by Rob Rosen
Evan wasn’t skimming leaves and cleaning filters anymore; he was living the high life of toy-boy ease in Tom’s spacious mansion now, right at home in a May-October marriage, just like Jamie had once been. I spotted Evan exiting the mansion and hopping into his sports car. I followed behind in my beater as the kid zipped to the gym. It was early yet, the place mostly empty.
By the time he’d gone through his workout routine, I was already waiting for him in the shower room, ready, willing, and able to pull off the seduction I was getting paid to perform.
I’d kept the white-tiled room empty, steamed it up nice and sexy, and water-gilded and soaped my muscled body even steamier and sexier. Evan strolled in totally naked and naïvely unaware, his body just as boyishly buff as Jamie’s, though tanned copper. His cock dangled down low between his lithe legs, his brown eyes scoping out the back of my big body through the clouds of steam. My cock was jutting out eleven inches hard and heavy in front of me, facing the wall, a grim grin on my thick, sensuous lips.
“Good workout?” Evan asked, all friendly-like as he scooped up a bar of soap from a wire basket built into the tiled wall. He then began to rub it over his body before twisting a tap on with his other hand.
I let him get wet, soapy, and warm, then turned to the side and slyly replied, “The best kind of workout.”
He looked at my grinning, chiseled face. His eyes trailed down my thick neck, over my rugged smooth chest and jutting nipples, down my six-pack stomach to my long, hard cock that strained slippery between my stroking fingers. The kid gulped and gaped.
I slid my left hand up onto my damp, shining chest and rubbed my mounded pecs and strummed my pointed nipples, pumping slow and sultry and soapy along the swollen length of my jutting erection. I then stepped back into profile and slipped my left hand right in behind me, caressing my hard, wet, thrust-out buttcheeks, worming a pair of slick, strong fingers into my hole as I sawed back and forth, screwing my face into a lusty look of ecstasy.
Evan swallowed harder, openly ogling my dripping, jacked cock and the fingers plundering my ass. He dropped his arms to his sides, the bar of soap sliding free, his cock rising up all on its own in the humid atmosphere of the shower room.
“Can . . . c-can I take a tug?” he stammered, stepping closer to me on the water-splashed tiles.
I grinned even broader. What man could resist the pull of my perfectly huge cock? Straight men had even gone gay on me just to feel my enormous erection, first in their widened hands, then in their unhinged mouths, and finally in their stretched-beyond-all-sensation anuses.
I nodded at Evan and dropped my hand away, stepping closer to him, my cock bobbing in greeting. He took a quick glance around, then grabbed on to my wrist-thick shaft and squeezed and pumped.
I shuddered and groaned, like his touch was really something special. Through slitted eyes I watched his pretty face light up as he felt the heavy throb and smooth shifting skin of my python, his own cock flooding with the power and the passion.
He poled out to an impressive length himself, his cock quivering and straining. I gazed down as he swirled his slick hand up and down on my dong, stepping in even closer now.
I let the kid get well and truly hooked on my cock, his face beaming and his body gleaming, his hard-on surging. Then, as he pumped me harder and faster, I suddenly grabbed his neck and mashed my wet lips against his drooling mouth.
He jerked back like a fish caught on the line, but he couldn’t get away from me, didn’t want to get away. He relaxed, let his pouty lips slacken against my moving ones, his hand churning my cock again. I knew I could reel him all the way in at my leisure.
We kissed, Frenching in the steam under the twin sprays of hot water. Our tongues swept together and entwined, moist and eager. I roughly grasped Evan’s boyish pecs, coning them up to his engorged, dripping nipples. I pinched and rolled the rubbery protuberances. He moaned into my mouth, his hand flying on my cock. I pumped my hips, helping him jack my joyous length.
When I pulled my tongue out of his mouth, he blinked his glazed eyes and murmured, “Can I . . . suck your cock?”
I kissed him hard, twisting his nipples. “Not here. In the locker room.”
I took his hand and led him out of the dripping, clouded shower and into the brightly lit locker room. I had my pinhole camera already set up in the head-level grating of locker fifty, which was all the way in the back, secluded, as private as we could get.
I stopped at that locker, then swept young Evan into my arms and pressed our wet, hot bodies and mouths together, our hard cocks squishing. Everything was in profile for the camera to record.
Evan moaned, slipped out of my arms, and went down to his knees on the rough green carpet, his pretty mouth aimed at my rigid cock. He gripped it again, a look of wonder and lust in his eyes. Then he stuck out his pink tongue and rimmed my huge hood.
I buckled and groaned, half acting, half reacting. Evan flowered his moist, red lips over my cap and mouthed as much of my mammoth shaft as he could, maybe one-third of it. I grunted and bucked.
He got a tight, sucking rhythm going, enthusiastically blowing my cock and juggling my big, hanging balls. I grabbed on to his soft, damp brown hair and pumped into his suctioning mouth. First I went easy and not too deep, then hard and deep as I could drill. Evan gagged and drooled and grinned. He rolled his wide, watering eyes up at me as I fucked the back of his bulging throat and stretched mouth, all well within camera range. Fucker was wide-angle. With me, it needed to be.
Evan rocked back onto his butt with one of my heavy thrusts, my cock springing out of his mouth. “Fuck me!” he gasped, gulping air and grabbing onto my cock.
“Sure,” I growled.
He jumped onto the lacquered wooden bench that split the green aisle between the two rows of gray lockers in half. He went up on his hands and knees, sticking his cute little bum up in the air. I crowded in at the end of that section of bench, behind his ass, in front of the camera. I grabbed the waiting rubber out of the locker, lubed my cock, then pulled one of Evan’s buttcheeks back, shoving my cap up against his asshole.
“Yes, fuck me!” he cried, gripping the edges of the bench. “Fuck my ass with your huge cock!”
I gritted my teeth and pulled back, then rammed my cap against his pucker, applying pressure. Slowly, exquisitely, I expanded the guy’s ass-ring and burst my hood into his hole. I then let go of his trembling cheek and gripped his narrow waist and slammed forward, plunging my entire cock into his chute.
“Oh! God!” he shrieked in a strangled voice.
My tremendous erection surged into his ass, stretching and straining his walls like they’d never been stretched and strained before, until my balls banged up against his shiv ering cheeks and I was sheathed in the gripping tight, hot tube of his ass. I pumped, fucking Evan’s ass with gusto.
He gulped and groaned, his thin body rocking to my banging beat, his ass-ring gaping like a mouth around my shunting meat. My knuckles burned white on his skin as I sawed the kid’s chute with my cock to the searing point.
Evan managed to grab his flapping cock so he could jack. He stifled a yell and jumped even higher onto the bench, semen shooting out of his prick. I fucked his spasming ass with a snarling fury, then jerked and spewed, blasting white-hot bursts of come against the rubber and his bowels.
Everything, of course, was explicitly captured on camera.
My client Jamie liked what he saw. He was eager to download the dirty deed I’d committed with Evan at the gym onto his handheld so he could email it to his ex. Revenge had never been served up hotter.
Still, I put a crimp in the guy’s plans by demanding more cash. “I think another grand should do it,” I informed him. “You’ve got the money.” I held up my camera. “And I’ve got the goods.”
“But . . . but you said it would only cost a thousand! I . . . I paid you already! And you fucked me!” His adorable boy-face almost burst into tears. “And now . . . you’re trying to fuck me ag
ain!”
I shrugged, grinning wolfishly.
The door of my office suddenly busted open and Evan stood on the threshold, fuming.
“You’re trying to blackmail me?” he yelled, and with good reason.
He stormed inside, his little fists balled at his sides and his lean body shaking, his pretty face pouting. “You want me to pay you ten thousand dollars or you’ll show my husband a video of you and me . . . ”
He trailed off there when he saw Jamie.
I thought the pair of young gray-chasers were going to tear each other apart, but they somehow only had eyes, and rage, for me.
“He’s trying to blackmail me for more money, too!” Jamie informed Evan.
They both glared at me.
“What kind of private detective are you, anyway!?” Evan demanded.
I backed up to the window. “A hard case,” I said.
“How would you like a case of hard?” Jamie tossed at me.
They advanced, one on either side of my desk, their faces set and bodies rigid.
Sure, I could’ve thrown both of them out of my office, or the window, onto their pretty, young asses; I was that much bigger and badder than they were, after all. Still, I knew I had done wrong once too often and I deserved a comeuppance: a fittingly hard end to a hard case.
They rushed around my desk and each grabbed an arm. Jamie ripped off my shirt. Evan tore down my pants. My chest heaved, my nipples hummed. My cock swung up huge and hot and surging bigger, beating hard. Both kids grabbed on to my cock and pumped two-handed.
I didn’t have to take it, but I sure as hell wanted to. The pair of punks were giving me the payoff, and I was willing to take what was coming.
Jamie twisted and bit my nipples as Evan dropped down and mouthed my cock, scraping my shaft and hood with his teeth. Jamie then went down and nibbled my nuts, raking his fingernails along my cock, while Evan rose up and stretched my nipples out with his teeth, going back and forth on them.
They both pushed me over my desk. Evan jumped in front of it, sticking his cock into my mouth until I sucked. Jamie rooted around my desk and found a rubber before shoving his cock into my ass, pumping away at it mercilessly.
They gave it to me good and hard at both ends. After fucking my face, mouth, and throat, Evan hopped around the desk and fucked my ass, Jamie making way and leaving some gape behind for Evan to fill. Jamie then sprang around the desk and crammed his cock into my mouth, fucking my face as I sucked him off.
I was bumped to and fro by the boyish banging, taking young, hung cock in my mouth and chute, getting churned to burning by the two barging erections. My own cock whacked the desktop like a slab of salami in rhythm to the two cocky guys as they got their flaming revenge.
Evan screamed out and shuddered behind me. His wildly humping cock jumped in my flaming hole and creamed the rubber full of hot, sticky come, just as Jamie shrieked and spasmed in front of me. His cock jerked and jetted into my mouth, spraying a torrent of heated spunk down my throat.
I gulped at both ends, my enormous erection leaping up and spouting hands-free, whitely striping my desk with my own forceful nut.
Jamie and Evan pulled out, zipped up, and confiscated my camera before sashaying out of my office, hand in hand, smiling and waving back at me. I sucked up semen in my mouth as I leaned over my desk, my eleven-inch length of meat still twitching and leaking atop the wood.
It was another hard case, with a twist-happy ending.
Damn, I was turning into a regular softie.
WHITEOUT
Richard Michaels
It started to snow at two in the afternoon. Five minutes later, I couldn’t see more than a foot in front of my car. Soon after that, I couldn’t see even that far. The intensity or direction of the blizzard would change, the snow whirling over the hood and against the windshield, and I had to completely stop, hoping that any drivers behind me would see my taillights before they crashed into me and sent everybody skidding off the road into the all-encompassing whiteness.
Of course, most people had probably stayed home, knowing better than to venture out when the Wyoming weather bureau predicted a winter storm. But I had been sure that I could outdrive the frigid fury, so I set out from Riverton in the early afternoon, planning to finish the 120 miles to Casper before dark.
And here I was, just a bit out of town, and my foolishness was becoming more and more apparent. I had driven the slightly more than twenty miles between Riverton and Shoshoni on a multitude of occasions, and now I felt as if I were traveling it for the first time, inching along the highway, straining to see the asphalt, the gleam of a vehicle in front of me, the shining of a light at the side of the road to confirm that I had not left civilization.
But I might as well have been in the frozen Arctic tundra. There are so many areas in Wyoming where nothing prevents the wet winter snow from obliterating everything and transforming the world into a white blur.
It was luck, I suppose, that the dense curtain parted enough to reveal the car parked by the side of the road. Its lights were off, and it looked like some strange creature hulking in the dark, waiting to glide again toward its unimaginable lair.
I was ready to pass the car when I saw—when I thought I saw—something detach itself from the front of this lurking creature and move to the side nearer the road. I let up on the gas, reluctant even to touch the brake and perhaps precipitate my vehicle and me into a skid. I alternated my gaze between what little road was visible before me and the figure beside the snow-covered beast. Odds were that this was not some smaller creature that had separated from the much larger one, but was instead a person walking around the front of a car. Odds were.
I don’t usually stop for people on the road. Even in Wyoming, sometimes especially in Wyoming, the stranded motorist is not who he seems to be, or the hitchhiker is not the helpless solitary individual. But under the circumstances, I thought, I could take a chance on a wintry afternoon when the rest of the world seemed to have vanished into a frozen landscape.
As the person (presumably a person) approached my car, I lowered a window. The wind shifted, and I was stung in the face by an attack of white arrows. The figure leaned over.
Through the blowing snow, I could see little but a vague, formless blob, a hulking body with a shapeless head, a head that appeared to be an irregular circle of gray bisected by two pieces of fur. For a moment, I almost thought that I really was looking at some wild beast, some sort of woolly mammoth that prowled this extended, barely inhabited stretch of western wilderness, hunting a foolish traveler for the main course of its afternoon repast. No such creature existed, of course. Well, it was highly doubtful that such a creature existed, but still—
Then, “Hi,” said this creature. The wind went off at a new tangent, and the snow was not so blinding, and I was hearing and seeing a man covered by a heavy coat, and the two ridges were the edges of a hood pulled tightly around his face so that only his eyes and nose were visible.
I was foolishly relieved, and I said to him, “Hi,” and added somewhat idiotically, “Is everything okay?”
“No, my car broke down. It just stopped, and I can’t tell why, especially in this mess, so here I am.”
“Can I do anything?” I asked. “Give you a ride to Shoshoni? My plan is to get a motel room there and wait out the storm before going on to Casper.”
He thought for a bit and said, “Yeah, that seems to be a good idea. I can get somebody to bring me back to my car and see if we can get the damn thing moving again.”
“You don’t have a cell phone?”
“Cell phone. No, I don’t—well, not with me. I think I left it at my friend’s house. I was in a rush to beat the storm; must’ve forgotten to pocket it.”
“Probably just as well. Even under the best of circumstances, the telephone reception out here isn’t great,” I told him. “I’ll take you to Shoshoni, and in the morning, if they’ve cleared the roads, we can devise some plan to get your car. Then
you can be on your way to—where were you going?”
“I was . . . I was going to Thermopolis.”
“Well, climb in,” I said. “I’ll try to get us to Shoshoni in two pieces—you and I, I mean—and we’ll go, I hope, from there.”
“Thanks, buddy,” he said, and he inched his way around my car to the passenger door. When he was in the car, he pushed back his hood and shook himself, unleashing a minor snowstorm.
“Sorry,” he said.
“No problem,” I assured him.
I shifted gears and tentatively pressed on the gas. After a few spins of the tires, we slowly moved forward.
As I tried to stay on the road—and as I tried to figure out where the road was—I glanced at him. His hair was in a sort of crew cut, and the vestige of sideburns had a tinge of gray. A scar ran down his jaw.
“I’m Hal,” I said.
“I’m . . . Ernie,” he answered, turning briefly toward me.
He was the sort of man I find appealing, not handsome but attractive in a rough-hewn way, probably in his forties, a few years older than I.
“So, why are you going to Casper?” he asked.
“Uh,” I said. “I’m going to visit a friend.”
“He must be a very good friend,” commented Ernie, “if you’re willing to travel all the way to Casper in this weather to see him.”
“Uh,” I said further, noticing that Ernie had presumed that my friend was male. “He is.”
“Hmm,” he said.
I was sure that Ernie was staring at me, but I didn’t want to check and I did want to stay on the highway, so I didn’t look at him.
I might have changed the topic of conversation, but the wind altered its direction again, blowing the snow directly into the windshield. My attention concentrated instead on searching for the roadway and navigating it.
After that, we traveled in silence. Well, not quite silence, because the blizzard howled and attacked the car as if it were attempting to get inside and swallow us in its icy maw. It began to seem as if this usually short trip between Riverton and Shoshoni might go on forever, but finally I saw, barely, the curve leading into the little town.
