Come Play: An Erotica Charity Anthology

by Quin Perin

  When Sir asked why I hadn't played with men before, I told him about the one time I had played with a guy when I was younger and how they automatically had an expectation of sex from the play and I wasn't comfortable with that. I had always been more comfortable around women, and so I leaned towards creating friendships and play relationships with them. Sir apologized for his assumption that I was straight and made it up to me in the form of dinner and a blowjob.

  Since that weekend at my property, we've spent every weekend together, and I discovered that I can very easily be aroused especially when he ordered me around. We spent hours exploring each other, and we have yet to have penetrative sex outside of oral. Although, he has been using fingers and toys on me to prepare me for when we finally do. He didn't know yet, but I planned on begging for it tonight when we got back to his place after our scene.

  We arranged for my scene to take place on a Friday night during a regular play night so that my best friend could be there. She was the reason I had gotten up the nerve to finally go to Men's night in the first place. It was only right that she got to see the results. Able was going to be there as well and had made sure the area we were playing in was sectioned off. He wanted to ensure that Sir had enough room without worrying about someone getting too close and maybe getting hit on a backswing. He was going to use six-foot bullwhips on me tonight, and I was very excited. They didn't sound very long but when you combine that with arm length and the full arch of a throw, he had quite the reach.

  I was already stripped down to my lucky hot pink jock, and I stood by the cross that I had made with my own sweat and muscle. I stretched my muscles and settled my mind. Sir came towards me and ran his fingers over my bare skin. His touch made me shiver. He was wearing jeans tonight with his usual white button-down, but he also had on a leather vest. It was tailored to look like a suit vest rather than the typical vests you saw. It was very sexy, but it was there to protect him more than looks.

  He leaned down and kissed me softly. "Are you ready, love?" Tingles went down my whole body when he said that word. He said he didn't want to call me boy because I was not a boy. I was a man, and he didn't like baby for the same reason. He has called me babe, but lately, he's called me love when he’s in Dom mode and it made my heart swell. I did confess that I did like the occasional, "Good boy," just not being called boy all the time.

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Good. Now, stay relatively still for me, love." I nodded and turned towards the cross. I didn't lean into it, but rather kept my back as straight as possible. This would make it easier for him to gauge distance.

  The first beats of Concrete Blonde's Bloodletting hit the airwaves around me, and immediately my mind sank into the rhythm, and into the space it needed to be in for the scene. A sharp crack rang out behind me followed by another one. The sound didn't make me jump as it would some people, but rather it made me smile. I knew what was coming. I felt the little puffs of air against my skin as more cracks came. When I felt the lightest touch of the end of the cracker, I threw Sir a quick thumbs up with both hands, and then the cracks sped up. The brush of the cracker against my skin that followed each crack was just like the light kisses that Sir had peppered on my back this morning to wake me up. Warmth flooded my body not from the anticipation of when the cracker would finally hit my skin, but of the depth of emotion I felt for the man whose energy traveled with each touch of the mason string on my body.

  The cracks stopped and then another rent the air, and I felt the sting immediately following it as the cracker bit into my skin. The sharp pain rippled through my body, and I shuddered, shaking the energy out of my body. The feeling left behind was glorious, and it was only the beginning. I smiled already giddy from the combination of pain and love that I felt.

  I lay in bed on top of the towel that Sir had put down so I wouldn't get goop on the sheets. I was showered, fed, and bandaged in a few spots. Most of the night after the last sting across my back was a blur, but I knew that I was safe. I also had a smile and a hard-on that would not go away. I felt Sir climb in behind me. He wrapped an arm around me and then kissed my shoulder. I turned my head and kissed him. It was soft, and his lips lingered on me. I turned onto my back with a half groan and half moan. The hour that Sir painted my body with the brush of the crackers was one of the best in my life, but the high it gave me didn't beat the one I felt now in Gavin Hightower's arms.

  I smiled against his lips. "Sir?" I kissed him lightly.

  "Yes, love?" He kissed me again.

  "Make love to me, please?" I blushed as the words left my mouth. I never thought I'd ever say those words to anyone much less the dominant police captain who intimidated most people.

  "Anything for you." He pushed up and over me. He stretched past me, but I stopped his arm and put the bottle of lube in his hand. He laughed into my neck as he kissed it. "I see you came prepared."

  "I just need to feel you inside me." Last week when we knew that blood would be drawn tonight, we got tested together. We were both sure of our results, but better safe than sorry.

  I opened my legs to give him room to settle between them. I was glad he didn't ask me to turn around because of my back. He already understood me so much better than anyone else in my life. He already knew that the pain I would feel on my back would only enhance the pleasure and not detract from it. I was so hard during our scene tonight. I felt precum drip down my legs.

  Sir kneeled between my legs and sat back on his heels. I giggled as I brought my legs up and held them in place with my hands. He smacked my ass. "What are you laughing at?"

  "You're on your knees for me, Sir."

  He laughed as he pushed two fingers inside me and made my laugh turn into a deep moan. "I may be on my knees, but I am still very much in charge, and if you keep being a brat then I think you might not deserve to cum tonight."

  My eyes flew open as I gasped, but he was smiling at me. He thought he was funny. I pouted, but only long enough for him to push into me again and swipe his fingers across my prostate. I bucked up wanting more. "Please, Sir. I want to feel you."

  "Who's in charge?"

  I whimpered as he pushed three fingers into me. "You are, Sir. Always."

  He pushed the fingers deeper and bent over to kiss me. I opened greedily for him wanting to feel all of him. He kissed me deeply and then pulled back up. He pulled his fingers gently out of me, and I immediately mourned their loss, but I smiled because I knew what was coming next. He drizzled more lube on his cock.

  I looked up at Sir, at Gavin. He didn't have the perfect body. He was fit, but the life of a forty-five-year-old police captain was hard. Black and grey hair ran down between his pecs and down his stomach in this sexy little trail. I didn't have a trail. I had a whole forest. He had laugh lines around his eyes and little stress lines on his forehead. His hands were rough, not as rough as mine, but they weren't soft hands. His grip was firm as he pulled me closer to him. He was everything I didn't know I needed.

  I hissed as my back dragged against the towel beneath me. He smirked at me. Sadist. I loved it. I wiggled my butt at him and thus my back into the bed. The ache made me harder and my dick pulsed. He pressed the head of his cock against my twitching hole. His forehead crinkled in concentration as he pressed into me.

  I relaxed as best I could, but all the prep in the world doesn't prepare you for that very first feeling of the firm yet soft head of a penis penetrating you and the immediate burn as the skin around it stretches. I shuddered and shook and keened in pleasure. The sting of it went straight to my balls and my head as my eyes rolled back. My muscles tensed and then relaxed as I fell into the pain and let it roll through me.

  Sir pushed further into me and didn't stop until I felt his balls brush against my ass. I lost the grip on my thighs, and I wrapped my legs around Sir. He leaned over me and bit into my chest as he began to thrust shallowly while deep within me.

  "Yes! Don't stop, Sir. Please." I reached above me and held onto the wood slate of the
headboard. I flexed my abdominals and pushed Sir's ass with my heels.

  He growled and slapped the inside of my thigh. He stopped all movement as he sat up again. I looked up at him and relaxed my body around him. "Good boy."

  My heart thudded in my chest. My body was lit up with pleasure, and my mind sank into the steady rhythm of Sir thrusting in and out of me. He felt so good that it was truly indescribable. I hoped that I made him feel as good as he made me feel. Energy flowed again between us tonight. It was even more intoxicating than earlier in the night. I let go of the headboard and reached up. I pulled Sir closer to me wanting to feel all of him against me.

  We really needed to invest in a spreader bar with a pulley system for the bed. My mind started designing exactly what we needed. Keeping my legs up was exhausting, and I just wasn't built for being folded in two without help.

  I felt a nip at my neck, and it brought me back to the here and now. Sir pushed up and changed the angle so that the head of his cock punched against my prostate with each thrust. "Oh, fuck!"

  "Good. I have your attention again."

  I blushed with embarrassment that my mind wondered. The pain like usual brought me back and anchored me. The pleasure was almost too much, and I knew I couldn't last much longer. "May I please cum, Sir?"

  I grunted from the strain of trying to hold back. Sir pushed up onto his knees again. He pressed my thighs back and opened me up as he thrust harder into me. "Please, Sir." He hit my prostate over and over again. I wasn't going to last any longer. I tensed trying to hold back, but that made it worse.

  "Cum now for me, love." Sir breathed out with each thrust. I didn't last past the word cum as the tingling sensation became overwhelming and I bucked up with each spasm. I thought for a moment that I had pushed Sir out of me, but he growled and thrust hard into me and then I felt the first hot splash of his orgasm hit my insides. It was so visceral and intense that I shook and whined with each spurt that left him and left me. I panted hard, and darkness invaded my vision.

  I opened my eyes to the feel of a warm wet cloth against my skin. Sir smiled at me. "Welcome back." He continued to clean the cum out of my chest and stomach hair.

  "I think I may need another shower, Sir."

  "No, love. You're fine." He moved closer and kissed my forehead. He tossed the washcloth towards the bathroom and then settled back into the bed. He pulled me into his arms, and I snuggled onto his chest. I bit lightly into the side of his pec and drifted back into sleep. My body ached all over. My heart was full of love, and I felt whole and unbroken for the first time.

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  Pretty Boy

  E.M. Denning

  One

  It rained the day of the funeral, and Mark stood next to Paul the whole day, unwilling to leave his side. Paul’s eyes were downcast and he barely registered the people addressing him. Unless Mark spoke to him, he hardly seemed to notice the world at all.

  When the caskets were lowered into the ground, Paul grabbed Mark’s hand and squeezed it. He held tight until the caskets were covered in dirt. Neither of them threw flowers into the graves. They wouldn’t mourn.

  “I don’t want to go home, Mark,” Paul said after the funeral. “Ever.”

  “You don’t have to, Paulie. You don’t ever have to go back there.” Mark cleared his throat and reached for Paul’s hand again, keeping his eyes forward as the limo driver pulled away from the curb. “I wanted to come back for you. I wanted to take you away from him.”

  “I know you did.”

  Mark watched Paul wipe a tear away.

  “It wasn’t so bad,” Paul lied.

  “You don’t have to pretend.”

  Their father was a piece of shit. Paul was the product of one of Frank’s many flings. His mother had died when he was ten years old, and Paul had been sent to live with Frank, his—and Mark’s—biological father. Mark’s mother was some unknown entity who had left him with Frank when he’d been just nine months old.

  When Paul came to live with them, Mark hated him for about ten seconds. But then Paul looked up at him through his long black hair, and Mark was hooked. Paul’s dark eyelashes were dotted with tears like dew drops. His eyes held only sorrow, and Mark suddenly hated Paul’s mother for dying and leaving him with Frank, of all people.

  Frank had no business being a father. He was a lousy drunk who never held a job longer than a few months at a time. Mark had worked his ass off and gotten into college on a full scholarship, then went to grad school. After he graduated, he was going back for Paul.

  But the car accident happened first. Now, suddenly, Frank and his current girlfriend were dead, and Paul was free of Frank. Mark wanted to look after him. Mark was only five years older, but he didn’t think he’d ever be able to look at him and not want to take care of him.

  “You can stay with me as long as you want. I have a room I was getting ready for you. I thought you’d want to decorate it, but it has a bed. We can get your stuff from the house tomorrow. We’ll have until the end of the month to sort through the rest of their things.”

  “Sell it. They didn’t have shit anyway.” Paul squeezed Mark’s hand and didn’t let go.

  “I’ll help you pack up your room.”

  “No,” Paul said, whipping his head to look at Mark. He cleared his throat. “No. Um, there’s not much. It won’t take long. My furniture is shit. It’s just clothes and things.”

  “Okay, Paulie.”

  Paul cleaned out his room the next day while Mark handled things with Frank’s landlord. He passed the man with a bad comb-over a few hundred dollars to take care of getting rid of the belongings Frank had left behind. Mark didn’t want anything from there.

  The drive home took several hours, and Paul slept most of the way, his belongings stowed in the back seat of Mark’s truck. When Paul stepped foot through Mark’s front door, he thought his heart might stop from the swell of emotion in his chest. Having Paul there felt right in a way nothing ever had before.

  “Your room is across the hall from mine,” Mark said, leading Paul on a tour of the house. “It’s not much. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, living room, kitchen, postage stamp backyard, but I got it for a steal.”

  “It’s really great.” The smile Paul gave Mark made him weak in the knees, and he chastised himself for investing so many of his emotions in needing to make Paul happy. Not just happy. He wanted to impress Paul.

  “Thank you.” Mark opened the door to the second bedroom and motioned for Paul to go in. “I’ll go get the rest of your stuff.”

  “I’ll help you,” Paul said, setting his bag down on the bed and leaving the room. He cast a glance over his shoulder at Mark. “Coming?”

  Mark followed him.

  As the weeks went by and they settled into a routine, Mark had to admit that the reality of having Paul live with him was nothing like the fantasy. Paul had thrown walls up between them, both literally and figuratively. He spent much of his time in his room, only coming out for the occasional meal when Mark was home.

  Mark tried to hide his disappointment. He tried to tamp down the urge to burst into Paul’s room and demand to know why he was avoiding him. He’d had so many ideas of what having Paul in his home would be like. He didn’t think they’d suddenly be inseparable best friends, but aside from that first night when they’d sat on the couch and watched a movie together, Paul might as well have not lived there for as often as Mark saw him.

  His attempts to ignore his frustration turned into endless gym sessions after work. If Paul wanted to avoid him, then he’d avoid Paul. But he couldn’t run away from him. Paul lived in his thoughts. His shoulder-length hair often fell forward, covering his face. Mark imag
ined himself pushing it back, just so he could see what Paul was thinking. At least, that was what he told himself.

  That was another reason he needed to stay away from Paul. He wanted things he shouldn’t. His need to protect Paul had somewhere along the way morphed into something different, something darker. His rational mind told him he was sick and fucked up, but the rest of him didn’t care. He liked Paul. He liked Paul in a way he’d never liked anyone.

  His quiet vulnerability, his pouty lips, his sharp sense of humor—something Mark hadn’t seen much of lately. Everything about Paul made Mark ache. He wanted him. Maybe he’d given it away somehow on that first night. It was possible Paul knew about Mark’s desire for him and was disgusted by it.

  Unable to continue his workout, Mark headed home. He let himself in, not bothering to announce his presence, tossed his keys on the counter, then headed to the bathroom. He’d skipped the shower at the gym, needing to rub one out and not being able to do it in public. Not while thinking of coming all over his brother’s face.

  He opened the bathroom door, and a figure with dark hair darted into the tub and pulled the shower curtain shut.

  “Paulie? Is that you?” Mark stepped inside and shut the door. Not out of habit. He almost never closed the bathroom door, even with Paul around. He didn’t care if Paul saw him. He wanted Paul to see him.

  “I’m not dressed.”

  Paul’s voice was high and tight, as if he were scared. Mark’s heart dropped. Was Paul afraid of him?

  Mark lowered his gaze, preparing to duck out of the room, and then he saw it. A tube of red lip gloss on the corner of the sink. Paul had come out to Mark when he was in the eighth grade, so he knew Paul wasn’t hiding a girl in there.