Home Books for Sale Coming Soon Dirk Hessian Emma's Wild Review Gay Kamasutra Grab Bag habu - sr71plt Illustrated Stories Sabb Shabbu Sounding Sweet Sanjay - story Things We Like Writing Erotica Ynal
|
If you buy from Amazon, after following a link from this site, we may earn a very small commission. Check out the
Gay Erotica JUST OUT Pre order Pre order
La Petit Mort - poem Home to Fire Island review by Emma STORY
The Clint Folsom erotic gay murder mystery series. Habu reports that he enjoyed writing this series. His premise was a no-holds-barred treatment of an unabashedly promiscuous, laid-back, “good-guy” homicide cop with movie-star looks .
(Clint's) love of being ‘topped’ is so ingrained within his being that
each sex act is with an abandon and longing that makes men ‘feel like
kings’. If you weren’t a ‘sub’ before, you would wish to be one by the
end of the book. Once I finished reading it, I rushed to buy the rest of the
Clint Folsom series. Hot Stuff! From a review by Kpasa
|
Loosening Therapy by habu artwork by
Ynal
I
was standing in the small room, in front of a curtained window. Paul's
hot breath on the back of my neck was doing little to dispel the tension that
was tying me in knots, even though that's exactly what we were here for. The
room was pretty dreary really; just this curtained window and a padded massage
table behind us against the wall. Tired paint on the walls, scuffed tiled floor
and ceiling, as if men before us had been walking the ceiling and dragged across
the floor, which, for all I knew, was exactly what had caused the scuffing. A
set of loudspeakers above and at the corner of the curtained window. Paul's arms
came around me, and he started to unbutton my shirt and pull the tail out of my
jeans even before he pulled on the curtain cord. I didn't
want to lose Paul, and this might be my last chance to keep him. We'd met at a
book event. He was the author, and I was the fascinated reader. We'd talked
while he autographed my copy and I'm afraid I'd gushed about his book. He had
taken that in stride and had invited me for coffee after the signing. I was a
young, impressionable college student, and he was a good twenty years older than
I was but very distinguished and handsome. Gray at his temples and dancing green
eyes that held mine. Thick, sensuous lips, a cleft chin that made him look very
urbane, and a well-toned bod. We weren't finished discussing the exotic sub
story line in his book when the cafe was closing, so he invited me to his place
for a nightcap. His apartment matched my suppositions in sophistication; we
kissed on his deeply upholstered couch, and he had my fly open and had sucked me
off, with me shooting off quickly, before I managed to escape in embarrassment
and confusion. Two days
later, he saw me loitering on the sidewalk in front of his apartment building,
and, without words, he came down, took me by the hand, and led me back inside
his door. We 69ed on his bed for hours, with him trying to take it farther, and
me breaking it off in fear. I'd given and gotten both hand and blow jobs over
the past year, but it had never gone beyond that. Paul
wanted to fuck me. He had no interest in me topping him. I wasn't averse in
theory, but I'd tighten right up whenever we got to the brink. He was big and
thick and long and I was terrified of the pain. After our fourth meeting, he was
positioned and entered me, but as soon he had, the pain was just too much for
me. I tightened right up and screamed for him to stop. His frustration was
palpable, and I declared I wanted it but just couldn't do it, that perhaps we
needed just to give up on the effort and any idea of a relationship in the
fullest sense. I could tell that he was conflicted, though. He said he was
smitten with me, but I knew he couldn't be satisfied with just hand and blow
jobs. I cried, and he gently massaged my body and then tried again, but I just
couldn't take him; it was just too painful. He then said he had an idea that
might help, and so here we were, two days later, in a back room of a men's club,
standing in front of a curtained window. Paul had
my shirt open and he was stroking one of my nipples with his hand. He reached
over with the other hand and pulled the curtains open, and I let out a shocked
gasp. We were
looking through a wide, full-length two-way mirror into another small room,
almost identical to the one we were in. Hung by his wrists from straps only
about two and half feet away and facing us on the other side of the window was a
young man of only nineteen or twenty, with a thin, twinkish, boyish build. He
had a mop of curly red hair that almost came down into his eyes as his head hung
down, and, as he was stark naked, I could see a patch of red pubic hair
surrounding a smallish, pert cock hanging down between his legs. Despite his
thinness, he had good muscle tone and was a handsome lad. He looked like a lad,
but I vaguely remembered him from one of my college classes, so I'd say he
couldn't be much younger than I was. The pads of his feet barely touched the
tiled floor. I
started to say something to Paul, but he told me to hush and just to closely
observe what was happening in the other room. One of his hands was still
massaging my chest, and the other had moved to undoing my belt buckle. I heard
a hollow sound and looked toward its origin, which was the speakers at the top
edge of the window on our side. These were conveying the sound from the other
side of the glass. A door had opened in the other room behind where the young
man was hanging and I let out another gasp when I saw the men who had entered
the room. He was massive, but not in any way fat. He was heavily muscled, and
sharply defined in every respect. He seemed about the same age as Paul, but he
obviously was a fanatical bodybuilder. He was dark to the point of swarthy, with
salt and pepper-colored hair that covered his body in short ringlets that kept
him from being defined as more than borderline bear. He had a short-cropped
beard and mustache and a buzz cut hairstyle. Gold rings gleamed at his left ear
and in both of his nipples, and there were barbed-wire tattoos encircling both
of his arms across the biceps. The only thing he was wearing was a black
leather, studded harness across his chest and leather over-the-ankle boots. What
had made me gasp, however, was the horse-hung cock and tennis-ball-sized balls
swaying back and forth between his legs as he approached the bound young redhead
from the rear. I felt
my pants and briefs hit the floor. Paul had freed them as the dark monster had
entered the other room. The
monster stopped and stood very close behind the young redhead. He nuzzled the
young man's neck with thick lips in a lingering caress, as his big,
thick-fingered hands ran up the sides of the youth from the hips to his elbows.
The redhead lifted his head, showing me a frightened expression, and murmured in
low tones I could barely hear, but I thought they sounded something like,
"No, no, please don't," repeated over and over. I
flinched as I realized that Paul was naked now, his cock running up my back. He
pulled my shirt off and nuzzled his lips into my neck and mirrored the hand
movements of the monster on the other side of the window. "Paul?"
I asked, a shiver of fear in my voice. "Hush,
hush," we whispered to me. "Just concentrate on the young man on the
other side of the window. Watch him carefully, and keep constantly in your mind
that he is slighter than you are and that the man behind him is much longer and
thicker than I am." I
watched in mixed horror and fascination as the older man on the other side of
the window ran his hands all over the body of the redheaded youth, paying
particular attention to his nipples and his cock and balls. Paul was doing the
same with me, and I found myself moaning in just a slightly lower tone than the
youth facing me. His pert little cock was standing straight out from his red
bush, as my longer and thicker one was doing out of my blond bush. Paul turned
my face to his, and we lingered in a long, juicy kiss. I was willing myself to
loosen up for Paul but this concerted effort, of course, only kept me tight and
fidgety. When I
was able to look back around, the bigger man appeared to have disappeared, but
as I focused more closely on what was going on, I could see that the redhead's
chest was arched forward and his hips pulled back, and he was standing on his
very tiptoes.
Paul's
lips and tongue were at my asshole as well now. He was forcing my butt cheeks
open with the palms of his hands, and I almost lost my balance as my chest
arched forward. My hands involuntarily pushed out in front of me to keep myself
from falling, and my arms were now widely spread, palms against the window. I
pressed my forehead against the glass, my eyes glued on the eyes of the redhead,
and groaned and grunted at having my ass wetted and eaten out by the man I
idolized. The
redhead couldn't see me or so I assumed but by watching his eyes, I could see
his fear and resistance melting and his eyes hooding with desire. And I was
going with him on this, moaning and groaning and sighing at Paul's tongue work
inside my hole, on my tender inner thighs, and up through my legs on the
underside of my cock. While
our asses were being worked, the redhead's cock and balls were getting attention
from big, swarthy hands, and so were mine from Paul's long, elegant fingers. I
began to move my pelvis in rhythm with Paul's ministrations and the redhead was
moving his as well. The
monster and Paul rose up on their feet behind their objects of desire almost
simultaneously, and both produced gobs of lubricant and started to lather up
holes and cocks. The
redhead was back to begging for mercy in a low, hoarse voice, and I felt myself
getting more tense as well. One palm
on bellies and the other hand loosening and widening up holes with lubricated
fingers, both dominators were working their targets. Paul
hissed at me to keep my eyes and senses locked onto the redhead, and I
concentrated there as best I could. I
watched in horror and fascination, as the giant in the other room lifted the
legs of the redhead and pressed the soles of the younger man's feet wide apart
on the window separating us. His feet were precisely on the other side of window
from where my hands were pressed. I was closely staring into his face. Paul was
pushing my legs wide now, but I was lost in the gaze of the redhead, the intense
concentration he was showing. The palpable fear mixed with anticipation. The
giant crouched his thighs under the raised thighs of the younger man. When the
redhead screamed at the pain of first entry, I screamed too, feeling the cap of
Paul's cop rotating around, corkscrewing just inside the rim of my hole. We'd
been here before, but I hadn't been able to go any farther. The
redhead was sweating, his muscles knotted tightly, his head thrown back. He was
crying and babbling incoherently at the ceiling. having lost eye contact, I
looked down between the redhead's legs and I could see the bulky sausage of that
horse-hung cock slowly working its way into the young man's hole. An inch in, a
half inch withdrawal, and then another inch in. I felt Paul tugging back on my
hips, widening my legs farther and opening my butt cheeks more as he pushed
inside me. We had never been this far before. It hurt like hell, but, for the
first time in our attempts, his mushroom cap had reached my prostate and he was
rotating his cock around inside me with one hand his other hand still holding me
to him with palm on belly stroking my prostate with it and sending little
electric currents of pleasure and engorgement through me that were fighting with
the pain. I heard
a scream of "Yes, yes," through the loudspeaker, and looked back up
through the mirror, catching sight of the redhead's eyes again. His countenance
had completely changed. His eyes were wild and shining with desire now. The
monster's cock was completely sheathed inside him and was pumping inside him
with little strokes. The
redhead was thrashing his head back and forth, yelling, "Gawd, yes. Gawd,
yes. Fuck me. Deep, deep, split me in two." He obviously was enjoying the
fuck now, having a huge cock buried inside him. The pleasure and lust in his
eyes were revelations to me. This is where Paul had been trying to go. All I
needed to do was get past that first pain, and I could have this. I could be
crying for it just like the young redhead was. There was no doubt now what he
wanted the big monster to do to him. I laid
my head back on Paul's shoulder and whispered to him. "If it could only be
like that, Paul. If I could only loosen up enough get through the pain enough to
get to where that guy is, the pain would be worth it." "Guess
what, Sport," Paul whispered back. "I'm in to the root now, and I'm
pumping you deep too. You did open to me. You relaxed to me." I cried
out in surprise as I realized that Paul was right. I could feel him churning and
throbbing deep inside me now. We had done it. I felt the remaining tension
draining out of me. My butt cheeks and ass canal were relaxing. I was opening
more. Paul felt it to, and I heard the intake of his breath as his cock
lengthened and thickened in response and he reached new depths inside me. We
were a unit now, moving as one. I had a masterful lover. I looked
at my hands. The fingers were scrunching against the window in rhythm with the
stroking of Paul's cock inside me. The redhead's toes were scrunching just on
the other side of the window in the same rhythm. He was using his own hip and
butt muscles now, rising away from the giant's pelvis as the giant's cock slid
out of him and then pistoning back down as the
I was
imagining Paul's cock doing the same thing in my hole, and I trembled and moaned
at the feeling of finally being totally fucked. Paul was going wild at my back
door, yelling at how sweet my ass was and how he'd never had such a glorious
fuck. After
cuming, the giant was holding there, jerking the redhead to ejaculation with his
big mitts, as Paul pulled me away from the window, backed up to the massage
table at the rear of our room, and turned me on his cock until my back was on
the surface of the table and he was between my legs. He held my legs up and out
then and pumped me in long, slow strokes, until he brought his mouth down to my
nipples and tongued them and nipped them. I sighed and moaned deeply for him,
begging him never to stop, to ride me and ride me. I never thought I could want
it this bad, to open this wide and unconditionally to a man standing between my
legs, churning his cock inside me. I felt
him tighten up, ready to shoot, but he buried his cock deep inside me then, and
held himself very still, while he draped my legs on his shoulders and both of
his hands went to my cock and balls. With him still rigid against me, I writhed
all over the table in never-before-imagined pleasure while he beat my cock and
squeezed and pulled my balls until I shot up his belly in three fountains. Then,
with a grin, he wishboned my legs again with his hands and fucked me in short,
rapid, deep strokes until he unloaded inside me. He then
came up on the table, laying beside me and cuddling me in his arms, as he roamed
by body with his hand. I looked through the window into the other room, but the
other men were gone now. "Don't
worry about them," he cooed to me in a whisper. "They were there just to
help you get beyond your fear; to show you what was beyond the brief pain why
getting beyond the pain was worth the slight inconvenience." "But
he was so big and the redhead was so small," I murmured, still concerned
about the physics of it all. "Oh,
don't worry," Paul snorted. "They're a team; they do that a couple of
times a night. Very good at it too." We were
silent for several minutes, while we kissed and cooled down. "What
now?" Paul asked. "Shall I drive you back to the dorm?" "Hell,
no," was my spirited reply. "Take me back to your apartment and fuck
my brains out again. I want to work some more on this therapy thing."
|
Webmaster: enquiries AT barbarianspy DOT com We support copyright law and all book covers, stories, and images on this site are copyright of the photographer/cover designer, BarbarianSpy authors, or Ynal. Copyright © 2007 - 2019 BarbarianSpy Last modified: June 09, 2021 |