Tag Archives: gay army

First-Time Jocks in the Barracks

Here’s a sample from the beginning of First-Time Jocks in the Barracks, a new story by Happiest Ending!

Drill Sergeant Mitchell Armstrong stood behind the barracks, peering into the window. He stood on the air conditioner so he could see in the high window to the showering area in the back of the barracks. He smiled as he watched Cadet Brandon Scaramuzza sit on Danny Lafleur’s face.

Two dozen of the heftiest, most athletic cadets in the Army were in those barracks, and Armstrong watched them shower. He could have gone in there, but then they would have stopped and he couldn’t watch any more.

It wasn’t a rimjob, of course. Presumably Lafleur had lost some sort of bet, so he allowed Scaramuzza to sit on his face. It was only for a moment. Had he farted on his face? Maybe, but Armstrong didn’t think so. He could hear them laughing as LaFleur blushed and clawed at his own cheeks.

Then they all started dancing and Armstrong was confused — a sudden dance party? Was this a Japanese game show?

But then he heard a pounding techno beat. That seemed to be A Thing, which he didn’t understand because he was too old — every once in a while, this generation of cadets put on electronic music and apparently they were all required to dance like club kids. It wouldn’t have been strange if they actually enjoyed that kind of music, but not a single one of them actually chose to listen to it in any other context.

Armstrong didn’t understand the younger generations.

They danced together for about a minute, stopping only when someone started slapping Cadet Lee Amasuzi’s ass. It soon degenerated into a torrent of laughter and horseplay — they treated each other like strippers, slapping each other’s ass and jiggling their buttcheeks in front of each other’s faces.

Drill Sergeant Armstrong began masturbating. He was just inches from those plump asses, and he could even taste the soapy shower water as it covered their taut skin.

These were not any random collection of Army recruits. They had been chosen to be on the US Army wrestling team. They were given a shared barrack and Armstrong was put in charge of their training, all because the Army was tired of losing to the Navy in wrestling.

It was Armstrong’s job to turn them into champion wrestlers, and hopefully soldiers as well.

Inside the barracks, the horseplay had turned into a game called Boner Loses. They didn’t invent it, it had been passed down from an earlier group of cadets. Drill Sergeant Armstrong had even played a very similar game back when he was a new recruit, which felt like it was eons ago. Armstrong was glad that Cadet Scaramuzza was going to play this game now, because he really hoped to watch Scaramuzza lose.

Brandon Scaramuzza was “forced” to play — he wasn’t exactly forced, per se, but he had implied he would win if he did play, and he was urged to back that up. He frantically tried to come up with way to get out of it, but he came up with nothing. Everyone expected him to do it, and Brandon wasn’t willing to violate their expectations like that — they were his expectations too. That’s because Brandon saw himself as more sexually experienced than anyone else here. He had had sex with nine girls, more than anyone else in his barracks. He had had sex with two women at once. He had had sex with an older woman.

So he thought he was well-suited to win Boner Loses. That was a game wherein the player (Brandon) had to stand there while another player (usually someone who had lost a bet, in this case Lee Amasuzi) had to put his dick in his mouth.

Taboo Night-Time Affair: The Drill Sergeant

Here’s a sample from Taboo Night-Time Affair: The Drill Sergeant, a new story of hardcore gay pseudoincest military brat sex!

Sammy was glad to be home from college. He had been excited to get out of high school, out of the family home, out of the tiny town of Carlisle, Wyoming he had grown up in. He didn’t regret leaving, of course, and he enjoyed college. It was just nice to be back in his old bed, under the same old roof and cozied up in the same old sheets. Everyone who said you can’t go home again were wrong, Sammy thought as he settled down in bed. He was so comfortable and secure that he nearly drifted right off to sleep.

But then the door to his room opened, and Sammy’s heart leapt up in his chest. He had begun dozing but managed to keep himself awake — he didn’t want to sleep yet because he wasn’t sure if Daddy was coming to see him in his room tonight or not. He normally only did it when he was drunk, but he had only had one beer tonight. Still, Sammy hoped he would make an exception, and when his door open, Sammy’s heart pounded as it always did — Daddy’s broad shoulders and military crewcut cast a sexy silhouette. Light and cold air from the hallway flooded Sammy’s room, but only for a moment. Then he shut the door, and the room was dark again, except for the dim green light coming from Sammy’s charging cell phone.

Then there was just Daddy standing there, his muscular body flexing as he watched Sammy lay prone on the bed. As he always did, Sammy pretended to be asleep. He was pretty sure Daddy knew he wasn’t asleep, but that made it easier for them both to pretend it hadn’t happened tomorrow. Their shared refusal to acknowledge their affair in the light of day made it all the sexier for Sammy.

Daddy had been sneaking into Sammy’s room to fuck him every couple of weeks since he married Sammy’s mom. Back then, Sammy had hated him — he was the evil stepfather as far as Sammy was concerned.

But the older he got, the less he hated Daddy (or Daddy Mike, as he sometimes called him). Daddy was a drill sergeant at Fort D.A. Russell, and Sammy knew that was a difficult job; it was stressful, and it often left him coming home from work upset. He had to deal with the cadets he called “shitweasels”, meaning spoiled, entitled brats who needed a stern hand.

That stern hand landed on Sammy’s back. Sammy stirred, pretending that he was just now waking up. He loved the tender feel of Daddy’s strong grip on his skin.

“Sssh,” Daddy said. “It’s just me, Sammy. It’s okay.”

“Oh, hi…” Sammy said, trying to sound as groggy as he could. This was his little ritual, pretending to have no idea Daddy was there, that he was alarmed, maybe even frightened to have this big, imposing figure looming above him in the darkness.

“How you doin’?” His fingers caressed Sammy’s shoulders, running underneath the t-shirt he slept in to touch Sammy’s smooth skin. “I know you said everything was fine at dinner. But I thought maybe there was somethin’ you ain’t wanna tell yer momma.”

Sammy shrugged. “No,” he said. “Well… Nothing major.”

“Tell me about it, son,” Daddy said. He sat down on the edge of the bed, weighing down the mattress with his powerful ass. Sammy was forced next to him, and for a moment, Sammy’s face was buried in his asscrack. Daddy wore only those Army-issue green shorts, which were thin, so Sammy could feel every hair of his stepfather’s ass rub against his face. He curled himself around Daddy’s body, hugging him close, and rested his head against Daddy’s thick thigh muscle.

“I… I like this girl,” Sammy said. “But I don’t think she likes me.”

Daddy smiled. “That’s normal, son. Just be yourself-“

“Well… I should say I do know, I know that she doesn’t like me,” Sammy said. “She said so.”

Daddy clucked his tongue against his teeth. “Oh, that’s tough. It happens though.” He patted Sammy on the back of the head.

“I know. I just… I thought I loved her. I thought she was The One,” Sammy said. “Before I talked to her outside of class. I had… I’m sorry, it’s embarrassing.”

“Go ahead, son, you can tell me anything.”

“I had a fantasy of us getting married,” Sammy said. He bit his lip. “I had it all worked out. I was already naming our kids.”

“That’s sweet.”

“I wanted to name our first son Michael.”

“After me?”

Sammy nodded and blushed, glad that Daddy couldn’t see his cheeks turn ruddy in the dark room — Sammy had hated Daddy Mike for so long that it was tough to admit that he loved him now, even if they had been getting along for almost a year before Sammy left for college. Daddy sniffled. Sammy got the impression he was teary-eyed.

“That’s sweet, son,” Daddy said; since he was emotional, his Alabama accent came to the fore, which Sammy enjoyed — he had always thought it was sexy. Daddy cleared his throat. “You know how many girls were The One befo’ yer momma? Six. No, wait, seven. I used to fall in love like some of my cadets fall off they bunk. I don’t even remember most of those girls’ names. Once you finally meet her, the woman you gonna spend the rest of yer life with, everything that happened before that is gonna seem like irrelevant ancient history.”

“I guess so.”

“She weren’t right for ya, Sammy. I can tell that just from how you talk about her,” he said. His hand roamed down Sammy’s back, then crept under the blankets. He touched Sammy’s asscheeks. “You’s a perfect boy; you deserve a perfect girl.”

“What if she’s not out there?”

“She is,” he said, “and until then, you got me.” His hand crept under Sammy’s sweatpants and onto his asscheeks. His fingers were rough and callused, which Sammy always thought should feel scratchy on his skin, but didn’t. It felt correct, exactly the way he wanted to be touched.

One of his fingers pressed right at the surface of Sammy’s asshole. He didn’t go in yet, he just circled the rim, sending little shocks of sexual pleasure up Sammy’s spine. Sammy began breathing heavy, glad that they were going to fuck tonight. It was a nice little welcome home present, he thought.

No Homo: Soldiers

Here’s a sample from No Homo: Soldiers, an entry in the No Homo series of hardcore gay erotica that’s too hot for gay sex! The most recent entry is No Homo: Jocks, and if you’re interested, please let me know (either in a comment here or email at eroticatorium@gmail.com) what theme you want to see next — I’m currently deciding between Workers and Thugs…

 

Warning: This sample is full of outrageous dry-humping (that’s actually quite moist) and teabagging!

Hawthorn knew he was going to get a boner when he did the rescue swim. He always had during practice but managed to hide it. They were only short swims anyway. It wasn’t a gay thing, he told himself over and over. It was just the close contact, pressing his dick against someone else’s body and rubbing it back and forth as they swam.

But the day had come when he was going to have to take someone — the muscled beefcake Tony — on a four lap rescue swim of the pool. His form had to be perfect, and that meant his dick would be nestled in Tony’s tight Italian asscrack.

Tony looked like a model, Hawthorn thought, or like what Hollywood would consider a perfectly handsome leading man. He was just slightly grizzled, perfectly built with a V-shaped torso and a square jaw, a deep voice and sultry dark eyes. Hawthorn was a little jealous — he knew he was a country bumpkin in the eyes of these city folks. He was big and a little plump, dumb and naive. In truth, he didn’t know what was going on a lot of the time, he really didn’t understand the slang the others used, just pretended he did, and felt overwhelmed by the pace of modern life. He wanted to be back on the farm he had grown up on, where things made sense and he always knew what he was supposed to do next.

He wrapped his arms around Tony’s muscles, thick black hairs scratching his skin. The Italian stud’s tight six pack rippled as he lay as still as possible. He was trying to make it easy. Hawthorn’s dick was wedged between his asscheeks. He got into the correct rescue swim position easily and began his laps.

The two moved through the body effortlessly, Tony’s heavy body easily carted along by Hawthorn’s heft. They were the two biggest men in the squad, that was why they had been assigned together. Tony had already done his rescue swim and did fine, with no boner at all that Hawthorn could tell. Tony’s rippling back muscles and tight ass squeezed on Hawthorn’s body, making his dick grow harder and harder with every motion through the water.

Hawthorn remembered the punishment in the shower a few weeks before. He had felt dirty then, Ransom’s big black cock shooting a load over his back, and he realized he was going to do the same thing. His dick was wedged between Tony’s asscheek just like Ransom’s had been before, and he was getting hard only a few strokes into the rescue swim.

He tried to shift his weight to hide it, but Railton called out for Tony to begin struggling — this was supposed to be a mock rescue, after all, and actual drowning victims fight back against their rescuers. Hawthorn knew that would be it: if Tony started moving, Hawthorn had no hope of reducing his erection.

When Tony’s body began twisting and fighting against him, Hawthorn had to hold him right in position, which meant every time Tony moved, Hawthorn humped him. The movement caused further friction, making his hard cock leak precum into the water. He didn’t think Tony could tell, but it was hard to say. Between the cheering and catcalling from the surface, the splashing of water and the sounds of cars driving not far away, Hawthorn couldn’t hear anything Tony was saying.

He had a good grip on Tony, immobilizing him with his head above water. Tony’s muscles contorted beneath him, and he squeezed his asscheeks together. Hawthorn felt the tightness around his dick and knew there was no stopping his orgasm. He hoped the water was warm enough Tony wouldn’t notice.

Almost done, Hawthorn paused, tired, and Tony took the opportunity to renew his struggle, apparently trying to give Hawthorn a real test. Aside from the embarrassment over his imminent orgasm, Hawthorn enjoyed the rescue swim test — it was like a combination of wrestling and swimming, two of his favorite activities.

Then his climax came. He stifled a grunt, and timed his swim strokes to the thrusts of his hip, hoping to mask the feel so Tony wouldn’t notice. But as he did it, and the hot cum bloomed above Hawthorn’s crotch, he knew there was no chance of that. It was obvious, the water was cloudy, and he could even taste it. Tony may have been able to taste it as well.

But maybe Tony will be too embarrassed to bring it up, Hawthorn hoped. He was a proud, straight macho who wouldn’t want to admit something like that, or so Hawthorn hoped. Tony had seemed prone to embarrassment so far, like most city boys Hawthorn had met.

Railton liked to tease the recruits as they tested, and when Hawthorn and Tony got near the ladder out of the water, having finished the rescue swim, Railton only nodded at them to continue. Hawthorn’s heart pounded as he realized he wasn’t done yet, and Tony struggled against him.

“Come on, Sarge, he’s done!” Tony called out.

“One more lap, I wanna see better form, Hawthorn. I know you know how to do it better than this,” Railton said.

Hawthorn moved his arm, remembering his lessons in rescue swims. He was touching Tony’s nipples now, which grew hard in the cold water. But Tony had given up on fighting back, no doubt wanting the whole experience to be over.

Unfortunately for Hawthorn, he was a randy young buck who had always gotten erections easily, so by the time they were done, he was hard again. His exhausted muscles were almost ready to give out, he thought, but he managed to get through the last lap.

Tony crawled up out of the pool, followed by Hawthorn, whose Army-issue swimming trunks were tented by his hard cock. Hawthorn blushed when he saw his fellow squadmates giggling at him.

“That bastard had a boner. I think he nutted on me!” Tony screamed. He clawed at the small of his back as though he might still get the cum off him.

Hawthorn wanted to defend himself from his snickering squadmates, but his massive cock strained uncomfortably against the fabric of his shorts.

“Get over here, Private Kyle!” Drill Sergeant Railton said. He narrowed his eyebrows at the sight of Hawthorn’s huge cock. He pulled Hawthorn’s shorts down and Hawthorn’s half-hard, dwindling cock popped out. He wasn’t sure if it was obvious that Tony had been right, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to Tony’s continued complaints. Drill Sergeant Railton’s interest in Hawthorn’s dick was more important, it seemed, much to Hawthorn’s delight.

Somebody else whistled. “No wonder he can suck it himself.”

Railton openly stared at his thick manhood, and Hawthorn, for the first time in his life, felt embarrassed about it. “That rod might be bigger than regulation, son,” Railton said to scattered, nervous laughter. “We might have to chop a bit off.”

Hawthorn was glad to see Railton being jovial for once, and not obviously mad that he had nutted on Tony. No one seemed to care about that except Tony, who was washing himself off in the pool.

“Can you really suck your own cock?” Railton said. “Let’s see it.”

Hawthorn pulled his shorts the rest of the way down. His dick was already hard and cummy, but he sucked the tip down. He had only ever done it once before, just licked it a few times because he discovered that he could. He didn’t like the taste, and it felt faggy too him even if it was his own cock.

“Suck it, suck it!” Ransom shouted. “Deepthroat it, bitch.” He and Malik laughed but stopped when Railton glared at them.

“If I ever hear you two talking to a real woman that way,” Railton said. “I’ll have you court-martialed before you can blink.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Malik and Ransom said in unison.

An awkward silence fell over the squad, and Hawthorn wondered if he wouldn’t be able to finish. He didn’t want the guys to start ragging on him for being slow, because if he got more nervous, he might lose his erection. He had just cum on Tony’s back, so he was glad he was still a young buck, who hadn’t had any pussy lately, so he was pretty sure he’d be able to bust a nut.

“Come on, son,” Railton said. “We ain’t got all day. You ain’t datin’ it, just a booty call.”

There was more scattered laughter from the recruits, and Hawthorn sucked with renewed vigor. He got almost a third of the way down the shaft, straining his neck and beck to do it. Precum slid down his throat.

“Lemme help,” Railton said, placing one of his hands on Hawthorn’s head. He gently pushed, and though it strained Hawthorn’s neck, he got another inch or so in his mouth.

Finally he felt his nuts draw up in his sac and cum flowed into his mouth, down his throat. The familiar, but gross, flavor of sour-salty cum flooded his senses. Hawthorn gagged and spat it out, rolling onto the ground before jumping to his feet to scattered applause.

“Alright,” Sergeant Railton said. “We had our fun. Let’s get cleaned up for mess.” He looked to both Hawthorn and Tony. “You two hit the showers.”

Tony was obviously pissed. Hawthorn wasn’t surprised, but he was annoyed — everything rolled off Hawthorn’s shoulders, and this wasn’t the first time he had done something that he saw as a minor faux pas but those around him saw an egregious offense. Hawthorn didn’t let anything bother him in the long run. What good was it being upset over things that already happened?

But obviously Tony didn’t take that route. He glowered, with his hands across his chest. He looked like he was considering whether he could get away with strangling Hawthorn right there.

“Man…” Hawthorn said, putting on his biggest, most easygoing grin. “That was fucked up. I can’t believe I did that in front of Railton, and he was sort of fucking my face with my own dick. Did you see that?”

“I was in the water. Trying to get clean”

“Oh yeah,” Hawthorn said. “Sorry about all that. It was… I didn’t try to do it. It just sort-of happened.”

“You virtually raped me!”

“I didn’t stick it in!”

“You came pretty damn close.”

“Don’t tell me you never had an accidental boner,” Hawthorn said. “Did you say you was a wrestler in high school?”

“That is not the point. I never came on somebody’s back,” Tony said.

“Well, Ransom already came on me, remember that?”

“That wasn’t my fault. You wanna hump him, you be my guest,” Tony said.

Hawthorn sighed. “You ain’t being very cool about this.”

“You did hump me. That’s not very cool either.”

“But it was an accident!”

“So? You want me to have a little accident too?” Tony asked. He pantomimed humping Hawthorn’s thigh thigh.

“You don’t even wanna do anything like that,” Hawthorn said. But he saw Tony raise his eyebrows and realized that wasn’t true — he wished he hadn’t said that, as it implied he would allow Tony to do so if he did want to. Which, it seemed, he did.

“I don’t want to,” Tony said. “But I will.”

Hawthorn sighed again. It would hardly be the worst thing that had ever happened to him — for country boys like Hawthorn, campouts and hunting trips often led to much more compromising sexual adventures than a little dry humping. But he still didn’t want to go through with it.

Tony pulled his own shorts down, followed by Hawthorn’s. His fat limp cock was wedged between Hawthorn’s cheeks.

“Hey, this is more than you did to me. You’re almost fucking me!” Hawthorn said.

“You was pretty damn close to fucking me,” Tony said. He began grinding his dick in between Hawthorn’s sweat-lubed asscheeks.

“We wasn’t naked though,” Hawthorn said. He always tried to act confident, even when he wasn’t, but bending over so Tony could hump his asscheeks was making it hard to feel confident. He thought it would be almost easier to actually be raped than this weird pseudo-sex. But he certainly didn’t want to admit that.

“Well, consider that your punishment for doing it without permission,” Tony said. His dick was getting hard and leaking precum, which lubed him up. The stickiness was spreading up to the small of Hawthorn’s back and down to his taint.

“This is fucking gross,” Hawthorn said.

“I agree, that’s why I was disgusted you started it. You better tell people, if anyone ever brings it up or makes fun of me, you tell people that I humped you back.”

“Yeah, okay.” Hawthorn grunted in shame. “I’ll make sure everyone knows about this. I’ll put it on my fucking resume.”

“Ah shit, here it comes, get ready,” Tony said with a laugh. He stopped humping with his cockhead just poking out above Hawthorn’s hips, so his load shot across Hawthorn’s back. He had a huge wad of cum, warm and sticky on Hawthorn’s flesh all the way up to his neck.

The semen sat there, so hot it felt near burning on Hawthorn’s skin. He tried to wipe it off with a hand but had trouble reaching behind himself, so he had to use his own bath towel. He still felt filthy as he straightened his back, avoiding eye contact with Tony.

“Alright,” Tony said. “Now we’re even.”

The Perfect Specimen of Soldier Came Through the Honky Hotel

Here’s a sample chapter from an oldie, but a goodie, and one that only just now went live on Smashwords! It’ll be on Nook, Kobo and iBookstore any day now too. It’s called The Perfect Specimen of Soldier Came Through the Honky Hotel (Kindle Store or Smashwords) and it’s part of a series about the adventures of Adrian, a hotel clerk with a habit for servicing str8 macho alpha males! You can buy this story and three more from the series on the Kindle Store for a great value!

Every couple of weeks Adrian’s job sucked. Normally he enjoyed it — a hotel clerk is a low-stress position, and with sales incentives he normally met, Adrian could make pretty good money. But about once a month, the guys from the local military base, Fort Rumblemore, had a weekend of leave. They often came to Adrian’s hotel, and they were always drunk, rowdy and left a huge mess behind. Since they were price-sensitive, they almost never paid for anything from the minibar or anything on pay-per-view, so the hassle of dealing with them was not worth it to Adrian.

But this night was especially bad for him. Not only did he have to deal with the Rumblemore boys getting drunk in their rooms before hitting the bars, he was depressed to begin with because his long-time lover Shawn had dumped him earlier that day. He had been upset but thought going to work might help — if he had known it was going to be an armyboys night, he would have called out sick for sure.

Finally the armymen all made their way out to the bars. A few of them drifted back over the next few hours, but they had females and went straight to their rooms. Their kissing was a little more risqué than Adrian liked in his lobby, but he knew better than to ask them to stop. The best course of action was simply to let them go fuck their slut in their room, and wait for them to check out in the morning.

The sound of frenzied rutting could be heard when he walked down the hall, emanating from their rooms. More than once an almost entirely naked soldier bumped into him as he drunkenly stumbled off to the ice machine, towel loosely draped around his waist. They stank of cum, and it made Adrian so horny he wished he had a free moment to jack off in the bathroom.

Around midnight the last of them came back. He was Willie Redman, a Texan with the sunburnt shoulders of a real redneck, leaner than a lot of the soldiers but ropy with muscle and an elegant tattoo reading Texas-Made on his upper back. He walked slowly, as though he was drunk and trying to hide it. He stopped in front of the desk.

“Can I help you, sir?” Adrian asked.

“I… I don’t remembuh how to get to my room,” he said.

“I’ll show you. Follow me, sir,” Adrian said. He walked down the hall to his room, which was at the far end.

“Hey, hotel clerks know about…” He trailed off as though too embarrassed to go on. “Women? Like… Women that I can… fuck?”

Willie was not the first soldier to ask him this. “No,” he said. “I don’t know any prostitutes. And I’m gay, so I don’t know much about women at all. Sorry.” In truth, he did know of some prostitutes, but he knew better than to get involved — he could be charged as a pimp if the police found out, which was a felony sex crime, worse than either being or hiring a prostitute.

They were in front of Willie’s door. Willie blanched and said, “I struck out tonight. I was really hoping to get laid. I only got tonight. Tomorrow I ship out to Iraq.”

Adrian opened the hotel room door, and held it open for him. Willie’s muscles throbbed underneath his sleeveless t-shirt (no wonder he struck out, Adrian thought, women don’t normally go for the rough redneck on leave look).

Willie stepped through the threshold, then turned around. “Hey,” he said, “Do you… You can say no, it ain’t a big deal, but do you… Wanna suck my dick?”

Adrian was so surprised he didn’t have a response, but in truth he thought Willie’s redneck soldier look was so sexy he could barely control himself. He wanted nothing more than to suck his dick.

“Yes,” Adrian said. He followed him into the room.

“I never done this before,” Willie said as he sat on the edge of his bed. His head lolled on his shoulders as though he was already half-passed out.

Adrian knelt in front of him and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.”

He undid Willie’s camo pants, revealing those olive-green PT shorts that Adrian had always thought looked sexy on a man. They were a little small, so Willie’s bulging cock and balls were readily apparent, straining against the fabric.

Willie let out an awkward moan and looked away. The smell of liquor on his breath was strong, and stale, drunken sweat wafted into Adrian’s nostrils as he got started.

He licked Willie’s crotch through his underwear, tasting the salty cotton flavor. Willie laughed a little as though surprised. He leaned back on the bed, keeping his hands up by his head like he was frightened he might accidentally touch Adrian.

Adrian fished his cock out through the fly of his boxers, and licked it from tip to root. It had a ruddy quality, and a well-worn thickness that reminded Adrian of Willie’s sexy redneck swagger.

His dick got hard right away despite the awkwardness of the situation and Willie’s rather advanced drunkenness. His thick shaft pulsated hotly and leaked precum down Adrian’s throat.

It had all happened so fast that Adrian was only just then realizing how much trouble he could get in. He was supposed to be working and consorting with customers in their rooms was strictly forbidden.

But Willie was oblivious to any risk. He grunted as he neared orgasm and his balls lifted up in his sac. Adrian worked on Willie’s nipples with one hand, using the other to stimulate his shaft.

“You gonna swallow?” Willie mumbled. Asking was a polite gesture, Adrian thought, but Willie asked too late for it to matter. Before he even finished asking, cum was spurting down Adrian’s throat.

He shot a huge load with a nice thickness that coated Adrian’s gullet. He moaned at the savory, salty taste flooding his senses.

Adrian kept on Willie’s sensitive shaft until he was drunkenly pulled off. Willie was already half-asleep, it seemed, and Adrian wiped his dick off with a tissue before leaving. He couldn’t resist spending a moment to fondle Willie’s tight pectoral muscles and perfectly round ass, savoring their well-sculpted feel.