Date: Thu, 09 Aug 2007 10:17:08 +1000
From: Iain Robertson <iainlthr@hotmail.com>
Subject: Another Nick & Noah - chapter 4

Copyright for this story belongs to and remains with the author. I don't
have any major objection to my work being re-distributed, but ASK
FIRST!!!

This is a gay adult story with the consequent language and images. If
homosexuality and/or sexually explicit themes offend you then do not
continue. If these are illegal in your area, then you have my sympathy,
but you proceed at your own risk.

This is a work of fiction, and as such the characters are not bound by
the usual dictates of modern society. Unsafe sexual practices can be
undertaken with impunity only in the world of fantasy. In reality, it is
your obligation and your right to play safely, sanely and healthily.

I hope you enjoy my work, and if you have any comments, or ideas that may
inspire new work, please feel free to contact me -- all emails will be
answered to the best of my ability. iainlthr@hotmail.com.





Another Nick and Noah

Chapter 4

Wednesday and Thursday were busy for all. With their lists of jobs
prepared by David, everyone set about making arrangements for the funeral
and wake. The parlour would collect the body directly from the morgue on
Friday afternoon, and the funeral was scheduled for the following
Tuesday. With Frank arriving back at the house on Wednesday afternoon,
the place seemed full, but hardly welcoming. A cloud hung over the entire
gathering as they worked together to mark the end of Wes' life. Both
evenings were spent sitting in contemplation and quiet small talk beside
the pool, no-one wanting to raise the awful spectre of the murder openly
again, and each night the various couples retired to their rooms late,
sleeping uneasily.

By Friday morning, all was in place, and the only thing left to do was
wait. The pool had gone unused since Sunday, and without the distraction
of something to do, all six men found themselves by noon that day moping
about, lost for anything to say and almost willing the passage of the
hours to speed up. Frank was the first to take some action.

"Okay, you," he declared to his mate. "Enough of this. I don't care
what you say, I'm taking you down to the pub, and getting you drunk! You
need to let your feelings go for the night."

Patrick began a feeble argument, but Noah sided with Frank, as did David.
"He's right. You won't be able to forget what's happened, but a few
stiff drinks tonight and a decent hangover tomorrow, will go a long way
towards helping. Go on, it's not being disrespectful. You need to ease
some of the stress you've been under for the last week."

And so they went, Frank promising to look after him, and get them both
back safely later that night.

"Lose some tension, ease some stress," Nick observed in a mutter. "Now
that's something we could all do with."

"You got that right," agreed Joe. A tiny grin flitted across his face
as he looked over his companions. "I know what helps me get rid of
stress for sure ..." he hissed, leaving the rest unsaid.

"Oh boy, you've got my attention now, Eagar," Nick muttered lustily.

"Mmm," Noah replied wistfully, "But unfortunately, we're a long way
from home, and a long way from gear or playrooms, too. I'm prepared to
go `vanilla' if you guys want, but it won't be as much fun."

"We might not need to," David smirked. "Go `vanilla', that is."
Mysteriously, he got up from his seat and went to find his phone, making
a call from the lounge where the others couldn't hear what was said.

"You know what he's on about?" Nick asked Joe.

"Got me beat," Joe replied, "but I'm hoping he has an idea to help us
all out. He did live here for a long while you know, and you know what
they say about local knowledge."

When David rejoined them, his grin went from ear to ear. "Okay boys,
let's go. I hope you're up for a long, hot night!"

His smile was infectious, and the anticipation notched up lusty hopes in
all of them.

"Where are we going, Sabre?" Nick asked eagerly, intentionally using
David's `Master' name from their sexual roles.

"Well it seems that an old friend of mine remembers me fondly enough to
have invited us all over for a session in his dungeon," he chuckled as
he shepherded his lover and their mates toward the rented car. "He has
more than enough in the way of gear and toys to keep us all satisfied,
and a very well equipped dungeon for us to play in."

"And he just happens to be home tonight for us?" asked Nick with a
laugh.

"That's where we're lucky, and so is he. I'd lost touch with him
lately -- had someone else on my mind ..." he smiled at his lover, making
Joe blush. "But he was a very obliging slave when I knew him, likes the
name `Punk' when he's enjoying his sex."

"What's his real name?" Noah asked.

"Peter," David answered, "But you won't need to use it tonight. I did
hear he'd hooked up with someone long term, and was very happy. Anyway,
when I rang he said that his other half had been working long hours all
week, and needed to relieve some stress ..."

"Ha, sounds very familiar," observed Joe.

"Exactly," agreed David laughing. "Apparently they have a couple of
buddies they usually get together with for fun, but their friends have
gone out of town for the weekend, so it was looking like just the two of
them. But when I rang, he was more than happy to ask us over. He said his
partner was due home any minute, so he'd tell him the good news, and
they'd be waiting for us, all geared up and set to go!"

"Excellent," Nick declared, his dick already swelling in anticipation.
"So his partner -- I assume he's a top?"

"Yep."

What's his `play' name?"

"No idea," David confessed as they drove. "But I'm sure we'll find
out soon enough."

The trip into Melbourne was easy enough, and even just the prospect of
sex had eased the mood of the four friends from their earlier gloom.
David drove confidently in through the south-eastern suburbs until he
stopped the car in front of a small warehouse in a quiet back street of
North Richmond.

"Your friend lives here?" Nick asked in surprise.

"Yep. Wait till you see inside the place. He bought it as a warehouse,
and converted it to live in. it's a great home, but the play area he's
set up has to be seen to be believed!"

David led the eager group across to the front of the building and rapped
on a heavy steel door set low in one corner. A sliding bolt rasped
against the metal, and the door swung inwards, a soft red light spilling
out into the darkness. Standing in the doorway was a large framed man,
clad in leather chaps and boots, a straining triangle of black hide
covering his groin. A full harness enclosed his upper body, wide strips
of gleaming black interspersed with shining silver studs. Around his neck
he wore a dog collar similar in appearance to the straps of the harness,
but his head was uncovered and shaved.

"Sabre, Sir," he beamed at David. "So good to see you again, come
in!"

"Good to see you too, Punk," David answered lustily. As the others
followed him into a comfortable sitting room area, he thanked their host.

"Very good of you to have us at such short notice, boy," he said.
"We're all in need of a long hot session to take away some serious
stress, so you're a real life-saver. All our gear is back in Sydney, and
being away from home means no play space either."

"Not at all, sir," Punk responded enthusiastically. "You and your
friends are doing us a favour! My man needs the same relief, and I've
been looking forward to a good night for days, but our regular fuck
buddies are away, so we were on our own. You showing up like this means
we'll be able to really get into things."

As he spoke, a door creaked behind him, and into the room stepped a
vision in leather. He wore chaps so tight they looked to have been
painted over his long muscular legs, and polished boots which came almost
to his knees. A fairly simple harness -- two straps over his shoulders
and two around his chest, meeting at a chrome ring in the centre --
framed and supported chiselled pecs. Over that harness he wore a leather
vest which laced together at either side. Gauntlets encased both arms
from wrist to elbow, and bicep bands strained against rippling bulges in
his upper arms. A Master's hood covered his head but revealed a square
jaw and piercing dark eyes. At his groin, a silver cockring encircled the
base of a very long, thick, but flaccid penis, swinging languidly.

The sub grinned widely and waved his arm toward the newcomers. "Sir,"
he said easily, "this is Master Sabre who rang earlier. He moved to
Sydney a few years ago now."

David smiled warmly and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you," he said.
"Thanks for letting us call in like this.

"My pleasure," said a deep voice. "Call me `Nightstick', at least
for the next few hours," he grinned, shaking David's hand with a
powerful grip.

"'Nightstick', eh?" David said, pointedly looking down at the large
piece of meat between the man's legs. "Looks like that's
appropriate," he chuckled. "These are my friends -- Master Trojan ..."

Nick stepped forward and shook hands warmly as well, appraising the other
man with a long look, and having the favour returned. He liked what he
saw, very much, and somehow the other man seemed familiar. But Nick
dismissed the thought -- it was probably just that his gear reminded Nick
of David's own favoured outfit when they played at home.

Indicating Joe and Noah in turn, David went on. "And these two are my
boy, Eagar, and Trojan's slave, Viking."

The two both nodded to the Master, and stood back, legs spread and hands
behind them.

"Looks like they're well trained," observed Nightstick. "Punk, show
our guests into the dressing room, while I finish getting the dungeon
ready."

"Yes, Sir," the other slave agreed. As the Master exited through the
same door he had entered from, Punk led the four friends into a side room
which turned out to be a walk-through wardrobe filled with every
imaginable item of leather clothing, in varying sizes. Chaps, vests,
jackets, hoods, caps and harnesses lined the area. Shelves overflowed
with cockrings, boots, gauntlets and collars.

"Take your pick, please," said Punk. "Hopefully, you should be able to
find some gear you like in your sizes. If you need any help, let me
know."

Quickly, the four searched through the treasure trove of gleaming black
leather, selecting chaps, boots and harnesses for themselves. Falling
into their preferred roles came easily and happily to them. Sabre opted
for a half-hood, similar to that worn by Nightstick. Trojan settled a
leather biker's style cap on his head, and both Masters slid cockrings
around their pricks but nothing else. Sabre chose a full slave hood for
his boy which completely encased Eagar's head right down to his neck,
plus a form-fitting backless jockstrap to envelop the slave's genitalia.
For Viking, his Master held out a half hood, but which attached to a dog
collar around the neck, and a pouch which cradled the boy's nuts, but
left his cock exposed. Their garb may not have been precisely what they
would don at home, but it was close enough, and exciting enough, to keep
them satisfied for tonight's activities.

Confirming they were all happy with their appearances, an eager Punk led
them from the dressing room into the dungeon play space, through a heavy,
sound-proofed door which thudded closed behind them.

Revealed to the curious foursome was an incredible space, designed for
pure pleasure and the enjoyment of leathermen. It had obviously once been
part of a warehouse, but the transformation to an area devoted to sexual
gratification was complete. David had been in this room before, years
ago, but he quickly realised that Punk had improved it considerably since
then, probably with the help of Nightstick.

The room was not really a `dungeon' at all. `Playground' would be a
better word. Measuring at least ten metres in width, and fifteen metres
long, it was a massive area for a residential building. The floor was
springy underfoot, and closer inspection revealed it to be a heavy duty
black leather overlay. The walls were mirrors, all of them. So was the
entire ceiling. Noah turned around to look at where they had entered, to
find that the door itself had disappeared, the only suggestion it even
existed being a recessed handle within part of the reflecting surface.
The light was dim, but not dark. Massive black candles on tall metal
stands stood at intervals around the walls, their flickering glow
interspersed with wispy smoke trails, imparting a warm, welcoming
atmosphere.

Toward one corner, but still with plenty of room around them, hung two
full slings suspended by steel chain, the links of which disappeared
through holes in the mirrored ceiling above. Each of them was complete
with boot stirrups, and wrist restraints already in place on the chains
holding up the `head' end. Slightly behind and to one side of both was
a black platform, like a small table, covered in the same leather as the
floor, and holding an array of toys -- dildoes, paddles, anal balls and
other items. The slings were parallel with each other, close enough for
those using one to easily watch what was happening in the other. Around
both sides and the head of the sling closest to the far wall was a raised
area, like a wide step.

Next to the pair of slings sat two slave bench arrangements. Padded with
foam and covered in the ever-present dark hide, one looked remarkably
similar to a carpenter's saw horse. Designed for a submissive to be laid
onto it face down, the higher central section was a sturdy flat area to
support the main torso, whilst the head and pelvis remained exposed and
available. At one end padded flat pieces, like shelves, were affixed to
the legs, allowing the slave to kneel in place. At the back of these were
ankle straps to bind him, matched with handcuffs open and waiting,
attached to the legs at the other end of the `horse'.

The second bench was wider and larger, sitting closest to the slings. It
consisted of three flat padded surfaces; a centre section about waist
height, and a step on either side around knee level, which was recessed
in underneath the middle piece. It ran parallel to the wall, and as many
as three slaves at once could be bent over it, secured in place, and
exposed for their Masters' pleasure.

On the other side of the room were a series of platforms, all of them
black leather. One looked for all the world like a huge bed, the width of
three king size beds pushed together, complete with a headboard
consisting of strong black steel bars, an array of restraints already in
place and waiting to be attached to arms or legs.

Another bore a remarkable resemblance to a reclining lounge chair, except
for its height. The seat was at least a metre above floor level. In the
shape of a curved tick, the backrest leaned away whilst the seat was also
angled so that someone seated upon it would be supported comfortably in a
semi-lying position. But there were no armrests on this device. Instead,
on either side of the saddle was a wide step whilst the central piece was
relatively narrow. With one person sitting into the `tick' another
could stand above him, straddling him easily.

A third raised area was the most curious of all. It was similar to the
wide bench opposite, in that it consisted of a higher centre shelf, with
steps on either side. But at one end the side steps were raised up to the
same height as the centre, and mounted on this widened section was a
steel framed chair with soft back, yet the stool itself had no solid
seat. In place of the seat was a set of wide nylon straps.

"It's a rim seat," explained Punk to the confused look on the faces of
his new friends. "A Master can sit on it in comfort while a slave lies
underneath and gives him a good rimming. At the same time, the slave can
either be getting fucked by another top who is standing at the end of the
bench, or fucking someone who is straddling him and lowering themselves
onto him!"

In several places between the fixed items of `furniture', various
stools were placed, apparently randomly, and halfway between the slings
and the `bed', four lengths of chain hung down from the mirrored
ceiling, arranged in pairs, with wrist cuffs attached fairly highly,
above normal head height. Corresponding to each pair of chains were more
metal links embedded in the floor, and connected by leg spreaders --
solid rods of steel with ankle restraints at each end. All around the
room were scattered small tables bearing toys, lube and amyl, so that all
were within easy reach of ay of the equipment, and of those making use of
it.

Nick whistled appreciatively. "This place is just amazing, Nightstick,"
he said.

"Thanks, Trojan," acknowledged the other Master. "Punk had a lot of it
already set up. I just helped refine it with some of my own ideas."

"I like the way your imagination works," Sabre commented.

"Yeah? Well right now I'm imagining some hot fucking. And I don't
intend to let my imagination waste away!" chuckled the large man. He
took a couple of steps across to one of the tables and picked up a butt
plug, covering it in lube as he did.

"Punk," he commanded. "Stop playing tour guide and get over here!"

"Yes, Sir," yelped the sub, jumping to obey. At Nightstick's direction
he bent forward and spread his arse cheeks so that his Master could
insert the stubby toy into him, then stood again and faced his man.

Nightstick said nothing, but crossed his arms on his chest and stood with
legs spread. Punk obviously knew exactly what was expected of him,
because he instantly dropped to his knees and began to lick at the
polished leather of his Master's boots, his hands caressing the powerful
legs encased in shining chaps.

Nick watched for a moment, his cock springing to life, and quickly moved
beside Nightstick, taking up a similar stance. Without even looking at
his boy, Nick clicked his fingers, and Noah hurried to crouch behind his
man, knowing what Nick wanted from past experience. As soon as his Master
was in place, Viking crouched behind him, licking eagerly at the firm
rounded melons of Trojan's arse cheeks, his fingers playing up and down
the Dom's inner thighs and through his legs to his nuts and cock,
caressing and massaging through the tight leather. Nightstick's rear was
so close, his low hanging balls so inviting, that the slave soon began to
alternate between both men, licking, biting and squeezing at each of
them. Similarly, Punk was swapping his tongue washing duties back and
forward between his own Master and Viking's man, a hand on the powerful
muscled legs of each as he did.

As Noah lowered himself behind the two dominant men, Master Sabre had
stepped over the almost prone Punk, a heavy boot on either side of the
slave. "Eagar," he ordered, "Work Punk's arse. I want to hear him
moan while he services us!"

Eagar hissed out an urgent "Yes, Sir," as he knelt behind Punk,
gripping the base of the butt plug in one hand, and wrapping his free
fingers around the other slave's nuts. Very quickly, Punk's stifled
groans could be heard as he slurped at the feet of Trojan and Nightstick.

Sabre now stood directly facing the other two Masters. Taking a long and
admiring look at their bodies, he reached out with both hands, and began
to pinch and play with their nipples, his own cock filling quickly and
pressing hard against the leather codpiece he wore. The two men opposite
him were dissimilar yet alike. Trojan was short and covered in dark fur
where his skin was visible beneath the leather. His face set in a
determined look of enjoyment beneath the leather bikers cap. Nightstick
was a good 15 centimetres taller, the hood covering most of his visage
although his square jaw jutted proudly over a muscled neck and chest,
only lightly dusted with hair, obviously clippered. But both men emanated
power; both embodied masculine sexuality. Trojan's groin bulged outward,
the triangle of hide tented by his tumescence, and Nightstick's chrome
encircled cock stood almost to full attention with the servicing by Punk
and Viking, and the pulling at his nipples by Sabre.

Nick grunted as his body tingled to the ministrations from Viking's
tongue and hands on his arse and groin, and the electricity generated in
his chest by Sabre's fingers. He looked down at the head and shoulders
of Punk gripping his ankles and licking at his boots. He felt so alive,
and so forceful in this setting, and he loved it.

"I think I'd like to give this rimming seat of yours a try,
Nightstick," he announced in a mutter as he looked behind himself at the
raised steps.

"Be my guest," the other replied. "Pity though, because your boy is
doing incredible things to my nuts."

Nick looked surprised. "So let him stay where he is and keep doing it.
Eagar doesn't seem to be doing much -- he can service my arse."

"Hey guys, sorry," Nightstick said to both Nick and David. "I know
when we play, we usually just share around without question, but I also
know sometimes some guys like to keep control of their own slaves."

"That's no fun," Nick hissed. "What's the point of sharing if you
can't have all of them, eh Sabre?"

His colleague murmured agreement. "That's right. Nightstick, as far as
we are concerned, once we're playing, all of the slaves are ours to
order as we please, no one boy belongs to any particular top. And
there's no holds barred, as long as the other consents -- kissing,
fucking, toys or whatever -- it's all good. Is that okay with you?"

"Absolutely, mate," the larger man accepted enthusiastically.

Nick grinned, at ease once more. He stepped away from the knot of men,
and climbed onto the nearby platform, prodding at the chair on its perch
to satisfy himself as to its strength. "Eagar!" he commanded, "Get
your mouth over here, now."

"Yes, Master Trojan," the boy replied quickly, relinquishing his place
at Punk's rear.

Trojan simply pointed at the flat area in front of the seat, and Eagar
knew what was expected. He lay on his back, his head beneath the raised
chair, his face only a few centimetres from the webbing itself. Once the
sub was positioned, Master Trojan settled himself into the rim-seat. He
was surprised to find how comfortable it was, the back support quite
strong, and the nylon straps holding him easily while at the same time
spreading his butt over Eagar's face. As he slid his legs forward, Nick
gasped with delight. The feathery touch of the slave's tongue licked
along his crack, and poked at the skin around his anus, sending shivers
of pleasure through him. Leaning back further, the Master revelled in the
sensations as the sub licked and prodded at his exposed arse. His hands
fell to his groin, massaging his cock and nuts through their leathery
cocoon, and his eyes feasted on the sight of the lithe, muscular body
stretched out before him, writhing beneath him, its cock clearly outlined
in its envelope of dark hide. He could take this for hours!

As Trojan moved up to the rimming platform, Sabre had stepped in closer
to his fellow dom. He watched as Viking's hands squeezed and groped at
Nightstick's rolling testicles, and heard the slurping wetness of the
sub's nibbling and chewing on the Master's butt.

"Punk," he ordered, "My arse needs the sort of attention your friend
is giving Master Nightstick. Now!"

The sub, who had until then been kneeling between Sabre's legs,
instantly moved back, his hands reaching to run up and down the leathered
pillars of Sabre's thighs whilst his tongue snaked its way into the
valley of the Master's arse. Within seconds, a hand was finding its way
around and over the dominant man's balls, and he trembled slightly with
increased anticipation.

David faced his fellow Master directly now, admiring the view of the
other top. The shorter of the two by only a centimetre, Sabre slid his
hands sensuously in below the flaps of the leather vest the other wore,
tracing the wide straps of Nightstick's harness. So close now that the
Masters' cocks nudged against each other, the two men leaned together.
Nightstick's arms went around Sabre's back, finding and pulling at the
harness he wore, until their mouths met, and they kissed in a hungry,
aroused exploration of each other's mouths, tasting of themselves with
growing passion.

For a long while, the two Doms enjoyed each other's mouths while the
subs paid attention to their genitals, licking and biting, nibbling and
sucking at arses and testicles. All four were rock hard, pre-cum flowing
from them and excitement growing constantly.

"Oh, fuck yeah," Sabre murmured as he broke his lip-lock with
Nightstick and pulled back a bit, trying to cool off. He looked up to
where his colleague sat on the ledge above them. "Hey, Trojan, you
enjoying that man?"

Nick nodded. "Sure am, Sabre. You want some of this action?"

His mate grinned, stepping away from the small group where he stood.
"You bet!"

As Trojan stood out of the rim-seat and clambered down, Sabre turned to
the boy who had been servicing him. "Hey, Punk, get up there," he said
evenly. "I want you to really eat my arse out."

The slave sat back on his haunches, then stood and swapped places with
Eagar, whilst Sabre took Trojan's place on the raised seat. Lowering his
spread cheeks onto the slurping, talented tongue of the sub, Sabre moaned
in ecstasy at the moist muscle exploring his hole. As Punk stretched full
length on the leathered shelf, his face beneath the Master's rear,
Trojan moved to stand on the step just below where Punk's legs dropped
over the edge. As the slave began to service Sabre's sphincter, Trojan
lifted his legs high and pulled the butt plug slowly but steadily out of
the boy's body. He smeared a little more lube over the sub's still open
hole, unsnapped his cod and let his rampant erection spring into the
open. He lined himself up and plunged his cock into the man, driving
himself in to his full length.

Punk gasped at the initial assault, then groaned a long sigh of
contentment and returned to his duties at Sabre's anus while his rectum
closed tightly around the invading pole of Master Trojan's prong. With
an enthusiasm born of the extended stimulation his hole had received,
Nick began to fuck the slave with vigour, resting Punk's knees on his
shoulders, and pistoning his now glistening dick in and out of the hot
wet chute that was the slave's bowel. Nick noticed in his peripheral
vision the quiet form of Joe, standing patiently after being dismissed
from his rimming.

"Eagar," Nick hissed. "Don't just stand there boy, get up here now."

"Sir?" the slave asked uncertainly.

"Climb up here," Trojan repeated. "One leg on either side of Punk,
facing Master Sabre, hurry up boy!"

Eagar quickly did as he was told, realising what the Dom wanted. Standing
on the step to the side of where Punk lay, he lifted one leg carefully up
and over until he stood above the prone body, straddling his fellow sub.

"That's better," Trojan muttered, slowing his thrusting into Punk's
body as he leaned forward and slid two well greased fingers into the
puckering hole between Eagar's legs. For a minute or more, the Master
opened this second sub with his digits as he continued to, almost lazily,
slide his cock in and out of the figure below. Determining that Eagar was
ready now, he leaned back again.

"Okay, boys," he chuckled. "Eagar, sit yourself down on Punk's cock.
I want him fucking your sweet hot arse while I fuck his. And while he's
doing it, I want to see you leaning forward and paying some serious
attention to Master Sabre's prick!"

Soon, the four of them settled into a groaning, heaving mass of leather
and flesh, intertwined bodies and slurping, squelching sounds. At the top
of the mountain of manflesh sat Sabre, his entire body alive as Punk's
mouth nibbled at his cheeks, and the slave's tongue probed and prodded
at his sphincter. At the same time, his thick prong was being bathed and
suckled by Eagar, who's bucking frame leaned over his groin. Sabre
rested his hands on the boy's head as it bobbed up and down on his cock,
and let his eyes roam over the wide shoulders and strong back, to view
the exciting picture of his colleague, Trojan, humping away at the unseen
body of another slave beneath them both.

Nick tingled with the delight of fucking Punk's arse. With each pounding
thrust into the wet sloppiness of the slave, he could see Punk's cock
pushed up and into Eagar's body, so that it was as if Master Trojan was
fucking both men at once. And the sight presented to him was incredibly
erotic. With the soft leather of Punk's chaps resting against his torso,
Trojan happily watched his own glistening log of manflesh spike into the
pink target of the sub's rectum, each shove rewarded with the glorious
sensation of squelching warm innards wrapping around his manhood. At the
same time, the slave's nuts bounced around, and his long turgid prick
speared up and into another clenching, winking hole between firm rounded
white cheeks, framed in shining black hide. If Nick raised his eyes even
further, he looked across the expansive back of the second sub, bound in
the cross-straps of his harness, to where that boy's head nodded up and
down on the length of Sabre's meat.

Eagar was in ecstasy as his body was humped and bounced around. With a
long prick ploughing his arse, and another thick juicy piece of meat
filling his throat, the slave ached with excited arousal. Being fucked at
both ends was always a favourite position for him, and despite knowing
that there were no `ownership' issues when they all played, Joe happily
admitted that it was David's cock that he liked to worship with his
mouth more than any other. So now, as Eagar, he eagerly attacked his
Sabre's sabre as it fucked his face, while some anonymous, unseen body
below him fucked his arse.

For Punk, there could be few better ways than this to start an evening.
Rimming a Master was one of his most enjoyed activities. In fact, it had
been at his suggestion that Nightstick and he had installed the seat and
accompanying bench upon which he now lay. And they had designed it with
the very position in mind in which Punk now found himself. With Sabre's
muscular cheeks almost on his face, the slave enthusiastically licked and
probed at the tight ring of the Master's sphincter with his tongue,
shaking in time to the relentless and powerful ramming of another Dom
behind him. His body was filled and fucked, his legs in the air and
splayed over Master Trojan's torso. If that weren't enough, his long,
steel hard prick was lodged within the gripping cavity of a fellow slave
who sat astride him in a semi crouch, milking him with each involuntary
withdrawal, before he was forced back in again by the thundering
penetration of the Master. Unable to see much, his movement restricted,
Punk's hands rested on the leather clad, muscular thighs of Eagar, and
as he sucked and licked, fucked and was fucked, he allowed his hands and
fingers to roam across the glorious hide, squeezing at the flexing
musculature within it as he did.

Master Nightstick had watched with some interest as Sabre and Trojan
arranged themselves on the rimming bench, and directed Eagar and Punk
into position. He found the sight of the four of them settling into their
rhythm extremely arousing, but his attention was then drawn back to the
powerfully built slave who continued to play with his cock and balls,
licking occasionally at his arse cheeks, and generally worshipping him.
The boy was all but hairless, and Nightstick guessed that it was a
natural smoothness. Although the head at his groin was hooded, the Master
knew this slave to be the blond Viking, and his cock twitched yet again.
From the first time he had seen this man, Nightstick knew he would enjoy
playing with him; opening, using and filling that muscled, smooth body
until it exploded in release.

"Boy!" he stated quietly but firmly.

"Yes, Sir?" Noah answered, quickly breaking from his attentions to look
up expectantly into the glinting eyes within the slits of the Master's
hood. He felt another twinge of excitement as he did. There was something
about this man which really set Viking's pulse racing. Perhaps it was
the leather accentuated strength in his powerful legs and broad
shoulders, perhaps it was the leaking promise of his extra long, extra
thick cock. But somehow, there was more -- an attitude about him; the set
of his jaw, the masked gleam of his eyes. Noah knew he was going to enjoy
this man, and he ached with anticipation at every word, every look.

"Over here!" Master Nightstick said in a soft voice, pointing to a
place on the floor not far from where they already were. It was one of
the spots where the chains hung from the ceiling, and more chains lay on
the floor. "Stand here and face the others, legs spread."

Noah hurried to comply. As he took up the position Nightstick had
ordered, he was looking directly at the humping, writhing group of men
that fucked and sucked at each other upon the rim-seat platform, no more
than a few metres away, and his cock jumped to full hardness at the
sight.

Master Nightstick walked over to him, standing close. Very close. So
close that Noah could feel the heat from his body, could smell the musk
of his arousal and the aromatic scent of the leather he wore.

"So, Viking, you like the look of that action do you?"

"Yes, Sir," the sub whispered in response.

"I'll bet you do. You look like the kind of `boy' who enjoys some
serious arse action," Nightstick ruminated menacingly, his hooded face
against Viking's leathered head, eye slit to eye slit. The Master began
to circle his new slave, running a fingernail up and down the sub's
flesh from time to time, leaning hard into him and whispering in an evil
tone.

"That arse will see some action, Viking, don't worry! But first, I'm
gonna have myself some fun. You're my new toy, and I'm going to play
with it for a bit!"

Noah wasn't in the least scared by the words or the tone. Nick was right
there anyway, but more than that, he felt he could trust this man. The
way he spoke, the threats he implied, were all part of the role playing,
and if anything, they were making Noah even more excited than ever.

Nightstick moved around behind the slave, suddenly kicking at Noah's
boots. "I told you to spread those legs, Viking!" he hissed.

"Ah, yes, Master Nightstick, Sir," the sub replied, pushing his feet
further out. He felt movement at his ankles, and risked a downwards
glance, to find the Dom fixing ankle restraints around each leg. The
leather cuffs were attached to the ends of a solid steel bar, a
`leg-spreader', so that Viking could no longer bring his feet together
if he tried.

Upright again, the Master stood behind the slave, so close that Viking
could feel the hardness of Nightstick's prick as it scraped between his
thighs. Nightstick traced the lines of Viking's harness with his
fingers, following it all the way to the boy's shoulders, before letting
his hand trail along each of Noah's arms. When he reached the wrists,
the Dom lifted his slave's arms, up to shoulder level, his wrists
jangling against the hanging chains.

"Hold that position, Viking," Nightstick warned.

The slave obeyed, and expertly, the Master cuffed him in place. Viking
was now effectively immobilised. Smiling at his handiwork, Nightstick
stepped around the slave until he stood in front of him again, letting
his eyes roam all over the sub's inert but strong body, drinking in the
very pleasing sight of a powerful man subjugated to Nightstick's
pleasure. His right hand reached out, the index finger scraping under
Viking's jaw and lifting his chin to the Master's penetrating stare.

"Nice!" commented Nightstick.

His hand lowered, gently touching the line of Viking's throat, then
further, across his chest, until the Dom closed thumb and forefinger over
the shining chrome ring inserted through the sub's left nipple.

"Nice!" he repeated. With every touch, every breath of air that
connected them, Noah trembled in anticipation. This Master was turning
him on so much, and his cock, at full erection, shuddered in time with
the beating of his heart, the first dribbles of pre-cum leaking from his
slit and trailing downwards.

Nightstick saw the droplet of slimy juice form at the slave's cockhead.
He watched it lengthen and separate, falling to the floor, and he smiled
as another grew in it's place. Reaching forward, he scooped Viking's
jizz onto his finger, and held it up before himself, then licked it
teasingly. "Nice!" he said in a whisper.

Moving back behind Noah again, Nightstick grabbed the slave's rounded
butt cheeks, squeezing them like fruit. "Very nice!" He slid a hand
down along the curved edge of Viking's chaps, following the leather
between the thighs until his fingers rode up against the black pouch of
hide which encased the sub's balls. Closing his fingers around those
rolling eggs in their leather envelope, he squeezed gently, massaging
them.

"Now that feels good, Viking," he stated. Still playing with the boy's
testicles, Nightstick slid a finger from his free hand along the crack of
Noah's arse, slowly down to the ring of muscle which guarded the
entrance to his body. Licking at his own finger, the Master pushed it
through the sphincter, into the second knuckle, and rotated his digit
around, pulling at the inside of Viking's anus. The slave gasped with
pleasure and Nightstick grinned. "That feels good too, doesn't it
boy?"

"Oh fuck yes, Sir," the sub breathed out. He couldn't see the man who
was driving him wild with this teasing, but he could hear some movement
behind him as the Master stepped back momentarily, grabbing something
from a table beside him. When Nightstick came to him again, he held
himself against Viking's trembling body, spooning his chest, abs and
pelvis into the slave's back and butt.

"Fuck me, please Sir," Viking hissed over his shoulder. "I want that
giant prick of yours pounding my hole, Master."

"You sure of that, Viking?"

"Yes, Sir, I'm sure."

"How should I fuck you then, boy," the Dom continued to tantalise his
sub. "You want it nice and slow, all gentle; or do you want it hard and
fast like a battering ram? Like things a bit rough, do you?"

Noah shuddered. He knew exactly what he wanted, and so did Nightstick.
"I need it hard, sir. I need you to shoot that fucking prong right into
me. Come on, Nightstick," Viking urged in a hiss. "Don't go getting
all gentle -- this slave boy wants a pounding; a hard, powerful fucking.
No `please' or `thank you', just fuck me hard, use me now, Master,"
he begged.

A very long, thick and slimy weapon slid between Viking's legs and
nudged at his balls. He heard a long intake of breath, and then a bottle
of amyl appeared beneath his nostril.

"You want some of this, my boy?" the Master asked.

Guessing what was about to happen, the sub nodded eagerly, and sniffed
hard at the opened top of the small brown bottle. Nightstick carefully
placed the amyl aside, and ground himself against the slave, running his
hands up and over Viking's chest, squeezing at the slave's nipples as
he passed, then curving his hands over the boy's shoulders. At the same
time Viking could feel that huge log of manflesh slowly drawing back,
raking over his balls and trailing past his perinaeum.

"And does that feel good?" Nightstick murmured. Noah nodded as the
first wave of sensations began to flood him from the amyl.

"Then I'm sure you'll think this feels even better," Nightstick
declared, whispering right in Viking's ear. Pulling hard with his strong
arms, the Dom slammed his massive meaty cock deep into the sub's body in
one motion, wrenching gasped cries from both of them.

His cockhead had been directly against the sub's winking hole, and the
boy knew exactly what was coming. Noah did his best to relax himself,
pushing back as he did, grateful for the amyl. The initial, searing pain
of the sudden assault on his rear disappeared as fast as it had begun, as
Viking felt his Master crash against him, the giant pole of flesh buried
to the hilt.

"Fuuuck!" the slave yelled.

"Unhhh, yeah!" the Master echoed.

Locked together, neither moved as they adjusted to the sudden joinder.

A tiny voice of logic deep inside Noah's head told him he should have
been split apart by that attack, but his body argued, his arse assuring
him that not only was it intact, it was in paradise. He flexed his
ravaged ring around the throbbing log inserted into him, and moaned
softly.

"Are you okay, Viking?" a soft, almost tender voice asked in his ear.

"Oh yes, sir, fucking fantastic!" the sub whispered.

"You sure are -- fucking fantastic, that is! That felt so
un-fucking-believable going in," Nightstick enthused. "I guess you
weren't lying to me, boy. Here, have some more of this." He held the
amyl once more under Viking's nostrils, and the bottom gratefully took
two or three deep tokes at it, before Nightstick allowed himself another
draught of the aroma.

As the amyl had its effect, the two men began to writhe together. Viking
was unable to move much, his feet locked and spread, his arms chained in
place, but he could certainly flex himself around Nightstick's cock, and
wriggle back and forth within his restraints.

Nightstick's hands were all over the slave as his body shuddered with
the wash of heightened sensation. He held himself in place, not pulling
out at all, but gripped the boy tightly, holding him in a bear hug as he
ground his pelvis against that pale arse, and explored the trembling body
he now controlled, with his hands and fingers.

In answer to the attack, and the loss of control, Viking groaned again,
pushing back against the Master, writhing in time with him, gripping and
clenching his sphincter around the cock, and trying desperately to urge
the dominant male who held him to use him further.

"Holy fuck, this is hot," Nightstick swore, bending forward and forcing
his boy forward as well. Now he did start to withdraw, a little at a
time, before driving himself harder into that welcoming bowel. The
compliant, pleading motions of the boy he was fucking, combined with the
clanking sound of the chains which bound his slave, the wafting scent of
musky amyl, and the feeling of leather under his palms and on his skin,
sent him into an ecstatic frenzy. All he could think was that he wanted
to fuck this slave even more deeply, wanted to get more and more of
himself inside Viking. And Viking seemed to want the same, slamming
himself back at him, trying to take all that Nightstick could give and
more.

For an incalculable time, the pair fucked each other urgently, with a
passionate fervour. Their rutting, humping motion, held in place by steel
and chains, drove them both higher and higher as they lost all cognisance
of anything other than each other, and of becoming one in pure sex.

Before the surging, writhing couple, but unseen by them, the other four
men gyrated in their animalistic union, sweating and swearing as they
lifted each other to a peak. Trojan slammed himself over and over again
into the gaping chasm of Punk's body, forcing the slave up and into the
clenching hole of Eagar. In time with the rollicking fucking he received,
Eagar slurped and swallowed at the mighty weapon of Master Sabre, getting
his face and his arse fucked at once. Used and filled as he was, Eagar
could not imagine anything more erotic, and it was the double penetration
of his body that pushed him into climax before the others.

A grunting heaving gasp saw him lift his head away from the beloved prick
of Sabre, as his entire body began to shudder, his sphincter clamping
around Punk's pistoning prick. A long, scalding jet of jism leapt from
his cock, splattering along the length of Punk's abdomen and up onto his
chest, as well as spraying onto Sabre's balls. The man threw his head
back in agonising ecstasy, wrapping his fist around his inflamed prick as
Punk continued to pump into his ravaged hole.

The moment that Eagar lifted away from him, Sabre gripped at his own
slicked, saliva coated weapon, pumping it hard. His sphincter opened as
the slave below him probed into it with his tongue and his anus delighted
in the ongoing rimming it received. The Master opened his eyes to be
confronted by his boy in the throes of full climax, head and shoulders
back, chiselled pecs pushed forward and straining beneath the glistening
straps of his harness. Yet another surge of excitement filled Sabre as he
drank in the sight of Eagar's sweat-sheened body, trembling and taut,
every muscle flexed and tight, the leather of his gleaming chaps
struggling to contain his bulging thighs. And at the centre of this
vision was Eagar's very masculinity, clasped in his hand, a firebrand of
absolute erection about to explode. Spellbound, Sabre stared as the same
sub who serviced his own arse speared up into Eagar's body, and when the
first white hot gobs of ejaculate erupted from his mate and fell against
his balls, the Master gasped, pumping himself into ecstasy.

As Eagar spasmed repeatedly, spewing more and more of his essence over
Punk, Sabre joined him. Bellowing with release, the top pumped his cock
into his hand with powerful strokes, his body tensed as his nuts drew up,
and his orgasm ripped through him. A torrent of creamy cum spurted from
his shuddering tool, coating Eagar's chest and body and flowing down
onto the still humping frame of Punk where he lay beneath the gasping
couple. It took several minutes, but eventually Sabre's quaking
subsided, and he slowly eased himself up from the rim seat, standing over
the still locked bodies of Punk and Eagar. His boy was all but collapsed,
yet still shuddering in time with the thumping penetration of the other
sub, driven in turn by Master Trojan's cock.

Nick slowed his fucking of the boy as Sabre took Eagar's arms and lifted
him away from the slave below. The two of them stepped down to stand
beside the prone figure, and Trojan dragged Punk's tensed and trembling
body out from under the seat, exposing his face. With renewed lust he
slammed himself back into the hot, welcoming cavern of Punk's arse,
while Sabre and Eagar now set about playing with him, running their hands
over his gooey, jizz covered body, pinching at his nipples, and squeezing
his rolling nuts and slimy prick. The combined attention from the Master
and slave to his frame, and the glorious pounding of his chute, was too
much for Punk, and with a strangled cry, he surrendered himself to
oblivion. His stomach tensed, his sphincter clamped tight around
Trojan's invading prong, and his prick swelled with racing blood before
fountaining his essence up and out, across his own body in a dozen
shuddering gushers until it fell back upon him to pool with the
outpourings of Sabre and Eagar in a soup of slimy manjuice.

As Punk slowly stilled, his need spent, Trojan pulled back, withdrawing
his probing javelin from its squelching receptacle.

"Are you okay, Punk?" he asked with concern.

"Oh, fuck, yes, Master Trojan," the slave replied weakly. He started to
sit upright, and the others began to assist his efforts as their
attention was drawn to the gasping, cursing pair behind them.

Turning to watch, Nick, David, Joe and Peter found themselves charged up
again at the sight of Viking and Nightstick locked in embrace; the Master
humping his thick, slickened meat in and out of the sub's body, whilst
the slave hissed obscenities back at his ravager; begging for more,
needing to be fucked deeper and harder than ever. Nightstick's arms
encased Viking's chest and shoulders as he pulled the slave back onto
his rod with force, and the sound of squealing leather filled the air as
the two of them gasped and heaved in unison.

Temporarily spent, Sabre, Punk and Eagar settled themselves on the floor
in front of the rutting couple. But Master Trojan, still sporting a
rampant erection, cursed excitedly. "Fucking hell, Nightstick, that's
hot! Fuck his slave boy arse, man!"

Nightstick looked up, his eyes partially glazed from the concentration he
focussed on burying himself into Viking's glorious innards. He spotted
his fellow Master, standing there in full glory, his proud erection
glistening with the remnants of Punk's bodily juices.

"Shit, Trojan," he hissed. "This boy of yours is really driving me
wild! You wanna share him?"

Nick smirked menacingly. "Oh yeah," he answered.

Still fucking hard at Noah, Nightstick released his wrists, and lowered
him to the cushioned floor, until the sub was on his hands and knees, his
legs still kept apart by the spreader. As Nightstick now crouched over
his back, gripping at his hips and roaring with delight as he speared his
cock into the boy, Trojan also crouched before the slave's head, driving
his slicked and throbbing tool into Viking's throat. With a chorused
groan, the two Masters fell into time as they fucked Viking from both
ends, powering their way into his body with forceful strokes which
steadily increased in speed. Positioned as they were, Trojan and
Nightstick found their faces lowering toward each other, and as they each
approached their zenith, the Masters met above the slave's back in a
passionate, urgent kiss. Locked at the mouth, the two tops spit-roasted
their shared toy with vigour. This connection proved the final impetus
for them both, and as one they grunted, slammed deep into the tensed body
beneath them, and spasmed their way through orgasm.

Viking, his entire being lost in the moment, felt his ravaged chute being
filled with the fruit of Nightstick's loins, while he gulped and
swallowed repeatedly, trying to accept the pumping, viscous outpouring of
Master Trojan into his gullet. With their hands on his body, their cocks
inside him, and their climax drowning both his orifices, Viking shook
with delighted surrender. He loved the sense of having no control over
himself, and the loss of control was complete when his balls also
surrendered, sending a river of cum up and out through his steeled prick,
jetting his jism across the floor where he knelt.

A long interval later, the pair of tops who had fucked Viking so
powerfully finally eased themselves out of his ravaged body. Released
from their thrall, Noah collapsed, rolling onto one side. Nightstick had
the presence of mind to unsnap his ankle cuffs, and now able to relax,
the slave leaned across the leg of his partner as Nightstick sidled over
to where Punk lay.

Sabre, Eagar and Punk all murmured appreciative whispers of approval and
admiration at the performance of the others, each of them still partially
erect after witnessing the explosive crescendo.

"Now that is the way to relieve some tension!" Nick declared with a
sigh as his breathing began to return to normal.

"Fuck yeah," agreed Nightstick with a grin. "I've needed that for
days. Thanks guys."

"Thank you," David interjected. "We're a long way from home, so it's
so great for us that you've let us share yours, and your boy!" he
chuckled.

"You two have a couple of very talented subs as well," the other man
praised.

"Thank you, sir," responded Eagar.

Noah sat up and ran a long, appreciative look over Nightstick's body yet
again. "Always happy to be of service, Sir," he said easily.

"Shit, I could use a drink after that," came a groaned plea from the
exhausted Punk, still lying flat on the floor, his body spattered with
the remnants of at least three ejaculations. He began to struggle to get
up, but his Master put a hand on his arm gently.

"Stay there," he said. "You need to recover. I'll get `em. Beers all
round?"

"Yes, please," chorused the others.

"Make mine a lite," Sabre called after him. "I'm driving."

They were all enjoying the post coital haze of sated passion, unable or
unwilling to move from their positions of collapse on the soft leathered
mat, and this fabulous room seemed the perfect place to do so. No need to
change or clean up at all, just enjoy the sensations.

Nightstick returned juggling six bottles of beer, handing them out to his
companions with a grin as he enjoyed the sight of five leathered and cum
splattered men entangled on the floor of their dungeon. Just remembering
the activities of the last hours was enough for his cock to begin to fill
with blood again, and he marvelled at just how horny these men made him
feel.

"Hey, I've got the lite -- you wanted that didn't you, Sabre?" said
Viking.

"Yeah, thanks," answered the Master.

Nightstick, still on his feet, apologised. "My mistake guys, just a bit
distracted." He took the two bottles, exchanging them. "Here's your
lite, David," he said, "and a full strength for Noah."

It took a few seconds to register, but suddenly there was confusion and a
sense of alarm in Noah's gut.

"How do you know my name?" he said quietly but urgently.

Nick sat up quickly, defensively. "Yeah, how do you -- nobody introduced
us using real names. What's going on?"

The other Master had just settled onto the floor, relaxing with his beer.
"Calm down guys," he said evenly. "I was waiting until now to give you
a little surprise, just didn't mean to let it slip like that."

"What kind of surprise?" asked Nick suspiciously.

"This better be good," David warned, looking alternately from
Nightstick to Punk and back. "I can understand how you know my name. No
doubt Peter -- he emphasised Punk's real name -- would have told you
that. But he doesn't know the others!"

"He didn't even tell me yours," Nightstick replied slowly. "And I
don't know your real name, Eagar," he said, nodding to Joe. "But I
guess this might explain things ..."

Slowly he reached up and loosened the ties of his hood, pulling it apart
from the back and lifting it away from his face. As his complete visage
was revealed, he smiled widely at the gasps of surprise from Nick, Noah
and David.

"The cop?" whispered David.

"Detective Moran!" declared Nick.

"Bob," Noah laughed.

"Who the fuck ...?" asked a curious and bewildered Joe.

Peter simply sat there with a smile, watching from one to the other.

"This is the detective investigating Wes' death," David explained.
"Joe, meet Bob Moran!"

Bob Moran smiled again. "When Peter told me an old friend from out of
town wanted to join us for a session, I figured it was perfect timing --
we were looking for exactly that, and I have been pretty tired with the
murder investigation, so getting all of that out of my mind was something
I desperately needed. Then he said his friend's name was David, and that
he was down from Sydney helping other friends from Sydney organise a
funeral after someone had been killed down on the Mornington Peninsula.
It was too much of a coincidence -- I knew it had to be you guys. I
almost had Pete call you back to cancel."

He stopped for a minute, seeming to wonder about whether to go on. When
he did continue, his cheeks reddened a little. "But I really needed
this, and I remembered the three fucking hot men I had met. None of you
are under any suspicion in the case, so there's no reason why we can't
- `socialise' -- so I told Peter what I suspected, and went for a hood
so I wouldn't be recognised. I hope you guys aren't mad?"

"Mad? I think it's amazing," Joe said. "I just can't believe none of
them picked you."

"Hey, be fair," David jumped in. "He was wearing civvies, and we
didn't speak that much anyway. Although I did notice he had a nice
arse!" All of them laughed now.

Nick chuckled evilly. "Noah was quite taken with Detective Moran," he
commented.

"Don't start that again," Noah sighed. "But I was right, wasn't I?
He is fucking hot."

"Thanks guys," Bob laughed again as they lay back and sipped their
drinks in new friendship.



Some time later, and despite the six of them having been happily enjoying
each other's companionship, nothing more had been said about Wes'
murder. It was almost an unspoken acknowledgement from all of them that
they needed this night to try to forget that unpleasant reality for a few
hours. Peter brought it up again almost inadvertently.

"So how long are you in town for?" he asked innocently.

Nick grumbled, and David coughed. Noah sighed as he answered. "At least
until after the funeral on Tuesday," he said. "We're not sure how much
longer we'll stay on from there."

"Joe and I will be flying home Wednesday morning," David said. "We
both need to get back to work."

"How about you guys?" Bob said, looking to Nick and Noah.

"We don't have to go home for work," Nick stated flatly.

"But what reason could we have for staying here?" Noah said
suspiciously.

"Well, there's still a murder to solve," Nick hissed.

"Hey guys, that's my job!"

"Sure, but there's no harm in us hanging around and asking questions,"
Nick replied defensively. "Besides, people often tell things to
strangers they would never say to a cop." He stopped and looked at Noah,
who shrugged resignedly, and offered a slight smile, guessing what Nick
was up to.

Noah let his eyes wander over Bob Moran's body again. "Besides," he
said, supporting his man, "It's our `civic duty' to help out however
we can. You know we'll tell you anything we learn, keep you fully
informed."

The cop still looked doubtful. "Guys, it's not that I don't want you
around -- far from it," he grinned evilly. "But this is serious, it's
not a game. You could be in real danger."

"Like Noah said, we'll keep you completely up to date with everything
we see and hear," Nick offered again.

"Of course, if you feel the need, you can always order us to come in for
further `interrogation'," Noah whispered huskily, a grin splitting his
face as he licked his lips.

"Oh shit," Bob laughed. "That's what I call an offer I can't refuse.
Okay, but please guys, be bloody careful!"

"Yes, Sir," drawled Noah slowly. "Anything you say, Master
Nightstick!"

"You four don't really have to go back tonight, do you?" asked Peter
plaintively, his cock lengthening as he trailed a single finger along
Nick's leg and over the Master's growing tumescence.

Nick looked around the room, and drank in the lusty arousal of growing
urges. "Sabre, I think we're in for some more fun!"

David laughed low and deep. "I'm sure there's no need to race off. It
might be considered impolite!"



... to be continued...



This story is a fantasy, it is not real and only happened in my
imagination. YOU MUST REMEMBER that in the real world, you can DIE from
having unsafe sex. It is your right and your duty to make sure that
condoms are always used, whether you are giving or receiving. It doesn't
matter how good looking or how ugly he is, and it doesn't matter whether
you are top or bottom, USE A CONDOM!