I lay in bed, wide awake, the day’s events playing round and round in my head. More had happened in the last 24 hours to shift my reality than in the last 55 years.

A complex flood of emotions ran through me, each one teased out as I stared at the shadows cast across the ceiling.

Elation at what had transpired.

Shame at what I’d allowed to happen on my watch.

And desire, now more than ever, coursing through my veins.

How was it that the more sex you had, the more you wanted? I could remember that fact from my prime years, thought long past. And now, here I was, discovering it again, the person most surprised being myself.

And somehow, after the most intense, unbounded exchange with Steve, Greg and Will, I was still hard.

Rock hard.

For guys my age, erections were always a problem, and I thought myself just another casualty. But here I was, like a teenage boy, boner raging between my thighs. I realized now it hadn’t been my body that was the problem, but what I’d allowed myself to feel, to recognize within myself. Spending time with the three of them had rubbed off on me, figuratively as well as literally.

The boys had been too riled up once we’d finished to have any sort of conversation. They ran off to the outdoor shower, laughing and cavorting in the floodlights out back, the water splashing and warm in the cool fall air. I’d thought about joining them, but then thought better of it. And then they’d gone off to bed, hardly a word of reflection on what had transpired.

No, a conversation would have to come in the morning.

Nate couldn’t know. It would shatter him. It would shatter me. He’d been distant, he’d been difficult, but he didn’t need this—to be confronted with his father’s own failings, leading these boys into god knew what.

Though perhaps that wasn’t accurate. They hadn’t been led into anything, really. In fact, it was quite the opposite. No one would probably believe me, the fact of our age gaps putting the blame squarely on me. But if anything, I had been coerced. Who the fuck would have thought? A guy my age, well past his prime, somehow desirable to all these young men, inspiring them to take control and drive me to this. It confounded me.

And then the scenes of the day flashed through my head.

The way they’d goaded me into revealing my hard-on.

They way they’d taken turns sucking me off, letting me suck them off.

The way we’d all taken turns on Steve, the three of us riding him into oblivion and then unloading on him, his body a monument of seed.

It was desire, unbridled.

I realized why I was still hard. I couldn’t get the images out of my head. They would be seared there for eternity, never to fade.

I turned over, trying a new position to lull myself into slumber, when I heard the faintest sound behind me.

A knock.

At first, I thought I’d imagined it, holding still, but just as I was about to turn back under the covers, it came again, this time louder, the door opening and a figure appearing before me.

Toby?

No—in the dark, my eyes betrayed me.

“Mr. M,” he whispered.

“Will,” I said, my eyes struggling in the dark. “Are you all right?”

He was shirtless before me, only a pair of loose mesh shorts around his waist.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

My heart went out to him. I was a wreck myself. And now I’d probably only traumatized him further.

“C’mere,” I said, patting the edge of the bed.

He came and sat beside me.

“I know today was…a lot.”

“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head, “you could say that.”

“I’m sorry.”

And then his face turned, confused. “What? Why?”

“The more I think about it all, the more I realize it was all a mistake. I’ve failed you, all of you.”

Will looked at me, his expression softening. “No.” He shifted closer, choosing his words carefully. “We wanted this. You know that, right?”

“You say that now, but tomorrow…”

“Even if we wouldn’t admit it, we’ve been fantasizing about you since…”

I heard the words again in my head, the ones he’d uttered just before he sucked my dick.

“…since we were 12, or me at least. And I then you saw Greg and me together…” He trailed off. “There is so much I’ve wanted to do to you, to tell you.”

His words sent a shudder through my body. Could that be true?

It was clear why he came into my room. It just wasn’t for comfort, per se. At least not the typical variety.

“Will—I—” I stammered. “I can’t.”

He looked at me, so innocent despite all of the brazen, debauched things I’d seen him do today. How the two could co-exist was remarkable to me. “But, what about after everything today?”

“I know,” I said, trailing off. But I stayed firm. “It still wouldn’t be right.”

He stared back, disappointed, but understanding.

“Well, can I at least have a hug?” he asked.

He looked just like that boy I could remember from childhood, so warm and loving. And then like Toby, always Toby. Two boys, all at once.

“Of course you can.”

I leaned forward, feeling his arms wrap around me, our bare chests pressing together, the fur on mine grazing against the smooth of his. It felt warm, reassuring. I held him there in silence, our bodies rising and falling together, breath in sync, a rare moment of quiet and intimacy after a day of pent-up aggression.

And then his fingers trailed down my back, gently, massaging me, before finding the sides of my abdomen and then slowly reaching my crotch—my dick—my erection still hard between my legs, pointing upwards.

“Will—”

I pulled away, his face just before mine, his grip still firm on my manhood, unyielding.

“Please,” he said quietly, persistent.

“We really shouldn’t…”

“The seal,” he started. “It’s already broken.” And then he said the words that I knew were true, even if it pained me to admit it. “There’s no turning back now.”

I stared at him, his eyes just like Greg’s and Steve’s earlier that day—certain, entirely certain, at one with their desires.

“You’ve been so good to all of us,” he said, lightly stroking me, our eyes locked. “To me. To Steve. To Greg.” He passed. “And Nate.”

I swallowed, my chest tight.

“You’re such good dad.”

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“I want you guys to fuck me,” Steve said. “All of you.”

Greg, Will, and I glanced at each other, shocked, but also certain.

Everything had been building towards this moment, to this climax, even if we hadn’t initially recognized it to be so.

We were being given a challenge. And so, we accepted. We were up to the task.

Greg reached for Steve’s hips, spinning him around and repositioning him on the couch. Pressing against his thighs, he lifted his legs over his head, exposing his hole again, seeing it up close for the first time.

His eyes darted between it, newly relaxed and pulsing, and Steve’s face, the two of them locked in a dance.

He squeezed his cheeks together and spat one long trail of juice onto his hole, watching it trail into his crack in slow motion. And then, satisfied, he pressed his face against it, mouth hoovered onto Steve’s with remarkable grip.

Fuck, I thought to myself. How perfectly Greg’s chin rested between the mound of Steve’s cheeks.

The two of them ensnared, Will sidled over, arranging himself beside me, dick pressed hard up against my thigh. That small, smooth, perfect dick. He reached for mine, taking it into his hand, and then turned, nodding up, his chin just inches from mine.

What had he said before?

I’ve been wanting to do this since I was 12.

His expression reflected all that fervor, that intensity.

And Toby. God, I was so reminded of him.

Our lips slowly met, a first kiss between the two of us, his soft, sweet. I wondered if he even shaved, so smooth and milky white were his cheeks, if reddened from all of the action that had already taken place.

His tongue slid into me seductively, teasingly, his hand slowly jerking me as he pressed ever firmer along my thigh, his hard-on betraying any last semblance of restraint. I wrapped my arm around him, so slight in comparison to my larger, if newly trim frame, the deep ochre and matted fur of my complexion a beautiful contrast.

And then he pulled away, hand refusing to leave my cock, lowering himself down before my right pec, its heft practically dwarfing his mouth.

He stared at me and then uttered the words that made me shudder.

“Fuck, Dad.”

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“So, Mr. M,” Greg asked, his smile ever mischievous. “Have you ever sucked a dick?”

I stood in the doorway, my own dick still hard, pulsing between my thighs at the sight of them in a row before me.

“I—” I stammered. I hardly knew what to say.

The three of them looked so captivating all in a row, each a different embodiment of all-American youth and beauty. Will, so blonde and trim, like a twink on steroids. Greg, so thick and meaty, bigger than us all, but skin smooth and deep as cafe au lait. And Steve, the lean lacrosse star, all preppy athlete confidence, his body the tightest of wires.

It was Will who broke the silence. “You wanna try?”

It was Greg who could read my body language, seeing how uncomfortable I was. I was halfway in, clearly having given in to all of their more base impulses. But there were still lines yet to cross.

And so he tried a different tack.

“Come here,” he said quietly, gesturing for me to move closer.

I hung back, considering once again leaving altogether. And then I thought better of it—after all, the stairs were that way anyway—and so I tentatively made my way closer, walking towards the couch and the three of them positioned atop it.

I lumbered there, just before Greg, my dick pointing out at him, answering his invitation.

And so, slowly, he leaned forward until he was face to cock, his mouth mere inches from me.

He turned to Will and Steve. “I think he needs a little more encouragement.”

And with that, he took me in his mouth, beginning to suck me off, deep throating the entire thing in one long gesture.

Steve looked on, mildly aghast.

Greg, the stud himself, was sucking cock.

Seems it wasn’t beneath him after all, a whole world opening up to him amongst his friends. He and Steve were teammates after all. This had to be a brand new dawn for both of them, a turning of the page to something as yet undetermined.

Greg certainly knew what he was doing, taking me up and down in broad strokes, and I can’t say it didn’t have its desired effect. The longer I stayed, the more the boys played their hands, the harder it was to resist, the fewer boundaries there were.

Were there any, really, anymore?

It was a sight, this hulk of a college boy, his arms and chest surpassing mine in size, sucking my cock, sliding in and out of his mouth effortlessly. Everything about Greg was big, even his insides. Taking my not-so-small dick was barely an effort.

I bucked back and forth, receiving him with each thrust, glancing between Steve and Will, who leaned back, hands on their cocks, jerking them with Greg and me as entertainment, Will looking particularly overcome.

The truth was out, laid bare in the hot tub just moments before. He’d had a crush on me. His entire life.

Greg slowed, releasing me and giving a few firm strokes, further slicking it with spit before turning to Steve.

“C’mon, bro,” he said, lowering his hand to the base of my cock, pointing it in his direction. “Why don’t you help him out?”

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“Seems like you’re hard too.”

Will’s words echoed in my ears, the eyes of the three boys laser-focused on me.

I looked down at my crotch, my shorts trying and failing to conceal the fact that my cock was in fact, fully erect, with nowhere to hide, pushing forward with all its might. Tented.

My face turned beet red.

“I—I—” I stammered, trying to deflect.

“Seems like Jack wants in the game,” Greg said, eyeing my bulge.

He was a cocky shit, but something was reassuring about him, as if on some level he was in control, guiding us. Probably because he was.

Somehow, I realized, he’d engineered this whole thing. This afternoon with Will was just the start.

“Yeah, he does,” Will agreed. “After all, it’s just us scouts.”

The words landed like a thud. Here I was, their former troop leader, the guy who had steered them from boyhood into adulthood, now cornered into a box of his own making.

And then I realized it. If I had been honest—really honest—some part of me had wanted this all along.

I stared back at them, their eyes unflinching, encouraging, even Steve somehow on board.

I was cornered. Everybody wanted this. Even me.

And so I caved, my hands finding the edge of fabric by my waist and pulling it down, my full bush giving way to the cock that had been trapped beneath, its full length released, its entirety coming into view.

I stood there, balls tight up by my base, cock bouncing involuntarily between my thighs at the sight of these three naked studs, steam rising up off the tub.

Fuck, I thought to myself. It felt good to be free.

My dick was big, not as big as Greg’s, but certainly larger than Steve’s or Will’s. Impressive, you could say.

“Damn,” Greg said, otherwise speechless.

I looked at Steve, sheepish, his own cock pulsing down between his thighs, beaten again.

And then Will’s voice cut through it all. “I’ve been wanting to see that cock for a long time.”

The brazenness of his admission caught me off guard, only further inflaming the desire that had been set free. Suddenly, all bets were off, any presumption of innocence long forgotten.

Greg grinned at him, Steve’s face betraying the faintest surprise and then his own acquiescence.

And then they watched as Will crept across the tub, kneeling down before me, his wanting eyes staring upwards directly at me.

I watched, frozen, his face so much like Toby’s, as he licked his lips before uttering the words that left me weak, unable to resist.

“And I’ve been wanting to do this since I was 12.”

Jesus Fucking Christ.

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As we went about the rest of the evening, I eyed both Will and Greg, searching for any echoes of what I’d witnessed that afternoon.

Instead, they betrayed nothing, not even Will, his stare up through the window seared into my memory. With that one look, it was as if he’d read me entirely, as if he had known exactly what I’d seen and what I’d felt.

But it was as if nothing had happened at all.

I fired up the grill, cooking us burgers and dogs, the boys helping as best they could but doing a better job of helping themselves to beers. By the time dinner was served, the three of them were bordering on rowdy, the energy at the table palpably heightened.

I could hardly relax, the energy becoming more and more unbound, my awareness of what might be bubbling beneath the surface too much to take. I’d been so enraptured by what I’d seen between Will and Greg that I couldn’t get it out of my head.

My only saving grace was Steve. He seemed oblivious—heck, he always seemed oblivious, on his own intense planet—too concerned with himself to even think about anything else. So long as he was here, things couldn’t bubble over into something too inappropriate, right?

Yes, Steve would keep us on the rails.

“This was the best fucking day,” he said, his cheeks slightly burned from being out on the lake.

“To Mr. M,” called out Greg, raising a beer before him, the other two boys joining in and turning to me.

“To Mr. M!” Steve and Will intoned together.

“Thank you, boys,” I replied. “It’s great having you all back up here. Even if Nate couldn’t make it.”

“That fucker doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Steve joked.

I smiled at them, the way they knew just how to make me feel good. I had put a lot of effort into this weekend. I’d wanted it to be nice.

“What do you say boys?” said Greg, nodding at Steve and Will. “I think it’s tub time.”

“Fuck yeah,” said Will. “Been wanting to get in there all day.”

My eyes flicked between them. Something about their mischievous grins only made me more uncomfortable.

But before I could protest, Steve joined in hearty agreement. “C’mon, you fuckers,” he called out, “race you there,”

He bolted from the table, running back towards the sliding glass doors and finding his way outside, Will and Greg following in quick succession and trailing just behind.

I watched from inside as they threw off their shirts and piled into the tub that sat on the back deck, illuminated by flood lights and the warm glow emanating from within the house. I could feel that familiar pull between my legs, the image of their shirtless bodies submerged in the water inspiring my dick to slowly rise.

It was as if there had been a block in my brain around seeing these boys, these young men, as viable sexual beings, and it had all been shattered in one afternoon, not to mention Toby and the weekend we’d shared.

I still couldn’t get it out of my head how much he looked like Will.

Hesitant, anxious, I busied myself back inside, collecting the plates and piling them into the dishwasher. Anything to keep me from joining them.

“C’mon, Mr. M,” Greg called from outside, his voice carrying all the way to the kitchen. “It’s perfect in here.”

They would hardly let me off the hook. And I realized it would be nearly impossible to refuse. This weekend was about brotherly bonding, and any behavior to the contrary would only raise further suspicion.

I took a deep breath, closing the washer door and wiping my hands on a dish towel before slowly making my way back towards the deck and stepping outside.

I eyed them all, rowdy, the five beers they’d each had having set in. I worried I’d made a mistake by letting them drink, even if it was on my watch. They were still underage, after all, and it was as if I was only further baiting them into misbehavior.

I lingered by the doorway, their bodies glistening with water and sweat, steam rising off the surface.

“What are you waiting for?” Steve asked, brow furrowing.

I was trapped. And so, begrudgingly, I made my way over to the tub, lifting off my t-shirt and reaching a hand along the surface. They were right. The water was perfect, just the right temperature in the chill of the early fall air.

Greg and Will eyed me from one side of the tub, their arms extending out towards each other so that they were almost touching.

“Yeah,” Will agreed. “It’s perfect in here.”

And so I gave in, climbing over the side and settling into the fourth seat, directly across from Greg, Steve and Will on either side.

I exhaled, the warmth of the water calming my nerves.

We’d enjoy a soak, and that would be that.

“I fucking love being up here!” Steve shouted. His energy was wild, like a golden retriever, hardly able to contain himself.

I tried to calm things down, bring us back down to earth.

“How’s the season treating you boys?” I asked.

“Been great,” Greg said. “Your boy Steve’s finally got his shit together and mellowed out.”

I glanced at Steve, his eyes narrowing as he stared at his best friend.

“Fuck off, Greg,” Steve muttered, clearly annoyed.

“Oh yeah?” Will asked, sizing Steve up. “What’s your secret?”

There was something knowing in his voice, but I couldn’t discern what.

“Your boy’s finally getting laid,” Greg said, that shit-eating grin overtaking his face.

Will cracked a smile. “That so?”

“Yeah,” Greg replied, his eyes not leaving Steve’s.

Will searched his friend’s face. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

Steve paused, blushing, clearly uncomfortable.

“Yeah, Steve,” Greg asked. “Who’s the lucky duck?”

Steve splashed water at Greg, who hardly flinched.

“Come on, guys,” I started, trying to ease the moment. “Lay off him.”

The energy of the four of us was teetering on something dangerous, a tension building and only just releasing the drunker they got, the vaguest sense that things were careening towards being totally out of hand.

“No,” Will protested. “I wanna know.”

“It’s nobody you know,” Steve started.

“Nobody we know?” Greg said. “I think it’s someone we know quite well.”

Steve swallowed, his Adam’s apple rising along his throat. “She’s just some girl from town, nobody important.”

“You’d better believe that I’m slipping someone this big dick, you’ll be hearing about it,” Greg replied, nodding down at his shorts beneath the surface of the tub.

Steve’s anger was rising, his enthusiasm having turned cold. “Greg’s monster cock!” he shouted, shaking his head. “If I hear about that thing one more fucking time.”

“Jealous?” Greg asked.

“Nothing to be jealous of,” Steve replied.

“Oh?” Greg asked, eyebrows raised. “You don’t believe me?”

Steve sneered back, shaking his head. “No, I don’t.”

I looked over at Will, grinning from the sidelines. I was speechless, powerless, as if watching a runaway train far outside of my capacity to control.

And then Greg shrugged. “Fine.”

And so, before I could diffuse the situation, Greg stood up, reaching for the drawstrings of his board shorts. I wanted to reach out to stop him, but the image before me was too breathtaking. And so he untied them, pulling apart the two layers of fabric and pulling them down along the face of his cock, each inch slowly revealing itself until it hung there, taunting us, its heft hanging low between his legs.

The three of us stared at it, motionless, the only sound the tub's low hum. We were taken aback not only by its size, impressive in its own right, but also by its shape—perfectly proportionate, the head a beautiful mushroom atop a remarkably long, still-flaccid shaft.

I’d seen it from afar, observing the way Will had taken it fully hard in his mouth and his ass as well. But now it was on view, up close, and it was spectacular.

My lips parted.

Fuck.

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So begins Vol. 6 of the Holden Series. You can read this volume on its own, or you can start the series from the beginning with Vol. 1 here…

—

And now we find ourselves back up in Holden. This chapter is from Uncle Jack’s POV.

I stood in the doorway of the house, watching as the SUV pulled up into the long, winding drive. One by one, the boys piled out of Greg’s SUV, as riled up as I’d ever seen them.

It was meant to be a reunion of sorts, some of Nate’s closest friends and the Scout troop that I’d led for so many years all convening in Holden for the weekend.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to get the gang back together?” I’d asked Nate before he’d headed back to school in August. I was trying, as always, to find anything that would engage him. To meet him where ehe was.

“Sure,” he’d said, barely committal. He’d seemed more interested in the weekend we’d planned with Kevin just a few weeks before. That somehow lit a fire in him, and by the end it he’d seemed calmer and more present than I could ever …

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We rode back to the house in silence, hardly acknowledging what had transpired. I did my best to retain my cool, but inside I was a jumble of emotions. I was riding high on the adrenaline of the moment, full of pride in having finally lost the second half of my virginity in such a wild fashion.

But a vague concern fell over me.

Tensions had run high, that was for sure. My own feelings of jealousy, and his, had risen to the surface. But he had brought me into this scene, into all these scenes. On some level, he was responsible, right?

We parked the car and walked into the house, Uncle Jack sitting and reading in the living room.

“How was the night?” he asked.

Nate bypassed him entirely, not responding and heading straight for the stairs.

I watched as he disappeared from view.

“It was fine,” I replied, covering for him. “We played video games all night. He’s just beat.”

Jack nodded back at me, lowering his book to his chest.

“It’s been great having you up here,” he said to me. “I love seeing yo…

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Nate stared at me, fully realizing what was about to happen.

I was about to fuck someone.

For the very first time.

Aaron lifted his legs again—calves thick, meaty— and I grabbed for his ankles once more. I took in the view, his lean muscle still the most insane sight, its sinews and curvature breathtaking, a sharp contrast to my slight, underdeveloped frame.

How, just how, could a kid like me end up fucking a stud like him? It was beyond me.

And then, searching around the room, I grabbed for a small bottle of lube and opened it, slicking a healthy amount into my palm.

First, I felt for Aaron’s cock, practically drained already from the amount of pre-cum he’d released and resting up against his stomach, my touch sending quivers through his entire body. I reached for my own cock, wetting it from top to bottom, slicking its entire length until I was satisfied. And then, lastly, I felt for his hole, Aaron’s hole, so beautifully opened up before me.

I slid a finger inside, at first lightly tapping him, teasing, Aaron’s chin beginning to lower, a slow nod of approval beckoning me forward. And then I pressed deeper, further, turning the tip around inside him so that he was fully slicked, the entirety of his insides covered.

The wetter the better, right?

And then I pulled out, looking up to see Nate fully grilling me, his eyes unable to look away. I couldn’t tell, I couldn’t be totally certain, but there was something in his expression that struck me. Was it, could it be, that he was jealous too?

I shifted forward, my cock up against the face of Aaron’s ass, the head ever so slightly pressing against his lips. I met his gaze, his eyes serious and determined, with only the slightest traces of fear.

And then I placed a hand on his chest to calm him, a smile crossing my face in reassurance, before I pressed further inside, my cock beginning to spread him open.

He let out a sharp gasp. Court roused from beneath Nate, lifting his head to watch.

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He can’t have Nate, I told myself.

I told him, even if he couldn’t hear me.

He’s mine.

My body moved before I could even think. And so I rose, pulling away from Court and walking to where Nate and Aaron stood, their mouths just parting as I grabbed Aaron by the shoulders and pulled him aside, pressing him down onto the couch, my cock in front of his face.

Nate looked at me—shaken, confused—but I ignored it, instead turning back to Aaron, his face first betraying shock and then desire. I pressed my cock down towards his lips, still slicked from kissing Nate, letting it along them in a light graze.

“Come on, Dad,” I whispered.

He nodded back, dick pulsing between his legs.

And then I pressed myself inside him, that familiar sensation of his hoover mouth as he received me fully within. Fuck, he felt good, the way he clamped down on my cock, as if he needed it, was desperate for it, was hungry for me like I was hungry for Court’s hole. I threw my head back, something potent having built inside me, needing release.

I pulled off and spun around, repositioning myself on the couch so that Aaron was just before me, kneeling between my legs, his mouth back on me, Nate and Court now back in my full view.

I watched as Nate pulled away from Court’s mouth, getting onto all fours, his ass was just before Court’s mouth.

I knew how much Nate loved having his ass eaten, remembering the way I’d done it last summer. And so I watched as he backed himself up, forcing Court’s baseball-hatted head up to his hole, diving in.

I almost came right there, the sight of Court buried inside Nate’s cheeks.

Aaron’s mouth worked my cock feverishly, hungry, not wanting to leave it for a moment, and I lifted my hips just so to thrust into him, meeting the back of his throat with each effort.

Beyond him, on the ottoman, Court pulled back, his mouth curling into an O before he spat, a long ream of saliva landing on Nate’s hole, dripping down, before he went back in for more.

Nate’s breath quickened as he arched, pressing further backwards onto Court, practically suffocating him, finally releasing one hand of support to reach behind and press his head deeper within him.

I glanced down at Aaron, still working me so intensely, running a thumb along the smooth of his cheek, before pulling him off me.

“C’mere,” I said, patting the couch beside me. “I wanna taste you too.”

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We return to Kevin’s POV.

I awoke the next morning still in bed alongside Nate, the night before slowly replaying in my memory.

Me and the jockstrap.

My virginity—gone.

Me—fucked, for the first time.

I couldn’t believe it. The way that it had felt. The way Nate had shown such dominance but also such care, ordering me around and then holding me so tightly. It was more than I could have imagined.

Until those last few words.

“I don’t want you to get too caught up in this, you know. Too attached.”

I felt an ache in the pit of my stomach.

I knew this relationship would be complicated. I mean, it was weird. But beyond the complex circumstances was a genuine bond. A deep care. But the way Nate ignored his feelings, the feelings I knew he had and pretended weren’t there—it grated on my insides.

His words said one thing, but his body and behaviors said another.

I massaged my eyes with my knuckles, throwing my legs over one side of the bed to rise.

“Morning.” I heard Nate’s voice from behind me.

"Morning,” …

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Now we return to Nate’s POV.

We arrived back home just in time for dinner.

“You boys have a nice afternoon?” my Dad asked as we finished up our plates.

Kev and I tried not to smirk at each other across the table.

“We did,” I replied, hardly knowing what to say.

I was still awash in adrenaline, the high of such an intense experience.

“It’s so nice being back up here,” Kev added. “Thank you.”

My dad smiled. “You’re welcome any time.” And he meant it.

He’d been sweet to Kev. Hell, he was nice to everyone. Jack Mitchell been pretty much the ideal dad, exactly what you would hope for.

But with someone like that as my father, it was so easy to feel like I was always falling short. Having a Dad as the scout leader was no fun when I was constantly running afoul of him and getting into trouble. I was the bad example, and that’s what I’d been for years—the bad seed.

This afternoon with Kev, for example. It was exactly what I shouldn’t have done with anyone, let alone with my cousin. I could hear the rati…

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“Here, Kev,” he said. “Looks like you could use a little help.”

I stared back at Nate, his hand on my cock, slowly massaging it from base to tip, the sweetest relief after the buildup of the last 30 minutes.

“How’s that?” he asked, his mouth mere inches from mine, his breath sweet.

“Fucking good,” I replied, barely able to contain myself.

“How about you return the favor?” He grinned, nodding down at his dick, unattended beneath him.

I snapped out of my stupor, embarrassed at being so selfish, licking along my palm and then lowering it to his cock, mimicking his own strokes with my hand.

We worked each other, using all the techniques that he had shown me so many months before, alternating between jerking him out and fucking him down (there was a difference, I’d learned), our pre-cum only further slicking our hands.

And as we did, we watched Court working the Dad’s cock harder, faster, his hands running all the way up his body to find his pecs, smooth and defined with dark, silver dollar nipples, their tips erect and facing down as he tweaked them between his thumb and forefinger.

It was a sight, watching this rough bear, backwards cap and thick build, own this polite, preppy Dad, his inexperience palpable, his burning desire boiling over as he got the best head of his life.

I thought back to that kiss this morning, the first one I’d experienced with a guy, with anyone. It was the hottest thing I’d ever experienced, somehow better than getting head or a hand job or ass play. No, that was the thing that made me harder than anything, even though I’d just come.

I’d had to restrain myself from doing it again all morning, both of us closeted, the questionable nature of my relationship with Nate rendering it nearly impossible in public.

Then I realized it. We were alone, or if not alone, then in a safe space, one where anything goes.

And so I leaned in, our lips just grazing, before uttering the words I didn’t know I had in me.

“C’mon, Cuz,” I muttered, nodding at our two older hosts. “Let’s give ‘em a show.”

Read more

Court’s the kind of guy you might back away from in a dark alley.

Rides a bike—a motorcycle that is—and owns the sporting goods store in downtown Holden, and his life is the outdoors. Hiking, biking, rafting, fishing. You name it, he does it. And he’s got the body and demeanor to prove it.

But while he appears gruff, rough on the outside, he’s a softie at heart. And a bottom at his core.

His back room at the shop is a meeting place of sorts for a certain kind of guy—often younger, usually prettier than Court, easy on the eyes. He always did like a contrast, after all, and Nate, Kevin and Aaron are prime candidates. He’s good at curating a group.

What started as a first encounter last week is just the beginning. The seeds are being planted for something greater between the four of them, the results combustible, electric.

Meet Court, the muscled biker Dad who somehow always ends up on his knees.

And start his story here…

We pick up where we left off, but now from Kevin’s POV.

“How about a little adventure?”

I stared back at Nate as he threw on a hoodie and some cut-off shorts, slightly underdressed for the early fall day.

“What kind of adventure?” I asked, trying to read his expression.

“Well, I gotta work, but figured you could come.” He fixed his hair in the mirror. “That is, if you feel like earning a little bit of money.”

“I’m not the best at yard work,” I told him.

I wasn’t what you’d call handy.

He chuckled. “This isn’t yard work, I promise. You just have to show up. I think you’ll like it.” He turned. “You trust me, right?”

I held his gaze—steadfast, certain. I did.

“Of course.”

“Good,” he said, reassured. “Then let’s roll.”

We hopped into Nate’s pick-up, the ride to town 15 minutes of pure unadulterated forest, leaves on the trees already starting to turn. It was beautiful being back up here, a world apart, the place where so much had become possible, all my wildest fantasies having come true.

We rode mostly in silence, me stealing glances at Nate when he wasn’t looking. He looked even better than I’d remembered him, having grown the first smatterings of a beard, a nod towards becoming a full-blown adult. Otherwise, he was the epitome of a hot, young college kid, the sort that I’d always dreamt in my pre-teens years. Hell, my teen years too.

I could hardly believe he was into me, even now, even after everything.

That week with Nate and Greg had been like a crash course in dick, and instead of leaving me sated, it did the opposite. I was hungry, feverish, desperate for more. The rest of the summer, I’d been stuck at home without even a remote prospect, but my experience in Holden had made me wonder.

All around me, it seemed like everyone was straight, but then so had Nate and Greg until I blew the lid off of everything. When I began to take a second look, nothing was quite as it seemed at home either. I spent the next three months dreaming, fantasizing about everyone that came across my path—the football coach, the town sheriff, even my sister’s boyfriend. No one was safe from my torrid imagination. And now, equipped with the skills Nate had imparted, I jerked myself about three times a day, every sordid daydream my beat off material.

My once real concern for having a limited supply of come, though, was still for naught. I’d yet to run dry.

In fact, quite the opposite. I was ready for more.

Bringing in Greg on my last visit had at first seemed like a betrayal on Nate’s part, only to become one of the hottest experiences of my life. Part of me, a small but silent part of me, hoped for the same surprise this time.

We arrived in downtown Holden, the pick-up rolling down the small main strip until Nate found a parking spot just in front of the local sporting supply store.

He turned off the ignition.

“We picking something up?” I asked.

“Something like that.”

And then I followed his eyes to a car pulling up next to us, a minivan.

In the driver’s seat was a man—late 30s, Dad type, car seat in the back—who pulled into park, exiting the driver’s side and making his way towards the entrance of the store. We both watched him, his anxiety palpable, head turning to look each way before he entered, as if under surveillance.

“You know that guy?” I asked Nate, trying to read his expression.

“Not yet,” he answered, before reaching to unbuckle his seatbelt. “C’mon.”

And so he opened the driver's side door, quickly following behind as he made his way to the shop entrance.

It was your typical gear emporium—fishing lines, hiking boots, swim trunks, the like—and as we entered, I spied the clerk standing behind the counter. He was handsome in a rough, casual way, clearly having lived a life in the great outdoors—30-something, thick muscle, a beard and mustache covering his face, a baseball cap placed firmly over his forehead.

“Naaaate,” he said, nodding at Cuz with a familiar smile. “You made it.”

“As promised, Court,” he replied. “And like I told you, I brought someone. My cousin, Kev.”

The clerk—Court’s—eyebrows raised. “Your…”

Nate held his gaze, Court looking back to make sure he was serious, before he gave a nod.

“All right.” Then he nodded further, just beyond us. “I invited someone else, too.”

We looked towards the back, towards the Dad, hovering, lurking, pretending to flip through the racks, instead taking in the whole exchange.

He was handsome—extremely handsome—if overly polite looking, neat with his polo shirt tucked into his khaki shorts, just tight enough to reveal the outline of his frame—fit, from what I could surmise.

“Cool with me,” Nate said, sizing him up.

I glanced between the Dad, Nate and Court.

“What’s going on?” I muttered to Nate under my breath.

He dropped his voice low. “It’s chill.” And then, his mouth curled into a smirk. “You said you wanted a little adventure.”

With that, the clerk came around behind us, turning the lock on the front door and lowering the blinds before flipping the open sign around.

“Back in 15 minutes,” it read instead.

And then he made his way back behind the cash register, opening the door just beyond and nodding to Nate and me, along with the lingering Dad.

“Come on back.”

I trailed behind, only somewhat reassured by Nate’s supposed confidence, following as we made our way down a long hallway to the storage room in back, a wide-open space with a large, empty table and shelves beyond filled with equipment.

Once there, Nate turned around to lean against the table, affecting the casual nonchalance that made him so undeniably sexy, now as ever proving he knew that he was hot and didn’t give a fuck.

The Dad entered with Court just behind him, face still anxious, nervous. Why was he so freaked out? And so we stood there, in pairs, my body shifting side to side out of awkwardness, not knowing what to do.

“They’re young,” the Dad muttered, speaking for the first time, his face bordering on uncomfortable.

He was even more attractive up close, the kind of guy that I’d spent the last few months fantasizing about—dark skin, jet black hair, defined cheekbones. The kind of guy that seemed so uptight, so straight, that it only made you wonder.

“But old enough,” Nate replied firmly, interrupting before even Court could respond.

And then, as if on cue, Nate removed his sweatshirt, lifting it over his head to reveal that lean curvature of his bare chest, torso lean and tight, stomach a defined six pack.

I felt my dick twitch at the sight of him, the shock of his half-naked body, the expressions on two men’s faces as they eyed him hungrily.

And then he reached for the waistband of his jeans, slowly unbuttoning the fly and opening it to reveal his dick, all seven cut inches of it, pointing outwards just before him.

Fuck. He was already hard.

The three of us stared at it, at him, wordless, drinking in the view that Nate knew was so powerful.

“This what you wanted to see?” he asked, staring at the Dad as Court looked on.

The Dad swallowed, Adam’s apple tightening along his tanned throat, taking in the view of Nate fully naked before him.

“He’s a good-looking boy,” Court said admiringly, giving a nod.

Nate nodded back. “He is. C’mon Court, show ‘em how we do it.”

And with that Court did the same, lifting his t-shirt over his head to reveal his own body—shoulders broad, thick, heavy pecs framed by a pair of arms you could safely describe as jacked. I gulped, the sheer size of his body. If I was slight, he was the opposite—imposing, jacked. His stomach was thick, not lean like Nate’s, lightly tufted with hair, a barrel, and my gaze followed down to his waist as he reached for his fly, unzipping it and letting his own cock fall out.

Fuck. It was big. Not Greg big but big, the kind of dick that just hung there—8 or 9 inches, thick, some serious weight.

I could feel my own cock tightening, pressing against my briefs as I looked first at Nate and then Court, both hard as rocks, relishing their being so bold, so fully on display.

“You boys gonna join us?” Court asked.

The Dad and I looked at each other, two innocents having entered into the unknown.

Suddenly, it made sense why he was so nervous. Unlike me, he knew what he was getting himself into. Two young guys, barely legal.

I might have been uncomfortable, but instead I was emboldened. This was just the kind of thing I was hoping for, the kind of thing I’d imagined, a new fantasy come to life.

“C’mon Kev,” Nate whispered, nodding down at the bulge clearly growing between my legs. “Let it out.”

And so I gave in, reaching for the neck of my sweatshirt and lifting it off too, my chest fully exposed against the air. My nips tightened, cold, reduced to dimes, abs flexing involuntarily, and slowly I reached for the waistband of my shorts, lowering it just so to let my cock free, watching it point outwards in urgency, the tip already oozing pre-cum from the slit.

I looked up, the three men all staring at me, desire in their eyes, their expressions the most beautiful affirmation of what I’d just revealed.

Fuck. They wanted me. They were just as hungry as I was.

And then the three of us turned towards the Dad, the smell of fear still looming around him, his expression a mix of deep lust and shame, the only one still fully dressed.

“C’mon, Aaron,” Court, said, finally granting the Dad a name. “Show us what you got.”

And so, willed by our encouragement, by our stares, Aaron, the young Dad, finally acquiesced, reaching for his polo shirt and letting it drop to the floor.

I stared back, astonished at what was revealed.

For what lay beneath was barely indicated by the clothes that had covered him up. No, underneath he was all lean, ripped muscle, body fully yoked, as if the guy had spent every day at the gym, the intensity of his energy—anxious, fearful— clearly having been directed into the one thing he could control.

His body.

“Fuck,” the clerk muttered, eyes widening, taking in the view.

“Fuck,” Nate echoed.

The Dad let out a sharp exhale, a slight blush registering across his face, flattered. He may have been 15, 20 years older than I was, but he might as well have been 18, given how jittery and inexperienced he seemed.

Here I was, new at this, and already felt like a pro.

We watched as he reached for his khakis, tight around his tanned waist, undoing the belt and its buckle and then letting them all fall to the ground, revealing a pair of boxer briefs and the outline of a solid, hard dick peeking just out the top. He slowly reached for the microfiber edge and lowered it down, cock finally free, the remaining fabric resting just below his balls, propping the whole thing up.

It was dark, cut, with a pronounced vein running along its face, its mushroom head beautifully ridged just above the shaft.

“Nice piece, man,” Court said, almost a whisper, nodding down at it, its tip already glistening with pre-cum.

The Dad placed his thumb at its base, pointing it further outwards, its length pulsing back, his body letting out a shudder.

Then Court reached down, the first of us to take his cock fully in his hand—that massive, thick cock—and began to stroke it, running his fingers from base to head, the faintest graze.

I watched as Nate began to do the same, placing his hand on his own hard piece, working himself in similar rhythmic motions, as if milking himself, no rush.

And then the Dad and I locked eyes, nodding at each other in affirmation, somehow always the last to join, our hands finally reaching for our own meat, joining them.

The four of us stood there, the air electric, jerking ourselves—gently, slowly—luxuriating in the view of each other.

Just four dudes, hard, buck naked, getting ourselves off.

Nate, the lean, muscular jock, smooth and brooding with a scowl and a buzz cut.

Court, the bear, the lumberjack, body brutish, jacked with a little extra, face bearded and topped with a baseball cap.

The Dad, Aaron, so polite and neat, all tanned and ripped Latin muscle, his body the epitome of manicured and sculpted.

And then me, practically a twink, slight with floppy brown hair, my perceived innocence frustrating to me but an aphrodisiac to everyone else.

This was what got me off the most, I realized, from all my twisted fantasies—combinations of guys that weren’t the same. Like Greg, Nate and me this past summer. A beautiful contrast. A melange.

I watched as Court let a long ream of spit leave his mouth, it running down to his shaft and slicking its face.

“C’mon, Aaron,” he started, his voice breathy. “Let’s see that ass.”

The Dad’s face turned, sheepish again, so wholly unaware of how hot he was, the three of us just drinking it all in.

I liked the way Court thought. I wanted to see it too.

“Yeah,” Nate muttered in further encouragement, his hand tightly squeezing the head of his cock, gripping it, willing further wetness at the tip. “Your body’s sick, man.”

And so Aaron turned, shuffling his feet so that his back was to us, granting us another reveal.

Fuck. It was nice. Really nice. High and tight, smooth and hairless like the rest of his body, two large mounds as if etched in stone, framed by the narrow of his waist, not a tan line in sight.

“Jesus,” Court said, curling his mouth into an O and letting out an exhale.

Aaron turned, blushing, his dick even harder at the affirmation. “Been working on it all month.”

"I can tell,” Nate said, his voice quiet. “Let’s see yours, Court,” he prodded, nodding at the clerk to do the same.

Court grinned back, surprised, impressed by his balls.

“If you insist.”

And so he turned, too, presenting himself for us.

If the Dad’s ass had been a study in sculpture, like smooth marble, Court’s was the opposite—thick, meaty, a dump truck if there ever was one, its sheer mass beyond impressive.

And then he took it a step further, lowering his legs and starting to squat down, cheeks tightening and parting, exposing just the slightest glimpse of his hole.

It was the first time I’d ever seen a guy like that—an adult, a grown man—showing off his ass, and there was something deeply fucking hot about it. He was the definition of a gruff dude, hardly the kind most women would fawn over. And yet there was something intensely hot about him, to me, particularly when bent over for our benefit.

Whereas Aaron’s body looked like something out of the Louvre, classical in its beauty, Court’s was something else.

Large. Unwieldy. Pure, brute masculinity on display.

“Damn,” I muttered, surprised as the words left my mouth, embarrassed even. I’d never been able to compliment a guy like that before.

Nate glanced over at me, nodding in agreement. “Yeah. Puts yours to shame.”

I smiled at Nate’s joke, at the way he was so unabashedly drinking in the sights of the men around him. He might not be gay, per se, but he was pretty into this dude’s ass.

“How about you, Kev?” Court asked. “Let’s see what you got.”

I stared back at the three of them, their eyes expectant, wanting.

I was becoming so clear in my desire for men, but to be the object of their desire? That was still new.

I felt like I was in a constant battle between what I felt like on the inside—older, adult—and what I looked like on the outside—hovering on the threshold of growing up.

Not a boy, but barely a man.

“C’mon, Kev,” Court continued, baiting me. “Return the favor.”

I was nervous, hesitant, but the way he grilled me, hungrily, warmly, inspired me forward. And so I pulled myself away from the table, turning around and presenting myself as I had for Greg that summer, arching my back slightly for effect.

As then, it felt awkward, uncomfortable. Would they like it? I wondered. But before my mind could wander further, the Dad interrupted me.

“Jesus.” His voice cut through the room, so distinct given how little he said.

Court nodded in agreement. “Such a sweet ass on such a little guy.”

I turned around, sheepish as well, drinking in their stares, Nate’s expression almost bordering on pride.

And then the Dad’s eyes met mine, full of affirmation, warmth, lust, before he said the words I’d always wanted to hear.

“Beautiful.”

My dick pulsed as he said it, my slit pulsing out even more pre-cum, fingers still only lightly grazing its underside. I was afraid I might bust just from this.

Four guys, so different and so hot, just jerking off and showing off for each other. It was so simple, and yet maybe the hottest thing I could imagine.

I put my hand back on my dick, joining them again, our bodies tightening as we grew more and worked, egged on by the sight of each other.

It was so hot, feeding off each other’s energy, still not touching, until…

“You want a little help with that?” Court asked, nodding at the Dad’s dick.

Fuck, it was hard, pointing out in front of him, as tight as the rest of his body.

The Dad’s eyes narrowed in affirmation, in desire, his chin evincing the slightest nod.

An invitation.

And so we watched, Nate and I, as Court walked over to him, their cocks just in front of each other, almost touching, before he took his baseball hat and turned it around, lowering himself down before the lean, ripped man’s body, his mouth just a few inches from his cock.

Aaron’s eyes darted between the two of us—first me, and then my cousin, his audience—and then back down at Court, as if caught, in overwhelm.

I wondered if he’d ever had his dick sucked by a dude before.

And then, ever so slowly, Court’s mouth moved closer, his lips meeting its tip and tongue extending, running the most beautiful and gentle licks all around the head.

The Dad let out a deep moan, dick pulsing.

Fuck. That was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen.

Nate and I watched, entranced, as Court—the thick, furry lumberjack with a dump truck ass—knelt prostrate before Aaron—the intense, manicured, ripped Dad with the minivan—his tight, dark cock just meeting the bear’s lips with just the slightest of grazes.

Court barely held him inside, instead just teasing along the tip, his lips and tongue working together around the rim, suckling it, pressing his slit apart to lap up his pre-cum.

It was the gentlest of motions, and we watched as the Dad shook, as if his cock was plugging into Court’s socket, electricity shooting through his body.

Court lowered his mouth further down, taking each inch of Aaron’s cock with agonizing patience, lips quivering around him, until the entirety rested in his throat, nose grazing his thick pubes, held there.

Aaron, the Dad, whimpered, his body shaking, the sinew of his muscle only further contracting at the sensation of his cock in Court’s warm, burly mouth.

It was like the guy hadn’t gotten off in a decade. And maybe he hadn’t.

I watched breathless, mesmerized, as Court pulled away, his mouth hovering just in front of the Dad’s dick, its full length wet and sloppy, a small strand of saliva still connecting them, Court’s mustache slicked with spit.

And then he began sucking him off in earnest, working him intensely, intently, taking him inside in long, deep thrusts of his mouth, his dexterity bordering on expert.

Fuck, this bear sure knew how to suck dick.

And then, using his one free hand, he began stroking his own dick, jerking that monster piece that hung down between his meaty thighs, offering himself some relief.

It was a sight, these two guys on each other, the Dad’s ass clenched behind him as Court worked his cock, those thick, full lips taking him inside hungrily.

Once again, a truth was revealed to me. These men, these men that I fantasized about, that in my belief could never be gay, would prove be just that.

As horny and hungry for dick as I was.

The lesson proved, yet again, to be true. Everybody does it. Nobody talks about it.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my dick, looking down to see Nate’s wet fist running along the length of me, our eyes then meeting after being so consumed by the view before us.

“Here, Kev,” he said, eyes hungry. “You look like you could use a little help.”

—

Continue the story and read Chapter Three here…

Aaron’s the mild-mannered, upstanding guy you’d never suspect.

Late thirties. Handsome. A dad. The kind that drives a minivan, coaches his kid’s baseball games, and is home every night at 6.

But underneath that facade is a frenetic energy, an anxiousness, and a cauldron of desire that’s about to boil over.

Because if he’s really honest—really honest—he’s got a secret, one that would explode his life if he’s not careful.

So he puts all his effort into his body, working it to the point of exhaustion if perfection, its aesthetics only for his benefit, sex with his wife a long forgotten endeavor.

He’s met Court in town at the local sporting supply shop where he hosts get togethers out back. And so he invites Aaron. Just a few guys, casual, some of them young, the guest list exclusive.

Hanging. Jerking. Sometimes more.

Court says it’s chill, but the whole thing has Aaron nervous, uncomfortable.

He’s also curious, deeply curious. Too curious to miss out.

Meet Aaron, the Dad with the body of a God and a deep well of desire, still untapped.

And start his story here…

So begins Vol. 5 of the Holden Series. You can read this volume on its own, or you can start the series from the beginning with Vol. 1 here…

—

Now we return to Holden to find Kevin back visiting Nate. This is from Nate’s POV.

I woke up to the sun cascading through the windows, shadows cast against the sloped ceiling of my third-floor bedroom.

I wiped my eyes, covered in sleep, and stared bleary-eyed at the scene before me. Posters lining the walls—World Series champs from 1998, 2004, 2007. Clothes strewn across the floor. My bag was hardly unpacked from yesterday’s arrival.

And then, in the bed beside me lay Kevin—still asleep, his breathing shallow, quiet.

He’d arrived late last night after I’d gone to sleep, my insistence that he stay upstairs with me something of a surprise, even to my parents. After all, it had been a few months since Kevin’s first visit back up to Holden, that epic weekend that had evolved into far more than either of us had anticipated.

I’d always suspected that Kev was gay, only to be certain of it when he showed up on that hot June afternoon—awkward, shy, self-effacing. The sheepish way he looked at me when he first got out of that cab was indication enough. It had been amusing at first, the way I could scare him so easily, his infatuation so overwhelming to him. After all, I hardly knew what I was—gay, straight, bi—other than the fact that clearly I liked fooling around with dudes, particularly Greg.

It was easy. Comfortable. Hot.

Kevin having a crush was no big deal.

Then I’d found him in my room that one afternoon—caught, dick out, my underwear in his hand—and it all unraveled, what was left of the facade.

He wanted me. Bad.

Three days was what it had taken to start. Five was what it had taken for it all come to a boil. And then, at the end of the week, we’d vowed to plan another visit, another round.

Now here we were. October. And he was back.

I could tell my parents were pleased, pleased at the way that we’d become friends, or whatever, after so many years. Pleased at the way I’d shown an interest in someone younger, a relative, someone who looked up to me.

A mentor, they’d said.

I’d laughed at the idea. A mentor? More like a bad influence. Or perhaps not. If this was what Kevin liked, then maybe it was best that he learn from someone close to him.

Someone like me.

And so, this time, instead of staying in the guest bedroom, far, far away downstairs, Kev was up with me, in the twin bed usually reserved for my closest friends.

Because I guess, after everything that had happened, that’s what he was. A close friend, a cousin, or maybe something else?

“You’re up.”

I was pulled back down to earth by Kev’s voice.

I looked over at him, face nestled in his pillow, eyes on me, expectant and grinning.

“I’m up.” I reached my arms to stretch. “Welcome back, Kev.”

“Thought the day would never come.”

I laughed.

He’d mellowed out—calmer, less intense than the beginning of his first visit—but he was still tightly wound, like an over-eager puppy, dropping lines like that. It probably didn’t help that I had been the engineer of his entire sexual awakening.

Teaching him to jerk off. Teaching him to suck dick. Teaching him how to come.

I’d understandably taken on outsize influence.

Kevin stood from the bed, naked, cock standing straight in front of him as he made his way to the window at the far end of the room.

“Looks beautiful,” he said, peering through the glass, yawning.

I watched him from behind, his body just as I remembered it—lean, tight, underdeveloped, the slight of his shoulders giving way to an ass that was wide, bigger than it had any right to be given his size.

He was what I guess you would call a twink.

I felt the familiar tightness between my legs—my cock slowly contracting under the covers, ball sack pulling in tight—his body doing something to me I couldn’t control.

Whereas Greg was big, built, muscular, Kev was the opposite—small, compact, lean. But I liked him just the same, particularly when we’d all been together. The contrast of the three of us, man, that had been the clincher, the thing that had made the entire week electric.

I felt for my dick under the covers, enjoying how unbothered Kev seemed, putting himself on full display. Something in him had loosened up, even if he still put forth an innocence, a shyness that was undeniably sexy.

I liked that I’d taught him things, dirty things, helping to open him up to a whole new world. He was primed for an evolution. I was the teacher, and he was an eager student.

“Fuck, you look hot,” I said quietly.

He turned. “Yeah?” he asked, eyes downcast, cheeks blushing.

“Yeah.”

I seared into him, refusing to look away. It was too easy to shake him, to mess with him. And if there was any doubt, it was working; the tightening between his own legs was affirmation enough.

“You too,” he replied, glancing up with an assuredness I wouldn’t have recognized in him so many months back. “I missed you.”

I blanched at the statement, so raw, honest, vulnerable. Deflecting, I reached for the covers that lay on top of me, pulling them down to reveal myself—the smooth of my chest and stomach, the light tufts of my bush below, and then my half-hard cock, ever growing, resting just beneath it.

“You wanna help me out with this?”

His face turned, smile widening, his own piece now fully hard at the sight.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

And so he made his way over, climbing onto the foot of the bed so that he was positioned directly in front of me, ass spread behind, my cock just before his face.

Fuck, I loved that view—the short mop of brown hair still tousled from sleep, his face so innocent and boyish—the same view as when he’d come up to this very room so many months back, Greg and I standing above him, letting him take turns sucking us off. And I loved it again now, the way he knelt there, so eager, so excited, ready to service me again.

He took my dick in his hand—his palm soft, warm, inviting—and began stroking it gently, his the touch of a sweet young boy. But just when I’d written him off as entirely polite, he opened his mouth, a long trail of spit falling out of it and landing perfectly along the head, running down its face to my balls.

Fuck.

Not so sweet after all.

I smiled.

“The wetter the better, right?” he said, reminding me of the first advice I’d provided on getting himself off.

He’d learned well.

And then, using his hand, he slicked up and down the entirety of my shaft, coating me in several strokes until I was fully wet.

“Such a good boy,” I whispered, watching him as he repeated the gesture, drooling onto my piece and then slicking it up and down once more.

“And you’re a great teacher,” Kev replied.

My dick pulsed as he said it, straining against the light grip he had on me. And then, without any more hesitation, he lowered his mouth, taking me inside him in one, long gulp.

I threw my head back, the sensation almost too much. It was the perfect little mouth, just as Greg had said, its insides tight and velvety, my cock sliding effortlessly within, finding its way to his furthest depths until he held it beautifully in place.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered as he bore down on me, immobile, fully submerged.

The boy was skilled. And if having Kevin back meant having my own personal cocksucker, well…

That was fine by me.

I could feel him choke, lightly coughing, working to contain me, and when finally he released, he let my cock stand before him, sloppy, messy, spit running down either side.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I missed this.”

I blanched at the statement, his face just before me, framed by my cock.

Such a dirty little twink.

“Yeah?” I asked, nodding down at him. “Prove it.”

He grinned—challenge accepted—and without any further hesitation his mouth was back on my cock, worked me intensely, with focus, as if his whole life depended on it. He alternated between sucking down harder on it and running his tongue along it lightly, the combination driving me insane. And so I sat back, eyes closed, enjoying it but trying not to show him just how much control he had over me.

The boy was good.

Finally, he pulled himself away, gasping, grinning, mouth slicked, and sat back on his knees, his cock hard as ever between his legs.

“C’mere,” I said quietly, nodding at him. “It’s your turn.”

He stared back, surprised, always so desperate to please, so unaware of the fact that he was desirable, too. “Yeah?”

I nodded again. And with tha,t he lifted himself closer, arranging himself beside me so that his cock was just in front of my face, within spitting distance.

That perfect little cock.

It may not have been the biggest, but it was one of the nicest, beautiful in how it pointed so assuredly out in front of him.

I extended a hand, angling it towards me, pre-cum dripping off the end of it, and then took him in my mouth, savoring that first taste as he slid inside, running along my tongue and finding the back of my throat. My eyes never left his as he stared back down at me, entranced, overcome.

“Fuuuuuuckk,” he muttered quietly under his breath.

I pulled away, eyes still searing into him, starting to work him with my hand. “How’s that?”

“So…good…,” he replied, emphatic, panting.

And then I put my mouth back on him, taking him inside in my long, deliberate thrusts, working him with both my lips and my hand, milking his cock with everything I had.

It was so gratifying how much he loved it, this rabidly horny 18-year-old that had barely experienced any of this before.

I felt him start to shift his hips, doing the work for me.

I pulled off, grinning. “C’mon, Cuz,” I muttered, goading him. “Give me what you got.”

He looked back, confused. “What?”

“Ride me,” I muttered. “Fuck my face.”

He blinked.

“Yeah.” I smiled inside, seeing him so bashful, so timid. I liked pushing him past his boundaries. “Give me all you got.”

And with that, he lowered himself back down to my mouth, pressing my lips apart and letting it run inside, his smaller size an insurance policy against anything too invasive as he began sliding in and out of me, pumping between my cheeks, each time just grazing the back of my throat.

I enjoyed it nonetheless, that perfect little cock filling me up, my hand reaching down for my own, still hard, beginning to jerk it in time with his thrusts.

As much as I liked being Kev’s big brother figure—teaching him, letting him service me, be my biggest fan—there was something deep inside me that liked the inverse.

That I liked giving as much as I was getting.

As much as I put forth an energy of dominance, of impenetrability, the truth remained—I loved sucking dick.

I stared up at Kev, his eyes narrowing, breath quickening. I could tell he was holding back his nut, close to losing his resolve. So I decided to push him a little further.

I removed my hand from my dick and began running a finger along Kev’s ass crack, lightly grazing it until I found the very beginning of his hole, smooth and tight between his cheeks.

I watched his eyes widen, his face flushed. He nodded at me, his head shaking up and down.

He liked it.

And so I lifted my hand away, licking my finger tips to wet them, before reaching back below and finding his hole again, sliding my middle finger just inside.

His face turned at that first entry, the way I traced his interior with only the slightest resistance. While Kev may have been a tight ass, one thing was clear—he was bred to be a bottom, the inside of his hole opening up at the slightest invitation, just ready to be filled.

“How’s that feel?” I asked.

“Good—,” he replied, voice clipped, ass in turn opening up and bearing down against my fist. “Really good—”

“Why don’t you ride my finger a little bit?”

He looked down at me, inspired, nervous. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I affirmed. “Give it a shot.”

And so, holding my hand in place, he began lifting and lowering his hips, each time he rose, my finger teasing his rim, each time he fell letting it find that familiar node inside him.

I watched with a mixture of pride and deep desire.

He was fucking himself, riding me, with great aplomb.

Inspired, he picked up speed, gaining momentum, his body guiding him purely by sensation. He bucked up and down, back and forth, faster and faster, his face tightening, lower lip lightly bitten.

And then finally, spent, he came to stillness, me still inside him, pressing up against that node. Hard. Insistent. “You feel that?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s your prostate.”

He nodded back at me, as if something for him was finally coming together. I pressed my finger deeper in, tapping against it.

“It’s enough to make me bust,” he whispered.

“Then do it,” I ordered. And I meant it. “I wanna taste that load.”

His dick jumped as I said it, and so I winked at him.

“Welcome back to Holden.”

And with that, he lifted himself up and pressed his cock back against my lips, curled into the slightest O to receive him, and pressed himself inside.

He went back to fucking my face, still gentle despite my encouragement, every time he pulled away my finger railing deeper inside him, every time he thrust inside finding the furthest recesses of my mouth.

“Fuck…fuck…,” he panted, hips quickening, body riding the sensation of being worked from without and within. “I’m close.”

And with that declaration, his face went from focused and stricken to ecstatic and overcome, his cock tightening within the confines of my mouth, the first shot of his load hitting the back of my throat. I savored it, the taste of him, the knowledge that it was probably the first time he’d ever let a guy swallow his load.

He was giving me his nut, and I was giving him a gift.

And then, sensing his overstimulation, his desire to pull away, I bore down, holding him in place from both ends, milking the remaining nut with my tongue, until each pulse, one by one, was swallowed.

Kev let out a deep, long exhale, his body finally coming to stillness before falling backwards onto the bed, my fingers slipping out of him, his cock falling from my lips.

“Fuck me,” he muttered.

"Well, not yet,” I said, laughing.

I looked at him, his face so happy. Kevin, the puppy dog. I suppose I’d missed him, too all these months. It was nice to have him back.

“You like having your ass played with, huh?”

“I guess so,” he replied.

I reached down for my cock, still hard and awaiting its own finish. “You think you can take all of this?”

He looked down. “I dunno, Nate…” He trailed off.

“I think you can.”

And with that, inspired, he climbed on top of me, taking my dick in his hand and placing just up to his opening, teasing me with its slightly parted lips, ever so loosened by my finger.

He let out a faint whimper, my own breath tightening in my chest. It felt good, running just along the face of him. I wanted to know what it felt like all the way in. But all in due time.

Until then, this first inch would have to be enough.

Lowering himself down, he positioned our faces mere inches apart.

“You know…I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

I looked back at him, surprised. And then I did the math. His inexperience when he’d first arrived. His awakening that week. The few short months since then.

I believed him. It was probably true.

“And you…” I replied, sensing where this was going. “…want it to be me?”

He nodded back, a grin taking over his face. “Kissing cousins.”

I extended an arm to push him away, the joke hardly landing, but he pressed me back down before I could, his intensity startling. His eyes seared into mine, more confident than ever, mouth open, just inches away.

Daring me.

And then, without permission, he took control, our lips meeting.

The initial shock gave way to recognition.

I’d never kissed a guy before, either.

And I liked it.

And so I received him, pressing my tongue inside, finding his, encircling it, massaging it, ours engaged in the most perfect dance. The more forcefully I found him, the more he responded in kind. Within moments, he fully let go, unleashed, his arms pulling me even tighter, body pressed against my stomach, once again hard.

I reached down and took my dick in my hand, jerking it along his hole, the sensation of his body against mine sending me into overdrive. I pressed my tongue deeper inside him, thrashing around with abandon, letting him grip onto me with all of his might.

And then I realized it. I was close. Startlingly close. Kissing Kev had sent a shockwave through my body and down to my dick, the sensation of his mouth on mine inspiring something in me I’d never experienced before.

And then, I let go, ribbon after ribbon of come shooting out of me, painting the outsides of Kev’s hole and his lower back as he held me even tighter, closer, his mouth not leaving mine for a second.

Finally drained, I released my cock, spent, and ran my fingers just along the face of his fully slicked hole, pressing a finger back inside him, teasing him.

His cock pulsed against me, and he finally removed his mouth from mine.

“I want you to fuck me, Nate,” he murmured. “This trip. My first.”

I stared back at him, my finger still pressed just inside, my head drunk from his kiss and the way it had inspired one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever had.

“I think we can manage that,” I replied, deflecting, as if I were taking a cocktail order.

“I’m serious,” he said, firmer this time, his eyes refusing to look away. “I want it to be with you.”

He meant it. This meant something. To him.

“All right,” I replied, sobering up, meeting his tone. “I’d be honored.”

He smiled. “Good.”

And with that, he rested himself back down to stillness, falling asleep on my chest.

—

Continue the Holden Series and read Chapter Two here…

“How about I train you?” I asked, the words shocking even me as they left my mouth.

Coach’s eyes glistened, full of surprise at just how bold I was being.

“Really?” he asked. “What did you have in mind?”

The moment I said the words, I realized the truth—I didn’t have anything in mind. In fact, I hardly knew what I was doing.

So, what did I know?

I knew I didn’t want this to end.

I knew I’d loved watching Coach’s ass as that toy left him, the reveal of his being plugged igniting something inside of me.

And I knew I needed to come at least one more time before the day was done.

Being trained all afternoon had shifted something inside me, leaving me in a perpetual state of arousal. And so I’d done something—anything—to keep this going. After all, it was hardly fair that I had come and he hadn’t.

I looked at the cabinet behind him, the place that held all the curiosities that had punctuated his week.

“May I?” I asked.

“Be my guest,” he replied, stepping aside.

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I stared back at Coach and the view before me, stunned.

The vast expanse of his body, its size dwarfing the treatment table.

The jock strap framing his ass—ridged, round and thick, rising up on either side of his hips.

And the toy, that beautiful toy, placed firmly inside him, riding him deep all afternoon without me being the wiser.

Here I thought I was alone in this. But I was wrong.

We had been living this whole reality together.

Two guys. Training. Strapped and plugged.

I was speechless, hardly able to move, until his words shook me out of my stupor.

“C’mon, Steve,” he said, his tone goading. “Why don’t you help me out?”

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The next afternoon, I walked into Coach’s office at 2:30 pm sharp as directed, only to find him waiting at his desk expectantly.

“How’s my guy?” he asked, ever inquisitive, supportive, his positivity a boon.

“Good, Coach,” I replied. And I meant it.

This was the best I’d felt in weeks. The last two days had shifted something inside of me that I couldn’t have articulated. A whole world was opening up to me. And I had him to thank.

“I wanna try something new today,” he continued.

I stared back at him, expecting as much, but what was in store I hardly knew.

Returning, as he always had, to the cabinet by the treatment table, I watched as he opened the drawer and rummaged through once again.

I stood there, shuffling from side to side, impatient, until finally he turned around to face me.

In his hand was a toy, a new one. Whereas the first had been merely a rod, the second a three-ringed prong, this one — the third — was just one thick bulb, egg-shaped atop its base.

One tall mountain to climb before it rested inside me.

I stared back at it and him, confused. Practice was about to start in 30 minutes. There was hardly any time before we began.

And then, as always, he read my mind.

“It’s time to take it to the next level,” he said. “You’re gonna use this while you train. With the team.”

I stared back at him, stunned.

While I trained?

I’d barely been able to keep it together when he’d used the other toys on me, each experience sending my body into overdrive, an ecstatic place of intensity. And I’d just been lying there, receiving it. But now I’d be doing the full workout, that gigantic thing resting inside me.

“You’re serious,” I said, half-ask, half-statement.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he replied.

He didn’t.

How would I keep it together? And how would I be able to conceal my hard-on?

Then, as if reading my mind again, he reached into another drawer, pulling out a jock strap, clean and white with thick straps to hold along the undersides of each ass cheek.

He handed it over to me.

“Throw this on,” he murmured.

My dick was already tightening at the thought of wearing that thing.

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I woke up the next morning feeling different. Better.

Instead of the anger that had been my default mode, I felt more relaxed. Calmer.

Sure, I jerked off almost every day, sometimes twice, but it hardly did the job of what Coach had shown me in his office after practice. Jerking off the regular way was just the tip of the iceberg, but what he’d done was like a deep dive exploration under the surface, exposing the magnitude of what was lurking underneath.

It wasn’t coming. It was a full-body release.

My new attitude showed during practice. I made up with Greg just before, apologizing for having been so aggressive and angry. Ever the statesman, he took it in stride. He never knew how to hold a grudge. So long as you appropriately kissed the ring and made amends, you were golden.

After practice, we all showered off together, but instead of heading out for home like the rest of them, I made my way back down to Coach’s office as instructed, only mildly anxious about what was in store.

I found him inside, typing away at his computer. He looked up, motioning me in and closing the door behind me.

“How you feeling?” he asked.

“Better,” I replied.

“It shows,” Coach affirmed. “Your performance today was stellar.” He adjusted his baseball cap. “Take care of yourself first, and everything else follows. It’s a lesson for life, let alone the field.”

I nodded back at him.

I could feel a tingling in my crotch, the anticipation as to what we’d do next.

“Seems like you’re feeling better, so maybe tonight you just practice back at home.”

I stared back at him, deflated. My anxiety at what would transpire was real, but my disappointment in never finding out? Somehow, that was worse.

It was then that I realized it, plainly.

I wanted more.

“I dunno,” I started. “I’m not feeling 100% yet. I think we should keep going.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I wanna be the best I can be. For the team.”

His stare didn’t leave mine, as if challenging me.

Did I really mean what I said?

But I held his gaze firmly, refusing to budge.

“All right,” he replied. “But only if you’re sure.”

I nodded back at him, affirmative. Resolute.

He turned around to the same cabinet as before, pulling out the drawer, and rummaging through.

“Strip down,” he ordered, still searching.

“All the way?” I asked, once again anxious despite pressing him to continue.

“All the way,” he affirmed, “and lie on your back.”

I did as I was told, sliding off my shorts and my shirt so I was totally naked, nothing left to the imagination. My dick was already slightly hard, but rather than conceal it, I just let it out, reclining on the table and allowing it to point upward.

I might have been embarrassed, but something about the way Coach comported himself made this feel natural, normal.

Just like yesterday, another drill.

He finally finished rifling through the cabinet and turned around, this time with something new in his hand—a toy, similar, but this time larger, wider, its length a series of curved ridges that only expanded until its base. Three of them, to be precise.

“I think this thing will actually stay inside this time,” he said, betraying the slightest grin.

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