands is in my hair, not pushing, just holding. The other is gripping the edge of the sink so hard his knuckles are white. Amy is in the bedroom down the hall with her headphones on watching some show on her phone. We can hear the faint sound of it through the closed door. That’s the only reason this is happening right now. That and the fact that neither of us has been able to stop for months.

“Ugh…mmgh”

He makes a low sound when I take him deeper. Spit runs down my chin and onto the floor. My own cock is hard inside my sweatpants, ignored for now. I look up at him… His eyes are half-closed and his mouth is open and he looks wrecked in a way that still gets me. He whispers, “Quiet….Ummghh… You gotta stay quiet.”

I pull off just long enough to say, “I know,” and then I go back down.

That’s where we are. That’s what we’ve become…

***(^ – ^)***

Wanna know who Mark is?

- My brother in law..

I’m 31. I load trucks at a warehouse on the east side of Cleveland. Nights mostly. My hands are always cut up and my back hurts most mornings. I got divorced a year and a half ago. She kept the apartment and most of what was in it. I spent three months on friends' couches and then my sister Amy told me I could take the spare room until I got my shit together. Her husband Mark is 39, he was such a big guy, works days at a different warehouse across town. They’d been married eight years by then. No kids. Amy works second shift at the hospital so a lot of nights it was just me and Mark in the apartment.

At first it was nothing. We nodded at each other in the mornings, shared a few things. He left a beer on the counter for me when he knew I was coming in late. Normal roommate shit. I was still half in the fog of the divorce and he seemed like the kind of guy who kept things simple. I didn’t look at him that way. Or I told myself I didn’t.

Then, the lookings started small…

One night in late June I came home around one and he was on the couch in those basketball shorts and nothing else. The TV was on some old game. He had one hand resting high on his thigh like he didn’t even notice. I sat on the other end of the couch with a beer. We didn’t talk much. At some point I realized I’d been staring at the line of his stomach where it disappeared into the waistband. He caught me, but didn’t say anything. Just shifted a little and the shorts moved and I saw the outline clearer. I looked away and drank my beer and went to bed and lay there hard and pissed at myself for fucking getting hard over a outline..

A few nights later Amy pulled a double and didn’t come home until morning. Mark and I ended up on the back balcony with a bottle of whiskey. It was hot. He was in the same shorts. I was still in my work shirt, the one that smelled like the warehouse and diesel. We’d been out on the balcony for a while already, passing the bottle back and forth.

Mark took a drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Shift ran long again today. Supervisor’s up everybody’s ass about the new quotas.”

I nodded. “Same over at my place. Felt like we never stopped moving. My knees are shot.”

“Yeah. Mine too. Getting old for this shit.” He passed the bottle. “You notice how this city just… feels smaller every year? Like the same streets, same assholes, nothing changes except we get more tired.”

I took a pull. “Yeah. Used to feel like there was more out there. Now it’s just work and sleep and whatever’s left.”

We went back and forth like that for a bit… complaining about the heat in the trailers, the new kid who couldn’t stack for shit, how neither of us had taken a real day off in months. The whiskey got lower. The bugs got louder. At some point the talking just kind of thinned out.

Mark looked over at me and held the look longer than usual. “You been looking at me different.”

I kept my eyes on the bottle. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He gave a short, quiet laugh and took another drink. “Yeah, you do.”

I didn’t say anything, just sat there. He didn’t push it right away. We listened to the night for a minute.

Then he said, “It’s not like I’m imagining it. You stare when you think I’m not paying attention. Been doing it for weeks.”

I shifted in the chair. “You’re reading into shit.”

“Am I?” He turned a little more toward me. “That night on the couch. You looked at my lap like you forgot how to blink. And in the kitchen the other morning.. when I reached past you…. you didn’t move. Not right away.”

I let out a breath. “Mark..”

“I’m not pissed about it,” he said, voice still low. “I’m just saying I noticed. And I think you noticed that I noticed.”

I finally looked at him. “What do you want me to say?”

He shrugged, but it wasn’t casual. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Maybe I’m full of shit and we’re just two tired guys drinking on a balcony.” He took another sip and kept his eyes on me. “But I don’t think that’s all it is.”

The silence stretched. He didn’t fill it. Neither did I for a while.

Eventually he stood up, slow, and stretched his arms over his head. The shorts pulled tight across the front.. clear outline, no mistaking it. He saw me see it. But didn’t adjust them and didn’t turn away. Just let the moment hang there between us.

Then he said, “I’m going in. Long day tomorrow.” He paused with his hand on the sliding door. “You coming, or you staying out here?”

I cleared my throat. “I’ll be in in a minute.”

He nodded once, like he expected that answer, and went inside. The door slid shut behind him. I sat there with the bottle and the bugs and my heart going way too fast, still seeing the way those shorts had looked when he stretched..

The next week it kept building in little ways.

He’d walk out of the bathroom after a shower with the towel low on his hips and take his time finding a shirt. I’d be at the table eating cereal and I’d have to look at my bowl instead of the dark hair on his chest and the way his stomach moved when he breathed. One morning he reached past me for a coffee mug and his arm brushed mine and neither of us moved for a second longer than we should have. He said, “Sorry,” but his voice was lower than usual. I said it was fine and my face felt hot.

I couldn't tell if he was doing it on purpose anymore. That was the part driving me crazy…

Amy noticed nothing. She was tired from work and glad we were getting along. She’d say things like, “I’m glad you two aren’t killing each other,” and kiss Mark on the cheek before she left for her shift. He’d look at me over her shoulder sometimes. Just a second, then the door would close and the apartment would feel different.

***
One Thursday night she left at three for a late shift.

Mark was on the couch again. I came out of the spare room to get some water and found him sitting there with his legs spread, his head resting against the back cushion. The living room was dim except for the blue light of the television. His shorts were tented. Not fully hard, but enough that the shape of it sat plain against the fabric. I stopped in the doorway and just stood there for a second longer than I meant to.

Mark opened his eyes and looked at me.

“You can sit down if you want.”

I hesitated, fingers still on the light switch like I might turn around and go back to the spare room. Then I walked over and sat at the other end of the couch. The cushion dipped under my weight. I could feel the heat of him even from that distance.

The game was on mute. Neither of us said anything. We just watched the silent pictures flicker across the screen… players running, crowds moving, all of it without sound. The only noise in the apartment was the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the building.

After a while Mark said, “This is getting stupid.”

I kept looking at the television. “What is?”

“This.”

I glanced at him. His eyes were already on me.

“The way we keep doing this,” he said. “Pretending nothing’s happening.”

I swallowed. My throat felt dry. “Nothing is happening.”

He gave me a look. Flat. Unconvinced.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

I looked away, back toward the screen, but I wasn’t seeing any of it. His hand was resting on his thigh. A little higher than before. The edge of his pinky almost touched the outline in his shorts.

“I’m not gonna make the first move,” he said quietly, “if you’re just gonna freak out and run.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh that sounded wrong in the quiet room.

“Yeah? And what if I am running?”

“Then why the hell do you keep coming back?”

“Because this…” I stopped myself and rubbed my face hard with both hands. My palms came away warm…“Because this is the best it can be.”

“The best?”

“Yes.”

He stared at me. The kind of stare that made the air feel heavier.

I could feel my temper climbing, heat moving up the back of my neck.

“I fucking know what’s happening, okay? I know. I’m not stupid. I see the way you look at me. I see all of it. And yeah, maybe I’ve let some things go too far, but this…” I pointed between us, my hand cutting the space. “This is the best. We keep it where it is. We don’t cross that line.”

Mark sat forward. The couch shifted under him.

“You really believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

My head snapped toward him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

I stood up so fast the cushion bounced.

“Don’t.”

“What? You’re gonna tell me you haven’t been doing the exact same thing?”

“I said don’t.”

He stood too. We were almost the same height like that, close enough that I could see the muscle working in his jaw.

For a second we just stared at each other. The muted game kept flickering behind him.

Then Mark grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me toward him. The fabric tightened across my chest.

“Then you should’ve stayed in your lane.”

I grabbed his wrist. His skin was hot under my fingers.

“Let go.”

“You should’ve.”

“Mark.”

“You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“I said let go.”

He didn’t. His grip stayed firm, not quite painful, but solid enough that I couldn’t step back without tearing the shirt.

I shoved at his arm, but he barely moved.

“You shouldn’t have made it so fucking obvious,” I said, voice rising. “Walking around half naked. The towel. Your stomach, That fucking hair… and your fucking clothed tent…”

His expression tightened. Something flickered behind his eyes.

“You think I was doing that for you?”

“I think you knew what you were doing… And damn… I fucking dont know whether you were doing that on purpose.”

“I wasn’t putting on a fucking show.”

“Then what was it?”

“I don’t know!”

His voice cracked with frustration, louder than before.

“I was fucking living in my own house!”

“Exactly. And I was supposed to just sit there and pretend I didn’t notice anything?”

“You could’ve.”

“I tried!”

“No, you didn’t.”

I laughed once, bitterly, the sound sharp in the small space between us.

“You have no idea how hard I’ve tried.”

Mark’s grip loosened for half a second. Just enough that I felt the difference.

I looked at him. Really looked.

“Do you even know why I got divorced?”

His face changed. The anger didn’t leave, but something else moved in under it.

He didn’t answer.

“Do you?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “You told me.”

“No. I told you what happened. That’s not the same thing.”

He went still. His hand was still twisted in my shirt, but it wasn’t pulling anymore.

“I lost interest in her… I fucking lost interest in her… I couldn't keep pretending I wanted the marriage the way she did ,” I said. The words came out flatter than I expected. “That’s what happened. I couldn’t keep pretending anymore… She figured it out. She found out I was gay, and that was it. She couldn’t live with it. She left.”

Mark’s jaw tightened. I watched the muscle jump.

“And you think I’m gonna do that to my sister?”

I shook my head. My voice climbed again.

“You want her to divorce you too? Is that what you want? You want me to be the fucking reason her marriage falls apart?”

“Don’t put that on me.”

“I’m not putting anything on you! I’m telling you what happens if we don’t stop!”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I fucking do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do!”

We were both shouting now. The sound bounced off the walls. Somewhere in the building a pipe knocked.

Mark still had hold of my shirt, but his grip wasn’t angry anymore. It was almost like he didn’t know what else to do with his hands. His knuckles had gone white and then loosened again.

He looked at me for a long second. The television light moved across his face.

Then he said, quieter, “You should’ve thought about that a long time ago.”

I stared at him. My chest was rising and falling hard.

“You should’ve thought about it before you started giving me the green light every time I looked at you.”

My mouth fell open.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I never gave you a fucking green light.”

“You think I imagined it?”

“I was trying to be your friend.”

“Don't fucking tell me that's how you look at your friends.” 

“I didn’t…”

“You did.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“Exactly.”

He finally let go of my shirt. The sudden absence of pressure made me step back without meaning to.

I stood there breathing hard, the front of my shirt wrinkled where his fist had been.

Mark dragged a hand over his face. His shoulders were still tight.

“You keep saying you want it to stay where it is,” he said. “But you’re the one who keeps moving the fucking line.”

I opened my mouth to shout something back.

Nothing came out.

We just stood there in the middle of the living room with the muted game still flickering behind him. My shirt was wrinkled where he’d grabbed it. His breathing was as hard as mine. The space between us felt too small and too wide at the same time.

Mark dragged a hand down his face again and let out a rough sound that wasn’t quite a laugh.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Look at us.”

I didn’t answer. My pulse was still slamming in my neck.

He took one step closer. Not aggressive this time. Just closer.

“You said, you were trying hard running away from all this”

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

“And I’m standing here telling you the same fucking thing.”

I shook my head once. “It’s not the same.”

“It is.”

“Mark…”

“It is,” he said again, quieter. “You’re just scared of what it means.”

I laughed, short and bitter. “Of course I’m scared. My sister is asleep down the hall most nights. You’re her husband. I’m the guy who already wrecked one marriage by not being able to keep it in check. You think I want to be the reason hers falls apart too?”

“Then why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“Because I can’t fucking help it.”

The words came out louder than I meant them to. They hung there.

Mark’s eyes moved over my face. His voice dropped. “Then stop pretending you want this to stay where it is.”

I clenched my jaw. “Somebody has to.”

“No. Somebody has to be honest.”

He reached out and put his hand on the side of my neck. His palm was warm. Thumb resting just under my jaw. I could have stepped back. I didn’t.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

“I’m pissed.”

“You’re hard.”

I looked down without meaning to. So was he. The shorts did nothing to hide it.

“This is such a bad idea,” I whispered.

“I know.”

“We should stop.”

“I know.”

His thumb brushed once along my jaw. Then he leaned in and kissed me.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was the same rough pull from earlier, except this time I kissed him back. My hands came up and fisted in the front of his shirt. He made a low sound into my mouth and backed me up until my calves hit the couch. I sat down hard. He followed, standing between my knees, still kissing me like he was trying to win an argument with his tongue.

When he finally pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead stayed against mine.

“Tell me to stop,” he said.

I didn’t.

He waited another second. Then he took my hand and pressed it against the front of his shorts. He was fully hard now, hot even through the fabric. I curled my fingers around the shape of him and felt him push into my palm.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

I looked up at him. His eyes were dark and wrecked and still a little angry.

“You sure?” I asked.

“No.” His voice was rough. “Do it anyway.”

I hooked my fingers in the waistband and pulled the shorts down. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the head already shiny. I wrapped my hand around it and stroked once, slowly feeling the weight of him. Mark’s breath left him in a shaky rush. One of his hands landed in my hair, not pushing, just holding on.

I leaned in and took the head into my mouth.

I stroked him slow through the material. He watched my hand. Then he watched my face. After a minute he lifted his hips and pushed the shorts down. His cock slapped up against his stomach. I wrapped my hand around it for real this time.

He said, “Fuck,” quiet, and his head dropped back.

I stroked him for a long time without doing anything else. Just the sound of skin and his breathing. He didn’t rush me. When I finally leaned down and took the head in my mouth he made a sound like it hurt. I worked him slow. Learning the shape of him. The taste…. Spit ran down to the base and I used it. He kept one hand in my hair but he didn’t push. He just held on.

When he got close he said, “I’m gonna come.” I didn’t pull off. He came in my mouth with a tight quiet sound and I swallowed it. Some of it. The rest leaked out the corner of my lips. He watched that part with his eyes half-open and his chest rising hard.

After a minute he pulled me up and kissed me. It was rough and a little desperate. He tasted like the whiskey from earlier. His hand went between my legs and he felt how hard I was and he said, “Your turn,” and got on his knees on the living room floor and took me out of my sweatpants.

He wasn’t neat about it. I came faster than I wanted to with my hand in his hair and my other hand over my own mouth to stay quiet. He swallowed and stayed there until I had to push him off because it was too much.

We sat on the floor after with our backs against the couch. Neither of us talked for a while. Then he said, “Amy can’t know.”

I said, “Obviously.”

He nodded. Looked at the TV like it had answers. I said, “This is… fucking fucked”

He looked at me. “You gonna stop?”

I thought about it for real…. Then I hesitantly said.., “N-no.”

He almost smiled. “Me neither.”

That was the first time. It didn’t stay the first time.

The next night Amy was home. We acted normal, ate dinner and watched a show. When she went to bed early Mark and I stayed up and the silence between us felt loud. He walked past me to get a glass of water and his hand brushed my lower back…. Just for a second. I got hard from that alone.

Two nights later she worked again. We didn’t even make it to the couch. He pushed me against the fridge the second the door closed behind her and kissed me hard and I could feel how ready he already was. We jerked each other off right there in the kitchen with our pants half-down and our mouths open against each other’s necks.It was such a messy fast relief. Afterward he cleaned us both up with a paper towel and said, “We gotta be smarter than this.”

We tried... For about a week we kept it to hands and mouths and only when we were sure she was gone for hours. Then one night he bent me over the arm of the couch and got two spit-slick fingers inside me while he stroked my cock and I came so hard my legs shook… The next time he replaced the fingers with his cock.

It burned at first. I hadn’t been fucked in years. He went slow and kept asking if I was okay in a voice that sounded like he was barely holding on. When he finally bottomed out he stayed still and just breathed against the back of my neck. I told him to move. He did. The wet sound of it.. Fuckkk…. The way he filled me. I came untouched with my face in the cushion and he followed right after, buried deep, pulsing inside me while he bit down on my shoulder to stay quiet.

We started using their bed when she worked nights.

We’d strip the top blanket after and put it back like nothing happened. Sometimes he’d fuck me slow on my back so he could watch my face. Sometimes I’d ride him and he’d hold my hips and look up at me like he still couldn’t believe it was real. He talked more once we got used to it.

“That’s it… Fuckkk… Take it like a good boy…You’re taking your sister’s husband’s cock so well.. Fuckkk…..”

I’d tell him to shut up and then clench around him when he didn’t.

The small moments never really stopped. They’d just lead into the bigger ones.

A hand on the back of my neck while Amy was in the shower. His cock half-hard against my ass when he passed behind me in the kitchen. The way he’d look at me across the table when she was talking about her day. One morning I walked out of the bathroom and he was still in bed and Amy was already gone for an early shift and he just pulled the sheet down and I went to him without a word.

We’re careful. We have to be. But the careful is part of it now. The risk. The fact that she could walk in. The fact that we’re doing this in the same sheets she sleeps in. The fact that when she kisses him goodbye I sometimes still have the taste of him in my mouth from an hour before.

Last week she almost caught us.

She came home early with a migraine. We heard the key in the lock while I was still on my knees in the kitchen. Mark shoved me toward the spare room and fixed his shorts and I locked the door and sat on the edge of the bed with my heart hammering and my cock still wet. She went straight to their room. He came in later and found me and we didn’t finish that night. We just lay there listening to her move around and neither of us said anything for a long time.

After she fell asleep I whispered, “We can’t keep doing this forever.”

He said, “I know… But I don't want to stop, my body got used to yours.. And i can tell, so as yours.”

I stayed silent, because that’s the truth… Fuck, everything is fucked up, I am fucking getting my hole stuffed by my brother in law… damn

So we haven’t...

~(* -- *)~

Now...

I’m still on my knees in the kitchen right now. Amy’s show is still playing down the hall. Mark’s hand is still in my hair. He whispers, “I’m close… ughhh,” and I take him deeper and let him come down my throat while I stay as quiet as I can. When it’s over he pulls me up and kisses me and I can taste himself on my tongue. He rests his forehead against mine and says, “She’s gonna be done with that show soon.”

I nod. My cock is still hard. He reaches down and squeezes it once through my sweatpants and says, “Tonight... After she goes to sleep. My turn to take care of you.”

I say, “Er... O-okay.”

He fixes his shorts. I wipe my mouth. We both look normal enough by the time her door opens and she walks into the kitchen asking if anyone left any of the Chinese food from earlier.

Mark says there might be some in the fridge. His voice is steady.... Mine almost is.

She heats it up and talks about her day and we listen and nod and the whole time my knees still feel the linoleum and my mouth still tastes like him.

--

The real question was… could I actually wait until tonight?

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting

~(- __ -)~

My best friend Jake has been listed as my emergency contact for ten years straight… Last month when I got that minor car accident and the hospital called the number I gave them, it wasn’t my sister who showed up. It was Jake. He walked into the exam room looking like he’d driven straight from work, still in his button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and the nurse told me he was listed as primary. I stared at him and said, “You’re still on my forms?”

He just nodded and sat down like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah. Guess I never took myself off.”

Later that night I went through my own paperwork and saw his name still sitting there under emergency contact. Then I pulled up the copy of his insurance card he’d once texted me years ago and realized I was still listed as his. He’s been married to Lauren for three years.

I didn’t say anything for two days. I just kept thinking about it. We’ve known each other since freshman year of college. Shared a shitty apartment, got each other through breakups, stood up at each other’s weddings... well, I stood up at his. He got married in a backyard ceremony and I gave a speech that made people cry. I never told him that half the reason I could barely get the words out was because watching him put a ring on someone else felt like something cracking open in my chest that I had spent years pretending wasn’t there. I dated women. I fucked women. I told myself the way I looked at him was just friendship. Best friends notice things. Best friends remember how the other one takes their coffee and which side of the bed they prefer when they’re drunk. Best friends don’t get hard when the other one changes in the same room after the gym.

The night after the hospital I went over to his place. Lauren was out of town for a work conference. He opened the door in sweatpants and an old t-shirt, hair still damp from a shower, and the second I stepped inside I could smell the soap he always uses. I didn’t even take my shoes off before I said, “Why the fuck am I still your emergency contact?”

He looked at me for a long second. Then he closed the door and said, “Because I never changed it.”

“You’ve been married three years.”

“I know.”

“You have a wife.”

“I know that too.”

“Then why the hell is my name still sitting there on your forms? And why are you still on mine?”

He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “I just… never got around to updating it. Every time I thought about it I put it off. You still listed me too.”

“That’s not an answer, Jake.”

“What do you want me to say? What huh?”

He went quiet for a few seconds. “You really want me to tell you why?”

I didn't answer.

“Because every time I thought about changing your name, it felt wrong.”

I stood there in his living room with my hands in my pockets and my heart slamming so hard I could feel it in my throat. He didn’t look away. He just kept watching me like he was waiting for me to do something. So I did. I walked right up to him, grabbed the front of his shirt, and kissed him. It wasn’t soft. It was messy and desperate and I tasted the mint of the gum he’d been chewing. He made this low sound in his throat and then his hands were on my waist, pulling me in hard. We stumbled backward until his back hit the wall. I could feel him getting hard against my thigh and the reality of it made my head spin. This was Jake. My Jake. The guy who’d held my hair back when I puked after my twenty-first birthday. The guy who’d driven four hours to pick me up when my car died on the side of the highway. The guy who was married.

I broke the kiss just long enough to say, “This is fucked up.”

He breathed out, “I know,” and then he kissed me again, harder, like he was trying to shut me up. His tongue pushed into my mouth and I sucked on it. My hands slid under his shirt and I felt the warm skin of his stomach, the trail of hair leading down. He was already leaking in his sweatpants. I could feel the wet spot when I cupped him through the fabric. He groaned into my mouth and thrust against my hand.

“Jesus,” he muttered against my lips. “Don’t stop.”

We didn’t make it to the bedroom. I shoved his pants down just far enough to get his cock out. Thick, cut, already dripping. I wrapped my fingers around it and stroked him slow, watching the way his face changed. His eyes were half-lidded and his mouth was open.

“Fuck, look at you,” I said. “You’re already dripping.”

“Been thinking about this,” he answered, voice rough. “Longer than I should’ve.”

I dropped to my knees right there on the living room floor and took him into my mouth. The taste of him hit my tongue... salt and heat and something purely Jake. I swallowed him as deep as I could, gagging a little when the head hit the back of my throat. He grabbed my hair and held on, not forcing, just steadying himself while I sucked.

“Shit… yeah, just like that,” he said. “Take it. God, your mouth.”

I could hear how wet it was, the filthy sounds filling the quiet house. His hips started moving in short thrusts. I looked up at him while I worked my tongue along the underside of his cock and the expression on his face was something I’d never seen before. Hungry and guilty, all at once.

“You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up,” he warned.

He pulled me off before he could and hauled me up by the arms. We kissed again, messy, and I could taste myself on his tongue from earlier. He yanked my jeans open and shoved them down. My cock sprang free, hard and leaking against his. He spit in his hand and wrapped it around both of us, stroking us together. The friction was almost too much. I buried my face in his neck and bit down on the muscle there while he jacked us. His other hand slid around and gripped my ass, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.

“I want to fuck you,” he said against my ear, voice rough.

“Then do it,” I told him. “Stop talking and do it.”

I didn’t answer with more words. I just turned around, braced my hands on the wall, and pushed my ass back toward him. He spit again, worked two fingers into me slow, stretching me open while I cursed under my breath.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said. “Relax for me.”

“I’m trying. Just… more.”

It burned in the best way. When he added a third finger I pushed back harder, taking them deeper.

“Yeah, take it,” he muttered. “That’s it.”

He pulled them out, lined up, and pushed the head of his cock against my hole. I breathed out and forced myself to relax. He sank in inch by inch, thick and relentless, until his hips were flush against my ass. We both stayed still for a second, breathing hard.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah. Move.”

Then he started to move. He fucked me like he’d been holding it back for a decade. Deep, steady strokes that made my knees weak. Every time he bottomed out he ground against that spot inside me that made my vision blur. I could hear how wet I was around him, the slick sound of his cock sliding in and out. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise.

“Harder,” I said. “Come on.”

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

I reached down and stroked myself in time with his thrusts, already close. He leaned over my back and bit the side of my neck, then licked the spot. His breath was hot against my skin.

“You’re still my emergency contact because I never wanted anyone else to be the one they called if something happened to me,” he said, voice breaking a little. “Not even her.”

“Jake... ”

“I mean it. Not even her.”

I came hard, spilling over my fist and onto the wall. My hole clenched around him and he groaned, thrusting deeper, faster, chasing his own orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he said. “You want it?”

“Yeah. Give it to me.”

When he came he buried himself all the way in and I felt the pulse of him emptying inside me, hot and thick. He stayed there for a long moment, forehead pressed between my shoulder blades, breathing like he’d just run a mile.

“Shit,” he whispered. “Shit.”

We didn’t talk right away. He pulled out slow and I felt his come start to leak down my thigh. We fixed our clothes in silence. Then he went to the kitchen and came back with two beers. We sat on the couch and drank them without looking at each other at first. The house was quiet. Lauren’s photo was still on the mantel.

Finally I said, “What the fuck do we do now?”

He stared at the floor. “I don’t know. I’ve been in love with you since junior year. I married her because I thought if I just did the normal thing it would go away. It didn’t.”

I felt something twist in my chest. Anger. Relief. Guilt. All of it tangled. “You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“I would have... ” I stopped. I didn’t know what I would have done. Maybe the same thing. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.

“You would have what?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Something. Anything. Instead of letting me stand up there and watch you marry her while I felt like my chest was caving in.”

He set the beer down and looked at me. “Stay tonight.”

“Jake…”

“Please... Just stay.”

I should have said no. I should have walked out and never come back. Instead I nodded. “Okay.”

We went upstairs. His bedroom still smelled like the laundry detergent they both used. We stripped down and got into the bed he’d shared with his wife for three years. He pulled me against him and we kissed slower this time, like we were trying to memorize it.

“You sure about this?” he asked quietly.

“No. But I’m not leaving.”

His hand slid down and found my cock again, already half hard. I pushed him onto his back and straddled him.

“You want me to ride you?” I asked.

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

I spit into my hand, slicked him up, and sank down onto his cock in one long slide. He gripped my thighs and watched my face while I rode him.

“Jesus, look at you,” he said. “Taking every inch.”

Slow at first, then harder, grinding down so he was as deep as he could go. The headboard knocked against the wall. I didn’t care.

“Talk to me,” I said.

“You’re so fucking tight. I’ve jerked off thinking about this more times than I can count.”

I leaned forward and braced my hands on his chest, fucking myself on him until we were both sweating and cursing.

“I’m close,” I told him.

“Come on me. Let me feel it.”

When I came the second time it was with his name in my mouth. “Jake... fuck... ”

He followed right after, filling me again. “Shit… yeah… take it.”

We fell asleep tangled together. In the morning I woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand. Lauren’s name on the screen. He stared at it for a long time before he silenced it and set it face down.

“You gonna answer?” I asked.

“Not right now.”

Neither of us said anything else for a minute. He just rolled over and kissed me again, slower, deeper, like the outside world didn’t exist yet.

“I should go,” I said.

“Stay a little longer.”

His hand slid between my legs and I opened for him without hesitation.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah… Fuck me again.”

He fucked me on my side that time, one of my legs hooked over his hip, his mouth on the back of my neck. It was quieter, almost careful, but still filthy... the wet sounds, the way he whispered how tight I was, how long he’d wanted this.

“You feel that?” he murmured. “How deep I am?”

“Yeah. Don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping. Not until I fill you up again.”

When he came he stayed inside me and held me until he softened.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said against my skin.

“Neither do I.”

I left around noon. He walked me to the door and we stood there for a minute like neither of us knew how to say goodbye.

Finally he said, “You’re still listed. I’m not changing it.”

I looked at him and felt the weight of everything settle in my chest. Friendship. Betrayal. Love. Lust. All of it still there, thicker than ever.

“Neither am I,” I said.

“Come back soon.”

“I will.”

I got in my car and drove home with his come still drying on my skin and the taste of him in my mouth. That was six weeks ago. We’ve fucked four more times since then. Always when Lauren is gone. Always in the house they share. Always with the knowledge that what we’re doing is wrong and neither of us is stopping.

Last night he bent me over the kitchen counter and took me so hard I had to bite my own arm to keep from shouting.

“Harder,” I told him. “Fucking wreck me.”

“You want it rough?”

“Yeah. Give it to me.”

He did. When he finished he stayed buried in me and said, “I love you,” like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“I love you too,” I answered. “And I don’t know what the hell we’re supposed to do with that.”

“Neither do I. But I’m not stopping.”

“Me either.”

I don’t know how this ends. I only know that every time the phone rings and it’s him, my pulse still jumps the same way it did the night I found out I was still his emergency contact. And every time I answer, I already know I’m going to end up on my knees for him again.

***

All characters are 18+ and fully consenting

~~

Some friendships just kind of settle deeper than you ever expect them to.

I met Mateo freshman year in the dorms. Same floor, same shitty shared bathroom that always smelled like cheap body spray. We got close mostly because we were both up late all the time, gaming until two or three in the morning, and because neither of us could cook anything more complicated than ramen without setting off the smoke alarm.

By sophomore year, we were roommates.

Junior year, we moved into a cheap two-bedroom off campus with a third guy who was barely ever there anyway. Now we're both in our last semester, and somehow we're still stuck living together half the time because the lease doesn't end until August and neither of us has figured out what the hell we're doing for actual adult housing.

Mateo's been out since high school. He never made some huge thing out of it. He just lived his life. I always told myself it didn't change anything between us. We still watched the same games, talked the same shit about girls I was trying to get with, and passed out on the same couch after we'd had too many beers.

Sometimes he'd bring guys over. I'd put my headphones on and give him his privacy. He never pushed anything on me, and I never really asked questions that felt too personal.

It worked.

Last weekend, his parents were out of town, and he invited me over to their place for a "proper weekend instead of this dump."

Their house has a pool, a finished basement with a huge TV, and a fridge that actually has real food in it. Not just beer, takeout, and whatever the hell had been sitting in our fridge for three weeks.

I said yes without even thinking about it.

Nancy and I had been fighting again. Same old shit. Me not planning enough, me not being romantic enough, all that. I needed some space.

I told her I was crashing at Mateo's to help him clean the place up before his parents got back.

That was only half true.

We started with pizza and a six-pack each, just sitting on the basement couch and scrolling through absolutely nothing. The game was on mute because neither of us was really watching it anyway.

The conversation just kind of went where it always goes when it's only us and the alcohol starts kicking in.

He asked how things were with Nancy.

For once, I actually told him the truth.

Sex had gotten pretty mechanical. She finished maybe one time out of five, and honestly, I was starting to feel like I was performing instead of actually wanting it.

He listened like he always did. Didn't judge me or try to give me some big speech. Just nodded.

"You ever just want someone to take over for a night?" he asked, cracking open another beer. "Like, not have to think about the next move?"

I laughed.

"Yeah, but that's not really how it works with girls. You still gotta put in the effort or they check out."

He shrugged.

"Not always. Sometimes the other person just knows what they're doing and you get to shut your brain off."

I didn't answer right away.

For some reason, that stuck with me.

We kept drinking. The conversation moved on to random college stories, stupid shit we'd done, people we'd known, all of that. Somehow, we ended up talking about the fact that he'd never actually seen me fully naked, even after all these years of living together.

I called him a creep.

He called me a prude.

And somehow that turned into the kind of dumb dare that only happens when you're already half drunk and the house is empty.

"Fine," I said. "I'll strip if you do. Equal playing field."

We both stood up like idiots and started taking our shirts off..

His chest was smoother than mine. Less hair. He'd also gotten a lot more serious about the gym over the last year.

I looked him up and down and snorted. “Damn, bro. When the hell did you start taking the gym seriously?”

Mateo pulled his shirt off and tossed it at me. “When the hell did you start taking being a loser seriously?”

“Fuck you.”

“You first.”

I laughed and yanked my own shirt off. “Dude, you’ve gotten annoying as shit since you started lifting.”

“Jealous?”

“Of what? Your stupid little biceps?”

“They’re bigger than yours.”

“Okay, Arnold... Calm down.”

He laughed. “You still look like you get tired carrying groceries upstairs.”

“That's because I make other people carry them.”

“Yeah, I know. I've lived with you for three years.”

“Well at least… I don’t spend twenty minutes oiling up in the mirror before I leave the house.”

“Please... You wish you had something worth oiling.”

We both laughed at that, the dumb kind of laugh that only comes out when you’re already a few beers deep and the room feels a little looser. Pants came next. I kicked mine off without thinking too hard about it. He did the same. Then we just stood there in our underwear staring at each other like a couple of idiots who’d talked themselves into something and didn’t know how to stop.

“Alright, prude,” he said. “You first.”

“Hell no. Equal playing field, remember? We go together.”

He rolled his eyes but hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers. I did the same. On three we both shoved them down and stepped out.

There was a second of pure silence.

His cock was thicker than I expected, already half hard and resting heavy against his thigh. Mine was longer, thinner, and very obviously interested in whatever the hell was happening.

Mateo let out a low whistle.

“Jesus Christ! You’ve been hiding that thing this whole time?”

I felt my face get hot.

“Shut the fuck up, man.”

“I’m just saying. Nancy’s lucky. Or maybe not, if you’re only getting her off one out of five.”

“Wow… Real supportive.”

He grinned and took a step closer. Not touching yet, just close enough that I could feel the heat coming off him.

“You ever think about it? Like, actually think about it?”

“About what?”

“About shutting your brain off for once. Letting someone else run the show.”

I should’ve laughed it off. Should’ve grabbed my clothes and made some joke about him being a horny bastard and left it there. Instead I heard myself say,

“Maybe.”

"Want to see what it's like…?" he asked. "No strings, no labels. Just getting off with someone who already knows you?"

My mouth went dry, I whispered… “Maybe..”

His hand wrapped around my cock like it was the most natural thing in the world. First stroke was slow, testing. My hips jerked forward without permission. His hand was rougher than any girl’s.  He watched my face the whole time.

“Feel good?”

“Yeah.”

He kept stroking, thumb sliding over the head every few passes, spreading the precum that was already leaking. I reached for him without thinking and mirrored the motion. His cock felt solid, heavy, the skin shifting under my palm. He let out this low sound that went straight to my gut.

We ended up back on the couch, still facing each other, hands working in the same rhythm. He leaned in and kissed me, not so soft, and it wasn’t testing… It was full blown on tongue and everything. I froze for half a second and then kissed back harder than I meant to. His free hand grabbed the back of my neck and held me there. The kiss got messy fast… teeth, spit, both of us breathing hard through our noses.

When he pulled back he was already moving down. He dropped to his knees between my legs and took me into his mouth without warning. His warm mouth and the pressure, the flat of his tongue pressing along the underside while he sucked. I grabbed the edge of the couch cushion and stared at the ceiling because looking down at him doing that felt like it would short-circuit something in my head. He didn’t go slow. He took me deep, gagged once, adjusted so fast and kept going like he’d been waiting for permission.

I lasted maybe two minutes before I had to push him off or I was going to finish right there. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned up at me.

“Your turn if you want it.”

I did. I didn’t even pretend otherwise. I got on my knees and wrapped my mouth around him. The taste was clean, a little salty at the tip. I took as much as I could, used my hand on the rest, tried to copy what he’d done. He threaded his fingers into my hair and guided without forcing. Every time I looked up he was watching me with this half-lidded expression that made my stomach flip.

We switched again. Then he pulled me up onto the couch and turned me around so I was on all fours.

“Spit on my fingers,” Mateo said, voice low right behind me.

I turned my head just enough to look at him over my shoulder. He held his hand out, two fingers already close to my mouth. Something about the way he asked it… casual, like it was nothing, like he’d done this a hundred times… made my cock twitch hard against my stomach and a thick bead of precum leak out and string down onto the cushion. I spit.

He didn’t wipe it off or anything. Just rubbed his fingers together once and then pressed the tip of the first one against my hole.

“Breathe,” he muttered.

I did. He pushed slow. The burn hit right away, tight and sharp, but at the same time his other hand slid down the front of my hip and started rubbing along the V-line, slow and steady, like he was trying to distract my body from the stretch. His mouth was right at the back of my neck. Not kissing hard, just soft little presses of his lips, warm breath, the scrape of stubble as he nuzzled in closer.

I closed my eyes.

Everything narrowed down to that. The slow push of his finger, the way he kept rubbing that sensitive line on my hip, the heat of his mouth against my nape. I stopped tracking what he was doing. My head dropped forward and I just floated in it. The burn eased into this deep, open feeling, like my hole was getting wider without me even trying. I felt the stretch increase and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew he’d slipped a second finger in and crooked them.

That was when my cock jumped hard and a sound came out of my throat that I’d never made before…low, broken, almost like a moan I couldn’t hold back.

“Mmgggaaahhhh….”

“There it is,” he said, almost quiet. “That’s the one.”

He kept working me open until I was pushing back onto his hand. Then he pulled his fingers out, lined himself up, and pressed the head of his cock against me. The push in was slow, steady, no sudden force. I felt every inch. When he was fully inside he stayed still, both hands on my hips, letting me adjust.

“You good?”

“Yeah. Move.”

He did. Short strokes at first, then longer ones once the burn faded into something deeper. The angle hit that same spot over and over. My cock was leaking onto the couch cushion. I reached under myself and stroked in time with his thrusts. The wet sound of him fucking me filled the basement. His breathing got heavier. He leaned over my back, chest against my shoulders, and bit the side of my neck hard enough to leave a mark.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he muttered against my skin. 

I didn’t answer. I just pushed back harder, matching him. The orgasm built differently than any I’d had with a girl…lower, thicker, spreading through my whole lower body instead of just concentrating in my cock. When it hit I came hard, shooting across the cushion and my own hand, clenching around him so tight he cursed and drove in deeper.

He followed a few seconds later, hips stuttering, cock pulsing inside me as he came. He stayed buried for a long moment, forehead pressed between my shoulder blades, both of us breathing like we’d just finished a sprint.

When he finally pulled out I felt the warm slide of his cum following. I stayed on my hands and knees for a second longer than necessary, then collapsed onto my side. He dropped down next to me, one arm thrown over his eyes.

Neither of us spoke for a while. The TV was still on mute, some commercial cycling through. My body felt loose and sore in places I didn’t know could feel sore. My mind was quieter than it had been in months.

Eventually he turned his head and looked at me.

“You okay?”

I nodded.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

He glanced over at me again.

“So… how’re you feeling?”

 “Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty damn good.”

He laughed quietly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don't know. My head's just… quiet.”

“You ever get that feeling,” I said, “where you don't even wanna do anything? Just sit there and not think about shit?”

“All the time.”

I looked over at him. “Yeah. That's kinda what this feels like.”

He gave me a little smile. “Then don't do anything.”

“Wasn't planning on it….”

I swallowed slowly and finally said what was sitting in my chest.

“It’s weird…Mateo.. I feel… quiet. Like my head finally shut the fuck up for once. With Nancy it’s always this pressure, you know? Gotta make her finish, gotta last, gotta do it right or she’s gonna get that look. Here I didn’t have to do shit. You just… took over. And somehow that felt better than anything I’ve done in months.”

Mateo was quiet for a few seconds. Then he reached over and rested his hand on my lower back, not sexual, just there.

“That’s what I meant earlier,” he said. “About shutting your brain off. You don’t always have to be the one running the show.”

I turned my head and looked at him.

“Does it feel different for you? Doing it with a guy who’s never… you know.”

He shrugged one shoulder, but his eyes stayed honest.

“A little. I kept waiting for you to freeze up or tell me to stop. When you didn’t… yeah. It hit different.”

We both went quiet again. Mateo’s thumb moved in a slow circle on my back without him seeming to notice he was doing it.

We cleaned up with paper towels from the bar fridge. Neither of us put clothes back on right away. We just sat there naked on the couch that now had a wet spot we were both pretending not to notice. He grabbed two more beers and handed me one. The silence felt different this time… not awkward, just full.

I thought about Nancy, about the fights, about how I’d been going through the motions for months. Then I looked over at Mateo, his face lit up by the blue glow of the TV, and something in me settled that I hadn't expected. 

“So…” I said after a long pull of beer.

“So?”

“So what now? We just… go back to normal tomorrow?...Umm…That happen again or was it a one-time thing?”

He didn’t smile exactly, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Up to you, Mate... We can try… Or we can not pretend this didn’t happen. Either way I’m still your friend. That part doesn’t change.”

I nodded once. My throat felt tight for some reason.

“Okay.”

He gave my back a light pat and then pulled his hand away.

“You want another beer or you just wanna lie here for a bit?”

I thought about it.

“Lie here.”

“Alright.”

I just leaned back, let my knee rest against his, and watched the muted game. The weekend was still young. His parents weren’t due back until Monday. And for the first time in a long time I wasn’t already planning the next excuse or the next fight or the next half-hearted round of sex that left both people unsatisfied...

I took another drink and let the quiet sit between us. For once, I wasn't thinking about what came next 

~(^_^)~

-Haha💦🍑

All characters are 18+

--

I’m 25, born and raised in Chicago, work a marketing job that keeps me in nice clothes and air-conditioned offices, and the farthest I’d ever been into real countryside before this was a weekend wine thing upstate that still had decent Wi-Fi. 

Then my dad called and said his old friend Roy needed help moving some equipment and checking on the property for a week while Roy handled some medical stuff in the next town over. Roy had helped my dad out more than once when he was younger, and apparently there was nobody else in the family who could take the week off at such short notice. Dad couldn't go himself, so he asked me to do him the favour. I wasn't exactly thrilled about spending a week on a farm, but Dad made it clear how much the favour meant to him. So, I packed a bag, drove six hours south, and ended up in the middle of nowhere on a spread that smelled like dirt and animals the second I stepped out of the car.

Roy’s place was a decent-sized farmhouse with a big metal barn and cattle pens out back. His son Cole lived there full-time and ran most of the day-to-day. Cole was 28, taller than me, thicker through the chest and arms from actual work instead of a gym membership, with the kind of solid build that filled out a sweat-stained t-shirt in a way that kept pulling my eyes. 

The first time I saw him he was coming out of the barn in that dirty shirt and jeans that sat low on his hips, and I caught myself looking straight at the front of those jeans trying to make out the shape underneath the denim. I looked again when he bent to grab a tool. And again when he wiped his hands on his thighs. His body just sat there like a constant thirst trap every time he moved, the muscles in his arms shifting under the skin, the way his shoulders rolled when he lifted something heavy, and I kept finding reasons to glance down at the crotch of his pants to see if I could tell how big he was when he was soft.

That first night at dinner the three of us sat around the old wooden table. Roy was talking about the cattle and the weather. I was already running my mouth because the quiet made me itch.

“I don't know how you guys live out here,” I said, cutting into whatever was on my plate. “Seriously. No decent coffee, barely any restaurants, and everything smells like shit.”

Cole looked up. “You've been here, what, six hours?”

“Long enough.”

Roy laughed. “Give it a week.”

“I don't know, man. I might not make it that long.”

Cole shrugged and went back to eating. “You'll survive.”

I looked around the table. “And everybody dresses the same.”

Cole glanced up again. “What does that mean?”

“You know what I mean…those boots, jeans, work shirts. Everybody's built like a linebacker.”

Roy smiled. “That's a complaint?”

“I'm just saying, it's different.”

“Different how?” Cole asked.

“I don't know. You guys look like you actually do physical work.”

Cole gave a short laugh. “We do.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

Roy shook his head. “You ain't even been here a day buddy.”

“I know. I'm just observing.”

Cole took another bite. “Sure you are.”

I grinned. “What?”

“Nothing.”

I looked over at him again. “You ever get sick of it? The boots, the dirt, the whole farm thing?”

“Not really.”

“Really?”

“It's what I do.”

“Guess that's fair.”

I glanced towards the window and then back at him. “Still seems exhausting.”

Roy chuckled. “City's got its own problems, son.”

“Yeah, but at least ours don't smell like cow shit.”

Roy laughed.

Cole just shook his head. “You're gonna have a good week.”

“That's the plan.”

Roy changed the subject to the equipment that needed moving. Cole went back to eating but his eyes stayed on me longer than they needed to. I looked at the front of his jeans one more time under the table when he shifted in his chair. The denim was tight enough across the thigh that I could see the outline shift when he moved, and I hated how much I wanted a better look.

~(*--*)~

The next morning I was out by the cattle barn watching Cole and the hired hand work the steers. Cole’s shirt was already stuck to his back with sweat. Every time he reached up or pulled on a rope the muscles in his arms and shoulders stood out and I felt that same pull in my gut. I looked at his crotch again when he turned sideways. The jeans hung heavy in the front and I tried to figure out if what I was seeing was just the fabric or actual size. I opened my mouth because standing there quiet felt worse.

“You ever get tired of doing this all day?” I called over.

Cole looked back. “Doing what?”

“All of it… those cattle work in scorching heat and that mud.”

The hired hand laughed under his breath and kept working.

Cole shook his head. “Not really.”

“I don't know how you do it.”

“Somebody’s gotta do it… you get used to it.”

“Yeah, well. Couldn't be me… In the city, I'd pay somebody else to deal with this part.”

Cole finished latching the gate and walked over.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He looked at me for a second. “You gonna keep talking or you wanna actually help?”

“I didn't come here to be a farmhand.”

“I know.”

“I'm here as a favour.”

“Right.”

“I have a different skill set.”

Cole gave me a look. “A skill set?”

“Yeah.”

He shook his head, almost smiling. “Jesus!!”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He glanced towards the house.

“Roy's gonna be gone this afternoon.”

“Okay.”

“Come with me.”

I should have gone back to the house. Instead I followed him into the cattle barn. He slid the big door shut behind us and the light dropped. The air was warm and thick with the smell of animals and feed. Cole turned around and looked at me.

“Take your shirt off.”

I laughed. “What?”

“You heard me, city boy.”

I stared at him.

“Shirt Off. Now.”

“Cole, what the hell... ”

“Just take the goddamn thing off.”

I pulled it over my head because the way he said it didn’t leave room for another smart comment. Cole stepped in close. His chest was solid under the dirty shirt and I could smell the sweat on him. He grabbed my belt, yanked it open, and shoved my jeans and underwear down in one motion. My cock was already starting to fill out. Cole glanced down at it.

“Well look at that. Little city cock’s already getting hard”

He pushed me backward until the backs of my knees hit a low stack of feed bags and I sat down hard. Cole stepped between my legs, still fully dressed, and grabbed the front of my hair.

“So this is what you were doin’.”

“What?”

“Lookin’ at me like a fuckin’ slut.”

I didn’t answer.

“At dinner… and this morning”

“I wasn’t…”

“Oh come the fuck on”

He shook his head.

“You kept starin’ at my jeans like you wanted to drop to your knees right there.”

I swallowed.

“You been dyin’ to know what a real country man’s cock looks like, huh? Wonderin’ how thick this farm dick is?”

He undid his own jeans and pulled his cock out… Dang… fuckkkkk… It was thick and already hard, the head wet, I really wanted to suck that leaking head. He didn’t put it in my mouth. Instead he stepped in closer, pushed my shoulders back so I was leaning, and started grinding his cock against mine, dry and rough, the heat of him pressing through every stroke, that woke up all the sensation throughout my body.

“This what you were trying to figure out? How big this country cock is?”

I couldn’t get the words out clean. “I… I wasn’t… fuck… I wasn’t lookin’ at…”

“You were talkin’ all that shit last night, but you couldn’t stop eye-fuckin’ my crotch.”

He kept grinding against me. My hips pushed up without permission and a low sound came out of my throat.

“Whole time you’re sitting there acting like you’re above this place.”

He gave me a look.

“City boy.”

He laughed quietly.

“Too good for the farm, princess huh?”

“I’m not... ahhh... I’m not some fucking… princess,” I managed, voice catching. The friction was filthy and dry and it made another moan slip out before I could stop it. Anger burned under the heat of it. I hated how hard I was. I hated that he could feel it. “Get off me, man, I didn’t... nghhh... I didn’t ask for this... ”

He kept humping against me, his heavy cock sliding along mine, one hand locked in my hair so I had to look up at him.

“Look at you.. Already leaking and moaning”

“Fuck… you,” I stuttered, the words breaking on a moan. “You think this makes you... ah... shit... better? You’re just some… some farm... ”

“All that attitude and now you’re sittin’ here with your little city cock hard as fuck.”

He grinned.

“Still got something smart to say, city princess?”

I shook my head hard but the denial came out broken. “I’m not…princess…. Fucking stop calling me that. I’m not hard because of you… it’s just... fuck... it’s just the... ”

“Just the what? The air out here? Bullshit. You’re hard ‘cause you been wantin’ this country dick since you first saw me walk out the barn.”

He kept the pressure going, slow and mean, hand still locked in my hair, that made me moan so loud.

“Look at you.. Aw, City princess can’t even finish a fucking sentence without moaning”

After a long minute he stepped back, spit in his hand, and pushed two thick fingers into my ass without warning. I clenched and a sharp sound tore out of me.

“Fuckin’ tight..,” he muttered. “Haha…Figured a city boy would be.”

“Don’t... don’t fucking... ah... Cole, stop, I’m not... ” My voice cracked into a moan as he worked the fingers deeper. The humiliation sat hot in my chest. I wanted to shove him off. I wanted to tell him to go to hell. Instead my body kept opening for him and the anger only made the sounds worse. “You can’t just... nghhh... you can’t just do this because I talked shit... ”

He pulled his fingers out, lined himself up, and pushed the head in. The stretch burned. He didn’t stop. He kept steady pressure until he was buried all the way inside and his hips were flush against me.

“There you go, take the country cock.”

He looked down at me.

“Still think we’re so damn ridiculous?”

“I… fuck… I didn’t mean... ah God... Cole, wait... ” The words dissolved into a long broken moan as he bottomed out. My hands gripped the feed bag. Anger and shame and the thick stretch of him all hit at once. “You’re a fucking... arrgghh.. ugh... asshole for this... ”

“All that big-city talk, and now look at you. Ass full of farm dick.”

He started thrusting, deep and hard, one hand still in my hair and the other gripping my thigh hard enough to leave marks. Every stroke knocked the air out of me and pulled another sound from my throat.

“You spent all night making fun of us.”

He thrust again.

“Our boots, our work and even the way we look.”

Another thrust. I tried to speak and only managed a stuttered “f-fuck… you…” that turned into a moan halfway through.

“Now you can’t even talk straight with this country cock stretching you open.”

He fucked me harder.

“You really couldn’t keep your fucking eyes off me, could you?”

“I wasn’t... ah shit... I wasn’t staring at your… your cock, I was just... ” My voice broke completely when he hit a spot that made my whole body jolt. The denial sounded weak even to me. The anger was still there but it was getting harder to hold onto while he drove into me like he had every right.

“Thought so. Those city boys you live with… ain’t built strong enough to stretch your attitude-filled asshole wide open… right? That’s why you kept staring at this country cock. You wanted a real farm dick to force that stuck-up city asshole open so fucking wide you can’t even talk shit anymore.”

“Aaagghhh…. fuck… nngh… oh God…” The moan tore out of me loud and broken. Those humiliating words hit harder than his thrusts, lighting me up in the worst way. My body just took it, clenching around him while my brain started agreeing without permission.

All those gym guys back home suddenly felt soft and pointless. Their carefully carved muscles didn’t have shit on this. Cole’s country strength was different… so raw, heavy, earned from actual farm work. God, those fucking thighs… thick and flexing hard every time he slammed into me, pinning me down like I weighed nothing. 

And his arms… fuck, I wanted to shove my face straight into his armpit right then. Didn’t even care how sweaty and dirty he smelled. I just wanted to stuff my nose in there and breathe him in deep, then drag my tongue over those solid biceps while he kept stretching me open.

“Y-yeah… fuck… okay… just..ahh..” The words slipped out between moans, half agreement, half surrender, and I hated how true they felt.

He reached down and stroked me in time with his hips and the dual pressure made my whole body lock up. I came first, shooting across my own stomach while my ass clenched around him and a raw broken sound tore out of my mouth. Cole cursed under his breath and drove in deep, pulsing hard as he filled me up.

He stayed inside for a long moment, breathing against my neck, then pulled out slowly. I felt his cum start to leak out of me onto the feed bag. Cole looked down at the mess.

“Clean that shit up.”

I hesitated, still shaking, still angry at how easily he’d put me here. “I’m not your... fucking toy… fuckkk.. I’m not just gonna... ”

He grabbed my hair again, not hard enough to really hurt but firm enough to make the point.

“I said clean it the fuckup.”

The last of the fight went out of me in a shaky breath. I leaned forward and took his cock in my mouth, tasting both of us. He let me suck him clean and then pulled me up by the hair and looked me in the eye.

“You’re gonna act normal when Roy gets back.”

I nodded, throat still tight.

“Don’t say a fucking word about this.”

Another nod. The anger was still sitting in my chest but it had nowhere to go.

“And if I come looking for your city ass again while you’re here?”

I looked at him. My voice came out rough. “I’ll… I’ll do what you tell me.”

“Good.”

He let go of my hair and stepped back, tucking himself away like nothing had happened. I was still sitting there on the feed bags with my jeans around my ankles, cum leaking out of me, chest rising and falling too fast.

Cole looked me over one more time, that same half-smirk on his face.

“Why’d you even come out here in the first place?”

I swallowed. 

“My dad… he asked me to. Said Roy needed help moving equipment and watching the place while he handled medical stuff in the next town. Dad couldn’t make it, and Roy helped him out years ago, so… I said yes.”

Cole gave a short nod, like that checked out.

“Since last night… have you helped with anything?”

I shook my head slowly, guilt started to creep inside my heart. “No.”

He smirked. “You want this country cock again?”

I glared up at him, jaw tight, trying to hold onto whatever pride I had left. But my body answered for me. My cock twitched hard against my stomach and started filling out again, standing up right in front of him like a traitor.

Cole glanced down at it and let out a quiet laugh.“Haha, yeah. Thought so.”

He reached down and gave himself a slow stroke, still half-hard.

“If you want this cock up in your ass again… you gonna earn it... you’re gonna help move all the equipment and work while you’re here. Got it?”

I didn’t say anything.

“And your city princess hands ain’t gonna get rusty doing all that work either.... so dont worry about it”

I nodded once, still glaring, still breathing hard.

Inside, though… a fucked-up little part of me felt almost happy. 

There was a chance…. A real fucking chance my hole would get to feel that thick country dick stretching it open again.

~~~

What work is he gonna have to do to earn that country cock again?🤔🤔

Everyone's 18+ and fully consenting

--

I’m Evan. 27. I work the overnight shift at a self-storage place on the edge of town. Eleven to seven. Most nights nobody shows up after midnight. I sit in the little office, watch cameras, and try not to fall asleep.

Last Thursday a truck pulled up at 1:14 a.m. Guy got out looking pissed. Mid-thirties, broad, short hair, wearing a wrinkled T-shirt and jeans. He walked in and dropped his wallet on the counter.

“I need unit 214. Locked myself out of my apartment. Girlfriend changed the locks after we had it out. Spare key’s in the unit.”

I pulled up the account. “ID and the code.”

He handed over his license. Name was Derek. I gave him the gate code and the unit code. He left. Ten minutes later he was back.

“Key’s not there. She must’ve moved it. Fuck.”

He stood there with his hands on the counter, jaw tight. I poured two coffees from the pot and slid one over.

“You got somewhere to go?”

“Not really. Parents are two hours away. Not calling them at this hour.”

We ended up talking. He told me the fight had been building for months. She wanted marriage. He wasn’t ready. Tonight she threw his clothes in the hallway and changed the locks while he was at the bar.

“I’ve been hard since I left the bar,” he said out of nowhere. “Stupid, right? Fight with your girl and all you can think about is needing to fuck.”

I didn’t say anything.

He looked at me longer than he needed to. “You’re the only person I’ve talked to in hours. And you keep looking at my mouth.”

I felt my face get hot. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He stepped around the counter. “Place empty?”

“Yeah. Cameras are on but nobody watches them live this late.”

He locked the office door. Walked up to me until I had to tilt my head back.

“I’ve never done anything with a guy,” he said. “But right now I don’t give a shit.”

He kissed me hard. Tasted like beer and coffee. His hands went under my shirt, then lower. He shoved my pants down and wrapped his hand around me. I was already hard.

“Office or somewhere else?” he asked.

“Unit 40 is empty. No camera inside.”

We walked out there in the dark. He pulled the door shut behind us. The unit was bare concrete and metal walls. He pushed me against the wall, dropped to his knees, and took my cock in his mouth like he’d been thinking about it the whole walk over. He wasn’t careful. He just sucked hard and used his hand at the same time.

I pulled him up. “I want you to fuck me.”

He spun me around, spit on his fingers, and worked me open fast. Then he pushed in. No slow start. Just one long thrust until he was all the way inside. I braced my hands on the wall and took it.

He fucked me hard. The metal walls made every sound louder. His hips slapped against me. He kept one hand on the back of my neck, holding me there.

“Tight as fuck,” he muttered. “Been needing this.”

He reached around and stroked me in time with his thrusts. I came first, shooting onto the concrete floor. He followed right after, buried deep, filling me in thick pulses. He stayed inside until he finished, then pulled out slow. I felt it run down my leg.

We fixed our clothes without talking. Walked back to the office. He drank the rest of his coffee.

“I’m getting a hotel,” he said. “But if you’re working tomorrow night…”

“I’ll be here.”

He nodded once and left. I sat back in the chair and stared at the cameras. My legs were still shaking. The office smelled like sex and cheap coffee. I already knew I’d be looking at the clock the next night, waiting to see if his truck pulled in again.

--

All characters are 18+ and fully consenting

--

I’m Tyler. 26. I’ve lived with Jake for a year and a half in a two-bedroom place on the east side. He’s straight. Has been the whole time. Goes out with girls every few weeks, nothing serious. Works nights at the warehouse loading trucks. Comes home tired, eats whatever’s in the fridge, crashes. We’ve always gotten along. Split everything down the middle. Never really fought.

But for months he’s been different.

If I’m out past eleven he texts. Not a lot. Just “you good?” or “when you heading back?” If someone drops me off he waits by the window until the car leaves. One time I had a guy over for drinks and Jake stayed in the living room the entire time with the TV on loud, even though he said he was going to bed. He never says he’s jealous. Never says anything direct. He just acts like he’s got some right to know where I am and who I’m with.

I finally got a Saturday free. First one in weeks. Texted three friends.... Marcus, Devon, and Chris. Told them to come over around seven. We used to hang all the time before work got crazy. I told Jake they were coming. He just said “okay” and went to his room.

They showed up with beer and pizza. We sat on the floor in my room like we used to. Talking about nothing important. Work. Old stories. Who was dating who. Jake kept walking past the open door. First time I figured he needed something from the kitchen. Second time he just looked in and kept going. Third time Marcus raised an eyebrow.

“Your roommate always do that?”

“He’s been in a mood,” I said.

Devon took a sip of his beer. “Feels like we walked into something.”

Chris checked the time on his phone. “I should probably head out. Early shift.”

Marcus left twenty minutes later. Devon lasted another half hour and then said he had to go too. Just like that the room was empty. Pizza still open. Beers half-finished. The whole thing lasted maybe two hours.

I walked out to the living room. Jake was on the couch with his phone, pretending nothing happened.

“What the hell was that?”

He didn’t look up. “What?”

“You. Walking by every five minutes. Staring in here like they were stealing something. They felt weird. That’s why they left.”

He shrugged without looking at me. “Didn’t do anything.”

That shrug hit me wrong. All the little things from the last few months stacked up at once.

“You’re acting like my fucking boyfriend,” I said. My voice came out louder than I planned.

Jake finally put the phone down and looked at me. “So what if I act like that?”

I stared at him. My chest felt tight. The words came out before I could stop them.

“Then at least have the balls to fuck me.”

The room went quiet. Jake stood up slow. Walked over until he was right in front of me. He pushed me back. My legs hit the edge of the bed and I sat down hard.

He pulled his shorts down. No underwear. His cock was already filling out, thick, heavy, with a pair of full balls underneath.

“I do have balls,” he said.

I looked at them wide eyes... “So fucking huge..."

I dropped to my knees on the floor after seeing the huge balls, I couldn't stop myself from salivating. I took both of them in my hand, and damn... fuck... they were so warm and heavy. I sucked one into my mouth, then the other, rolling them with my tongue. Jake’s hand settled on the back of my head. His breathing changed, it got deeper.

I kept going until his cock was fully hard, standing straight out. His legs started to shake a little. That did something to me. Made me feel steady for the first time all night. I looked up at him while I still had one ball in my mouth.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath.

I pulled off and stood up. He pushed me onto the bed again, harder this time. Climbed up after me. We got the rest of our clothes off without talking. His body was solid from the warehouse work... shoulders, chest, arms. He spit in his palm and reached down, pushing two fingers into me while I stroked him.

“You sure about this?” he asked. His voice was rough.

“Yeahh...”

He lined up and pushed in slow. It burned... heck... I grabbed the sheets and breathed through it until he was all the way inside. He stayed still for a second, forehead against mine, just breathing.

Then he started moving with deep strokes. The bed knocked against the wall. I hooked my legs around him and pulled him in closer. He went harder. One hand by my head, the other gripping my hip.

He kept thrusting... Not too rough, but hard enough that the bed kept hitting the wall. Deep every time. I could feel him all the way in.

“Now... say... do I have balls?” he asked, voice low and rough. “Do I?”

I moaned. Couldn’t help it.

“Does it smacking your ass? Does it?”

“Yeah… aahh… yeah…” I groaned.

“I can feel it's smacking my f-fucking ass… you do... aahhh.. You do have balls… arrggghhh…”

He fucked me steady like that, hips slapping against me. I kept moaning every time he bottomed out. His hand stayed on my hip, holding me in place.

After a while his rhythm got shorter and faster. He pulled out sudden, stroked himself twice, and came across my ass. Thick ropes landed warm on my skin, some sliding down toward the sheets.

He was still hard enough. He reached under me, grabbed my cock, and jerked it fast. Aimed it down. I came hard, shooting onto his balls while they were still drawn up tight. My cum landed on them in a couple of pulses as they started to soften.

His hand was still loosely around me. My ass was wet with his load. His balls were wet with mine.

Neither of us said anything for a minute...

We both dropped onto the bed side by side. Cocks soft now. Mine against my thigh, his resting on his stomach. The room smelled like sweat and sex. Ceiling fan was the only thing moving.

Jake looked down between us and smirked.

“Can you see my balls now? Coated in your seed?” he said, then shook his hips side to side so his soft dick and balls swung around.

I turned my head and watched them flop. His balls were still shiny with my cum, bouncing a little with every shake. I laughed hard. The real kind. The kind that comes out when the whole situation is so stupid and perfect you can’t help it.

“Jesus Christ, stop swinging them around like that,” I said between laughs. “You’re gonna fling my cum onto the wall.”

“Is your balls really straight?"

"I don’t think so… after tasting pure gay cum.”

Jake snorted. “Shut up.”

I kept going. “Still just... friends?”

He laughed louder this time and turned his head toward me.

“After my dick tasted your hole… you still want me to be just friends?”

He shook his head like he couldn’t believe the question. Then he reached over and gave my chest a light shove, after pulling my right pec.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeahhhh,” I said with eyes rolling back. “But I’m an idiot... with your cum on my ass.”

“When you gonna let my tongue taste your ass?”

My eyes went wide. I actually froze for a second. The question came out so casual, like he was asking if I wanted another beer. But the idea hit me hard. Tempting as hell. I could already picture it.

I smirked and reached down between his thighs. His cock was soft and heavy in my hand. I gave it a slow squeeze, then rolled his balls with my fingers. They were still a little damp from my cum.

“After my tongue tastes these huge balls,” I said. “I want them in my mouth again first. Both of them... very nice and slow. Then you can bury your face wherever you want.”

Jake laughed, the sound low and rough.

“You’re greedy as shit.”

“You’re the one who just came on my ass and asked to eat it. Don’t act surprised.”

He shook his head, still smiling, and pushed his hips up a little into my hand.

“Ugh.. Fine. Balls first. But I’m holding you to it.”

“Deal”

----

🍑💦

All characters are 18+

--

I stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked up. Three floors… fucking three… and no elevator. The hallway smelled like old carpet and something sour that never left. I sighed hard.

At least I got a place to live now, all thanks to my high school friend, Lucas

I grabbed the first box from the stack by the door. That’s heavy as hell, and I started climbing. 

My name is Alex. Twenty-eight. Two days ago I still had an apartment and a job that was already falling apart. Now I had this one-bedroom on the third floor of a building that looked like it hadn’t been painted since the nineties and a pile of boxes that felt heavier every step.

Halfway up the first flight the whole mess played back in my head again.

Three months behind on rent. The landlord showed up tuesday afternoon… He knocked so hard.

Three sharp hits…

I opened the door. Landlord stood there in a stained work shirt, face already red, I could already see what’s coming next. I took a deep breath to face that shit.

“Three months, Alex. Thirty-six hundred. Right now.”

I pulled my wallet out. I counted what I had, thirty six hundred, But I just took out twelve hundred, for one month rent, the rest was supposed to cover food for the next few weeks.

“I’ve got one month here,” I said, holding the bills out. “I’ll get you the rest as soon as…”

He grabbed the whole wallet out of my hand before I finished, he flipped it open and counted the cash fast.

“Twelve hundred… twenty-four… thirty-six. Exactly what I needed. Nice.”

He shoved the money in his pocket and threw the empty wallet at my face. It hit my cheek and dropped to the floor.

“Get your shit and get out. I’m done with your poor-ass excuses. Two days. That’s it.”

“Come on, man, just give me a little time..”

“Time? My wife’s been on my ass for weeks because of you. Every night it’s ‘when’s that deadbeat paying’ and ‘we’re short because of that apartment.’ I’m sick of hearing it. Sick of you. Move your ass out of my place. Two days. After that I change the locks and whatever’s left goes in the dumpster.”

He turned and walked off down the hall without looking back.

That night I sat on the couch scrolling names in my phone. Calling anybody felt wrong. I never answered when people called me. Money problems make you small and quiet. Still, I stopped on Lucas. High school friend. We used to be tight as hell. I went to college. He stayed and took over his dad’s plumbing business. We lost touch after that.

I hit a call. It rang twice. I hung up fast. Threw the phone on the couch and lay down. Thought about the layoff. Me and ten other people gone in one meeting. At least I got the bonus and two months’ pay upfront. I hadn’t touched most of it. That money was the only reason I still had a shot at anything.

I couldn’t keep thinking about all that shit. The eviction, the money, the empty wallet still on the floor. I opened my laptop and put on gay porn just to shut my brain off, yeah I am secretly gay.

Two guys in a swimming pool… they are best friends. The bigger one, all muscle, stood behind the other in the water. He pulled the guy’s shorts down slowly, pressed his cock right against his ass, and when the other turned around they started kissing hard. It was so wet and messy, the kind of kiss that makes your stomach tighten.

I shoved my own shorts down, pulled my cock out, and started stroking it slowly. Getting it hard while I watched. It felt good and simple. Better than thinking about all the shits, that life threw at me.

That’s when the phone rang.

I almost let it go. Almost. But I paused the video and answered, still holding myself.

“What’s up, buddy?”

I didn’t say anything at first. I just kept my hand moving slowly on my cock.

“Alex?”

“L-Lu-Lucas… how are you, buddy?”

“Good, bud. How are you?”

That voice. Low and steady. It hit me harder than the video. My cock jumped in my hand, got so hard it almost hurt. I squeezed the tip and it twitched. My toes curled up tight.

“Not good,” I said. My breathing was already heavy.

“What happened? You good?”

“Yeah… I called b-because… I need a place to live, Ca-n you help me with t-that?”

Silence… Long… too long. I wanted to hang up and pretend none of this was happening.

I laid my cock down on my stomach and started rubbing the underside with my fingers, rolling my balls slow. The silence made everything louder... fuck my heartbeat... the wet sound of my hand.

Then he spoke again.

“Next door to me is empty. The family moved out because the place leaks bad when it rains. The owner never fixed it. It’s summer now so that won’t matter for a while. One bedroom. Nine-fifty a month. I can talk to the guy, maybe get it lower. I’m right next door.”

The word “leak” went straight through me. My cock started dripping precum right away. I stroked faster, trying to keep my voice normal while my whole body was wound tight. I was happy…actually happy… for the first time in days. And I was right on the edge at the same time.

“You still on the line, Alex? Alex?”

The phone was sitting near my thigh. I didn’t know if he could hear the wet slap of my hand. I didn’t care enough to stop.

All I could think about was the load building up. I fell back on the bed hard, still gripping my cock, jerking it fast. My hips kept thrusting up like I was fucking something. Breath coming out in short grunts I couldn’t hold back.

Then it hit. A thick rope shot out and landed right on my thigh, next to the phone. Another one followed. Some of it splattered onto the phone itself… the warm and sticky cum on the name Lucas. 

I just lay there for a few minutes, chest rising and falling, hand still loosely around my cock. Trying to get my breathing back to normal. My head felt empty in a good way for once.

Then I picked the phone up. Call was still going. No sound on the other end. My stomach dropped. What if he heard everything?

“Lucas…?”

“Oh, Alex. Where were you, man? I thought you were gone.”

“Nah. Thanks, man. For your help. Can I come tomorrow?”

“Good… I’ll send the address.”

I ended the call.

***

That was how I ended up here.

I kept climbing with the heavy box. Third floor. Arms shaking. Legs burning. Sweat running down my back. I took another step and my foot slipped on the edge of the stair.

“Fuck my life,” I said out loud. Ready for the fall, the broken bones, the hospital bills I couldn’t pay.

Strong hands grabbed me from behind. One arm locked around my chest. The other caught the box before it dropped. He pulled me back against him hard. Solid. Steady. Warm.

I got my feet under me and turned to say thanks. The guy was bigger, in his tank top, thick arms, chest that filled the fabric.

“Thank you,” I said, already trying to step back because those muscles were making me sweat for a whole different reason.

“Yo buddy. Alex. It’s me, Lucas.”

WTF!!

My foot slipped again. This time I went forward. He reached but missed. My face hit the landing. Not hard enough to break anything, just enough to sting and leave me flat on the floor with the box beside me.

“Shit,” Lucas said, crouching down. “You okay?”

I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. “Yeah. Just perfect. Two times in one minute..damn.”

He helped me sit up. The tank top was damp with sweat. His arms looked like they belonged to someone who lifted pipe all day.

“Y-you got b-bigger,” I said, because fuck… He was not the Lucas, i know. He is bigger, not the lean kid he used to be

“Plumbing will do that. Are you good to stand?”

“Yeah.”

He pulled me up, kept a hand on my shoulder until I was steady, then took the heavy box like it weighed nothing.

“I’ve got the rest of these. You grab the light ones. No more face-plants today.”

We finished the move in under an hour. He carried the heavy shit. I handled the lighter boxes and the bags. Inside the apartment the walls had water stains near the ceiling. The kitchen was narrow as hell. The bedroom fits a mattress and not much else. But the door locked and the lights worked.

Lucas set the last box down and wiped his face with the bottom of his tank top. “Beer? I brought a couple.”

We sat on the floor against the wall. He cracked the cans and handed me one. Cold.

“You really weren’t gonna call anyone else, were you?” he asked.

“Didn’t want the questions. Or the look people get when they find out you’re broke.”

“It’s not a question. It’s a roof. You’re allowed to need one, man.”

I drank. The beer helped. His shoulder was close. Heat came off him steadily.

“How’s the business?”

“Busy as hell. Dad’s mostly out of it now. Kids from the last relationship are with their mom this month. The place is quiet for once.”

I nodded. “Layoff took the job. Bonus and two months’ pay. That’s what’s covering this place.”

“You’ll find something. You were always the one who landed on your feet.”

We talked longer than I planned.

Lucas took another sip of his beer and leaned his head back against the wall.

“You remember Danny?” he asked.

“Yeah. Always had that busted skateboard.”

“He’s still around. Works at the same auto shop on Fifth. Married some girl from the next town over. Two kids already. Saw him at the hardware store last month. Same dumb haircut.”

I laughed once. “Figures.”

“What about Jenna Clark?”

“The one who sat in front of me in history?”

“That’s her. She’s a nurse now. Lives about twenty minutes from here. Still single last I heard. Her brother got locked up a couple years back. Stupid shit with pills.”

I nodded and drank. The beer was getting warm but I didn’t care.

“Mike Torres still in town?” I asked.

“Nah. Moved to Arizona. Something about better construction work. Married a girl he met online. Posts pictures of his truck every other day like it’s his kid.”

“Sounds about right.”

Lucas smirked. “You remember that party at Chris’s place? When Mike tried to jump the fence and wiped out?”

“I thought he broke his wrist.”

“He did... Still has the scar. I saw it when he came back for Christmas two years ago.”

We kept going like that. Name after name. Some people still lived five minutes away. Some had kids. Some got divorced already. A few just disappeared and nobody knew where they went. The conversation bounced around easy… No big silences. Just two guys catching up after too many years.

The apartment stayed warm. The window is open. Street noise coming up from below…cars, someone yelling, a dog barking once in a while. The beer cans piled up between us on the floor.

Lucas stretched his legs out.

“You ever talk to any of them.. Alex?” he asked.

“Not really. Lost touch with most people when I stepped into college.”

“Oh.. yeah…. Work takes over…. Kids take over… Next thing you know it’s been years.”

I nodded. Didn’t say anything else for a bit, because after college, we both too, didn’t get in touch. Just sat there drinking and listening to the street.

After a while Lucas stood up and brushed off his jeans.

“I’m next door. Knock if you need anything.”

I walked him to the door. He turned back before opening it.

“You sure you’re good?”

“Yeah”

‘He got so bigger and bulkier….damn’

---

All characters are adults (18+) and fully consenting

--

I’m Jordan. 27. I drive for a furniture company. Mattresses, sofas, the heavy shit. I keep to myself most days. When I need to blow off steam I hit a club on a Friday night, find someone, and leave before morning. Nothing serious. Never has been.

My usual partner on the truck is Chris. 35. Divorced two years. Two kids, eight and eleven, every other weekend. He’s quiet, solid, the kind of guy who shows up early and doesn’t complain. We’ve worked the same route for almost a year. He knows I go out. I know he has the kids. We don’t talk about either much.

Last Thursday we had a late drop. King mattress and frame to a new build out past the highway. Owners weren’t moving in until Monday. Key in the lockbox. Empty house. Rain starting when we pulled up.

We got the frame put together in the master bedroom. Chris wiped his hands on his jeans and looked around.

“This place is bigger than my whole apartment,” he said.

“Yeah.”

He sat on the edge of the bare mattress and cracked a water. “Kids would lose their minds over a yard that size. I keep telling myself I’ll get something better once the child support settles down. Never happens.”

I sat on the other side of the mattress. “How are they?”

“Good. Loud. The younger one asked last weekend why I don’t live with Mom anymore. I gave him the short version. He still doesn’t get it.”

I nodded. “You seeing anybody?”

He shook his head. “Not really. Tried a couple dates. Felt weird. Like I was borrowing time from the kids. What about you? Still doing the club thing?”

“Sometimes. When it gets bad enough.”

He looked at me for a second. “Does it help?”

“For a night. Then it’s the same again.”

Chris drank more water. The rain got heavier on the windows. The house was dead quiet except for that.

“I’ve been thinking about something stupid,” he said.

“What?”

“You.”

I stayed still. “Chris..”

“I know. You’re a guy. I’ve never done that. But I’ve been hard half the day watching you lift that frame. And I keep thinking you probably don’t make it complicated. You just take what you need and go.”

Goddd… this is a bad idea, Was it really a bad idea?

“You’re serious.”

“Yeah. Door’s locked. No one’s coming until Monday. You can tell me to shut up and we’ll finish the paperwork. Or you can stay right there.”

I didn’t move.

He stood, pulled his shirt off, then pushed his pants and boxers down. His cock was thick, already hard, the head wet. He stroked it once and looked at me.

“You want it or not?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded at the mattress. “On your stomach.”

I got on the plastic-covered mattress. He pulled my pants and underwear down to my thighs. I heard him spit, then felt two fingers push into me. He worked them steady, not rough, just enough.

“Fuck, you’re warm,” he muttered.

He pulled his fingers out, lined up, and pushed in slow. The stretch was sharp. I gripped the plastic and breathed until he was all the way in.

“Christ,” he said. “That’s tight.”

He started moving. Deep strokes. The mattress shifted under us. Rain kept hitting the glass. Every time he went in I felt it low in my gut.

“Harder,” I said.

He gave it to me. Hands on my hips, pulling me back onto him. The plastic crinkled under my chest. I was loud and I didn’t care.

“I’m gonna come in you,” he said, voice low. “That okay?”

“Do it.”

He drove in deep and stayed there, pulsing hard. Thick heat flooded me in heavy spurts. I felt every one of them. It pushed me straight over the edge. My cock jerked hard against the plastic and I came in long, thick ropes. The first shot hit and stayed. The next ones kept coming until a warm puddle spread under my stomach and chest, sticky and wet against the plastic cover.

Chris stayed buried for a few more seconds, still twitching inside me. Then he pulled halfway out. His hand landed between my shoulder blades and shoved me flat. My face pressed into the mattress. My chest and stomach sank straight into the puddle of my own cum. It smeared warm across my skin.

He pulled the rest of the way out. I heard him spit once, then the wet sound of his hand moving fast on his cock. He jerked hard and quick right above me. The first rope hit the middle of my spine, hot and thick. The next ones kept coming… long, heavy stripes landing one after another down my back, some sliding toward my sides, some staying right along the ridge of my spine. He kept stroking until the last few weaker spurts dripped onto my lower back.

He let out a rough breath and stopped.

I stayed face-down in the mess, feeling the cooling cum on my stomach and the fresh ropes cooling on my back.

Chris stood up and pulled his pants back on. He looked at the smashed puddle on the plastic and the stripes across my skin.

“We’ll flip the cover. No one’ll notice.”

I fixed my clothes. My legs still felt off. Chris grabbed the edge of the plastic mattress cover.

“Come on. Help me.”

We both took corners. The puddle of my sticky cum had already started spreading toward the middle. When we lifted and flipped the whole thing in one go, the wet mess slid slowly across the plastic with a soft, ugly sound. A thick streak of it ran sideways and almost dripped off the side before the cover settled upside-down. A couple of the ropes he’d shot on my back had transferred onto the plastic too. They smeared into long pale lines as the cover landed.

Chris stared at it for a second.

“Well. That’s not going anywhere now.”

I snorted. “Real professional.”

He shrugged and smoothed the edges down like nothing had happened. “Plastic’s plastic. They’ll never know.”

We grabbed the clipboard and locked up. Rain was still coming down hard when we got in the truck. Chris turned the key and pulled out of the driveway. The cab smelled like rain, sweat, and that plastic we’d just flipped.

“Next stop’s twenty minutes out. You driving?”

“You can.”

I sat there a minute, then looked over.

“You think they’ll find out?”

“Find out what?”

“About the mattress. Fuck… that’s a damn new mattress. Customers. What if they peel the cover back or something?”

Chris kept his eyes on the road. “They’re not peeling shit. People don’t inspect the plastic. They cut it off and throw it away. Relax.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who left a whole puddle under there.”

He glanced at me, almost smiling. “You left the puddle. I just added the finishing touches on your back.”

“Asshole.”

“You’re welcome.”

We drove in silence for a bit. The wipers dragged across the windshield. I kept shifting in the seat because the back of my shirt was still a little damp from where his cum had soaked through.

Chris spoke up again. “Kids are with me this weekend. But after I drop them off Sunday night… if you want.”

I stared at the wet road.

“Yeah,” I said. “Text me.”

He nodded. Neither of us said much the rest of the way to the next stop. I kept thinking about that flipped cover and the way the mess had slid across it. Part of me wanted to laugh. Part of me already knew I’d answer the text on Sunday.

--

Mm.... I feel sorry for the customer🥺🥹😔

All characters are 18+
--

I’ve lived next to Ryan for two years. He’s 34, married, works construction, built like he still hits the gym every morning. Tall, thick arms, easy smile, the kind of guy who waves when he sees you taking out the trash. His wife, Jenna, is nice enough. They seem solid. I’ve jerked off more than once thinking about him, but I kept it locked down. He’s straight. Married. Off-limits.

I’m Sam, 28. Openly gay, a quiet one and I work remote and mostly keep to myself.

Last Friday the storm hit hard. Power went out across the whole building around 9. Phones still worked but everything else was dead. I was sitting on my couch with a flashlight when someone knocked.

Ryan stood there in a t-shirt and shorts, hair damp from the rain in the hallway.

“Hey. Jenna’s at her sister’s for the weekend. My place is pitch black and the beer’s getting warm. Mind if I hang for a bit?”

I let him in. We sat on the floor with the flashlight between us and cracked the warm cans. Talk stayed normal at first... work, the storm, how the elevator was probably stuck.

After the second beer he went quiet for a while.

“You ever get so fucking pent up you can’t think straight?” he asked.

I looked at him. “Sometimes.”

He laughed once, short. “Jenna and I… it’s been off. She’s been stressed with her job. We’ve barely done anything in months. And when we do, it’s quick. She says I’m too much. I get it. I’m not small. But shit, man. I’m climbing the walls.”

Don’t go there. Don’t.

“That sucks,” I said.

“Yeah.” He took another drink. The flashlight flickered. His knee brushed mine. He didn’t move it. “You’ve been looking at me different lately.”

My stomach dropped. “What?”

“I’m not dumb, Sam. I notice. And right now I don’t really care that I’m married and you’re a dude. I just need to fuck someone who can actually take it.”

I should have told him to leave. I didn’t.

“You serious?”

“Yeah.”

He set the can down, stood up, and pulled his shirt off. Even in the weak light his chest and stomach looked solid. He pushed his shorts down. His cock was already hard, thick, heavy, the kind that makes your mouth go dry.

“Holy shit,” I muttered.

“You want it or not?”

I nodded.

He stepped closer. “Then get on your knees.”

I did. I wrapped my hand around him and took the head in my mouth. He was already leaking. I worked him slow at first, then deeper. He put a hand on the back of my head and started thrusting, controlled but firm.

“Fuck, that’s better already,” he said. “Keep going.”

I did until my jaw ached. He pulled me off, breathing hard.

“Bedroom, now”

We moved in the dark. I stripped. He found the lube I kept in the drawer without asking. He slicked his fingers and worked me open while I was on my back. Two fingers, then three. It burned, then it didn’t.

“You ready?”

“Yeah.”

He lined up and pushed in slow. The stretch was real. I gripped the sheets and breathed through it until he was all the way in.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re tight as hell.”

He started moving. Deep, steady strokes. The bed creaked. Rain hammered the windows. Every time he bottomed out I felt it in my stomach.

“Harder,” I said.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed my hips and fucked me properly. The sound of skin on skin filled the room. I was loud. He didn’t tell me to quiet down.

“I’m gonna come inside you,” he said, voice rough. “You good with that?”

“Do it.”

He slammed in deep and stayed there, pulsing, filling me. The heat of it pushed me over. I came hard across my stomach without touching myself.

We stayed locked for a minute. Then he pulled out slow. I felt him leak out of me onto the sheets.

He sat back, breathing hard.

“Fuck. I needed that.”

I was still catching my breath. “Yeah.”

He looked at me in the dark. “Jenna’s gone till Sunday night. Power might stay out. You want me to come back tomorrow?”

I should have said no.

“Yeah,” I said. “Come back.”

--

Everyone is 18+

~~~

I packed the car before sunrise because I hate people. Always have. One-man tent, basic stove, sleeping bag, a cooler with beer and some food that would last three days. No signal, no notifications, just me and trees. Perfect.

The trailhead parking lot was empty when I got there. I hiked in two miles, found a flat spot near a creek, and started setting up. The ground was softer than it looked. One stake went in crooked. I yanked it, the fabric tore a little at the corner, then the whole pole bent when I forced it. Wind picked up. Rain started. Not heavy, just enough to soak everything. My tent looked like a collapsed garbage bag. Sleeping bag half in mud. Cooler tipped. I stood there in the rain staring at the mess, already calculating how long the walk back to the car would take in the dark.

That’s when I heard him.

“Jesus, man, what happened here?”

I turned. Tall guy, mid-thirties maybe, broad shoulders under a wet hoodie, short dark hair plastered to his forehead. Big smile like this was the best thing he’d seen all day. He had a solid two-person tent already up twenty yards away, fire going under a tarp.

“My setup shit the bed,” I said. “Ground’s soft. Pole snapped.”

He walked right over, didn’t ask, just crouched and poked at the bent pole. “Yeah, that’s done. You got a spare?”

“No.”

“Okay. Pack what you can. You’re crashing with me tonight. No argument. Rain’s not stopping and I’m not leaving someone out here like this.”

I almost told him to fuck off... Habit. The loner in me bristled hard. I don’t need help. I don’t want company. But my hands were already numb and the rain was colder now. I nodded once.

We carried my gear over. His tent was clean, dry, roomy. He handed me a dry towel and a spare shirt without making a thing of it. “Name’s Jake. You?”

“Chris.”

“Cool. Sit. I already made coffee. You want beer instead?”

I took the beer… He started talking, a lot…worked construction… came out here every other weekend, liked the quiet but never actually stayed quiet.

Night settled. Rain kept going. We slowly ate whatever he had…hot dogs, chips, more beer. My clothes were still damp so I changed into the shirt he gave me and my own dry shorts. Inside the tent it was warm from our body heat… Two sleeping pads side by side. Close.

I lay down facing the wall. He moved around, zipped the door, settled on his side.

“You always camp alone?” he asked into the dark.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“People drain me.”

He laughed, quiet. “Fair. I talk too much. You can tell me to shut up.”

“It’s fine.”

Silence for a bit. Then he shifted closer. Not touching yet. Just closer.

“You’re tense as hell, man.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. Come here.”

“Hey!!..Come here dude…. come.”

I stayed where I was. He didn’t move closer right away. Just waited. I heard the soft clink of a can. He cracked another beer and held it out. I took it and sat slowly.

“You got people back home?” he asked. Voice easy, like we were just two guys under a tarp instead of stuck in a tent with the rain hammering.

“Not really. Mom’s around. We talk every couple months. That’s it.”

“No girl? No guy? Nothing?”

“No.”

He took a long pull from his own can. “Lucky.”

I glanced over. “How’s that lucky?”

His body heat was right there, warmer than the air in the tent, and it hit me in a way I didn’t want to admit. But it’s oddly…Comforting… Fuck. I shook my head once, hard, like I could knock the thought loose. He handed me another beer from the cooler between us. Cold can against my fingers. I cracked it open like him.

“That’s really lucky…because, I got burned twice…So what’s your deal then?” Jake asked. Voice easy, like we were just two guys killing time. “You got a whole life out there or what?”

I took a long pull. “Not really…. Job and apartment.. Mum…That’s about it… Keep it simple.”

“Simple’s good. I tried the other way… Like I said before, I got burned twice… Twice.” He snorted, showing his two fingers, drank. 

“First one was years ago. Thought I was in it for real. Found out she was fucking some dude from her office the whole time. Came home early one day, caught them. Straight up. Door open and everything.”

“Goddamn…dude. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. Hit hard. Took me a while to even look at anyone again. Year later I meet this girl. Artist. Struggling as hell when we started. Living off ramen and hope, you know? I was working construction, bringing home steady checks. We were good at first. Real good. She’d show me her stuff, talk about galleries, all that. I backed her. Paid some bills when she was short. Felt like we were building something.”

He paused, drank again. The can crinkled in his hand. Rain tapped the tent. His shoulder was close enough that the heat from him kept brushing mine every time he shifted.

 Warm…. So warm… 

 Fuck my thought, I tried to focus on the beer.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Then her shit starts taking off on social media,” Jake went on. “Like, actually taking off. Followers, sales, people messaging her. Suddenly I’m the guy with the shitty job. The one who comes home covered in dust and concrete. She started looking at me different. Little comments at first. Then bigger ones. Like I wasn’t ambitious enough. Like I was holding her back.”

“Damn…That’s fucked.”

“Yeah… Got worse. She started hanging with this other artist. High-profile guy. His paintings sell for thousands. Serious money. She cheated with him. I found out, confronted her, and she basically told me I should’ve seen it coming. Like it was my fault for not being enough…That night, she left a note and disappeared for good. It read  ‘I want us to have a mutual break-up, with no hard feelings. Now I've made a bloody mess of everything' ...Whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean”

I let out a breath. “Jeez, man. That’s a hard hit… It’s soo cold.”

He stared at the dark ceiling of the tent. 

“That’s… yeah…”

“It was. Still working through it, if I’m honest. Coming out here helps. No phones, no reminders. Just trees and quiet.” He took another drink. “What about you? You ever get close to any of that mess?”

I shook my head. “Nah. Being alone’s safer…. No one to cheat. No one to look down on you. No one to leave a note. You just… keep your head down and don’t give people the chance to fuck you over.”

Jake was quiet for a second. Then he let out a low breath. “ Makes sense. Especially after the shit I’ve seen. But man… sometimes the quiet gets too quiet, you know?”

I didn’t answer right away. His body heat was still there, solid and warm against the chill that kept seeping in through the tent walls. 

Comforting again… Jesus… Stop.. Stop.. Stop this feeling. 

I shifted a little, put more space between us, and drank.

“Yeah,” I said finally. “Sometimes it does.”

“But… Being alone’s just safer.. especially in this world”, I said with a small voice.

Jake was quiet for a second. Then he gave a short, rough laugh. “I get that. Really do. Sometimes I think about just shutting it all down. No more trying. But then you end up out here in the rain with a broken tent and some loudmouth stranger offering you a beer.”

I almost smiled. “You’re not that loud.”

“Liar.”

We both drank… The rain kept up outside. His shoulder was still close enough that I could feel the warmth. 

Don’t lean into it… Chris… Don’t….

I stared at the dark wall of the tent instead.

“You ever think about trying again?” I asked.

“Not yet. Maybe someday. Right now I’m just trying not to be pissed all the time. What about you? Ever come close to letting someone in?”

“No. Never saw the point.”

“Fair.” He shifted again, just enough that his arm rested lightly against mine… Not pushing. Just there. The heat soaked through the shirt. 

Jesus Christ, that feels good… so good…

I shook my head harder this time, almost annoyed at myself.

“You cold?” he asked.

“No.”

“You sure? You’re kind of rigid over there.”

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t call me on it. Just sat there drinking his beer, talking low about random stuff….

“Had this job last month… Chris,” he said.

The way my name rolled off his tongue… as though he'd said it a million times before, as though I wasn't just another stranger.. did something to me. 

Funny how something so small could get under my skin.

For someone who'd spent most of his life alone… it meant more than it should have…

No one had ever made my name sound that familiar.

Not to a loner like me.

“It’s… Um… a big residential build… Chris”

Not again, please… This is doing something inside me

“Client kept changing the plans every other day. One week they want the kitchen island moved, next week the whole layout flipped. Foreman was ready to walk. I told him to bill the change orders and keep moving. We finished two weeks late and the guy still tried to nickel-and-dime us on the final payment.”

“Sounds like a headache.”

“It was… Buddy of mine on the crew quit halfway through. Said he was done with the bullshit. Texted me last week asking if I knew any other crews hiring. I told him to call me if he actually shows up on time for once.”

I huffed a short breath that almost counted as a laugh. “Harsh.”

“Honest. Woods are better than that noise. No one calling you at six in the morning about tile samples. Just trees and whatever you decide to deal with.”

“Yeah.”

We finished the beers. The rain had slowed to a steady drip on the fly. Jake stretched, cracked his neck, and nodded toward the sleeping pads.

“I’m crashing…Chris. You good?”

“Uh..Huh…Mmm.. y-y-eah.”

We both settled in. Pads were right next to each other, almost touching. He pulled his sleeping bag up to his waist, still in the shorts and the hoodie he’d dried earlier. I stayed on top of mine in the borrowed shirt and my shorts. The tent was warm enough.

Jake shifted once, got comfortable on his back, one arm bent under his head.

“Night, Chris.”

“Mm.. N-night.”

His breathing evened out fast. Within ten minutes he was out. Soft, steady. Not snoring, just the deep kind of sleep that comes after a long day and a few beers.

I couldn’t get there.

I lay on my side facing him in the dark. The only light came from a small battery lantern he’d left on low near the door. It flickered every few seconds, dim yellow, enough to catch edges and shadows.

I started looking…

His face was average. Nothing special. Short dark hair messy from the rain and the hoodie. Jaw a little square. Nose slightly crooked, like it had been broken once and never fixed right. Stubble along his cheeks. Mouth relaxed in sleep… Ordinary. The kind of face you pass on the street and forget five seconds later.

But in that flickering light it was right there, close enough that I could see the rise and fall of his chest under the hoodie. The way his arm stayed bent under his head. The steady heat coming off him even in sleep.

He’s just a guy… Average… talks too much… got cheated on… nothing special...

I kept looking away…

Am I sure? Was it really nothing?

Then why did I keep forgetting we were practically strangers whenever my name rolled so easily off his tongue?

The lantern flickered again. Caught the line of his neck, the edge of his collarbone where the hoodie had shifted. His hand rested on his stomach, fingers loose…so calloused…work hands.

Stop staring… Christ… stop

I rolled onto my back and stared at the tent ceiling instead. The loneliness sat heavier now that he was quiet. Earlier the talking had dulled it. Now it was just me and the rain and the sound of him breathing two feet away.

I turned my head again. Couldn’t help it.

In the dim light his features looked softer. Less like a stranger who’d offered a tent in the rain and more like someone who’d just told me the worst parts of his last couple years without making it a speech. Average face. Average everything. And still I couldn’t look away for long.

This is stupid… Go to sleep.

I closed my eyes…. opened them again. The lantern flickered once more. His profile stayed the same… ordinary with warmth…. 

I stayed awake a long time after that, listening to the rain and the steady sound of him sleeping next to me.

----

End?... Nah... That was only the beginning