Companion Erotica: Chapter 1 Richard Saw

 

"Companion Erotica" from the world of Holmes & Watson, a series from Richard Saw. Amazon.com: Richard Saw: books, biography, latest update

Chapter 1 – Online 

 

We met online, of course. I was forty, he was twenty-two. There was nowhere else we would have met, at least not where we could had started a conversation. He opened with a typical ‘Hey daddy. Wassup?’ and I replied with a ‘Not much, youngster. Just chilling. You?’ And well… things just went from there.

I was an accountant for a bank, a professional. A man with his own apartment, plenty of suits and a couple of failed relationships during my thirties. I had a good life with friends, a routine, a good salary and bonus plan, and a buff gym body that meant a shirtless Grindr profile pic resulted in me never having to sleep alone if I didn’t want to.

Taylor on the other hand, was new to London and lived in an apartment he shared with some friends, after he’d dropped out of university because he’d got a good job writing code for a computer software company. He was young, chatty, and interested in everything. He didn’t have much disposable income, but when your work uniform was a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers, you didn’t need much to satisfy your basic needs. He was self-confident too, I would even say cocky. Not in a way as if he thought he had all the answers, but in a way that said he was sure he would succeed. The sort of confidence you expect youth to have, you just rarely see it. And then when he sent me a picture of his thick, nine-inch cock, you could guess where his self-confidence came from. 

‘Show me a pic of your arse daddy’

Like I said, Taylor was self-confident. My online profile didn’t say anything about what position I took in bed. But there was a good reason for that. When you’re a six-foot-two guy with a hairy chest, and a muscular body, you know what everyone wants from you. Problem was, God hadn’t blessed me with a huge cock. It was three inches, four at a push. I thought it was a cruel joke of fate when I was growing up, but I guess life knew what it was doing, because not only did I find out pretty quickly that I was gay, but I didn’t gag when I sucked a dick and my arse fairly loved being fucked. The first time it happened it was mind-blowing, and it had never stopped being fun. Maybe my prostate was easy to reach, because I’d never not orgasmed when I got fucked. To make it better my arse was very accommodating. It didn’t seem to take much, maybe a sniff of poppers, and it opened up for biggest cocks out there. And a really good top would get my little three-inch cock dribbling cum pretty quickly. 

The only downside of all this was that I didn’t look like your typical bottom. I looked like every gay boy’s dream top. So I’d learnt over the years that I had to be the picky one, and sort through all the guys who messaged me to find the ones who really wanted to top me. And yes of course before you ask, I’d been the hot white pussy to plenty of black studs over the years. From the rough ones to the sweet ones and I’d even managed to convince one to date me. But like a number of other big-dicked but life-appropriate fellas, me and Harrison hadn’t worked out… and maybe I’d never quite got over that.

Still, amongst the millennials there were this interesting little subset, who had broken away from tradition and didn’t want a big daddy to rape them. They wanted daddy’s big arse. They all wanted to eat it out (boy, where did that all come from?), and some of them even wanted to fuck it. I had just turned thirty when the big arse seemed to appear everywhere. The rugby boys and baseball players got fetishized, and the Instagram-posting Cross-fitters started squatting like crazy and flashing their big arses every chance they got to compensate for not being able to show their dicks on social media. Luckily my body reacted just the same way it had when I started to bench-press and bicep curl, as I increased the number of squats and deadlifts in my workouts. My legs got bigger, and my arse grew, filling out my shorts and tearing my trousers (well once, but when your big arse rip your chinos apart at the seams at the company picnic, you sort of remember it. Everyone sort of remembers it).

So when Taylor messaged me, I was prepared. I purposely sent a load of shirtless pics, and ones with a towel in front of my little cock. And then at the end I sent one pic of my big, round, muscled arse. A little tremor of pleasure went through me as I sent it, hoping against hope he’d react like I dreamed.

‘That’s a sweet pussy there,’ Taylor messaged, simultaneously dismissing all my other pics. ‘I gotta have it. Can I come over’

I think I covered my mouth in shock. There was no warmup to the dirty chat, no pretence of what he wanted. He went right for the ‘pussy’. Right for the emasculating, naughty chat that I secretly lusted after, but rarely got. When I had met up with someone who used those terms it so rarely lived up to expectations, and often I didn’t encourage a return visit. But damn it, I was horny, and it had been a while. And I liked a lad with attitude.

Taylor arrived at my door about thirty minutes later. He was in his hoodie and jeans, a cheeky little grin peeking out from beneath the hood. He was a good four inches shorter than me, and god knows how many kilos lighter than me. “Hey daddy,” he smirked as I opened the door.

“Hey…” I went to say ‘son’, ‘pup’, ‘lad’… but none of them seemed right.

“Taylor,” he said. Giving me an ‘up and down’ look. 

I felt naked already as I let him in and he walked ahead, checking out my apartment. “Nice place,” he concluded with a nod, as if approving. “How ‘bout a drink?”

“Oh ummm sure…” I fumbled. “Wine, beer, coke?” I offered.

“How about a scotch?” Taylor said, sitting down on the sofa, as if he’d been here before. 

“Oh…” well that put me in my place. But I went and found some scotch, poured it into a glass and came back.

“Thanks,” he smiled, taking it off me. He gave me another up and down look. “Shouldn’t you be naked by now?”

“Is that what you want?” I asked.

Taylor responded by pulling out his phone, removing the headphones and playing a song. Nicki Minaj’s song Starships burst forth. “No. I want you to strip for me. I want you to dance and strip for me.”

“But I…” I stumbled.

“You’ve seen my cock,” Taylor said, not taking his eyes off me. “You want it, you strip for your man.”

My eyes widened. This was not what I had expected. And yet…

“I haven’t got all night,” Taylor warned me. What I wasn’t to know,  was that this was the first of many times Taylor would use his cock to get what he wanted. But it worked. And as I started to undo my shirt, I started to gyrate my hips and dance to the music, hypnotic as it was.

Taylor’s face broke into a smile. A real, honest to goodness, sweet smile. “Oh that is so hot.”

So I continued to dance for him. I undid my trousers and slowly eased them over my hips, and he whistled. “That’s sweet. Turn around,” So I did, flexing my back muscles as I turned. “Yeah that’s it,” Taylor whispered. “Now why don’t you ease those panties down over that big, juicy pussy of yours. Bend over nice and slow and show me what ya got there.”

I did as Taylor told me to, and boy I couldn’t deny, it was hot doing it. Without being asked, I grabbed my big arse cheeks and pulled them apart. “That is one sweet hole,” I heard him whisper. There was movement and before I knew it, Taylor’s tongue was in my hole. Oh I moaned. I moaned good and proper.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, oh yeah,” I stammered. I started to buck my hips and shiver with excitement as Taylor’s tongue got me wetter and wetter. I leant against the wall as Taylor’s assault on me continued. My big legs were starting to shiver and shake, and I was struggling to keep my voice from squealing.

“How was that?” Taylor asked, when he finally broke away.

“Oh man that was amazing,” I gabbled. 

“That’s how a real man eats pussy, just in case you didn’t know,” he chuckled as he stood up and gave my big arse a firm slap. “Now why don’t you go into the bedroom, get on your hands and knees and wait for a real man to take care of that horny pussy of yours.” I nodded dumbly but I couldn’t resist turning around to take a peek at his hard nine inches. He’d unzipped his jeans and it was sticking straight out, thick with a slightly wider head and a big vein running down the centre. “Oh fuck,” I moaned.

“Yeah you won’t be complaining tonight,” Taylor stroked it. But having turned around to look, he’d also got a good look at my little cock. “Eessh. God wasn’t kind to you was he,” he teased as he lent forward and flicked it. I blushed a little, suddenly submissive to Taylor’s instructions. “Not to worry. It’s not going to do anything tonight. Now why don’t you run along and get ready, hey?” And he gave me a couple more firm pats on my arse.

A little mesmerised by him, I went, and I’d only been on the bed for a few moments when I heard a low whistle. “Sweet A. I love a big muscle man who knows what he’s here for. That’s a huge muscle arse ready for me to fuck all night. Are you ready big man, to moan my name like a girl on her first date?”

I didn’t get to answer because Taylor’s cock was already lubbed up and sliding between my cheeks. And yeah he fucked me. He fucked me good and long, not changing positions until he’d come deep within me. But that wasn’t the end. He pushed me onto my back and made me suck his cock until it was rock hard again. And then he made me hold my ankles and he ploughed me again until sweat was pouring off me and I had long since stopped worrying what the neighbours might think.

“Time for bed,” Taylor then said, hustling me into the shower and then back into my own bed where I fell asleep, exhausted and he fell asleep because he was young. When I woke up the next morning he silently reached over and moved my hand until it collided with his hard cock. 

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“You guessed it,” Taylor chuckled. And he manoeuvred himself on top of me, using his legs to encourage me to spread mine. “You have the sweetest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he whispered to me, in awe. “And your arse, oh man. I gotta have it.” And he dived down into it, eating me out so much I struggled to catch my breath. When I swore I could feel my own cum leaking into the sheets, he slid his huge cock into me. From this angle it just kept going, sliding deeper and deeper into me. I roared into my pillow. His dick had felt big last night. Now it felt enormous. I swore I could feel it in my throat, it had gone so deep.

“Oh fuck yes, oh fuck yes, oh fuck yes,” Taylor chanted as he started to pump in and out of me. 

My groans on the other hand got bigger and louder. It was as if this cock was made for my arse, and I was made for it. “Ohhhhhh, ahhhhh, ah, ah, ah…” and I swear I started to black out as the orgasm hit.

“Oh hell yeah!” Taylor growled as I felt his huge load flood into me, the thick veins in his cock pulsating against me. As he slowly withdrew from me, he lent down and kissed me. “I’ve gotta go to work,” he suddenly said. Then he turned his head on an angle. “We should go on a date. Friday maybe? After work? I’d like to see Daddy in his suit.”

“Sure,” I mumbled, after all, what do you say after getting fucked so well twice in less than twelve hours?

“See ya,” Taylor smiled and was out of the flat seconds later, closing the door with a quiet click behind him.

 

 

Old Mill Road

"Hey there, Rory, haven't seen your sexy little pussy lately," Wyatt said, pulling up along Rory who was walking shirtless down the Old Mill Road.

"Been busy," Rory said, looking at Wyatt only briefly. Wyatt was the last person he had hoped to see out here. He hated Wyatt. He was the first guy Rory had blown and Wyatt made sure everyone in town knew about it including Rory's then girlfriend.

Wyatt was also the first guy that ever fucked him. And, of course, he bragged about that to everybody in town as well. On more than one occasion, some of the Men took that to mean they didn't need Rory's consent. After all, he was just a fag in their eyes.

On the other hand, Wyatt was sexy as fuck. He could charm the pants off just about anyone, Rory included. Not to mention a big ole dick and he loved to fuck. And Rory still had a bit of a crush on the asshole. 

"I thought maybe you might want to go for a ride or something. You know, for old time's sake," Wyatt asked with a mischievous grin. Rory knew what he meant. 

"Don't you mean 'My girl ain't putting out, so, why don't you hop in the truck, and I take you down to the Old Mill and let you suck my cock for a while and then fuck you up the pussy?'" Rory said, as he kept walking. It was best not to make eye contact with him. That was how Wyatt got him every times. 

Wyatt grinned, "Yeah, something like that. So, you game? You know I was always sweet on your ass. Best piece of pussy in the county"

Rory wanted so bad to tell him to "fuck off". He hated him for that entitled cocky attitude, like he was God's gift to the world. He hated him for outing him to everyone. He hated him for having a girlfriend and not wanting him.

"Come on, you know you love my big ole cock in your pretty little pussy." Wyatt flashed his killer smile and grabbed his crotch shaking it. "I'll make it worth your while."

"Damn it," Rory muttered to himself. He hated himself for giving in, but he couldn't resist the cocky bastard. It was true, he had a great cock, and he knew how to use it. 

"Fine," Rory said. Despite being disgusted with himself, he could feel his much smaller dick getting hard.

"Couldn't help yourself, could you?" Wyatt said unlocking the passenger door.

"Just drive, don't talk, that was never what you did best," Rory said as Wyatt placed Rory's hand on his already hard crotch rubbing it over his huge bulge. Wyatt knew once he felt it, the boy would be hooked. The kid was practically addicted to it, like half the girls in the county.

"Driving is what I do best," Wyatt said slyly, "but you already know that" as the truck peeled out in the gravel heading up the Old Mill Road.

Hope

Danny was where he was supposed to be, where Caleb told him. Just like always. 

"Glad you could make it bitch," Daddy Caleb a said. "Turn around, show me that pretty pussy. I need to get off. I ain't got a lot of time." 

Danny turned around and dropped his jeans while Caleb jerked himself to a hard thick rod with just a couple of pulls.  Spitting in his hand, he lubed his dick up before grabbing Danny's shoulders shoving his massive dick all the way in the boy.  

Danny yelped. Caleb was never gentle when he took him. Danny knew that, even expected it, but it still hurt every time. Months of being Caleb's favorite bitch, almost on a daily basis, had stretched out Danny's pussy enough that he could take it a lot more easily. 

"Daddy?" Danny said as Caleb settled into a regular but robust rut, thrusting his fuck stick deep in the boy then out again. 

"What?" Caleb said annoyed that the boy was talking.

"Would you like to do something after this?" Danny said almost pleading. 

"Like what? Fuck you again? You are a horny little bitch, aren't you?" slightly amused Caleb replied. His annoyance was subsiding as Danny's warm cunt stroked his cock in a way no woman could. There was a reason Caleb kept returning to the same well.

"I don't know, maybe get something to eat? Hang out?" Danny said hopefully. 

"This isn't a date. You're just my favorite piece of pussy. Nothing more. You should be grateful I'm pumping you full of my cum on a regular basis. Some boys would be grateful for whatever they get," Caleb thrusted harder and rougher into Danny.

"Yes, Daddy," Danny started squeezing his cunt muscles around Caleb's dick like he knew He liked it. On each thrust in, Danny relaxed, and on each slide back, Danny gripped Caleb's dick with his  pussy muscles as tight as he could.

"Fuck! Yeah," Caleb yelled as he finally shot his load, coating Danny's insides with the cum the boy desired so badly. Caleb collapsed forward into the boy forcing his cock even deeper into him. In a fleeting moment of kindness, he kissed the back of Danny's neck before unceremoniously pulling all the way out of him.

"Are you pleased, Daddy?" Danny said feeling the cum run down his thigh but holding his position up against the wall. 

"Yeah. You know I love plowing your pussy. Now come over and lick me clean, I'm meeting Darla tonight for dinner. If we finish up early, I'll call you".

Danny smiled. He knew Caleb probably wouldn't call.  But he longed for so much more from the Alpha. A boy can hope. Can't he? 

Size Kings III: Princess in Training (Teaser)

What would it mean to be Ailean’s baby girl? Frank had only been a bottom six or seven months and it seemed he had dove in the deep end of the pool since that first meeting at the coffee shop; then the luxurious bath back at Ailean’s apartment followed by the fucking of his lifetime. That whole, “Well, I noticed you squirming in your seat,” comment is what started it all and the next thing he knew Frank was ass up once again getting cunted. He couldn’t talk about it at the time he was so embarrassed. He was just seeking a bit of relief and sure enough Ailean’s bath trick had worked, it continued to work even after some of the rougher sex he and Ailean had even before Ailean had agreed to move in with Frank. Ailean even had the gall to call him fairly new pussy. Granted he was but the comment stung.

 

That comment hurt because it felt like he had potentially let Ailean down; now granted Ailean didn’t say as much but being “new pussy” for Frank meant inexperience and that was something he had not been used to feeling. But this was vastly different than being the jock brute top on campus. That came easily. That thinking just a few short months ago was natural, instilled even. Now that thinking so foreign to Frank. He didn’t feel like he was one thing or the other. He just knew he cared for Ailean deeply. Cared more for Ailean than anyone in the world, except maybe his parents and grandparents but that was different. Ailean, he felt was someone he could build a life with. Someone he could grow old with. Someone he could have fabulous sex with for decades.

The Tennis Match----- by Richard Saw

About The Author

Richard Saw is an Australian ex-pat with a British passport, who works for an American multi-national and does a very good impression of a Londoner when on the escalator at Piccadilly Circus.

His original piece of writing was The Eating Guide to Soho (now in its 4th Edition). So for the past twelve years he has been eating and drinking his way through London and only his sense of the surreal has stopped him becoming a huge food snob.  

https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B00CLRMLC0?ingress=0&visitId=f24b3647-8c73-435f-94e8-c2e5da37f8cc

The author's Twitter can be found here https://twitter.com/gayjockgeek

Gary and I had played tennis against each other for years. We’d met in our twenties in a tennis group when we’d both lived in a big city and we instantly bonded. We had both grown up playing tennis, playing tournaments and following the professional events like the soap operas they were. I was better than Gary was, that was never in question, but we never thought that should stop us having regular hits. We’d meet up early in the morning on city courts and smack the crap out of the ball, me performing miracles at the net, Gary slamming laser-like groundstrokes from the baseline.

And then we’d go have breakfast together and talk about the various men we were shagging. Gary and I fooled around a few times in the early days. After all we were fit gay men in a big city. It was all good fun to be had. But we never were at the same place in our lives at the same times, so we never dated, and the sex drifted away as a fond memory down the years.

We were still catching up for regular hits on the court years later, when Gary sent me a picture of some fashion brand that was using the tennis look from the 1970’s… wooden rackets, tight polo shirts, you know the look. The only tennis look that had impacted fashion. Unfortunately. 

‘So cute’ I texted back, talking of the model.

‘We should do that,’ Gary messaged back.

‘Do what?’

‘Get some old wooden rackets. Get the polo shirts and little shorts, some canvas shoes. And then play a match dressed like that.’

I laughed aloud. That was a genius idea. If we could find the gear, that is. ‘We gotta do it, I agree. I’ll get the rackets. You get the gear. That’ll be our mission.’

‘It’s a plan.’

Of course, it took longer than hoped for. I had to eventually purchase some old rackets in an auction and then convince a friend of mine to re-string them, so we could actually play with them. The clothing was a little easier but even then Greg told me he’d struggled. When we both declared that we were ready, Greg messaged me to come to his place early Sunday morning and we’d get changed at his place before going to a tennis court near his place in a school where we didn’t even have to book because no one used them.

The temperature was already climbing into the low 30’s as I jogged around to Greg’s. I was so impressed with the rackets I had, and how I’d got them ready to play. I couldn’t wait to play this match. I mean, I knew I would win, that was easy. I’d never come close to losing to Greg, but it wasn’t about winning.

“Greg! Buddy!” I greeted him at the door. “Holy crap!” I exclaimed as I took it all in. Greg was wearing a tight white polo shirt, perfectly pressed little white shorts that didn’t leave much to the imagination, white socks pulled up thigh-high and a pair of Dunlop volleys. It was iconic.

“What do you think?” He laughed.

“This isn’t retro,” I chuckled. “This is vintage. Here,” and I gave him his racket. “Have a swing with this.”

“Perfect,” he said as he swung the racket. “Damn it’s heavy.”

“I know!” I chuckled. “I had a little hit myself. It’s gunna be tough. So, where’s my gear?”

“In the bedroom,” Gary said, pointing.

I hurried in, closed the door behind me and picked up the… no. I couldn’t believe it. This was some joke. He wouldn’t…

“Gary!” I stuck my head around the door.

“Yeah?” He looked at me, all innocence.

“Very funny. Now where’s my shirt and shorts?” I asked him.

“You told me to buy the vintage tennis gear,” he smirked. “You didn’t say it had to be men’s clothing.”

“But I can’t…” I protested.

“No one well see,” Gary assured me. “I had to think of a way to even the odds. And I saw the dress in a vintage shop when I was getting my shorts and I thought, I know who will think this is funny.”

“Yeah, it is,” I admitted. And it was, and did I care? You could do these sorts of things with a real mate, and Gary was definitely the person to have a laugh with. “Fine,” I chuckled. “But your Bjorn Borg is definitely going down to my Billie Jean King.” I ducked back into the bedroom and stripped off out of my street clothes. There didn’t seem much fabric with these tennis dresses, and it was well tight over my big pecs, even if it was made with a woman’s tits in mind. And boy it finished short. Just over my bum crack…

“Gary?” I called out again.

“Yes?” he stuck his head around the door with a big grin.

“I can’t wear this. I didn’t bring any underwear with me,” and I gestured that you could see the tip of my cock underneath my dress.

“Here,” and he threw a pair of … frilly knickers at me. “I knew you never wear underwear. So, I was prepared.”

“You are too fucking bad for words,” I laughed, pulling the knickers up underneath the tennis dress. He’d even gone to the effort of getting my little socks with the pom-poms on the back. Damn that man.

Gary couldn’t stop grinning as I stood in front of him. “Satisfied?” I laughed. “You’re going down you male chauvinist pig,” I teased him. “Billie Jean is going to thrash you.”

We headed out of the apartment, across to the school playing fields and onto the tennis court. As always there was no one around, so we took some selfies of us in our kit and started to hit some balls. It was tougher than either of us imagined. So used to modern equipment were we, that we struggled to find the sweet spot of the racket or put the ball in the corners like we used to. Gary was taller and heavier than I was, and it seemed that while we both struggled, it was easier for him to swing at the ball and strike it heavier. I was used to rushing the net but I found my balls landed in the middle of the court and if Gary didn’t hit it past me, I struggled to hit a winning volley. Plus, my much better serve was totally negated, they seemed to land in the middle of the box, right into Gary’s hitting zone.

It wasn’t the only problem. The damn tennis dress kept restricting me as I tried to serve. And when I lunged for a backhand volley my big pecs, pushed up by the dress, kept getting in the way. It was weird too, feeling the dress creep up, exposing the frilly knickers. Did girls go through this? And where was I supposed to put the second ball? I’d seen girls put it up their knickers, but it kept popping out when I did it. Plus… and I couldn’t quite believe this, but Gary’s shorts were so tight I could see the outline of his cock. As I double-faulted to go behind 4-3, we crossed over at the net. I was sweating like anything, the leather grip on the racket frustrating me. Gary on the other hand looked cool and calm, in his perfect whites. I bent over to pick up the tennis balls – these damn rackets made it difficult to scoop them up – and I could feel Gary standing behind me. Oh god, I could feel his semi-hard cock against my arse in these silly, frilly knickers. That boy would do anything to break my rhythm.

“How’s it going Billie-Jean?” he whispered. “Maybe you shouldn’t be on a court with a man. Only place for a girl like you is on her back.”

I laughed. “It’s these damn knickers. So small.”

“I don’t know what you’re worried about,” Gary laughed as he took the balls off me. “Your cock is so little you don’t even need the knickers.”

I gasped. My dick was a perfectly good size, thank you very much. Sure, it was a grower and not a shower, and sure nothing like Gary’s thick 8 inches but… Now this should have inspired me to crush him. We always teased each other, and I never let a good insult get in the way of kicking his arse. But as I took up position to receive, I stared down the other end of the court. Gary smirked at me and stroked his cock. By the time he served I was still thinking about his cock and my return didn’t make the net. It seemed to inspire him on and three more hard serves later, Gary had the game. I hadn’t given up a set to Gary in years but here I was, struggling and as he strutted around the court, I made error after error, to give him my serve and the set.

We went to the net to grab a drink and change ends. This had to end, I had to take control of the match. “Well one set to me,” Gary teased. “That means your knickers are mine. Com’n, hand em over.”

“What?” I blustered. “What do you mean?”

“One set down, you lose your shorts. You can win ‘em back in the second.”

Gary sounded so confident that I never thought to challenge him, except to say, “But what if someone sees?”

“Can you see anyone around?” Gary pointed out. “Plus, your cock’s so little. No one is going to see it.”

I blushed again and without thinking, I put my racket down and peeled my knickers down, handing them to Gary. 

“Good girl,” he chuckled as he put them in the pocket of his tight tennis shorts.

We got into the second set and I was determined to get ahead. Twice I broke his serve, but each time I immediately surrendered my own. The slippery leather grip of my racket meant I couldn’t serve like I expected to. When Gary held serve to take a 5-4 lead we changed over. “I break you here, I want the title as the better player,” Gary demanded.

“Not a chance,” I protested. 

“Why? We’re playing tennis as it should be,” he claimed. 

I don’t know what it was, but Gary had thrown me for a loop today. He had me thinking up was down, and left was right. I found myself unable to argue. “Oh, you can’t!” I protested. “You’ve got to let me have that.”

“All this time,” Gary smirked, “You’ve claimed you were the better player. And now we’ve stripped it back to proper tennis it turns out you’re just a little princess with a tiny cock trying to play on a man’s court.”

I blushed and stammered. “No Gary, please.”

Gary eyed me up and down, as I found myself trying to pull my dress down a little to cover my dick which – traitor it was – was staying as small as it could be. “Very well,” he said, taking a step closer to me, making me feel even smaller. His racket swung between my legs and nestled in my arse crack. “I’ll protect your reputation. I won’t tell everyone you’re not the player they think you are. But in return you’re going to lift that dress like a girl and I’m going to fuck you right here on this court. I’ll have your big arse out on show, begging for my cock, with that little tennis dress riding up as I slam into your arse.”

“But… but… my boyfriend!” I protested. “And we’re mates…”

“And we both know your big arse has been begging for a proper fucking for years, hasn’t it?” Gary pointed out. “And there you are running around town being the big top. We both know you need this. I just had to get you into a tennis dress to make you realise what you need.”

I gasped. Had Gary played me from the very beginning? “I don’t have much choice, do I?” I protested.

Gary just grinned back and gave me the balls to serve. There was no way I was going to lose this game. Five times Gary had match points and each time I ran balls down, striking winners. But Gary wanted the win even more than I didn’t want to lose. I slipped on the next point and my passing shot just fell wide. Gary rocked from side to side, cupping his huge cock in his tiny shorts and licking his lips. But I knew he was nervous and so I pushed him back and came forward confidently. His weak return floated but with him out of position I tried to be a little too clever and my volley floated just wide. Gary pumped his arms in victory, “Fuck yeah!” he roared. Gary never spoke like that and now I found myself staring at his biceps. How had I not known they were so big? 

Gary walked to the net, calm as ever. As if this was his right, as if he had expected to win the whole time. I went to shake his hand, but he ignored it, as if to indicate we were not equals, instead he grabbed my head and brought his lips to mine. I almost melted in his arms as his tongue slipped into my mouth. “Come over here,” he whispered, as he took me to the side of the court where there was a single plastic chair. He sat down, spreading his legs as he did. “Go on,” he said. “Get it nice and wet and hard.”

There was nothing for me to do, but to get down on my knees, my big arse forcing my tennis dress up to leave me exposed, as I un-zipped his shorts and pulled out his cock. God it was bigger than I remembered. How had I not given into this cock when we were young? How had I not begged to suck it every day and spread my big arse for it? I took it in my mouth, and it tasted as salty and as masculine as I’d ever wished a cock to be. I licked around the head and struggled to get the shaft down my throat. It was bliss and I would have stayed that way had Gary not reminded me what I owed him.

“Time for you to give the man what he deserves,” he smiled, standing up and forcing me to do the same. One of his big hands pushed me against the wire fence, while the other lifted my dress up. Even though it had been exposed during that second set, now my arse was totally open, I could feel the cool breeze against it and I shivered. He slipped a couple of fingers in my mouth, forcing me to suck on them. And then Gary slipped them around to my hole.

“So tight,” he smiled. And he slipped down, burying his face in my arse. “Ohhh, ohh, ohhh,” I couldn’t stop myself from moaning as his tongue opened me up and got me even wetter.

“Are you ready for a big cock?” I heard him ask.

“Yes, yes, please, yes.”

“What do you say?”

“You’re the better tennis player,” I gabbled. “I admit it. I’m a little girl on the court against your man. Please fuck me, take my big arse and show it what it’s there for.”

“You need it bad,” Gary declared. “I knew you did. So good to hear you admit that I’m a bigger man and a better player. I’m gunna keep this tennis dress around. Don’t worry, I won’t make you wear it when we play tennis. I’ll just look at it to remind me what a little girl you are. And maybe I’ll make you put it on whenever I feel a nice big arse to drop a load up.”

“Yes, yes,” I agreed.

“And when you put that tennis dress on you’re going to take my dick any way I want to, aren’t you? I’m gunna fuck you nice and raw, dump a big load of my swimmers up there. Maybe get you pregnant.”

“Oh please!” I moaned as I could finally feel Gary’s cock resting at the opening of my hole. He was right, I hadn’t been fucked in a long time, but I’d spent all morning – from the moment I squeezed into this tennis dress – desperate for a cock to be inside me. I opened up for him, right there. “Aww fuck,” I groaned as I felt him enter me.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Take it nice and deep.” Gary brought me back down on his cock and then lifted me up onto my tippy-toes, my little pom-poms pointing to either side as I let out a squeal, before sliding me all the way down, his huge cock filling me.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” I had been missing cock like this and now I barely knew how to handle it. But Gary was there to teach me all over again. He kept sliding into me, not letting me catch my breath, not letting my prostrate have a seconds rest. Eventually though he lent back a little and without thinking, I sat back on him, and started to ride the cock all by myself. 

“Oh baby,” Gary growled. He slapped my arse several times as I milked him, before grabbing my waist and holding my down as his cock throbbed and shot inside me. As he did, I felt my body react in pleasure and I felt my own dick, which hadn’t so much as grown an inch, start dribbling cum down my leg.

“That was amazing,” I whispered as Gary slowly withdrew. And it was true. It had been great sex.

“Come on,” Gary smiled. “Let’s get back to mine before anyone sees us.”

We both found ourselves looking around, realising we’d taken quite a risk and she grabbed our gear and hurried back to Gary’s place. We both chuckled and smiled at the whole scene, showering to get the sweat and cum off. It was like it had been great fun between friends, and great tennis. “That was a one off, wasn’t it?” Gary asked.

“Yeah definitely,” I laughed. “But an awesome one.”

We both agreed and I got back into my street clothes and picked up the wooden rackets. We hugged, a quick kiss on both cheeks and I headed off home. 

But I’d taken two steps out the door and I found myself stopping. I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. But I turned around and knocked on Gary’s door. He opened it and I found myself trembling. “Please Gary I need your dick. I just need it bad.” 

Fort Lauderdale

As Corey started to come around, he heard a man grunting. At the same time Corey felt a cock shooting a load deep in his pussy. The man pulled out, and almost immediately another man's cock was ins him. His hands and feet were taped together, and a new man rearranged the placement of his body to suit him.

Corey wasn't sure how long he had been unconscious He tried to remember what he remembered last. It slowly came to him. He had been getting fucked by a group of men last night and was drunk. It was no longer night, though. He could see the sun through the windows.

Another load was dumped in his pussy, and almost without thinking, Corey said, "Thank you, Daddy."

"I guess he's awake," one of the man fucking him said. He pulled out and another huge, hard cock took its place in Corey's cunt.

Corey knew he had passed out drunk. He had no way of knowing whether he had been getting fucked continuously or not. He had no idea how many dicks had been inside him, or how many loads he had taken. He had no idea how many more loads he'd have to take.

Suddenly he was being turned over, and a huge dildo was being forced into his throat while yet another cock was pounding his pussy. There was a lot he didn't know. What Corey did know was coming to Fort Lauderdale for spring break was something he'd do again.

Figuring it All Out

It was his group of friends that decided to have scary movie night every week. After the second week, Jerry asked me to come with him. He said he knew I liked horror movies. But I figured out the real reason why he wanted me there. We had been to the movies a few weeks before, and he grabbed my arm when he was scared. A moment later he let go of me. I whispered that he shouldn't be embarrassed, and he should grab my arm whenever he was scared if it made him feel better.

The thing was, grabbing my arm did make him feel better. It made him feel a lot better, and safer. It was strange. He wasn't a weak or fearful person. If anything, he thought, he was straight and I am openly gay. He should be the one protecting me. But holding me made him feel like nothing bad could ever happen to him.

I went along with him to scary movie night, and sitting next to me, holding my arm, he wasn't as scared. We did that for a few weeks. Then last week, when a very scary movie was on I had him sit between my legs. He was a bit nervous at first that it would look odd, but as he settled down leaning against me, he relaxed. As the lights went off I whispered in his ear. "Can you feel my hard dick? That's for you."

Ordinarily he would have jumped up and denied he was gay, fighting any feelings he might have to the contrary. But with my arms holding him tight, he knew everything was going to be OK. In fact, his own little dick was now rock hard.

Jerry was trying to watch the movie, but all he could think about was my dick pressing into him. Mine felt enormous on his back. Could it really be that big? He wondered if I was circumsized. He wondered if I had ever managed to get it inside another dude. He wondered if I could get it in his virgin hole. He wondered what it tasted like.

No, he had to stop thinking about that. He was straight. He had a girlfriend. Why didn't his girlfriend ever make him feel this good, this safe, or this protected. She made him feel like he was always doing something wrong, but she never told him what he should be doing. That was never a problem with me. He always knew exactly what I wanted because I told him. And he knew when he did something I liked. Just last week I had ruffled my hand through his hair and told him I was proud of him when he showed me he had gotten an A on his college algebra test. He couldn't remember feeling so good in a long time.

This week, it had been Jerry's turn to host. I picked the movie, and arrived early to help Jerry clean up and get ready. Jerry was wearing only a tee shirt, and shorts. I could tell Jerry was freeballing. Jerry was a bit disappointed that I had him sit beside me. Jerry had hoped to feel my strong, hard cock against him again. He was happy to at least have my arm around his shoulder, keeping him safe.

A few minutes into the movie Jerry did get startled, and I slipped my arm down his back. I leaned over and whispered in his ear to relax. Jerry felt my hand slip inside his shorts, and he leaned forward a bit to let me get my hand under him. Jerry knew what I was going to do. Jerry had fingered girls before. Jerry grabbed my leg with is hand, but it was not out of fear. Jerry didn't know why, but he was giving me permission. During the rest of the movie I teased and toyed with his ass. He paid no attention to what everyone else was watching, focused only on what I was doing to him.

I stayed behind when everyone else left, then I pulled my own shorts and underwear down while I sat back on his couch. He seemed mesmerized watching my cock as I lubed it, but when I told him to sit on my lap and ride my dick, he did as he was instructed. I told him that my cock was much bigger and less flexible than my finger, but that if he relaxed his budding pussy it would hurt less. It felt wrong to Jerry to be doing this, but he knew I would protect him.

It took Jerry a while, but eventually he got me all the way in his new cunt. It hurt. In fact, he couldn't remember ever being in so much pain. But he didn't want to let my cock out of him. For the first time I knew Jerry felt like he knew who he was and what he was supposed to be doing. As Jerry relaxed, the level of pain went down and he started squirming in my lap, feeling my cock rooting around in his insides.

With him more comfortable with my cock in his pussy, I repositioned us so Jerry was on his knees facing the back of the couch so I could really fuck him the way I wanted. I knew all thoughts went out of Jerry's mind as he listened to my instructions to clamp down on me as I pulled out and relax as I pushed back in him. Jerry was disappointed when he felt my body tense and my cum breeding him. It had not gone on nearly as long as he would have liked.

Jerry couldn't help but smile with pride when I told him he had done a good job, and that I hadbred him as a reward. Now he would carry a bit of me around with him forever. I would always be a part of him. Even though he hadn't cum, it was the best sex he ever had. He didn't understand. Even gay dudes had did. Jerry showed me out while still naked. I told him I'd pick him up next week because the next movie was at a house on the edge of town. He wanted to ask me to stay, but he said he couldn't.

Sitting alone on his couch Jerry lit a cigarette, but he only took one puff. He thought about my cum in his throbbing pussy. He couldn't understand why he had let me fuck him, or why it felt so right. He didn't understand why his new pussy felt so empty. He felt my cum spreading through his own body, helping him relax. He didn't think he could last a whole week before getting me fucking him again. He tried to figure out if it would sound weird if he asked me to come over before next week. He wished I would just come back and fuck him again, so he would not have to figure all this out.