Copyright © 2006 Sticky Pen
I knew the moment the cute little blond twink strolled into my storefront gym that I was going to have him, but by the way he shrank away from me and trembled a bit when I approached him, I also knew I would have to prepare for that moment well. “Hi, I’m Rod.” I said pleasantly. “I run this place and act as personal trainer. And who are you and what are you interested in?” I had hoped that he’d say right out that he wanted to be fucked by a horse-hung muscle stud like me, but he didn’t respond to that innuendo. “Hi, Rod. I’m Craig. I’m tired of everyone thinking I’m too young to buy beer. I want to bulk up.” “You mean something like this?” I said, and I pulled my gym T over my head. I could hear Craig gasp when he saw my massive, well-cut torso. “Y-e-s-s,” he stammered out. “Well, let’s see what we have to work with,” I said pleasantly. “Off with that T-shirt.” He stripped his T off, and I could tell right off that he wouldn’t bulk up very much, although we could do something with those pecs and abs. But I also saw that I wouldn’t want him to bulk up too much. He was one beautiful twink. It set my cock to twitching just to see him. But I told him that I could help him if he came in twice a week. And he did that for the next two months, during which time I unfolded my plan to have my cock pulsating inside his cute little bod. I gave him a lot of personal attention, telling him that I wanted him to go shirtless in his workouts so I could see what was being worked out and how well in the exercises and that I would go shirtless as well so he could see what muscles were being worked with the exercises. And I gave him plenty of muscle work to see during the workouts—all except for the one muscle I really wanted him to see. I took care of that by hitting the showers whenever he did and giving him a full display. For the first couple of weeks he remained ultrasensitive to my touching him or even coming close, but I was persistent in needing to put my hands on him to show him how to do the exercises properly, and slowly but surely he let me touch him and, with time and confidence, to let my hands linger on the curves and folds of his torso and legs during the exercises. And he was lingering longer in the shower as well. One evening after two months of preparation, I began to slowly stroke out my cock while we were in the shower and I was sure he was ogling me sideways. His eyes bugged out and he dropped the soap. When he bent over to pick it up, I almost took him then, but I didn’t. Others were in the gym. I needed to wait a bit longer, and needed him to signal his willingness. On his next visit, I decided to bring this to a new level. We were over in the corner of the room, away from the storefront picture window and everyone else working out was focused on their own exercising. I had Craig laying down on his back, bench pressing a barbell. “No, no, Craig,” I said. “You’re putting too much leg in it. Here, let me show you how to get the power into your shoulders and pecs, which is what you want to be developing here.” I squatted down on the bench, facing him, and pushed my knees under his thighs, pushing his legs over mine and out. I spread the palms of my hands on his tender inner thighs. “There, try it like that.” He huffed and puffed for a few minutes, barely getting the barbell up, concentrating hard. But then I started to gently stroke his inner thighs with my fingers and he was suddenly concentrating on something else. He started to tremble all over and he couldn’t get the barbell fully extended. “No, you’re trying to get the power from your stomach, Craig. It must be from your chest and shoulders. Don’t arch your back. Here, now try it.” I moved one of my hands to his flat little belly and held him down on the board. He was trying his best to raise the barbell, but not having much luck. “It’s no use, Rod,” he whimpered. “I can’t get it up.” “It doesn’t look to me like you are having trouble getting it up, Craig,” I said, as my hand slid down to his basket. I admit that I was a little surprised myself. In the shower he had pres…
Get The Full Story At Sticky Pen
Monthly Archives: March 2006
The Perfect Roommate
Copyright © 2006 Sticky Pen
Was it possible that Trent didn’t know what effect he had on me? He was driving me crazy. He’d been doing this since we were thrown together as college roommates two months earlier.
I was sitting at my desk, trying to concentrate on my calculus homework, when the door to our room opened and Trent padded in straight from the shower, dripping wet. He stood there on the carpet, within clear sight of me, and whipped the towel off from around his waist and started to dry himself down. He was whistling and chatting at me, apparently oblivious to the fact that I couldn’t catch my breath well enough to answer him.
He was beautiful. He had a lithe, deeply tanned athlete’s body. Everything was perfectly proportioned from his shiny white teeth down to his size nine and a half feet. Everything, that is, except for his outsized cock and low-hanging balls.
He slept in the nude, and this evening he showed every sign that he wasn’t going to dress up now just to have to prepare for bed a little later. He moved around the room like a dancer—no, like a big cat stalking its prey—with his heavy cock swaying back and forth. I tried to bury my face in my math problems, but I just couldn’t ignore him. I was glad my knees were under the desk, because I would have been very embarrassed for him to see the hard on he was giving me.
At length, he stretched out on his bed and read a sports magazine. His free hand was gliding along the contours of his torso and occasionally down to his cock, and I watched him from the corner of my eye, aching to run my hands where his were going.
“Gotta sleep the sleep of the dead tonight,” he said as he sat up and scoffed down a couple of pills and drank from a cup on the table beside his bed. “Important lacrosse game tomorrow.” He turned out his light and pulled a sheet over his beautiful body and lay there on his back with his eyes closed tight.
“I’ll have the lights off in a few minutes,” I said.
“No problem,” he said, already yawning. “When I take these pills, you could set off a bomb on my stomach and I’d never notice.”
And he was right about that. When Trent took his sleeping pills, you’d lost him for at least six hours.
I turned my desk chair around and sat there and watched him as his breath became regular. And I pined for him. I wondered what he’d do if he knew how much I wanted him inside me. This sinful feeling had only been accentuated earlier in the day when I’d come back to the room early and found him fucking another guy in his bed. I’d been quiet and they’d been very absorbed in what they were doing, so he hadn’t noticed that I’d seen him. I was wild for him now that I knew that he fucked guys. Before it had only been a remote dream; now it seemed like a possibility. If only he’d notice me, give me some sign.
He fidgeted in the bed and one leg came out from under the sheet. I fixated on that deeply tanned leg, with its heavily muscled calf and thigh. And on his feet, not too long, but with long, sensuous toes. I tried to turn back to my studies, but my eyes were drawn to him. He snorted in his sleep and an edge of the sheet came off one side of his chest as well. I stared as his chest and at the nipple peeking out just at the side of the sheet. Now I was physically drawn to him. He’d get cold, I was telling myself. He should be covered.
I rose and moved to the bed and sat down beside his leg. I lifted the sheet to pull it back onto his body, but I found myself moving it off the rest of his body instead and folding it over toward the wall. He was stretched out on his back on the bed beside me, his arms raised above his head. Beauty in repose. His breathing was regular, and his magnificent chest was rising and falling in a rhythm that was making my blood run hot.
I gently placed the palm of my hand on his flat belly. If he awoke, I could still say I was trying to reach for the sheet to cover him. But he didn’t wake. He sighed for me instead, an innocuous little response that sent a shock through my cock and down into my balls.
I let my hands roam on his torso then just as he had done earlier while I was stealing glances at him. He sighed and moaned quietly for me; I no doubt was causing him a pleasant dream. It was not only the sighing and moaning that told me this was the case. His cock was beginning to engorge. I gently encased it with one of my hands and lightly stroked him. His cock got bigger and his mouth opened and he was licking his lips.
I rose and came around to the foot of the bed. Crouching down, I wove my arms under his thighs and brought both hands up onto his belly and took his tool into my mouth. I teased his cock head with my tongue and lips, and he engorged further. I sucked cock, trying to get as much of him into me as possible, keeping the strokes slow and gentle so as not to break into his dream. He moaned for me and began to weakly grind his pelvis into my face. I moved my hands up to his nipples, which were erect and hard. I briefly moved my tongue and lips to his now-tight balls. He had a musky smell that I found intoxicating. After a few minutes I returned my lips and tongue to his cock.
I had him as big as I’d ever seen him now. I was wondering if I could make him ejaculate down my throat without him awakening. If I could, I’d at least have that. He’d never have to know we’d even had sex.
“If you make me cum, it will be at least twenty minutes before we can fuck.”
I sat up in total shock. He was wide awake, his arms folded behind his head and giving me a big grin.
“Oh, God, Trent. I was just. . . . Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”
“You were doing just what, Hugh? Looks to me like you were just giving me great head.”
“But, but. . . . You were asleep. You took those pills.”
“No, I didn’t take those pills. I pretended to take those pills. I was going to slip those pills in that cup of water you take every night before going to bed. It was my last-ditch effort to jump your bones.”
“Jump my bones?” I asked incredulously.
“I can hardly see you way down there. Can you come up here?”
I was in shock, but I slid up the bed until I was laying on my side beside him. He encircled me in his arms and kissed me on the lips. I was dumbfounded.
“So, what are we going to do now, Hugh?” he asked when we came out of the kiss. “From my perspective, we have two choices. I can fuck you hard or you can finish sucking me off. I’m a resolute top. Which shall we do?”
My mind raced back to the scene earlier where I’d seen him fucking another guy in this bed, and there was no question in my mind what I wanted.
Get The Full Story At Sticky Pen
The Other Side of the Island
Copyright © 2006 Sticky Pen
“There, is that better?” Peitr whispered into my ear.
“Uhh. Yes, yes. That feels great,” I answered, and my words turned into a soft moan.
“Yes, I can feel it in your body. You are a lot looser now. You are moving with me more smoothly. Is it because of the guilt?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “This helps erase the guilt. It’s as if none of this is something I could do anything about now.”
“I thought so,” Peitr whispered, and he began to move his cock inside me, dragging the head of his crocked dick along my ass canal at seven inches of depth, making my hips join in his motion. My eyes went to the ceiling paddle fan above us, gauging the thrusts of Peitr’s hips against the flap, flap sound and movement of the paddles. I tugged a bit on the two silk scarves lightly tying my wrists to the headboard above me, seeking assurance that I was imprisoned and couldn’t do anything to defend myself. Peitr’s strong, solid Dutchman’s body was closely covering mine on the bed, nipples to nipples and belly to belly. His legs covered mine, and I had my heels wrapped around his ankles. His arms covered mine, and he held his hands around the silk knots at my wrists, giving yet more of a comforting feel that I had no control over this. Only his hips and my pelvis were in motion, as the flap, flap of the ceiling fan above the brass bed moved what air there was in this dim-lit cabana across our naked, sweating bodies. Beyond the closed louvered doors, the heat and the jungle of the Caribbean island assaulted the small hotel cabana, trying invade our sanctuary. Strange bird calls screamed their annoyance that they couldn’t get at us in our secret hiding place.
What a difference two days had made. A long weekend, but Cindy had to go north, into snow country, on business, and the winter had gone on just too long in the mid Atlantic states. I’d had enough of the snow for the year, so I headed for the Dutch Antilles, and more precisely for the remote resort island of Cayo Grande in search of sun, sand, and adventure. I had found all three in abundance, and the latter beyond my wildest notions.
Peitr had been the local Dutch guide I’d hired for a day of deep-sea fishing. We drank all day and cavorted around in our skimpy Speedos on his boat. We downed beer all day, shared a couple of bottles of wine over our shell fish that evening, polished off a bottle of scotch that night, and I had awakened this morning my back cuddled into his chest, his arms wrapped around me, and his dick seven inches up my ass.
I hadn’t wasted my anger. I hadn’t been sober to have made such a decision; if it had hurt too much, I hadn’t noticed; and I’d always wondered what being with another male would be like. Unfortunately, at this point I still didn’t know what it was like even though I’d done the deed, so I was quite willing to find out when both Peitr and his peter had awakened and he’d started pumping me again.
Peitr, who obviously had not been nearly as drunk the night before as I had, remarked on how tense I was this morning in contrast to the wild fucking we’d engaged in the night before. I had to take his word for the wild fucking part; I hadn’t remembered a thing about that. It had been his suggestion then that I be put under a mild restraint, and I agreed, and it had worked a charm. I was enjoying this fuck and I wasn’t feeling guilty about it.
After we both shot our loads, Peitr untied my hands, and we glided our hands around on each other’s bodies, trying to cool down under the flapping ceiling fan. Peitr lifted his lips from one of my nipples, crooked his chin on my shoulder near an ear, and asked me, “Have you ever done it with a black man?”
“No,” I responded. “I’ve never done it before with any man before you.”
“We have some magnificent native black men on this island. Have you ever thought of doing it with a black man?”
“No. . . . Well, yes, actually, I thought about that in college a couple of times. But I grew out of that.”
“And now? The thought of a huge black cock churning around inside you? Does that sound pleasant, like a Caribbean adventure you might like?”
“Yes.” Well, I had to be honest.
“I have business with the resort all day tomorrow. Why don’t you take my boat out. Did you see that big rock formation coming down to the sea when we were about half way around the island yesterday?”
“Y-e-s-s,” I answered.
“Pull into the beach just beyond that rock formation from here. You will see such a big, magnificent black man there. You will recognize him when you see him. Tell him you are interested in a waiheilah. Give him a fifty-dollar bill and ask for a waiheilah. Can you repeat that? A waiheilah.”
“A waiheilah,” I repeated. “OK, yes, I’ll give that a try. Now, let’s shower and eat and hit the beach. If I don’t come home with a tan, Cindy will be suspicious.”
The next day, I packed a small gym bag with shorts and a T for when the sun got too hot, struggled into my Speedo, and went out in Peitr’s boat as he suggested to motor to the other side of the island. I found the little cove on the other side of the rock formation that came down to the water and pulled Peitr’s boat up to just beyond the tide line. I looked around and saw nothing. But then, when my eyes adjusted in the sunlight, I saw that there was a grass hut of a pretty good size beyond the fringe of palm trees, and on the sand side of those trees, but in their shadows, was a long dugout canoe. And in the canoe, his massive back and shoulders turned to me, crouched a black giant of a man.
I knew instantly that this was the man Peitr had told me to seek out. I walked up the sand toward him. Something told me that he knew I was there and was approaching him. As I got closer, I noticed something very strange. The black giant wasn’t alone in the boat. Someone must be laying on his belly in the boat in front of the black man, because I saw two forearms dangling over the sides of the boat in the bow on either side. And they were of a very fair-skinned man. As I got closer, I saw a mop of bright-red hair on a head that rested on one seat slat near the bow of the boat. Following on behind this were the freckled shoulders of a lithe, sinewy man, whose hips rested on another seat slat toward the stern of the boat. The black man was crouched behind this, and, as I drew neigh, I could see that the black man, who had one strong arm planted in the small of the redheaded man’s back, was pumping the most huge, blackest cock I’d ever seen in and out of the redhead’s ass.
I stood there and watched in shock and awe for the longest minute, feeling my own cock coming to life at what I was watching. The redhead turned his face to me, and I recognized the Scandinavian tourist who had returned from the sea on Peitr’s fishing boat the day I engaged Peitr’s services.
“Yes, may I help you?” the black man asked me in a polite voice with a Dutch accent that resonated across the cove even though he had spoken in a soft tone.
“Peitr sent me,” I stuttered out. “He told me to give you this money and to ask for a waiheilah.”
“OK,” the black man grunted and gave me a broad smile with flashing white teeth. “Excuse me,” he said to the redhead and pulled out of him and rose and stepped out of the dugout.
I drew in my breath. He was completely naked, except for a thin leather belt around his waist that was attached to a knife sheath that ran down his thigh and that was held close to his leg with another thin leather strap arou…
Get The Full Story At Sticky Pen
The Other Side of the Island
Copyright © 2007 Sticky Pen
“There, is that better?” Peitr whispered into my ear.“Uhh. Yes, yes. That feels great,” I answered, and my words turned into a soft moan.“Yes, I can feel it in your body. You are a lot looser now. You are moving with me more smoothly. Is it because of the guilt?”“Yes,” I whispered. “This helps erase the guilt. It’s as if none of this is something I could do anything about now.”“I thought so,” Peitr whispered, and he began to move his cock inside me, dragging the head of his crocked dick along my ass canal at seven inches of depth, making my hips join in his motion. My eyes went to the ceiling paddle fan above us, gauging the thrusts of Peitr’s hips against the flap, flap sound and movement of the paddles. I tugged a bit on the two silk scarves lightly tying my wrists to the headboard above me, seeking assurance that I was imprisoned and couldn’t do anything to defend myself. Peitr’s strong, solid Dutchman’s body was closely covering mine on the bed, nipples to nipples and belly to belly. His legs covered mine, and I had my heels wrapped around his ankles. His arms covered mine, and he held his hands around the silk knots at my wrists, giving yet more of a comforting feel that I had no control over this. Only his hips and my pelvis were in motion, as the flap, flap of the ceiling fan above the brass bed moved what air there …
Get The Full Story At Sticky Pen
And Spoil the Child Part 3
Copyright © 2006 Sticky Pen
“Oh, shit, Pete. You have me filled.” I was flabbergasted. One of my students had turned the tables on me and had me skewered and pinned to the floor.
“And you’re starting to love it, aren’t you?” Pete responded with a laugh. “It’s that big black cock that’s in you, Professor. The one you admired so much. Admit it, you love having me inside you. I’ve seen you giving me that look in class. You thought it was a desire to top me. But it was a desire to be fucked by me. And that was even before you saw what I have to give you, wasn’t it? Admit it.”
“Yes, yes,” I whimpered quietly. “I do love the idea of you being inside me. Take me. Pump me with that big black cock of yours.” And he did then, giving it go me in both long and short strokes.
At length. “I’m about to cum, Professor. Do you want me to shoot inside you or do you want me to withdraw?”
“Inside, inside, please, Pete. I’d forgotten how this had felt.” I had forgotten how much I’d grown to love my own professor’s dick inside me. He’d had one of those slightly bent dicks that didn’t look like much when he started but that grew in length and thickness once inside me, so I could feel it filling me, possessing me. “And then stay inside me. I want to feel you contracting inside me.”
With a grunt and a groan from Pete and an exclamation of ecstasy from me, Pete shot his load inside me. As requested, he continued lying there on top of me, his dick buried in me, as he regained control of his breath.
“I don’t plan on contracting inside you for a while, Professor. One of my talents is stamina. Something a football player’s gotta have. All you have to do is give me some lip work, and I’ll be ready to go again.”
“No, Once was more than enough, Pete. This isn’t . . .” Pete had rolled us to where we were on our sides, him behind me, and his dick still inside me. The arm that was under me wrapped around so that he could get to, first, my nipples and then down my body to my dick. He had locked his lips on mine with his mouth, and his other hand lifted my leg to give his dick full access to my hole. My desire leaped to life as he pumped me, and his desire started to build again as my kiss became passionate. In no time his cock was growing again and he was side splitting me deeply to a second, more prodigious ejaculation.
He pulled out of me after that and kissed down my chest and belly, his silky black hair swirling around on my torso. Then he untied my hands and lay beside me on the carpet.
“That was an outstanding fuck, Professor,” he whispered into my ear. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the first day I walked into your class. And you want to know a little secret?”
“What is your little secret, Pete?” I asked in a flat voice.
“It was all a ruse. The plagiarized paper was only a ploy to get my dick inside you. And you’re glad I got my dick inside you, aren’t you, Professor?”
“Yes, Pete,” I sighed. And I was glad, but now I had to become the professor again. “I’m very glad you did that, but we haven’t really moved one step beyond our agreement. There’s still a plagiarized paper and an agreement.”
“But that’s the funny part of it,” Pete said, as he sat up beside me and let his long black hair cascade over my chest. He was making little circular patterns around my nipples with the finger pads of one hand. “The paper just doesn’t count. I’ve brought another paper with me today. One that hasn’t been plagiarized. It’s in that folder on your desk that I brought today, and I’m turning it in before the deadline. So, this changes everything.”
“No it doesn’t change everything, Pete,” I answered dully. “I can choose to accept only the first paper you turned in. I don’t appreciate being played this way. I’m not a bottom. I’m a top. You didn’t think that two fucks by you would satisfy me, did you?”
“Well, you did seem to be pretty satisfied to me,” Pete answered indignantly. “And I’ve turned in a paper on deadline, and I can raise a stink all the way to the president of the university if need be. I’m needed in the UNC game. Who do you think he’d believe and back? You or me?”
“I rather think he’d believe me,” I said, as I struggled out of his hold and painfully rose to my feet. I stood over him, looking down at him and long the long line of my body extending down my chest and my still pretty hard eleven-inch cock.
“How do you figure that?” Pete asked, looking up at me with eyes that contained a hint of worry.
“That professor I told you about who fucked me all through graduate school. He’s now the president of this university.”
“Oh. Shit.”
“Oh shit is right Pete. We made a deal. I want you back up and laying on your back on my desk. Right where we started before you began to take control. And this time I don’t want any of your games. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” Pete answered with a newfound meekness. He rose and walked around to the other side of my desk and lay down on his back there. His rotund butt cheeks were perched at the edge of the desk, and his legs were opened wide and his knees were bent, with the heels of his big, long feet dug into the edge of the desk.”
“OK, if we must do this, let’s get it over fast,&rdqu…
Get The Full Story At Sticky Pen
And Spoil the Child Part 2
Copyright © 2006 Sticky Pen
By two, the office was all cleaned up and my graduate teaching assistant, Spiros, was gone, leaving me spent of sexual tension, if only for an hour or two. I had quite an appetite for graduate students.
The two o’clock was going to be a chore, however. One of my students had turned in a paper early, which wasn’t like him, and when I started to check it over, I found that he’d badly plagiarized nearly everything in it. This had dismayed me, not only because Pete was one of the stars of the football team, which was set to play its biggest game of the year three weeks from now, just about the time this scandal would become public, but also because he was beautiful in a way that had made my cock ache to be inside him ever since he’d showed up to my class. I had thought he was a Jamaican with his looks that were so ruggedly handsome and his skin that was chocolate laced with milk brown, but I soon came to learn from things he’d said in class that he was from a mixed-race family. He always showed up to class, as athletes are prone to do, in sloppy gym clothes that left little doubt about his musculature and how well his basket was filled out. And his butt cheeks were bulbous. I could hardly keep my hands off him.
And now I was going to have to do something that might get him expelled and might tick the alumni off at me.
He entered my office and both my heart and my dick took a leap. He was beautiful, as always, wearing those tight shorts and that school sweat shirt with the arms cut out to show off the mountainous curves of his biceps. He was carrying a folder under his arm. The veins of his biceps and arms bulged out, being pushed out to the surface by his heavily develop muscles. The arm and neck holes were cut down enough that a profusion of black, curly hair spilled out in profusion. His long, black, curly hair was tied off in a pony tail.
He sat down in the chair next to my desk, very close to me, putting his folder on my desk, and gave me a grin that was all white teeth. His eyes were hazel green. What a contrast in parentage. Big, powerful knees were pointed at me, bisecting big muscled thighs and firm calves, all covered with a black, curly down. He was wearing open sandals, and he had big, long feet, with long sensuous toes, dark brown, with a tinge of pink under them. I wondered if what they said about big feet on a man was true.
But I got right to business, trying to ignore the yearning in my crotch. “I’ve read the paper you turned in, Pete.”
“And did you like it? I worked very hard to get it in early,” Pete said, giving me another of his big grins.
“I liked it when I first read what you had put in it, Pete. But that was when someone else had written it. Some of this is straight out of our textbook.”
The grin faded a bit. “We have to practice hard, Professor. The UNC game is coming up. This is important for the school.”
“I’m quite aware of all of the ramifications of this, Pete. It would have been well if you had been. I understand what this could mean for the school, particularly financially, but you are here, first, to learn. And I am here to see that you learn properly. What are we going to do with you now, Pete?”
Pete gave me a perplexed look, but that slowly changed into a mischievous grin look.
“Well, I’m sure we could come to some accommodation, Professor,” he said in a low voice. His big, beefy hands reached out and settled on the top of my tightly closed thighs. I’m sure he could feel my legs trembling through the thin material of my pants. My legs felt like jelly, and I didn’t resist when the hands went between them and pulled them apart.
“I know your assistant, Spiros, pretty well. In fact, you might say I know him biblically.”
One of his hands had moved up to cup my basket. “Ummm,” he said, letting his breath out slowly and widening his grin. “And Spiros didn’t lie about you. You do seem interested in accommodating me. That would be one word for it.” He laughed at that.
“Pete, this isn’t solving your problem,” I said weakly.
“OK, I’ll get right to the point of what we can do to serve each other. I’ll suck you, here and now, and you’ll give me a passing grade on that paper.”
I just stared at him.
“Not good enough?” he said. “Well, how about if I let you ball me too, and let me turn in another paper. Now, that’s a good compromise, isn’t it? I’d be fulfilling my course requirement. We could just forget the first paper. You’ve wanted me all semester. I can tell. No need to fight it. I’m here and willing. I’m certified clean too, if that matters. If you are too, you can bareback. I just saw Spiros in the hall. He said that had really turned you on.”
He hand was driving me crazy. He had taken his other hand and rolled my chair around until we were closely facing each other, his knees between mine.
“Yes,” I managed huskily, “That would be a good compromise.” I didn’t know what else I could have done or said. I don’t think I could have let him out of the office unfucked now no matter what deal he had proposed.
“Shall we seal the bargain?” he asked. He wrapped his free hand around my tie and pulled my face into his, and we kissed. For such a big, bruising football player, he had a soft sensuous mouth. Our tongues dueled, and his won, which should have alerted me to the fight I’d have on my hands over control. I’d always controlled my partners. That’s why I usually did my fucking among my students, who depended on me for their grades. His tongue pushed mine down, and he swabbed the insides of my mouth until I was gasping for breath. He’d obviously done a lot of this. It wouldn’t be a matter of me deflowering someone who had always gone straight up to now. At length, he let loose of the tie and I collapsed back my chair.
“Does that door have a lock on it?” he asked. “I think we are about to get in a very compromising position.”
I struggled out of my chair and stumbled over to the door and locked it. When I turned around to come back, he had already stripped down and was leaning against the center of my desk, his butt cheeks on the rim. He was supporting his weight with his arms out wide on the desk and his legs were out wide as well. He was just as beautiful as I had imagined he would be. All beefy muscle, but perfectly formed. His torso was exactly like the armor of a Roman soldier, but it wasn’t armor. It was all flesh and bone and muscle, bulging veins running around and down his chest just as they did on his biceps and arms. His chest was huge, as were his black nipples, each of which wwas surround by a silver-dollar-sized dark brown aureole. And the muscles of his abs stood out like plates of armor. Although bulbous, his butt cheeks had deep hollows at the hips, which only accentuated his small waist and rounded butt. He was covered in a profusion of curly black hair.
The first thing I noticed after drinking my first impression of his magnificence in, was the tube of lubricant he’d taken out of the folder he had brought and laid besid…
Get The Full Story At Sticky Pen
Ice Rink Twink Seduction
Copyright © 2006 Sticky Pen
Bryce was just the cutest guy Morgan had ever seen. The first time he whizzed past him
on the ice it was like watching a vision of beauty come to life.
Bryce had grace and elegance in his skating. His smooth cheeks had a red blush to them
and from the look in his eyes he was lost in his own world, skating on his own planet.
Morgan felt like an elephant or hippo compared to this gorgeous, slender twink who was
easily the best skater on the ice.
That first night Morgan went home and jerked off like crazy. He now had a reason to go
skating often and it was not long that he began to feel the benefits. All the left over fat
from his beer and pizza college days began to melt away and he slowly began to get his
shape back. He felt so good about himself that he now felt he could approach the twink
that caught his eye each time he went on the ice.
‘You’re a great skater.’ Morgan told him one day.
‘Thanks. You’re not too bad yourself.’ Bryce replied.
‘I’ve a long way to go to get to your shape.’ Morgan said.
‘I like the shape you’re in.’ Bryce replied. ‘Me, I’m too skinny…nothing to hang on to in
bed. But I like being on the bottom anyway, so I like my guy to have love handles that I
can grab a hold of.’
Morgan blushed. It sounded like an invitation, but he wasn’t sure.
‘Do you wanna grab a burger?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’ Bryce replied before flashing him a magnificent smile.
Bryce was one seriously sexy twink. All through the meal Morgan was drooling over this
hot little twink man stud. He hung on every word he said, looked deep into those clear
blue eyes and tried out his best jokes so he could see those sexy lips part in a smile.
Morgan was a little too dumbstruck to be able to see that Bryce was equally taken with
him. He liked Morgan’s open, honest face and his warm, brown eyes. He imagined kissing
those full red lips and feeling Morgan’s five o’clock shadow tickling his stomach as he
kissed his way down to the pleasure zone. Bryce could see a tuft of dark hair above
Morgan’s top button and he wondered if he might have a hairy butt. There was nothing he
loved more than a firm, fleshy, pale rump dusted in silky hair. From the outside it looked
like Morgan might have it all; he certainly filled out his jeans pretty nicely and from the
forest of hair on his chest things looked promising.
‘How hairy are you?’ Bryce suddenly demanded.
Morgan blushed, not for the first time.
‘Too hairy.’ he replied ‘I’m booked in to get waxed next week.’
‘Oh no…no. Don’t do that!’
‘Really?’
‘Absolutely.’ Bryce purred. ‘I just luuuurv a hairy ass!’
‘I think hairy asses are disgusting.’ Morgan said. ‘I hate mine. When I look in the mirror, it
is like looking at an ape, or something. I wish I had a nice, smooth peachy little ass.’
‘Tell you what.’ Bryce whispered as he brought his face up close to Morgan’s. ‘I’ve got just
such an ass, so you can play with mine if I can play with yours.’
‘You’ve got yourself a deal.’ Morgan said as he stood up and grabbed his coat.
Half an hour later the two horny young men were back at Morgan’s apartment. They
walked into the living room and Bryce, though younger by about two or three years, took
control. He pushed Morgan down onto the sofa and straddled his hips and sought out his
juicy, ripe lips. Morgan felt the closest he had ever felt in his whole life to fainting. When
they were talking about butts and stuff it had made him so damn horny, but it isn’t how he
had imagined being with Bryce. He had wanted to take him in his arms and hug him
close, smell the shampoo in his hair, stroke the nape of his neck and kiss him slowly. This
was more like his fantasy.
Bryce was a damn good kisser and Morgan was on cloud nine. His cock was glued to the
inside of his underpants and it was so hard it hurt. Their tongues dueled with each other
as Morgan’s hands slipped under Bryce’s shirt and danced over the smooth, warm skin of
his back. He had never been this horned up for anyone before; this sexy guy just clean
took his breath away and he wanted the kissing and cuddling to last for ever, but at the
same time he wanted to fuck his brains out and get his rocks off.
It was Bryce who took things a stage further. He reluctantly broke off the kiss, giving
Morgan’s sexy lips a last little nip and stood up and started to strip off. Morgan’s eyes
were glued to the hot twink as he began to reveal the body that was just as Morgan had
pictured it. Bryce had a well-toned body, with not an ounce of fat. His chest and stomach
were totally smooth; his little brown nipples were like pencil erasers just waiting to be
tweaked. He unbuttoned his jeans and slowly unzipped. With a wiggle of his hips his
jeans slid to the floor and he stood there in a pair of tight white underpants that left little
to the imagination. A pair of plump balls stretched the fabric south, while to the left sat a
fat cock that had deposited a wet stain on the fabric.
‘Oh yeah…’Morgan groaned. ‘Let me have some of that!’
He pulled Bryce close and buried his face against the bulge in his briefs. His hands
cupped Bryce’s tight little bubble butt wile he licked at the sticky spot where his precum
had oozed through the cloth. The taste and smell of Bryce’s excitement got Morgan so
fired up he could hardly think straight. He tried to fix this memory in his brain as he
tugged at the waistband of Bryce’s underpants. They dropped to his knees and out sprang
his fleshy cock that just looked wrong against his twenty eight inch waist and smooth, flat
stomach. It was the big, beefy cock you might expect to see on a much larger, older man
not on a slender twink like Bryce.
With a happy sigh Morgan cupped his hands around the base of that beautiful cock and
noticed that he could not get his fingers to meet…
Get The Full Story At Sticky Pen
I Saw Him Again
Copyright © 2006 Sticky Pen
I was at the park with my friend, Haley. We were talking when this guy walked by. He wasn’t with anyone and I wondered why because he was really handsome and he was built like a god. He must go to the gym alot, I thought.
I must have been staring because Haley snapped her fingers in front of my face saying that I was just sitting there drooling for a good 5 minutes. I couldn’t help myself. He was so hot! I knew I probably wouldn’t see him again because I was going to college next week.
I was walking down the hall to my new room to meet my roommate. When I opened the door I got the surprise of my life. The guy from the park was sitting on the floor working out! I thought I was dreaming, so I kept pinching myself.
He must have seen me pinching because he said, “Are you okay?”
In my head I thought, I am now! But of course I didn’t say that. I just sat down on the bed and unpacked my stuff.
Then he said in a low voice, “I saw you staring at me in the park last week.”
I felt myself going red, when, out of the blue, he jumped up in front of me and started unbuttoning my shirt. I was in shock and stammered, “Wha-what are you doing?”
Then he whispered in my ear, ” I’m doing exactly what you want me to do.”
He started kissing me, our tongues fighting for domination of each other’s mouths. I fell on the bed and he con…
Get The Full Story At Sticky Pen
Squeezed Tight Part 2
Copyright © 2006 Sticky Pen
After I was finished fucking Chris, I reached up and down and released his restraints. Then I stripped off the gloves and threw them to the side. But I just lay there, my dong nine and a half inches up Chris’s ass and my arms and legs closely enclosing his, for a half hour or more. Chris lay quietly within my grasp, his breath becoming more and more regular. He probably was fearful of what I’d do if he started to move away from me. When I’d begun to cramp, I left him and went into the bathroom to shower off.
Remorse and embarrassment flooded into me as I stood under the shower, letting the cool water sluice the musk of deep sex off me. I was sure Chris would be gone when I returned. I tried to remember the content of my e-mail exchanges with him, searching for evidence that I had gone beyond the bounds we had previously discussed. I liked Chris—and he had submitted to me totally. I was ashamed that I might have hurt him or taken him beyond the limits of his expectations. I know that I had caused him physical pain. But from what I could tell, this was part of the thrill of being a bottom. Perhaps most of all, he had turned me on. He had met my needs. I was afraid I’d gone too far and that maybe neither he nor anyone else could meet my needs without being harmed themselves.
As these thoughts were eating me and water was sluicing down my body and into the shower drain, the shower stall door was thrust open, and there Chris stood, still naked from the earlier sex.
Oh, no, I thought. We’re going to have a confrontation, and here I am, wet and trapped in this shower.
“That was great! I’ve never felt a dick as fully in me before,” he exclaimed. He brought his hands around from his back. He held the leather restraints in one hand and a condom packet and the lubricant tube in the other. “Can you do me again? Are you recharged enough yet?”
Surprise, surprise. My worry was for naught.
I exited the shower, and Chris rubbed me off with a towel, paying extra attention to my cock and balls. Then he opened the condom packet and rolled the sheath onto my engorging cock and lubed me down. He headed back toward the bedroom, but I took his arm and kept him in the bathroom. I put his hands back into the restraints and led him over to the toilet. Making him kneel on the toilet lid, I tied his hands up to a towel rack above the toilet. Then I tied off his ankles, so he wouldn’t instinctively try to widen his leg stance while I was fucking him. I couldn’t maximize my pleasure without his ass being tight. I then lubed up the fingers of o…
Get The Full Story At Sticky Pen
Blind Need
Copyright © 2006 Sticky Pen
Panting, wanting, needing. Needing to touch, to connect with your tormenter. But you can’t touch and if you try, it will stop and God, you don’t ever want it to stop.
A low voice whispers in your ear, “Fuck you’re beautiful,” as a trail of fire moves down your neck to your chest.
You whimper slightly as the fire turns to ice, teasing your nipples to hard nubs. Then a warm, wet heat replaces the ice, sucking slowly, oh God, so slowly. Tongue circling gently round and round, back and forth tracing a line from left to right.
A moan escapes your lips and first a hand, then a mouth moves up to silence it. Gently at first, then with growing urgency you respond to the kiss, tongue thrusting in and out of your captor’s’ mouth – a representation of what you’d like to do, have done to you.
“Impatient boy,” the voice chides in an amused whisper. “Good things come to those that wait. And you do want good things, don’t you?”
Nodding, you will his mouth back down on your neck, chest, cock, anywhere, as long as it’s on you. Hands run up your arms, checking your bindings, then back down again leaving a trail of goose bumps.
Hot breath on your belly, lips close but not touching. You arch up desperate for contact but get a laugh and light smack in return. But the hand stays, now tracing lazy circles further and further down your belly towards your cock.
Lips again connect with skin, so close, God so close. You want to beg, plead for release but you can’t, you have to stay silent. You know he’ll leave you there, tormented, unfulfilled, if you don’t.
The hand is now tracing up and down your inner thigh followed by the tongue, tormenting, teasing. You writhe trying to get your cock closer to that mouth.
A low, throaty chuckle escapes your ravisher as he licks a hot stripe from the base of your cock to the tip, and for one dizzying moment the warm wet heat you’ve been yearning for envelops you.
Groaning, you arch up trying to force more of your cock into that delicious heat, but as soon as you do he removes his mouth and sighs, “Too impatient lover.”
His hands are back on your body, tightly grasping you round the hips and shoulders and before you realise it he’s flipped you onto your stomach.
You start to rock your hips backwards and forwards, the friction of your cock against the sheets promising you relief. But then, that chuckle again and an admonishing, “No, no we can’t have that,” as he pulls you up onto your hands and knees.
A hot, wet trail is drawn down your spine as he licks his way along, lower…
Get The Full Story At Sticky Pen