An Xcite Books collection of five erotic gay stories with mixed themes including m/m, contemporary, historical, menage, BDSM, voyeurism, sex in public and interracial.
He kept three slaves, treating them like the dogs they were, using collars and chains and commands, and his cock, for obedience. He made them perform for him – on each other – before unleashing his own lust on all three. Slaves never had it so good.
The new guy, Dexter, strode into the gym like he owned the place, taking narcissism to a whole new level. He was tanned and ripped, had a torso bulging with chest plates, huge, vein-striated arms that peaked up into the clouds, cleft chin and square jaw and bright blue eyes. In other words, I liked everything about the dude, except his ’tude; that did need a whole hell of a lot more work. And I was just the horny man to do some honing, for the good of gym harmony.
The Banker Boys
Jerry Jenkins, Texas Ranger. He was looking for the Banker Boys – Pete and Roy Banker, and their third partner in crime, Tom “Tommy” Herman. Ploughing dirt with their sweat and tears wasn’t anything the Boys wanted any part of during the Dust Bowl Depression. So they’d taken the easy road to riches, the last stop: hard time or hot death. Jerry Jenkins was on their trail, and stood ready to deliver. One rumble, one Ranger.
Cody was sitting all by himself in the sauna. The heat was turned up high, the steam thick and wet. He was wearing just a white towel, his hand burrowed down in the towel, softly, languidly stroking his hard, pulsating cock. Just a young man enjoying a nice, relaxing, stimulating steam after a hard workout. Until another man entered the cedar-panelled room. And the temperature soared, the sauna gone sexual cauldron.
He wasn’t out in the sun-seared Grasslands National Park to eyeglass unexotic ground fowl with his fellow birders. No, he was there to spy on one lovely boi-d (as the British fops say) in particular – young, raven-plumed, slender-beaked, twin-breasted, feather-tailed Jackson Beaumont. He’d been closely observing young Jackson ever since the man had roosted in his neighbourhood a week earlier, three coops down the street. Because as a voyeur, his real dirty hobby was flushing out pretty, preening pheasant, honing in on them, and then shooting them lustful looks of admiration and searing lines of ejaculation from an unsafe distance.
Read an Excerpt
The buttoned-down banker by day, depraved sex slave by me, just couldn’t control himself. As I drove my entire dong into the pink, heated confines of his mouth and throat, he closed his stretched lips over my cock and eagerly bobbed his head to and fro, greedily sucking. I jerked back and slapped his face with my dripping tool. He enjoyed that as well, the pervert.
‘You’ve gotten a taste,’ I told the trio. ‘Now it’s time to get stuffed.’
They stared at my dangling club.
‘Stack ’em up!’ I elaborated.
Mike formed the solid base, taller Wes draped over him, shorter Tom stretched out on top. I faced their stacked asses from the rear, admiring the view of those three sets of cheeks piled up one set on top of the other and the other.
Mike, on all fours, held everything steady. I rewarded him first for his dutifulness. Moving slightly to the side, I cracked both his hefty cheeks with the flattened palm of my hand. The pile hardly moved.
I smacked Wes’ ass, then Tom’s, then Mike’s again. I went up and down the pillowed column, spanking their bare-naked fannies. White skin blushed crimson, then burned scarlet. The stack shuddered now with each cruel whack of my heated palm. Cheeks shivered, rippled, quivered, Mike’s cock jumping, the others’ shunting along back skin.
I whaled their asses, one and all, showing those three strangers to each other for certain who was their master, no matter their position in life. Their position in sex was at my discretion. I stung, singed their cheeks, beating my imprint into each of their asses.
Then I got fully back in behind, shaking slightly myself. My cock was seized up rock-hard, raging to strike buttholes like my hand had struck butt cheeks. I lubed, ploughed into Tom’s blazing bottom full speed.
He whimpered, and jerked. As I burst his ring and busted cap and shaft deep into his anus, balls to the walls. His chute was oven-hot and vice-tight, the skin of his beaten bum burning into my pressing thighs. I pumped my hips, fucking his anus.
I pulled out of Tom, poled into Wes. He quivered like a live wire between the other two men, my dong driving the length of his heated satin ass tunnel. I gritted my teeth and blinked away sweat, pistoned his chute, rocking the stack back and forth.
Big Mike was next. His gasping anus swallowed up my club with hot, greasy satisfaction. I crouched down and slammed into him, the brisk smack of my balls against his cheeks sounding even above everyone’s ragged breathing.
I went up and down, in and out, fucking sucking asses with controlled abandon, ramming, reaming, rutting. Tom came first, shooting against Wes’ back, as I pile-drove his anus for the sixth or seventh time. Then Wes jerked, jumped almost vertical, shooting off into Mike’s skin.
Mike twisted his head around and glared desperation at me, his face and butt cheeks flamed beet-red. I nodded, ravaged his anus full in and full out. He lifted a shaking arm and grabbed on to his cock, stroked and shot.
I blessed him with first blasts of my own sizzling jizz. Before pulling out, plugging into Wes, coating his bowels with white-hot spurts. Then Tom’s.
I had them clean up and cook me lunch, keeping them blatantly naked. They’re my domestic, as well as sexual slaves, after all.
I sat back and stroked my big, black cock, satisfied slave-master.