Wild Boys

by Richard Labonté

  “Yes,” I croaked through dry lips. I licked them to moisten them, but he saw my tongue and pulled my head to his and kissed me deeply, his tongue dueling with mine for control. I tasted myself on his tongue, salty sweetness.

  His teeth trapped my lower lip and rolled it in his mouth. He sucked down hard on it, pulling it in as far as he could.

  My lip stretched to the point I felt a slight pain.

  I tried to catch his lip, but he was too quick. I licked his upper lip and felt the rough stubble of his moustache. He tasted like sweat, minty toothpaste and testosterone, all male.

  Kevin released my lower lip, but held on to my biceps. “Let’s head to the backyard to enjoy the sun and heat.”

  Panic raced through my body. The frat boys would see me, my naked ass, my cock, this wheelchair-bound man fucking the shit out of me.

  He read my expression. “No one will see us. You’ve never seen me, now have you?”

  I searched my memory, but I had only been there a few weeks.

  “Oh, that’s right, you’re fresh meat. Transfer student from Michigan.”

  “Are you a mind reader?” I stared at him in amazement.

  “I wish, but no, you guys are very loud.”

  “Sorry,” I looked down at the floor.

  “Don’t be, I enjoy the excitement and the music. I know more about what’s going on in your house than you do.” Kevin rolled his chair to the sliding door and opened it. He motioned for me to go out.

  I looked around. The vegetation was so thick I couldn’t see into our backyard. I stepped outside. It felt great to be naked outside, unashamed of my nudity.

  He pushed his wheelchair over the door runner, wheeled to a small table, and locked his brakes. He pushed his pants down below his knees, exposing hairy legs, not as withered as I expected.

  Walking over, I knelt and moved his leg rests out of the way. My fingers walked up his legs and found his waistband. They dug underneath and pulled. His raging hard-on escaped and I gasped. He was huge, bigger than me, and perfectly shaped. His heavy, furred balls rolled out of the briefs as his underwear slipped down his legs.

  Voices and music from the frat house filtered through the fence, and I suddenly felt exposed with my ass in the air.

  But as his cock swelled, I forgot about my frat brothers. Any concern over being seen vanished as desire took over. I licked the tip of his cock and explored the hole, lapping out his precum. Opening my mouth wide, I swallowed him whole. As Kevin’s pubic hair tickled my nose and his balls bounced against my chin, I inhaled musky, male sweat. He tasted like a real man.

  His hands combed through my hair as he guided my head to the speed he liked.

  I sucked and swallowed; his dick teased my tonsils. Drool ran out of my mouth and down my neck. The patio’s rough tiles hurt my knees, but pleasure vanquished the pain.

  His hands slowed my rhythm on his cock and forced me to look up. He guided me back to my feet. “Turn around.” He pulled a small drawer open and pulled out a bottle and a condom. “I have a new plan for your ass.”

  As I turned away, I flexed my buttcheeks at him. He inhaled deeply at the sight.

  “Back up,” he said, as he ripped open the condom and quickly rolled it down his shaft. He lubed his hand and slipped his fingers between my cheeks.

  Pressing back, I felt his lubed finger brush my pucker.

  As soon as he found the hole, Kevin pushed into me. Sweat and lube gave him easy access. He wiggled his finger, trying to relax me and spread me wider.

  Two fingers slipped in and explored.

  My legs started to collapse.

  With his other hand, he grabbed my hip and pulled me in front of him. “Come back.” His hand cupped a cheek and pulled me on top of his cock. The fat head slid along the greased pathway and into my expectant hole. I pushed back with my legs, and the length of his cock entered my asshole.

  He rocked his hips, and the pain became pleasure in one thrust. I repositioned my feet to assist his thrusts.

  He reached around and grabbed my dick. Warmth and wetness engulfed my rod as Kevin pulled me down.

  I twisted my head to the side as he kissed along my neck, his tongue licking the sweat from my skin.

  One of his hands released my cock and slid up my hairy torso to a nipple. He pinched it gently first, then twisted it firmly; his other hand jacked me harder and harder.

  I rode him like a cowboy, filling my ass with every inch he offered. Lube and sweat allowed for a wild ride. Faster and faster, the frenzy of joy intensified. His wet tongue laved my ear, and that was all it took to launch my balls into orbit. The orgasm hit me so hard, I thought for a flash that I’d skyrocket off his cock. Hot cum sprayed my chest, slowed, and then my muscles constricted when the next spasm hit. My butt squeezed his dick, pulse after pulse of his cum filled the rubber and his spasming cock slammed into my prostate, sending another gush of spunk out of my junk.

  Kevin let go of my cock, which slapped my belly as a final arc of cum followed. Stickiness coated my lips, and I tasted my own juice. My body slumped against his; we were both drenched with sweat and cum.

  His hand ran up my torso and scooped up all it could and he brought his fingers to my mouth and played with my tongue. Who needed shots of tequila? I was ready for this frat party.

  He held me close for a minute until I slowly disengaged from his lap. His cock popped out, like a cork from a bottle.

  “I’ll get you a towel.” And he rolled away, before I could say anything.

  I stood dripping cum and sweat on his tiles, taking in my surroundings—a hot tub, a barbeque grill, the fountain, a full bar, a table and chairs: paradise.

  My erection still stood loud and proud when he returned. He was dressed once again and groomed as if nothing had happened. He handed me a fluffy towel.

  Wiping away the afternoon’s fun, I looked into the house for my clothes.

  “They’re right where we left them.”

  I entered his home, still holding the towel. He followed close behind, and, sure he was gazing at my ass, I wiggled it. He laughed. I stepped into my shorts and turned to face him.

  “Sorry for the interruption.”

  “It was all my pleasure.” His eyes scanned my chest. “You missed a spot,” he said pointing to my right pec.

  “Thanks.” I wiped the cum away and handed him the towel. I stepped into my sandals and pulled my shirt around my shoulders, but left it unbuttoned. I retrieved the tap and was ready to leave.

  As I turned to go, Kevin took my hand. “You’re welcome over here anytime. If you need to get away from the chaos,” he motioned to the frat with his head. “And if you need an excuse”—he pointed to the fence—“you can always throw something over.”

  RED RIGHT

  Dominic Santi

  You have a beautiful butt, Sir.”

  I concentrated on my hand, thrusting again, waiting until Martin’s asslips snugged up tight around my wrist before I answered. “You think so, punk?”

  “Yes, Sir,” he gasped, shivering appreciatively as I carefully turned my fist.

  Martin’s hot young body was pure eye candy, especially when he was stripped down to just a leather harness, his combat boots, and the gold bar in his right nipple. I knew he was legal—I’d made him show me two IDs our first time together. But his curly brown hair and big brown puppy-dog eyes, and my knowing he worked as a bicycle messenger, kept me very aware of the sizeable difference in our ages.

  I hadn’t restrained him this time. I wanted to see if he could hold himself in place with just a voice command. He’d made me proud. I pressed deep again. He groaned, gripping the chains suspending the sling. His legs were spread wide, his puffy asslips glistening under a heavy frosting of Elbow Grease. The room echoed with his guttural cries each time my fist slid over his prostate. His biceps strained, hard and sexy, as he held on, dripping sweat, his eyes closed tight.

  I eased my hand out, quietly fingering him while he caught his breath.
We’d been playing all evening. Martin’s low purrs told me he was getting tired. His soft cock rested contentedly on his belly. He never got hard when my hand was in him. As usual, my dick was so hard I hurt. I’d considered having him suck me off before we called it a night. But his comment got me thinking. I had an inkling this particular punk was not all bottom.

  I moved to the side of the sling. Martin dropped one hand and tentatively reached toward me. When I nodded, he brushed his fingertips lightly over the smooth leather of my chaps. I tried to hide my shiver as his hand glided up my thigh and burned onto my hip. His fingertips were hot, the way I liked a man’s hand to feel sliding over my ass. Martin didn’t know it, but this particular daddy was not all top.

  “Wow, Sir. Your skin feels great. Smooth and hard and kind of, you know, silky.” Martin blushed at the unaccustomed flowery words. His voice was a firm, steady tenor. He’d be able to do a lot with it when he learned how.

  “You think so?” My eyes wanted to close, to sink into the sensation of those powerful fingers curling around my ass. Instead, I slowly worked my hand back inside him.

  “Yes, Sir.” Martin breathed with my strokes for a while, clenching my asscheek instead of the chain. When I rested my hand, his fingers slid down into my crack. Touching. Feeling. Learning me. His fingertip brushed lightly over my asslips.

  “Your ass is hot, Sir.”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Martin had a firm, steady grip. And for the first time, his cock was filling with my hand inside him. I watched as his flesh grew harder and longer and redder than I’d imagined it could. His balls tightened as I almost imperceptibly turned my fist. I twisted, pumping slowly, rubbing his prostate and reveling in his groans. I shifted my weight, moving my left leg to the side, spreading my thighs for him. The cool air fluttered against my asslips as they kissed his fingertip. My own dick got painfully harder.

  “So hot, Sir—unh!” Martin clutched my asscheek hard, staring wide-eyed as a translucent pearl oozed from his piss slit. He looked down at his dick like he couldn’t figure out who it belonged to.

  “You like that?” I tried to keep my breathing steady and almost managed it.

  “Yes, Sir,” he whispered, grinding his shoulders against the sling. I wasn’t sure if he was talking about my touching him, or his touching me. I didn’t think he knew.

  Then his eyes widened as his brain registered what his fingers were feeling. I’d greased myself. I always did—a throwback to the old days. It was plain Vaseline. I hadn’t been fucked in years, and my dildos didn’t mind if the rubbers broke. My asslips could kiss against each other all evening as I fisted my unsuspecting bottoms.

  But something flickered in this one’s eyes. As I curled my fist against his joyspot, another tear of precum leaked out of him. He grimaced, a cry breaking from his throat as his dick jerked. His whole body stiffened, clamping around my hand. In that same breath, Martin shoved three fingers up me, all the way to the knuckle. I arched forward, gasping at the pain and the burn and the unexpected stretch. The sensations rippled through my ass, and with no warning, my untouched cock spurted jizz onto Martin’s belly, the long white ropes mixing with his as he threw back his head and howled out his climax.

  I leaned my forehead against a leg chain, willing myself to hold still, trying to catch my breath as my heart pounded in my ears. I couldn’t decide whether to beat Martin for his insolence or kiss him in relief.

  He didn’t give me much chance to think. I was still panting when he pulled his fingers out of my ass and stroked my asscheek.

  “I’m sorry, Sir,” he smiled, wiggling his butt at me and failing miserably to look repentant. “But I really want your ass. If I mind my manners, will you teach me?” He groaned as I took a deep breath and started carefully working my hand back out of him. “Please, Sir? Unh!”

  “Let your body finish enjoying the trip,” I growled, pulling my fingers free. “There will be years and years for you to work this side of the fence.” His hole purred so appreciatively, I couldn’t be mad. My fingertips stilled as they kissed over his puffy lips. I took a deep breath. “Saturday night, punk. If this is what you want, I’ll be ready for you then.”

  “Yes, Sir! I’ll be here, Sir!”

  I’d resigned myself to being a top years ago. It seemed part of growing older, and I loved giving pleasure to other men. Deep inside I still saw myself as a slutty bottom. But no matter how I felt, the mirror still showed me a “mature” face. Short-cropped, steel-gray hair. Icy blue eyes. Sleek, black chest pelt touched with silver that rippled smoothly when I flexed. I prided myself on having maintained my physique, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think I still had the body I’d had at twenty. Or thirty. Or even forty, dammit. My dick still looked good, though, nicely proportioned with a thick mushroom cap. My hand and I made sure it stayed in shape, even when I took a break from prowling the bars. And my balls hung lower now. I liked that—it made them look bigger.

  My asshole was in fine shape, too. I treated it to a good workout with a dildo at least once a week. But I hadn’t been fisted in almost twenty years. And in all that time, I hadn’t called another man, “Sir.” I made a ritual of getting ready. On Saturday, I dutifully lubed up a small plug and stuffed it up my ass, switching to gradually larger ones as I spent the morning scrubbing the playroom until it was sterile enough for surgery. That afternoon, I went into the bathroom and cleaned out in a way I hadn’t done in a helluva lot of years either. Martin was due at 4:00. I finished up by putting on a plain white jock and the leather chaps he liked so well.

  Martin was punctual, as usual. I recognized the sound of his boots on the sidewalk. This time, though, his sharp knock was decidedly arrogant. As I started to open the door, he barked, “Turn around and close your eyes!”

  “Yes, Sir,” I smiled, obeying at once.

  The door closed in back of me. His backpack thumped on the floor, amid a shuffling of clothing, zippers and snaps.

  “Okay. You can look now.”

  I did. My little bottom punk stood there wearing his boots, new chaps with a leather codpiece, and a new leather vest that showed off the shiny gold bars—in both his nipples!

  He grinned as he saw where I was looking. “You like?”

  “Very becoming,” I laughed.

  “Thanks,” he blushed. “I wanted to do something to mark the occasion.”

  I leaned forward, toward his chest, then caught myself. “May I, Sir?”

  “Um, it’s still too sore to touch.”

  “I’ll be careful, Sir.”

  When he nodded, I bent my head and placed a gentle circle of kisses around the tender, swollen peak. I could almost taste his pride, in himself, and in the beauty of his proud, erect young nipple. I traced the outline of his pecs with my tongue, reveling in the sleek strength of his smooth, muscular chest and the light dusting of young fur. Then I turned my attention to his other nipple. I tugged lightly on the bar with my teeth. He gasped, his hips arching forward, his cock swelling as hard and fast as my own.

  His hands didn’t come up to hold my head, though. Martin stood there, hands obediently at his side, the way I’d taught him. I realized I was going too fast. With a final kiss, I took his hands in mine, and dropped to my knees.

  “Thank you, Sir.” I pressed my forehead to his hands. “You have beautiful nipples.”

  “Thanks, Sir. Um, I mean, you’re welcome, S—I mean…” he stopped, flustered, breathing hard. “Give me a sec. I’m a little confused right now, S—Karl.” Martin moved one hand tentatively out of my grip and put it on top of my head. “Just wait a minute.”

  “Yes, Sir.” His cock was pressing hard against the codpiece, right in front of my face. But I didn’t make a move toward it. He hadn’t given me permission. Besides, with an erection like that, I knew that sooner or later, he’d open the pouch. Eventually, his hands moved down, massaging my shoulders, my back. The lower they went, the more my asshole itched to be petted.

  “I’ve been
thinking about this all day, Karl.” Martin seemed to enjoy trying out my name, rolling it around on his tongue as he talked. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I’ve wanted your ass for a long time. I can hardly believe you’re giving it to me.” He pulled me to my feet, wrapped his arms around me and hugged me to him. I hugged him back, leaning carefully to the side so I wouldn’t press against his sore tit. He seemed too excited to notice.

  “I beat off this morning thinking about how good your ass was going to feel around my fingers.” I jumped, partly from his words, partly because just then, he squeezed my asscheeks. Suddenly, he laughed. “I wasn’t worth shit at work today. And now that I’m here, I’m hard all over again. I can hardly wait.”

  “I spent all day with butt plugs up my ass, so I’d be ready for you, Sir.” I lowered my eyes respectfully as I spoke, gasping as his finger slid over to rub my asshole.

  “Fuck, Karl.” The finger sunk in. “Wow, you feel good. You’re going to make me come in my pants if you keep saying things like that.”

  His finger was going to have the same effect on me if he kept up what he was doing. Martin didn’t know how to pace himself yet. I tried to buy us some time.

  “Would you like something to eat or drink first, Sir? I made lasagna if you want dinner.” I knew if I didn’t ask now, I might be too distracted to offer later. I didn’t want him to get accustomed to bad manners in a bottom. “Or we can go straight to the playroom.”

  His hand cracked down hard on my left asscheek. I jumped, staring up at him in surprise. Martin’s eyes absolutely sparkled. His grin was domineering and bossy and filled with lust.

  “I’ll decide when we go to the playroom.” He squeezed my butt, just hard enough to emphasize the new heat burning there. “I want ice water, with a slice of lemon in it. Now!”

  “Yes, Sir!” I said, my dick pressing hard against the jockstrap. Martin was doing just fine. Five minutes later I carried both our glasses down the hall.