by Rob Rosen
The model was shown standing outside, near a split-wood fence, his back to the camera, looking over his shoulder and wearing a sly grin—about the only thing he was wearing other than a cowboy hat, chaps and cowboy boots. His legs were parted just enough to reveal the shadow of his balls hanging down.
The model’s name was given as Mitch, but Josh knew his real name. The physique was trimmer, the hair thicker, the face and torso clean-shaven, but time and added tattoos hadn’t completely obscured his identity.
“A pretty sweet ass, if I do say so myself. The guy who took the pictures thought so, and I guess you do, too.”
The heat of Logan’s breath against his neck made Josh’s temperature go up ten degrees. His skin felt tight and the air felt heavy. Since he’d found the magazine in Logan’s room three weeks prior, he’d jacked off to the photos of Logan’s younger self—“Mitch”—no less than a hundred times. Now he was wrapped in the arms of the man himself, a fantasy come true. So why was he so terrified?
Logan turned the page. There were four photos on the left-hand side showing him in various stages of undress, but it was the photo on the opposite page that elicited a comment from Logan. That one showed him wearing the hat/chaps/boots ensemble he sported on the first page of the spread. He was leaning back on some hay bales, his legs open to the camera as he gripped his hard, glistening cock. His eyes were closed and his lips parted, like he was really beating off. And maybe he was. Josh might have asked if he could bring himself to speak.
“You think about suckin’ that dick when you jack off? Imagine I’m feedin’ it to you, and that’s why I look like I’m about to come?”
The words sizzled in Josh’s ears. He trembled slightly. It made him uneasy, hearing Logan talk like that. It also got him hard in ten seconds flat.
“I know I would’ve come if you was there between my legs,” Logan continued, letting one of his big, calloused hands rest on Josh’s flat belly, “instead of that nellie photographer. Then I had to think of the five hundred he was payin’ me to get that expression on my face.” He shifted and added, “Just a sec, could you scoot forward some?”
Josh did as asked. Movement behind him made the mattress rock and creak. From the corner of his eye he saw the green towel drop off the side of the bed.
“What’cha still got them things on for?” Logan asked, tugging the waistband of Josh’s briefs. “Maybe it’s time to take ’em off.”
“I…what about Linda?”
“What about her?” Logan snorted. “By now your grandma’s done drunk herself half asleep in front of the TV, wishin’ she was twenty-five years younger and I was as accommodatin’ as my daddy was back in the day. ’Sides, the door’s locked.”
Josh chuckled nervously, nodding like he knew worrying about Linda being in the house was stupid. He shucked off his underwear, dropping them on the floor beside the towel.
“That’s better,” Logan sighed, pulling Josh back against his naked body. His hand traveled down Josh’s torso, following the soft hairs that started at his navel, until his fingers reached his lower abdomen. “Much better,” he whispered, his fingers gently stroking Josh’s cock.
Josh shifted his weight, pushing back against Logan’s prick. Logan grunted sharply, curling his fingers around the young man’s dong. Josh, trembling, closed his eyes and thought, it’s happening.
Logan proffered the magazine, saying, “Now, where were we?”
They moved to the next page. A photo of Logan/Mitch’s rear took up the entire left-hand side. He was bending over, one booted foot resting on a bale of hay, giving the camera a good view of his asshole, its tan lips puckered and gleaming between his parted buttcheeks.
“You an ass man, Josh?” Logan asked, his fingers lightly circling the young man’s pinkish-purple cockhead. “You wish you could push your face up in there and tongue my hole?”
The young man audibly gulped.
“That would be so hot,” Logan continued, “your tongue lappin’ at my asshole. ’Course, I don’t shave it no more, so you might get a few hairs caught in your teeth, but that ain’t no big thing.”
Two more photos were on the right-hand side. On the top half of the page, Logan, in a stable and wearing nothing but cowboy boots, squatted in front of a horse stall, his hard-on standing tall between his thighs. In his right hand he held a coil of rope. The rope was used as a lasso, Logan roping his cock and balls and pulling the rope so tight his genitals took on a purplish hue.
“Some guys would ask me to do that to them sometimes, tie a rope around their junk. They’d say do it like I did in that picture in the magazine.” Logan softly chuckled. “Even did it on stage a few times, at this club in New Orleans. You think you’d like that?”
Logan’s thumb and forefinger circled around Josh’s cock and balls to give the young man a sense of what it might be like to have someone lasso your privates. The other three fingers rested between Josh’s legs, against the taint. The tip of Logan’s pinkie was just a single, agonizing inch away from touching Josh’s asshole.
“Why don’t you turn the page,” Logan said. “My hands are full.”
On the last page of the spread, Logan was shown sprawled on the hay-strewn floor of a stable, his legs raised and spread apart, the fingers of one hand wrapped around his cock while he toyed with his asshole with the fingers of the other.
“There’s actually some photos of me stickin’ my fingers up my butt,” Logan volunteered. “Probably didn’t use ’em ’cause this magazine ain’t hardcore. You ever play with your ass when you jack off?”
He abruptly tossed the magazine aside. “It ain’t near as much fun as lettin’ someone else play with it.” Logan pressed the tip of his middle finger into Josh’s dewy piss-slit, the touch making Josh shudder. He brought his finger to the younger man’s lips.
“Go on, taste yourself,” he said. “It’ll make you hungry for my load.”
Josh closed his eyes and sucked on the other man’s finger, tasting the saltiness of Logan’s skin more than his own juices. Logan gently traced Josh’s lips, telling Josh he had a hot mouth, his voice as light as a sigh.
Suddenly, Logan’s hand was back between Josh’s legs, his fingers moving down the length of the young man’s throbbing shaft. He cupped Josh’s balls, squeezing them gently and saying it felt like they were “full up of come.” He rolled his hips, grinding his cock against Josh’s ass and saying he was fit to burst himself, having Josh’s hot ass pressed up against his hard-on like that.
Then Josh was once again sucking on Logan’s fingers—two this time, index and middle. “Get ’em real wet,” Logan instructed. “I want ’em dripping with your spit.”
Josh sucked on the older man’s fingers, trying to work up the necessary moisture, even though his mouth was dry. Somehow he managed, getting Logan’s fingers so coated with spit that glittering strands of saliva trailed after them when they were withdrawn from his mouth.
Logan made sounds of approval as he reached between Josh’s thighs, his spit-lubed fingers seeking out Josh’s asshole.
“Bet you got a tight little hole, don’t ya, boy?” he asked, gently stroking the knotted sphincter. Gradually, he applied pressure, working the tip of his index finger inside Josh’s hole, pushing a gasp out of the young man’s lips.
“Oh, man, that’s good and tight,” said Logan, sliding his finger deeper into Josh’s chute. “Got my cock droolin’ just thinkin’ about fucking that sweet ass of yours.”
Josh said nothing, but his cock answered by pumping out a fresh bead of precome.
Then Logan told him to get up on all fours on the bed. “You’ve seen my ass; now I wanna see yours.”
A feeling of apprehension nibbled at Josh’s nerves as he got into position. There was comfort in fantasy when he was in control, but there was no controlling Logan.
Logan put a hand down on one of Josh’s firm buttocks, kneading it roughly while telling Josh in a low, husky voice that he had a hot little ass. He brushed a t
humb over Josh’s asshole, chuckling softly when the sphincter contracted. Logan pushed his thumb past Josh’s quivering asslips, hooking it inside like he was gripping a bowling ball. The young man trembled, biting his lower lip to keep from crying out.
Josh bowed his head, getting an upside down view of the space between their bodies. His eyes traveled up Logan’s thighs to his cock, which lay flat and throbbing against his belly. He licked his lips, thinking of what Logan said: I would’ve come if you was there between my legs.
Then, hooking his hands around Josh’s thighs, Logan pulled Josh’s body backward with a hard tug, docking Josh’s pert ass against his face.
A moan tore its way up Josh’s throat, escaping his mouth before he could stifle it. He thought he heard Linda calling out from downstairs, but the worrisome thought was quickly driven from his head by the tongue that had replaced the finger. He rested his face against the mattress and bit into the bedspread to muffle his exclamations of pleasure. It was torture the way Logan relentlessly jabbed his tongue into Josh’s asshole as far as it could go before rolling it around inside—a torture that felt too good to endure, yet one Josh didn’t want to end.
It did end, though, with Logan telling Josh to turn around. “Bet that’s the best anyone’s eaten your ass,” Logan said, when Josh was facing him. He was smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling, which Josh found sexy. Josh returned the smile, not admitting it was the only time anyone had eaten his ass, but suspecting Logan knew that already.
Logan circled his hand around his own cock and pushed it up from his belly. He squeezed the crown, milking out a syrupy stream of precome.
“Wanna give it a taste?”
Josh hesitated, fearing he might not be any good. But he was even more afraid he might not get another opportunity, so he lowered his face to Logan’s crotch. He noted Logan’s recent shower didn’t entirely eliminate the natural musk of his cock and balls, the tangy scent strangely arousing. Then his tongue touched down on the sticky cockhead. He lapped up the other man’s juices and glided his tongue around the bottom ridge of the crown, pleased when Logan softly moaned.
Josh slowly took Logan’s cock into his mouth, only getting a few inches of it inside before he stopped. He wanted to swallow the whole thing, but was afraid he might gag.
“That’s it,” Logan whispered, combing his fingers through Josh’s long, dark hair. “Now all ya gotta do is start suckin’.”
He did as he was told, drawing on the engorged organ like it was a lollipop, prodding the thick shaft with his tongue. His movements were tentative, and occasionally he’d nick Logan’s cock with his teeth, but Josh managed to give a respectably good blow job. Or, as Logan put it, “You take to suckin’ dick like a pig takes to shit.”
Then Logan pulled Josh away from his cock, saying he was getting close and didn’t want to come just yet, adding, “The way my balls are churnin’, you’re liable to choke to death on my load.”
Josh sat astride Logan’s lap, facing him. “Wonder if you’d take to fucking as easily as suckin’?” Logan asked, caressing the young man’s arms, his wet cock pressing between Josh’s buttcheeks.
Josh wasn’t so sure about that, his apprehension evidently showing on his face, because a moment later, Logan said, “‘Course, what we’re doin’ right now feels pretty fuckin’ good.” He rolled his hips, grinding his cock against Josh’s asshole. “Ya think so?”
Josh thought so. He thrust his hips forward and pushed his ass against Logan’s pulsing dick. The head of the cock below nudged at his hole, forcing the tight ring to open just enough to allow the tip partial entry. The tease was almost enough to make Josh reconsider getting fucked by Logan. Almost.
Logan wrapped a hand around Josh’s vibrating cock. “You’re dribblin’ so much you don’t even need lube,” he remarked, slowly stroking him.
The slow pumps brought Josh quickly to the brink. His body jerked, the convulsions reverberating right down to his ass and against Logan’s cock. He gritted his teeth, fighting back the wave of pleasure. He clamped a hand down on Logan’s thick wrist, trying to pull it away from his prick. “Not yet,” he pled.
But Logan only pulled on his cock faster, each stroke creating a tremor more forceful than the last, until Josh was quaking atop Logan, his cock erupting so forcefully his load hit Logan’s chin, hanging in his beard. Logan wiped the splat of jizz off his chin with an index finger and stuck the finger in his mouth.
“Sweet,” he said. “Like you.”
Then he drew Josh close and kissed him.
The kiss was a surprise. For all the things he’d fantasized doing with a man—sucking his cock, fucking or being fucked by him—he never considered something so basic as a kiss, or that a kiss would be so pleasurable. Even more shocking was the urgency with which Logan kissed him, the way he pushed his lips against Josh’s, jabbing his tongue into his mouth. It went beyond want; it was need.
Locked in that embrace, their mouths melded, Logan pumped his cock against Josh’s splayed ass. His arms tightened around the younger man and his breathing quickened. Suddenly, he pulled his mouth away, a deep grunt forcing its way through his gnashed teeth as he came, his body shuddering. Josh felt the warm, thick wetness of Logan’s load squirt between his legs. He squeezed his asscheeks against Logan’s pulsing cock, making the older man squirm.
“Easy, easy,” Logan gasped. “Can only take so much.”
A hard knocking on the bedroom door startled them both. “What’ch’all doin’ in there?” Linda slurred, rattling the locked door. “Y’all better not be doin’ drugs.”
“Uh, just men talk, sweetheart. Nothin’ to worry about,” Logan called. Josh fought back a rising tide of giggles. “We’ll be down in a minute.”
“Well…all right,” Linda said, pathetically.
When they were sure she was back downstairs, the two men released deep breaths and nervous laughter. Josh carefully climbed off Logan, trying not to get jizz on the bedspread. They used Logan’s discarded towel to clean up, not saying much until Logan was headed for the door, holding the now-sticky towel to his crotch, when Josh stopped him with a question.
“Why’d you pick the name Mitch for your porn name?”
The older man, surprisingly, blushed. “Aw, it was just the name of a guy I messed around with in high school, Mitch Durkee. His dad was a total asshole, but Mitch…guess you’d say he was my first boyfriend.”
Josh nodded as puzzle pieces to Logan’s past suddenly fell into place. He held up the magazine. “Suppose you want this
back.”
“Naw, you keep it,” Logan said. “It means more to you than it’ll ever mean to me. ’Sides, now if I wanna look at it, I wanna look at it with you.”
CHARITY CASE
Talon Rihai
Still damp from his post-trick shower, Case yanked on his socks and slipped his feet into the loosely laced military boots he kept by the door for his morning cigarette. Unwilling to give up the habit, he was equally unwilling to stink up his first decent apartment. He frowned at the little white parka, its hood lined with fake fur, which he’d worn for the night with Paolo. The junior girl’s garment was whorish perfection on his dark, slight frame, but unsuitable for the predawn cold. Instead, he grabbed his ratty, black leather standby, dropped his apartment key in an inside pocket, and made his way out.
Three flights of stairs were a trifling price to pay for having his own place at last. The stairway was dimly lit, and the worn wood offered its familiar creaks as he descended, but it was his stairway and his worn wood. Even the sour smell of a century’s worth of tenants wasn’t unpleasant anymore.
Case had lived in so many cities—in New York and far beyond—first with family, then with strangers, fellow hookers and finally Fanny. A trans ex-pimp with a foul mouth and a Jewish mother’s heart, Fanny had helped him see a brighter side to their little corner of the city, and had nurtured his independent streak until he was stable—both emotionally and financially. With her guid
ance, he’d grown from a self-destructive holding-tank-regular to a self-determined, streetwise entrepreneur.
Opening the front door of the old brownstone, he was greeted by the cold blast of air he’d expected, grateful because it woke him more fully so that he could truly enjoy the clove cigarettes Paolo had given him but refused to let him smoke while they were together. The hotel didn’t allow it; neither would Paolo. “I want to taste you and not these,” he’d said, holding the pack teasingly, just out of reach. Paolo had become one of his favorite regular johns—or, rather, clients. “Aim high and you’ll get there,” Fanny always said. And Paolo felt like a client, respectful and generous—and not a bad fuck either. Made him feel good about life.
Case zipped up his jacket and headed for the alley alongside the building. Hands in his jean pockets as he leaned against the brick, he lit the contraband and took a long, satisfying drag. The clove was rich and sweet. He exhaled through his nose, pushing away the stink of the alley with the numbing thickness of the smoke. With half-closed eyes, he gave the false impression that he was entirely focused on his cigarette. In the relative quiet, he heard only a few cars—mostly cabs—probably bringing home the young, pricey whores who called themselves “escorts.” No one was out walking dogs or hurrying to catch the bus yet. Case loved the dark stillness. Inhaling deeply again, his pleasure was interrupted by the quick clack of shoes on the pavement, accompanied by a man’s voice.
“Damn it, Lucas. Where the hell are you?”
Though he’d have preferred to keep his brain turned off, it automatically fastened to the sounds. He found it easy enough to deduce at least the bare bones of the situation. Someone was in a panic, trying to find someone else. Probably a runaway, though the seeker could be anyone, from parent to pimp. No, not pimp, Case concluded. Not with that worry in his voice. Maybe a big brother or—
“Excuse me,” the man said, aggravating the fuck out of Case by interrupting his smoke. He’d come to the head of the alley, drawn perhaps by the smell or the glow of the ash. A silhouette against the distant streetlight revealed a tall individual with short hair and a long coat over his slacks.
