"Damn it, interact." "What's the matter?" Maddie asked, plopping himself down beside his boss, the producer of the gay male social media service "HookUp," Stan Cross, who was seating in Dodger's Stadium during a Los Angeles Dodger's baseball game with the visiting St. Louis Cardinals. Stan had a pair of binoculars, trained on the stands across the field, pr...
You sat outside of the large training center. Your palms pouring sweat as you became very nervous. You knew your dream job is in reach. You just had to reach and grab it. You look over to the other men sitting with you. A short chubby asian man with the cutest smile chats with a lanky skinny white guy. The white guy scowl as the asian man did his best to hit...
Man, I am finally exactly where I want to be. Right now, I'm getting fucked in the ass by a nerdy Asian guy named Jerome Lee while I'm sucking the dick of a skinny White dude named Andrew Stephens. These two gay studs are dominant Masters and I play the role of the sexually submissive Black male slave. Why are we doing this? It's a really interesting twist o...
Hoagie kept me close. I had a windowless room in the basement of the inn, across from the room Hoagie kept for himself down the corridor off the wings of the small stage in the club room. Hoagie's room—and mine—were beyond the six small cells, three to a side, off the corridor. The room was fine with me—it was no worse, and better in most respects—than the...
I sat in a table as close to the shadows of the bar as I could and turned the business card over and over in my hands. What the fuck did I have to do with a lawyer named James Gleason? Or, rather, what did he have to do with me? Sitting in the shadows in this sort of bar proved not to be a good idea. Before Gleason showed up, I had to turn away—politely, I...
What, again? Clint thought as he rolled over in the bed and encountered warm, hard flesh. His head was pounding. His ass was tingling too. Felt like a Mac truck had rammed itself up in there. He liked that feeling; seemed he spent half his life trying to open himself wide—with help, of course. He liked it better when the truck was still parked, though. And w...
"I don't need no warrant to tell you to take off your shirt, Alfonse. And I don't really need for you to take off your shirt for both you and me to know that you have an all-color arm sleeve tattoo, do we?" The black pawnbroker stood there, behind the cash register in his junk-packed store and stared belligerently back at Phil. There was a touch of fear in...
After I returned from Buffalo, Ron and Gary wanted to hear every detail of the trip not about my dealing with the estate. They wanted to hear every detail of every cock I'd taken up my ass and down my throat while there. The telling turned them on so it required frequent fuck breaks in the story so they could take turns plowing my ass or fucking my throat....
Gordy was a pushover. From the moment that Bryan Albertson entered the Wilson apparel and gear tent at the Legg Mason tennis tournament in Washington, D.C., the tennis star knew the cute young twink who was modeling tennis apparel and helping at the ball serve exhibit was his for the asking. This wasn't the first time today that Bryan had seen Gordy. The fi...
I took off my shorts, and sat on the hotel bed. Just like I was told to. When showering, or having sex, naked is normal. But sitting in a room, waiting for someone you've never met, while naked is quite awkward. I stared at my phone, as if my mind could make a text message appear that said "not going to make it" or something like that. The number that mess...