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Punishment (Building a Pack #3)

Posted on May 6, 2021 by indieerotica

Crack.

Chains jangled and Isaac flinched. A quiet sob echoed in the spacious room, and leather rasped against bare concrete as the whip dragged on the floor behind Isaac. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the snap of the whip, much less the sound of it hitting bare skin, but Gabriel had insisted he learn.

In all honesty, Isaac never once imagined he would be in a place like this. It wasn’t his first time here, but it was still strange how the rich burgundy walls and the variety of equipment hung up on their racks, called out to him. The coarseness of the bare concrete floor under his feet felt right, too, somehow. Even the way that the leather straps, of the harness he wore across his chest, dug in felt proper.

The tail of the whip trailed behind Isaac as he walked around the St. Andrew’s cross in the middle of the room. Kevin was strung up against it with heavy chains fastened to the thick stainless steel manacles locked around his wrists and ankles. His back was exposed to the air and already had four thin welts marking where the whip had struck.

A cold knot settled into the pit of Isaac’s stomach as he came around to look Kevin in the face. Streaks of tears stained his mate’s cheeks, but Kevin’s jaw was set, and his eyes burned with determination. The instinct to protect was difficult to quell, but Isaac did so, anyway. He resisted the urge to ask if Kevin needed a break—as they’d barely even just begun.

Clenching his hands around the handle of the whip, Isaac walked around to the side of the cross. He took a moment to examine the landscape of Kevin’s back, to choose a good spot to hit that wasn’t too close to the previous lashes.

Two weeks had passed since Isaac and Gabriel rescued Kevin. Isaac didn’t often think about her anymore, but there was still a part of him that wanted to run down the bitch that stole Kevin and tear out her throat. Isaac shook his head. Thinking those thoughts were what had landed him in this predicament in the first place.

Isaac had been stupid enough to tell Gabriel about the anger he felt, about the bloodlust thrumming through his veins, the day after he got Kevin back. That was the first time he ever set foot in the dungeon, only he hadn’t been the punisher, then.

Rescue (Building a Pack #2)

Posted on May 6, 2021May 6, 2021 by indieerotica

The golden rays of early morning’s light streamed through the blinds drawn over the windows. The plastic slats cast long shadows across the alarm clock on the nightstand, which read 7:30 AM, while the streaks of light illuminated the sparse motes of dust drifting lazily through the air.

With a quiet sigh, Isaac cracked open an eye and smiled. The events of the auspicious day that had changed everything were still fresh in his mind. He never would have thought that weeks of agony and misery starting when his boyfriend “saw the light” and turned straight could culminate in something so beautiful, so pleasurable, and so empowering.

Isaac still felt a pang of hurt in his chest thinking about Kevin. He imagined he would continue to feel that way for a while. Hearing his boyfriend call him a faggot and mean every syllable, watching him walk away into the arms of a woman, had left a wound that would take a while to heal.

Taking a deep breath, Isaac stretched his arms over his head and yawned. The air was thick with the musk of men, the scent of sweat, and the distinct, intoxicating aroma of sex. Between his legs, his cock throbbed with insistent need at the memory of Gabriel holding him, taking him from behind.

Isaac shivered. He ran his fingers over his pecs. The thick slabs of firm muscle had truly matured over the last three weeks. As a bit of a twig his whole life, Isaac had basically given up on the idea of putting on much muscle, if any at all.

Now, three weeks after he was introduced to a world that he’d always thought was nothing but myth and folklore, Isaac had not just grown broader, he’d grown taller, too. He didn’t really understand it, but the magic had somehow turned him into the best physical version of himself.

Isaac felt amazing, though to tell the truth, he felt a not-inconsiderable amount of guilt for feeling that way. Now that he understood the situation a little better thanks to Gabriel, he felt as if his happiness were somehow a betrayal of Kevin.

Isaac knew it was stupid for him to think that just because Kevin, the real Kevin, was suffering, he had to suffer too. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel that way sometimes. Being around Gabriel helped him forget about the strange, complicated way that the human heart felt things, but at his core, he was still just a guy, whatever the magic had done to him.

Fortunately, most of the time, Isaac was more than happy to just bask in the wonderful sensation of being a werewolf. While he wasn’t sure how true the impression he got was, Gabriel had somewhat implied that the full transformation would come about faster if he just let himself enjoy it. Whatever the case, that was just the kind of excuse that Isaac could use to justify the way he felt to himself.

Because Isaac felt satisfied in a way that he had never been before. He felt happy. He felt secure. He felt full. And not in the least because there was a thick cock lodged in his hole, and a pair of furry muscular arms wrapped around his waist.

The Bite (Building a Pack #1)

Posted on May 6, 2021 by indieerotica

As if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d lost his boyfriend of four years, Isaac discovered that Kevin had left him for a woman. The universe was laughing at him. He was sure of it. He didn’t think he’d ever been more miserable in his life.

Isaac would have happily drowned in his anguish, but when a handsome stranger shows up at his doorstep, he feels the slightest flicker of hope. When the stranger offers him the power to ensure that he would never have to feel so miserable again, the temptation is too great to refuse.

“I just don’t know where else to turn to…”

The earnest words of the prayer, spoken in words slurred with drink, were like a whisper in the breeze that wound through the halls of the temple to the Étrad Sídhthe. The attendants laboriously polishing the gilded statues of men in all types of ecstasy looked about as if perturbed by the sound. “Is that what I think it is?” said one, hanging from the ceiling in a sling of ropes whilst absentmindedly rubbing a statue’s gleaming bicep with a cloth and his crotch.

“None of this makes any sense! I just want him back…”

“I think it is,” said another of the attendants, cleaning the toes of a golden Adonis with his tongue. He turned his eyes to the vaulted ceiling, to the glimmering silks crossing from one side of the hall to the other, suspended from the tops of the marble columns that paraded down the length of the corridor.

“I’ll pay any price! I’ll give you anything you want! I just want him back…”

Gaining in strength and bolstered by the benediction of the temple’s attendants, the prayer thundered down the central aisle of the main chamber. The words were steeped in the kind of desperation known only to the most sincere of loves. Disciples of the Étrad Sídhthe in their leathers and sheer cloths looked up from their coupling. Even the Cáel Sídhe took notice.

Perched upon a dais where an altar should have been were two tall thrones. Atop one, Cáel draped his slight, effete body over one of the armrests. In that position, the bright pink veils he wore, that left very little to the imagination to begin with, revealed even more of his lithe form.

With the twitch of an eyebrow, the Cáel looked across to the man seated on the other throne. His eyes glowed with the light of divination as he sought the source of the prayer’s pain. When he found it, he gave the Brogda Sídhe a meaningful look and said, “Well…that’s not good. I’m tempted, but do we even want to touch this right now?”

“It’s definitely not good,” said Brogda. His deep, sensual baritone voice sent a shiver down the spine of every man in the room whose heart held even the slightest dreg of submissiveness. He leaned forward, his brows furrowed with thought.

The dignified purple toga edged in gold stretched across Brogda’s broad chest and bulging muscles as he considered the situation, and the prayer. “But I don’t think that we want to touch it. Not directly, at least. He’s declared war, but you know what it took last time. We need time to get ready.”

“But we are going to do something, right?” said Cáel, emphasizing his words with exaggerated gestures with his right hand. He would have used both hands, but his left was busy stroking the massive cock of the disciple perched on the other armrest of his throne. “This isn’t something we can just let go.”

Brogda leaned back with a small, wicked smirk. “Correct. Which means that we’ll have to use someone who is, on the surface at least, not directly affiliated with us.” He rested his palms on the ends of the armrests of his throne. The disciple that had been worshipping his feet doubled his efforts as Brogda’s mighty cock stirred to life. The front of Brogda’s toga tented upward, parting around the rock-hard pillar that was his erection.

Seducing My Dad While Staying Safe

Posted on May 6, 2021 by indieerotica

Last Halloween, Ronald had an unexpected sexual bonding experience with his dad, Rich. Though it was framed as one-time hands-on lesson, in the months that have followed, Ronald hasn’t been able to banish the many fantasies that abound when he takes himself in hand.

Now, with quarantined summer approaching and his mother unable to travel home, the months of social isolation are starting to take their toll. Rich has sunk into an intense daily routine of weight lifting and long sessions at the piano, and Ronald, with nowhere to go, can’t stop thinking about better ways he might help his father vent his frustrations.

Cooped up together in their house while they stay safe, Ronald doesn’t know how much longer he can ignore the elephant in the room, that secret one-time encounter his father will never talk about. If only he can convince his dad to use his son’s butt, that his tight insides are just as good as his mom’s.

If only he can give his father all the filthy things he dreams of giving him…

It’s Tuesday now. Dad is finishing his workout in the basement. I can hear the weights dropping to the ground as he does his dead lifts. He always comes to his bedroom to shower and change out of his workout clothes, before he plays the piano. I’m waiting for him here.

I’m wearing Mom’s panties. Slipping them on for the first time, after all those times jerking off, thinking of it, my dick is instantly erect. They’re tight on me. Dad’s room has a long closet mirror, letting me see how fully my butt cheeks bulge out, the pink fabric triangle narrowing as it plunges into my butt crack, wedging in tight against my hole at the bottom.

I get up on the bed, examining my butt more in the mirror. I squat up with hands on knees, butt raised slightly, so that my cheeks spread wider, bulging rounder from each side of the panties. Up and down I rock my hips, seeing how the narrower band of fabric rides my crack, feeling how it pushes against my hole. I think of Dad’s large, hairy hand pulling that fabric down slowly, revealing my butt cheeks.

Seven loud bangs announce another set. Dad will be finished soon.

I slide forward, laying face down on the bed, but turn my head to face the mirror. I hump the bed a little, watching how my bubble butt flexes together each time I drive into the mattress. This is exactly how I want Dad to find me. I hump some more, enjoying the sensation in my erection, but it’s the sight of my squeezing buns that I focus on, the anticipation of what Dad will think when he sees it.

There are no more sounds from below. I wait, my heart racing. Any minute now, he will find me.

I see the door swing open in the mirror. Dad is standing there, his forehead beading sweat. He’s already taken his shirt off. His black, curly chest hair is also wet and glistening in the sunlit hall.

I watch his eyes, through the mirror, not moving at all. He’s staring toward me, staring in one place.

Tentatively, I hump the bed, squeezing my butt tight, never looking away from that intense gaze of his. His mouth opens slightly, a war on his face. His eyes widen a little, but they stare in the same place.

I hump again, squeeze long and hard, keeping my boy buns tight together so he can see the way the pink fabric fills my crack, the force of my muscles and just how tight they can squeeze his dick.

His mouth opens more. He’s making fists at his side. His eyes seem furious now, furious like that look he gets when he’s pounding piano chords.

Finally he comes forward. He closes the bedroom door. I follow his motion in the mirror. He stops, midway between door and bed. Slowly, he drops his shorts, but stays in his underwear. His hard-on is unmistakable, straining the gray material to its limit, pulling the underwear band away from his hips.

He comes the rest of the way, to the bed, rests his knees against the edge. His eyes, the whole time, stare at the same place. My butt.

The Paperboy and The MILF

Posted on May 5, 2021 by indieerotica

It’s eighteen-year-old Ryan’s last day as paperboy and he’s collecting dues and saying goodbye to all of his clients—and he’s saved his favorite for last.

Mrs. Miller is a MILF with an often-absent husband and two rowdy teenage boys. Whenever he comes to collect dues, she inevitably flirts with him. It’s harmless and never goes anywhere, but it gives Ryan a nice ego boost and some mental fun for his spank bank.

Today is different, though.

The first difference is that her teenage boys are out of town with her husband. The second difference is that she doesn’t seem to be satisfied with harmless flirting today.

What starts as the usual flirting soon escalates into tearing off clothes and Mrs. Miller showing Ryan just how phenomenal a bored housewife can be in bed.

The Paperboy and the MILF is a 5,000 word short story.

It was my final day as a paperboy. Tomorrow I’d be packing up the car with Dad and driving to Minneapolis for college.

There were still a few accounts that paid cash or check monthly, rather than having it drawn out from their bank account or their credit card, so for those customers, I was doing my rounds and collecting fees—and also saying goodbye. I’d been their paperboy since I was thirteen, so now five years later at eighteen and about to move off for college, it was a big change, both for me and for them.

I saved my favorite client for the end. Mrs. Miller. She was a banging married MILF whose husband was always on long haul trucking jobs—and I guess as part of her way to keep herself occupied, she often flirted with me. We’d never done anything beyond flirt, though I would sink my dick into her at a moment’s notice if she ever felt like actually cheating on her husband.

More than once I’d gone straight home from chatting with Mrs. Miller to beat off into my cum sock. She’s fuelled many fantasies for me over the years.

As I walked up to her door, I tugged at the bottom of my T-shirt, straightening it, but also making sure it hung nicely over my pecs. I’d been working out the last several months and my body was starting to show for the effort.

At the top step, I rang the bell and waited. I didn’t hear the usual clamor of her teenage boys that had always been the backdrop noise to our little flirting game. A few moments later the door opened and Mrs. Miller smiled when she saw it was me.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Miller,” I said.

“Good afternoon, Ryan. I told you to call me Linda,” she said, gently chastising me.

I smiled and I think I blushed a bit. “Sorry...good afternoon, Linda.” I fumbled with pulling my little receipt book out of my back pocket. “I’m here to collect your monthly dues.”

“Of course,” she said, holding the door open wide, “come in and I’ll go get my purse.”

With the door fully open, I finally got a good look at what Mrs. Miller—Linda—had on today. She always dressed super nice. Today she had a short black skirt and a black and gray shirt that seemed to wrap around her body and really accentuate her full breasts. And it was low-cut, giving me ample view of her cleavage.

I stepped past her to enter her house, and I tried to tame my boner when my shoulder brushed up against her tits. She made a satisfied little humming sound when I did that and I had to struggle to not read too much into it. This was just another case of harmless flirting that wasn’t going to go anywhere.

She closed the door behind me. “Wait right here,” she said, putting her hand on my shoulder before hurrying off down the hall. A few moments later, she came back down the hall with her purse in hand.

“Quiet today,” I said.

She put her purse on the little table just past the entryway and dug through it. “Yes, the boys went with my husband on his route. Sort of a last minute summer getaway before school starts up again next week.” She pulled her checkbook out of her purse. “Speaking of school, I hear this is the last time you’re coming by?”

I watched as she flipped open the checkbook and bent over to write out the check. Her ass, perfect and round, stuck out behind her. My eyes locked on it and wouldn’t let go.

“Yeah,” I said, managing to form full words and not drool. “Going to college in Minneapolis. I’ll be back for the holidays and next summer, but I won’t be your paperboy anymore, I guess.”

She tore off the check, stood upright, and turned around with a small pout on her face. “I’m happy for you, but I’m going to miss our little visits and chats.”

“Me too,” I said.

She stepped closer, holding the check out, but then she stopped when her eyes landed on my chest. “Have you been working out?”

I grinned stupidly. “Yes, I have. I think it’s paying off.” I ran my hands down from my chest to my waist, smoothing out the shirt again.

She shook her head. “Can you...take off your shirt? I can’t really get a sense of anything through the shirt.”

Dominated in the Hot Tub

Posted on May 5, 2021 by indieerotica

Jay was supposed to be on a romantic ski getaway with his boyfriend Carl…only to have Carl dump him days before for some brainless twink. Not willing to lose money on the ski resort’s “no cancellations” policy, Jay hits the slopes as a sort of makeshift one-man “Get Over Carl Party”.

But that only gets him so far. At the end of it all, Jay realizes he needs something, even if he doesn’t know what it is. Something in his life just feels…missing.

As he soaks in the outdoor hot tub late at night in privacy and quiet, he contemplates all of this. Then someone joins him in the tub.

At first, Jay is pissed that he no longer has privacy, but then he sees who it is. A burly, hairy, hunky daddy that obviously has eyes for Jay. And after a little bit of flirting to test the waters, Jay makes his move.

He knows what’s missing in his life—it’s this anonymous hot tub man with the dominating personality and the sexual appetite of a teenager.

Dominated in the Hot Tub is a 3,500 word short story.

I sunk in the hot tub until the steamy, bubbly water tickled at the bottoms of my ear lobes. I let out a sigh and just closed my eyes, letting that warmth seep into my aching body. But the pain was good.

I was supposed to come to Tahoe and ski the slopes with Carl…but then he dumped me for some brainless twink. I’d considered cancelling the reservation, but with this place’s “no refund” policy, I decided to make it a Get Over Carl Getaway for just myself. I brought my work BFF Jennifer with me, but while she lounged in the chalet all day, I’d kept myself busy.

Carl had been wrong for me anyway. He had wanted love and romance, whereas I wanted to be dominated and treated like the stubby pig I was. It had been far too long since I’d had a good dicking.

There were some hot guys here at the ski resort, but since I was here with Jennifer I had to behave. Besides, some skiing, sun, and late night hot tub soaks would do me some good. I leaned my head back and looked up at the stars above. The air was cool and crisp and snow covered most of the surfaces except for the paved path leading up to the hot tub.

And it was quiet. So blessedly quiet. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the silence.

And that’s why I groaned when I heard the soft pat-pat of footsteps coming my way. I kept my eyes closed, hoping that whoever it was would just pass on by or, if they were sticking around, not bother me.

Then I heard the quiet rustle of a towel falling to the ground, followed by the gentle splash of someone getting into the hot tub with me. I couldn’t help it. I groaned.

“Hey,” said the person—a man. His voice was deep and sexy, even with just that one word. When I opened my eyes, his face and body had better be as sexy as his voice if he’s going to interrupt my solitude like this.

When I did open my eyes…he was a hot daddy.

Hot daddies are my type…even if twinks consider me a hot daddy too. Dominant hot daddies were even more my thing, and there was a glint in this guy’s eye that told me he might like to shove my face into a wall while pounding me from behind.

“Hey,” I said. I sat a little more upright so that it didn’t look like I was trying to ignore him. Like, that was my original plan, but now that I was seeing the potential of getting some daddy dick, my plan had changed.

“Nice night,” he said. Then he sighed as he sunk into the tub. He was clear on the other side, but this was a fairly small tub. So small that when he fully relaxed, his toes brushed against mine. And neither of us pulled back.

He looked at me and smiled in a way that told me his toes touching mine was a little bit of a test. And I passed. With flying rainbow colors.

“You vacationing with your boyfriend?” he asked, likely using this as an opportunity to confirm he had my orientation pegged right.

“Single,” I said. “The asshole dumped me for some nineteen-year-old twink.”

“That sucks,” he said. “I’m here with my BF. It was supposed to be the romantic getaway to fix our relationship, but I’m not sure it’s working.”

“Sorry,” I said.

“Eh, don’t be. I knew he was an idiot when I bought him a drink six months ago, but it was that hot ass of his that helped me see past that for a while.” I watched as the steam from the hot tub coalesced in little beads of moisture on his facial scruff that glistened in the bright moonlight. He was so rugged and handsome, way more than Carl ever was.

“So he’s up in your room?” I asked, testing the waters.

“Unfortunately. How’s your room?”

“Can’t. Sharing the room with a friend.”

He looked around, checking out our surroundings. “Why don’t you sidle up a little closer?”

I glanced around too. I had no idea how I had lucked out with deciding to hot tub on such a quiet night, but there was nobody around. There was lots going on in the chalet—I could see dozens and dozens of people having a blast through all the large windows. But out here in the hot tub? It was just me and this hunky daddy.

I shuffled around, sliding across the seat that ringed the hot tub until I was next to him. We were facing the chalet windows and behind us was the peaceful and dark mountains. From this position we could be sure of our privacy since we’d see anyone coming our way from the chalet.

“Let me see what you’re packing,” he said. He slid a hand over my leg and groped the front of my Speedo. I was already semi-hard, but his rough touch only served to make me fully hard.

Academic Discipline: The Complete Series

Posted on May 5, 2021 by indieerotica

Few things are as taboo as a student seducing a teacher. But when the teacher is sexually dominant, it quickly goes from taboo to scorching hot.

Spanking, bondage, and kinky toys are all ways these older men teach their younger male students about the pleasures that can be had if they just give in and submit. And when the boys do finally grab hold of their submissive natures, their teachers take them even further than they ever thought possible.

From a college freshman being dominated by his professor, to a newly eighteen-year-old twink accidentally encountering his teacher at the bathhouse, to a college baseball player giving in to all of his secret gay urges with his dominant coach…these men enter into the most forbidden of relationships.

Academic Discipline collects Dominating The Freshman, Schoolboy Secrets, and Team Bottom into one steamy volume.

It’s like a dance. I’ve been through this many times; I make a subtle gesture of interest, he reciprocates, and we move closer.

The gym is nearly empty, save for him and I and some guy doing leg presses. The twink — my partner in this mating dance — eyes me as he walks across the room to the water fountain. After his drink, he looks at me again and water glistens on his pouty, cock-sucking lips. Before he looks away again, I pick up a pair of free weights, my biceps bulging as I carry them to a spot in front of the mirror.

I eye up my figure as I approach the mirror, ensuring I’m giving the twink a good view. My arms glisten with sweat and my tank is plastered to my tight body. My hairy legs look strong in the tight shorts I’m wearing. I shift my gaze to him, watching his reflection, and I catch him staring at me, slack-jawed. He blushes, but doesn’t avert his eyes.

Emboldened, he wanders over my way, trying to make it look casual despite both of us knowing exactly what’s going on and where this is leading. He picks a couple weights off the rack and takes a bench a couple over from where I’m standing.

With his closeness, I get a much better look at him — he’s a twink, yes, but he has some jock muscle to him. He’s shorter than me, skinnier, and has to be nineteen, at most. While his frame might be small, his dick certainly isn’t. The tenting in the front of his shorts tells me he’s hard and he’s big. But it’s not necessarily his cock I want.

“What are you working on?” I ask, as I start doing bicep curls. I keep my voice low, so that only he could hear. I glance at the reflection of the other guy, the one at the leg press — he’s taking a break and doing something on his phone, totally oblivious to the impending homosexual action on this side of the room.

He bites his lower lip, looking like he’s almost overwhelmed that I’m actually talking to him, then says, “Just going to do a few rows.”

Then he leans over the bench and props one knee on it, straightening his back to be parallel with the padded surface … leaving his perfectly round ass curved and ready for me. I want so much to pull down those shorts and lick all the salty sweat from his crack. If that guy wasn’t dawdling by the leg press and would just get the fuck out of here, I might actually follow through with it.

This is a quiet gym; I could fuck this twink in the middle of the room and no one would know. Even though my status as a professor gets me a free pass to the campus gym, I long ago chose to go to this one, as I couldn’t get caught up in gym hookups with students. Being on the other side of the city, the number of university students in this gym was near to non-existent. Although this twink could be a student, I highly doubted it.

I put my free weights on the floor and saunter over to him, admiring every inch of his body as I get closer. “Need someone to, uh, spot you?”

“That’d be nice,” he says. “And make sure my form is correct.”

He starts doing his rows, lifting the weight in his left fist, while using his right hand to brace himself on the bench. I come up beside him, standing beside his head, my crotch at height of his mouth, and I place a hand on his back. His body is sweaty and hot, but I can feel energy thrumming through him — the libido and lust of young men, I’m sure — and it only serves to turn me on even more. I push my hand further down his back, conscious that the other man was still in the room with us, and gently pushed my fingers under the back of his shorts. I find the band of his underwear, and then bare flesh — he’s wearing a jockstrap.

I clear my throat, steadying myself. I’ve never wanted a boy as badly as I want this one. Even with clothes on, his body is perfect.

By now my cock is thick and hard, standing prominent in my gym shorts. He turns to face me, those gorgeous, pouty lips only a breath away from kissing my shaft. “Thanks,” he says, his attention focussed on my bulge.

The loud clang of the other guy finishing a set of leg presses — the guy I wish would just disappear — breaks the tension of the moment. I feel like our slow dance toward wild sex was set back several steps. We need to get out of here.

I watch as the boy turns around and does rows with his other arm. As he turns, though, he brushes his body against mine — his shoulder rubs against my cock — and it sends a shiver through me. This boy wants me as bad as I want him.

I glance in the mirror at the other guy. He’s on his phone again, doing fuck knows what, while he takes a break between sets. I’d seen this guy here before and I seem to remember that he always did a long workout — I’d come and go and he’d still be working on his routine. Today, he had gotten here shortly after me, which means he’ll likely be working out for a while longer.

“That’s quite a workout,” I say, returning my attention to the twink. “You want to hit the showers?”

He smiles and stands up. “I think it’s about quitting time. A shower might do me good … help me relax.”

We quickly rack our weights and walk back toward the change room. I try not to hurry, to not give the guy any indication I was about to get some sweet ass. I nod as I pass, a mutual hello between two heterosexual gym-goers.

As soon as we enter the change room and the door closes behind us, I push the boy against the wall and kiss him. His lips are as pouty and tender as they’d looked, and his tongue is soft and velvety. I abandon his lips and kiss down his jaw and neck, tasting his salty sweat.

And then I fall to my knees and do what I wanted to do since I saw him climb on that bench. I spin him around and yank his shorts down to mid-thigh. His ass, round and plump, is framed perfectly by his white jockstrap, looking like art.

I take a cheek in each hand and massage his ass, then spread his cheeks, exposing his tight, pink hole. He’s smooth as fuck. I watch a bead of sweat collect on his lower back and then roll lazily down into his crack, getting caught momentarily on the wrinkled flesh of his hole.

Taking my opportunity, I dive face-first into his ass, starting with a lick up his crack, scooping up all of the sweat gathered there and brushing over his tight knot. He lets out the softest moan and leans flat against the tile wall in front of him. I take that as a good sign and press deeper with my tongue, brushing up and down and poking at the centre. Eventually, he loosens and I can push my tongue in, to taste the boy’s insides, which is just as sweet as his outside.

I stand up and slap his supple ass, the sound ricocheting through the small room. I walk away from him, toward the lockers and around a corner to where a wooden bench stands like a lonely island. Dropping my shorts and underwear and yanking off my tank, I sit down, naked but for my sneakers, and beckon the boy closer.

He leans in and I pull his face to mine and plant another kiss on his lips. Then, when I want him to get on his knees, I grip a handful of his hair and pull him down. The boy gets the hint and kneels in front of me, between my legs. He grabs my cock and looks up at me as he sinks his face down on it.

Fuck, his mouth is warm and wet and tight — almost as good as his ass would be. I keep my grip on his hair and use it to guide the speed and depth I like. I lean back and moan, letting this talented boy take me to ecstasy. The only thing that would make this hotter would be if I had some of my BDSM gear with me — but that’s all at home. And something tells me this boy, though obviously sexually experienced, might be intimidated by some of the gear I own. For today, for this boy, I would have to be content with his amazing body and the overwhelming lust we felt for each other.

“Get naked,” I say, my words and voice nothing less than a command.

He pulls his mouth off my cock with an audible pop and grins. “Yes, sir.”

I kick off my sneakers so that I’m fully and completely naked, then walk toward the showers. The boy, naked as me, follows. I turn on the water and push him under it, rubbing down his body and cleaning him off.

I spend an inordinate amount of time on his ass, massaging the cheeks, running my fingers up and down his crack, and probing his hole. Every press of my fingers against his tight knot of flesh proves him to be pliable, like with just another push I’d sink right in. So I push further and, yes, my fingers sunk in like nothing. The boy’s ass offers no resistance. He moans and shakes like his knees are going to give out, so I press my body close to his, trapping him between me and the tile wall.

I dig deeper with my fingers, feeling around until I find his prostate. I brush it, tickle it, play with it, and he throws his head back and gasps. By driving him wild I’m only doing the same to myself. My cock is raging hard and oozing precum, begging to get in on the action.

Slipping my fingers from his hole, I spit in my hand and lather up my dick, then press the head against his hole. He’s already slightly open from having my fingers in there — he’s so relaxed that his hole is sitting there, waiting for me. I push my hips forward and ease my cock into his hole, sliding in until I’m balls-deep and my pelvis is pressed flat against those round cheeks of his.

“Oh,” he moans as I pause for a moment, letting his body adjust to having my meat shoved inside him. “Sir, that feels so good.”

The fact that he calls me “sir” even without me asking and without him knowing I’m into BDSM makes me want to fuck him hard and mercilessly, to have him begging for me to fill his hole with my hot seed. I grip one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip, backing up a step so that he pushes his ass out, readying it for a serious pounding.

I start swinging my hips back and forth, slowly at first, being gentle mostly for the lack of lube, then I begin to pick up the pace, going faster and faster. And the boy takes it. He doesn’t groan in pain or put his hand against me to slow my rhythm — no, he takes it. He more than takes it; he starts rocking in time, pushing back when I truth forward, so that my cock shoves deeper in his ass.

Loosening my grip on his shoulder, I run my hand down his back, following the paths of water from the shower that’s cascading over us. I can feel the muscles under his skin — he has a mostly skinny twink build, but I can tell by touch alone that he’s no stranger to the gym. He’s strong and flexible, exactly what I like in young men.

But as good as his body is, his ass is better. The boy squeezes his cheeks together every time I pull out, creating glorious pressure on my cock, milking pleasure from me. He relaxes his buns when I push forward, allowing me to sink in fast and hard. He moans with every deep thrust I make into him.

“Sir,” he says suddenly, urgently, “Sir, I’m gonna come soon.”

Neither one of us has touched his dick — this boy gets off on bottoming alone. Just when I thought he couldn’t get any more incredible, this pops up.

“Do it, boy. Come,” I order him. I grip his hips hard and I give his ass a punishing fuck, slamming myself harder into him than I’d done so far.

He lets out a guttural sound that echoes and rebounds off the shower tiles, and then his body quivers and tenses, his hole clamps down on my thick dick, and he gasps over and over. I hear the splatter of his hot cum hitting the tiles in front of him, rising above the sound of the shower itself. The boy’s legs quiver and shake some more, but with a few deep breaths, he steadies himself.

“You’re incredible, boy,” I say, appreciatively. I growl into his ear as I feel myself rushing head first into my own orgasm. But I don’t want to waste my seed in his hole. I pull out quickly and he looks at me over his shoulder with a whimper — he knows I haven’t shot my wad yet. Before he can complain, I clamp my hand down on his shoulder and push him down to his knees.

He knows what’s coming, so he shuffles backward a bit, so the shower isn’t cascading down on his face. He wants a different hot liquid splattering on him.

I grip my cock and I stroke it fast and furious, bringing myself the rest of the way toward orgasm. I grunt as it finally hits me and pleasure blooms in my core and rushes through my body. With my free hand, I grab the boy’s hair and hold on tight, holding him in place as cum rockets from my dick, landing in messy, creamy lines across his forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, and lips.

When the rush of orgasm subsides and my chest is heaving with heavy breaths, I look down at the cum on his face, looking like an X-rated Jackson Pollock painting. He sticks his tongue out between his lips and licks up as much of my load as he can. I help him, swiping my thumb across his face, pushing globs of my jizz into his waiting, eager mouth. He eats it all and I can tell that he wishes there was more.

I help him back to his feet and help wash the remnants of my semen off his face. After a quick rinse, we head back to the changing room, to our abandoned clothes. Thankfully, it seems no one else had come in the change room — though I’m sure they would have turned around and left as soon as they figured out what was happening.

Pulling a towel out of my locker and drying off, I feel a sense of embarrassment settle in. Like most gay men, I’ve had my share of sex in bathroom stalls and truck stops — but never have I done something more than a blowjob, and never in such a risky place as this. If we’d been caught, it could’ve meant the end of my career as a professor. I don’t have tenure yet; administration would just have to decide they don’t want me and I’d be out on my ass.

I swallowed down my embarrassment and looked at the young man as he towelled himself off. His locker was, fortuitously, only a few down from mine. His dick and balls swung low between his legs, contrasting against his tight abs and torso and developed pecs. I look further up, toward his gorgeous face, and I see him looking back at me — I’d been caught staring.

I smile and turn back to myself, focussing on getting dressed.

“Thanks,” he says, sounding almost hesitant. “That was hot.”

“It was,” I say. Part of me is itching to ask if he’s a student, if he might go to my university, but the larger part of me doesn’t want to know that answer. I need to just enjoy what happened, the spontaneous connection that had formed between us, and not wallow in unnecessary guilt and stress.

Fuck it, I decide. Fuck the university and their ethics.

“Want to hang out sometime?” I ask. “Maybe somewhere a little more private?”

“That’d be sweet,” he says. I force myself to swallow and ignore that niggling feeling that I’m doing something wrong. What’s the point of life if I can’t enjoy it?

When we pull on our pants, we pause to exchange cell numbers. I enter his digits. “And your name?”

“Brandon,” he says. I like that name. It fits him. I type it into his contact card on my phone.

“And you?” he asks, after typing in my number.

“Tyson.”

“I like that name,” he says. “Sounds so masculine, so … dominating.”

I wink at him, but before I can say anything more, we’re interrupted by the clatter of the change room door opening and closing. The buff guy from the leg press wanders to a locker behind us and starts stripping.

Brandon and I grab our bags and walk out. I wink once more at him. “See you soon,” I say, and we get in our respective cars. I drive home, already hard thinking of my next time with Brandon.

My Big Brothers Bone My Little Butt

Posted on April 29, 2021 by indieerotica

Eighteen-year-old Iggy likes his panties…a little too much. His favorite types are the ones with slits on the back, like the one he’s wearing that’s blue with pink hearts.

He also likes his big brothers who are nineteen-year-old triplets, but he likes them in a way most people don’t like their own brothers. They haven’t always been super close, maybe a little, but definitely not in the way he’d like to them to be.

However, all that’s about to change the moment he walks into his room.

And he may have to keep his panties on for the ride of his life.

My Big Brothers Bone My Little Butt is a 4,000-word short story.

I got inside the house and rushed upstairs to my room, forcing the thought of my new panties inside my mind to avoid getting depressed for the millionth time. Which one should I wear next? There were so many of them! I’d really gone overboard. After all, they came in a huge variety of colors and patterns, so how could I not get all of them? And the ones at the sex shop had slits on the back for “special” purposes.

As I entered my room, I stopped in shock and accidentally dropped my bags on the floor. My big brothers relaxed on my bed, completely naked and stroking their big cocks while smirking at me. They were tall, identical triplets who looked like typical blue-eyed-blond beach boys: captivating bedroom eyes; full, kissable lips; smooth, buff bodies with defined abs; tasty, pink nipples; and sexy summer tans. I, on the other hand, was the anomaly with brown hair, brown eyes, no tan, and a smooth, bony body. A twink, basically. I was eighteen, and they were nineteen.

I scoffed. “What are you guys doing in my room? And on my bed?” My annoyance wasn’t genuine because my cocklet started growing into a tent that poked through the front of my shorts, full of hope and anticipation.

“Seems like you wanted this all along, Iggy,” said Ian. He was about five minutes older than the other two. He lay on the side to my left. The three of them were butch with deep voices, never failing to turn me on so much. My voice was softer and more feminine.

“Of course, he did,” said Ike, the middle triplet. He lay in the middle.

“Those sexy panties with holes on the back aren’t a coincidence,” said Ivan, the youngest triplet. He lay on the other side.

I lowered my eyebrows. “You snooped through my stuff?”

“We’re your big bros,” Ian said. “We’re the bosses here, so we do whatever we want.”

Father’s Day with the Birthday Boy: An Intergenerational Gay Incest Story (Son Makes Three #2)

Posted on April 22, 2021 by indieerotica

Otto and his dad, Wolf, are ready to take their long-term romantic relationship to the next level by including Otto's virgin twink son, Delfin, in more of their shared sexual bonding. Last night, Delfin experienced his first kiss, first ejaculation, and first taste of man milk, shared between the three.

Unlike most teens, Delfin is different in his own way, which is why Otto and Wolf give him all the unconditional love he could ever want. But he's often felt left out and continues to want in on their way of showing love to each other.

Now, it's just hours later on Delfin's eighteenth birthday, which also happens to be Father's Day. The three of them are in their backyard pool celebrating with all the privacy they could ever need. Incest may be legal where they live, but it's still heavily frowned upon, so they have to be a close family in private.

Otto and Wolf have plans to introduce Delfin to more sexual experiences. This time, it's all about the taste in more ways than one. Delfin just might get a mouthful of sausage like never before.

But it's not the kind they plan to grill for the special dual occasion.

Father's Day with the Birthday Boy is a 4,000-word short story.

Dad stroked my brown hair, his green eyes locking with my equally-green ones. What a sexy man whose German name, Wolf, naturally fit him. Since his blond hair wasn’t fully gray just yet, he looked younger for fifty-eight. My king, the man I worshiped every single day of my life as the patriarch of the Melker family. I was always his prince.

“I love you, Otto,” he said in his German accent.

“I love you too, Dad.”

We kissed, never able to get our hands off each other. He caressed my smooth backside and played with my trimmed hole, massaging my loose anus to make me hornier. Despite having showered and been in the pool all afternoon, he still gave off a musky scent of total man that intoxicated me every single time. I dropped my hands to play with his hairy hole. It was the beauty of being sexually versatile. We used our cocks and holes in more ways than one. Why limit ourselves?

“I want my beautiful son’s mouth on his daddy’s cock.”

Ben’s Big Experience (My Himbo Son Is My Life #5)

Posted on April 16, 2021 by indieerotica

Joe welcomes his nephew Justin into his home, and the virgin horndog wants to get it on right away while Joe's son, Ben, is asleep. Little does Justin know that his dad, Jack, is tied up in his bedroom, punishment for what he did to Ben.

When Justin sees his dad Jack in the state he's in while the three of them are naked, Joe insists it's finally time that the family bond in a whole new way. Of course, what Joe really means is that he wants revenge on Jack by taking Justin's virginity as planned, just like Jack took Ben's virginity two years ago. And he wants to do it in front of Jack who once said he'd disown Joe for doing such a thing to Justin. Revenge is both sweet and sexy.

But Ben wakes up just in time, and he knocks on the door to find out what's going on in Jack's room. Could Joe still fulfill his revenge, or could there be a change of plans? After all, Ben, being the big-hearted and loving himbo, is all about forgiveness, and Joe is willing to do anything to make his pride and joy happy.

Now, there are four naked men in one steamy bedroom. What exactly could go on? Could it shape their future together as a loving family of four, or could it tear their family apart even more? The only thing that's certain is that Ben's on the verge of having his biggest experience ever.

In more ways than one.

Ben's Big Experience is a 7,300-word short story.

I headed back to Justin who was already naked and ready. I observed his naked body, a total jock with a decent-size cock and a round butt. Not as big as Ben’s butt, but it still made me hard. I forced a tight smile on my face because of how challenging it was to hide my emotions. “Your dad wants to watch me fuck you.”

Justin raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah. And after I come inside you, I want you to take his cock so he can fuck your deflowered hole with my cum as lube. I mean, you wanted to be treated like Daddy’s little slut, right?”

Justin nodded, looking hornier than ever. “Damn, I can’t believe this is actually happening. It’s so surreal. Like, I’ve literally fantasized about this many times, me getting fucked by you two.”

“I know, and it’s hot, right?”

“So hot.” Yep, he was leaking with anticipation.

I took his hand and kissed his lips. “Now, before I do this, I need you to be absolutely sure that you want me to be your first, since you did mention wanting your dad to be. You’re not going to end up regretting it, are you?”

Justin shook his head. “He took Ben’s virginity, so you can take mine. I’m not even obsessed about that stuff anyway. I’m ready to get fucked now. I’m tired of being a virgin.”