Date: Tue, 27 Nov 2018 07:06:29 +0000
From: Clark Wayne <underarmour001@hotmail.com>
Subject: Alpha DILF

"Awww... fuck that's good," I said in a deep husky whisper as I descended
the thick cock about to be speared up my ass. My eyes were closed, head
back, goosebumps on my arms.

"Fuuuuck," he hissed at the same time as he felt my hole clenching around
his thick throbbing cock.  His eyes closed, smile on his face, taking in
the erotic euphoria of his cock entering the tight butt of a young,
athletic, muscled man above him. Me.

I finally bottomed out on his slick, warm cock.  My own cock fully erect,
almost painfully so as the mix of feeling him inside me and the
anticipation of the long, hot fuck that was about to transpire filled my
brain. My hole was resisting any more stretching that his cock demanded. I
felt full but I felt like it belonged there. The burning sensation had
begun but I knew if I stuck it out a minute, the burn would subside and
fucking would begin.

His ass lifts from the mattress preparing to begin the fucking he has
looked forward to all week. I took a deep breath and slowly blew it
out. "Hold on a second, bud. Let me get used to it," I said with a strained
voice. I slowly gyrate my ass to allow my tight hole to conform to his
cock. I feel like his cock is in my gut. My hard cock bobbing up and down
with the motion.

Both his hands on either side of my thighs, his warm hands pressing against
them as if to hold me in place. Like I'd go anywhere!  He starts to push up
into my hole once again. There is small sharp pain but it subsides after a
few seconds of bearing down, stretching my hole, allowing more room for his
cock to expand into when he eventually shoots.

"You good?" he asks.

He grew inpatient and thrust into me, raising my body.

"Aghh!" I blurted out, not expecting that. "Whoa. Not so fast, dude," I
begged with gritted teeth, breathing in and out quickly. He stopped for a
few seconds, only to look me straight in the eye in defiance of my request
and thrust up hard taking my breath away. Fucker. I knew he wouldn't show
mercy. He never does.

I fell forward and placed my hands on his hard pecs for balance. My body,
bent forward, my ass sticking out farther allowed his cock to saw its way
deeper into my clenching, hungry hole.

I tense my body making my muscles flex as he commences his jack-hammer
fucking up into me. He likes it when my muscles swell, turn red, veins
popping, knowing he did that to another man. Seeing a man like me strain,
moan, sweat, beg for his cock, it makes him feel powerful, superior. He
is. He is right now.  And I like seeing the pleasure and satisfaction on
his face, a result of my body being used for his enjoyment. I feel honored
that a man of his caliber chose me as the vessel to dump his loads into. He
looked up at me, he knows that's what I'm thinking right now and showed me
a cocky sneer. He can be such a prick.

I ran my hands down his cobblestone abs and then back up to his chest. My
bright white teeth clenched and my eyes squeezed shut as I feel the ecstasy
of the man under me completely owning my ass. He knows he does. He knows
he's the only type of guy who could own my ass. He had me wrapped around
his little finger. I was addicted to his cock and he was addicted to
fucking my college-jock ass. The power he exudes turns me on, drives me
into frenzy, makes me question my choices and my sexuality. He's cocky and
arrogant at the thought of landing an otherwise straight frat-boy like me.

He's not your typical 40ish-year-old man. I'm not quite sure how old he is
because I don't care. He's hot as fuck, experienced, confident and knows
how to turn a guy like me into his slobbering little bitch. I do know he's
married with a kid. He had the good sense to stay in shape after getting
married and starting a family. He's starting to gray around his temples,
his face starting to show some lines but they only make him more handsome
and sexy.  DILF is an understatement when it comes to this man. His body is
insane. I've seen old pictures of him from his college days as an
All-American football player, he's in better shape now in his 40's than he
was at 20. In my opinion, he deserves to be a cocky arrogant prick. He's
older, he's hot as fuck and he's boning the hell out of a hot fratboy half
his age, who, until a few months ago, had never been with a dude and had
never planned to.

Taking me by surprise, he takes more control, slams his hands onto my chest
and pushes me backward onto my back.

 "Whoa!" The word comes out of my mouth strained and a little high
pitched. I've lost my balance as he pushed me back. His cock expelling
itself from my now empty hole. But I like it when he gets aggressive and
takes control never giving me advanced notice of his plan to own my ass.

He aggressively grabs my ankles and hoists them up on top of his
shoulders. I smile at the thrill of having his 210 pounds of muscle throw
my 200-pounds of muscle around like a rag doll. He bites his bottom lip and
grunts as he rams his cock down into my ass.

"Fuck yeah," I try to yell out but he puts his hand over my mouth and
presses down hard. We're fucking in my room at the frat so I gotta be
fucking quiet. Luckily, it's a Sunday and most of the guys are gone for the
weekend but still better to be safe than sorry. And he thinks it's funny to
test the boundaries. He laughs sometimes when he's fucking me so hard that
I have to put a pillow over my face and scream into it. "Shhhh, pretty
boy. You don't want your buds to know you're in here getting boned, do
you?" It makes me mad but then it sends more adrenaline through my body to
my dick and I like it.

He sneers at me again while staring into my eyes like lasers. I can't look
away. I'm ashamed at my behavior but at the same time overwhelmed with the
excitement I feel when he's inside me. He's an Alpha and he's good at
it. He's found that I respond well to being "Alphaed." I know I'm just as
hot as he is and just as masculine but wouldn't you get cocky and arrogant
knowing you're able to dominate and fuck the alpha out of another guy? Of
course, you would.

"You like that," he grins, pulling his hand from my mouth while holding my
eyes hostage with his own. He then folds me in half, my knees up near my
ears. My breath labors as my airway is slightly constricted. I try to
answer but all that I can do is grunt. Sweat drips from his forehead and
falls into my mouth. I instinctively lick my lips and stick out my tongue
to catch more of his salty essence.

He watches me lick up his sweat and grins, it turns him on. "Yeah, like
that," he confirms.

My face is flushed. Half from humiliation and half from the strain of
taking his hard fuck. Why in the fuck do I love this so much? Why do I love
these bouts of humiliation, denigration and shame knowing I'm being fucked
by another man? I've never wanted to get fucked before. I mean, I'm not a
homophobe. I'm secure enough in my masculinity to say, truthfully, I've
always found athletic, muscular athletes somewhat attractive. Mostly, I
thought it was mutual admiration for the time and discipline it takes to
keep our bodies on point. I'm not blind. I knew when a guy was sexy. It's
as if I was proud to be considered a part of an elite club where all the
members where athletic, muscular, masculine, cocky and alpha. Being around
other alphas was like crack for me. The camaraderie, the bonding of men of
the same caliber was addictive.

Then I met him.

I guess it's cliché but we met at the gym. I strutted into the weight
room one day, gym bag in one hand, jug of water in the other and I glimpsed
him from across the room over the vast array of free-weights. My breath was
suddenly taken away and my stomach dropped. Damn! Who is that? I paused a
second and thought about what just went through my head. Why did I just
have that reaction looking at another dude. There was something about him
that made me weak in the knees. I felt like a 14-year-old girl meeting her
first crush. Hypnotized, I worked my way over to his area. He was working
his shoulders. I wasn't even supposed to work my shoulders that day but he
was at the shoulder press and damn it, so was I.

There was a tiny bit of eye contact. Then sometimes intense eye contact
that made my heart skip a beat. I'd never had this feeling before around a
dude. He was tall and solid. I was intimidated and trust me, no one
intimidates me. I'm the one that does the intimidating. I know I'm hot and
I use that to my advantage every day. I grabbed some dumbbells and took the
bench next to him. I sneaked looks at him through the mirror as I did my
sets. I got up to put the weights back on the rack and grabbed some heavier
ones. I looked in to the mirror and he was looking back at me, well, at my
ass. For some reason, that made me excited. Another dude is blatantly
checking out my ass. Nice! I turned to the bench, looked at him and gave a
friendly nod. He nodded back.

We both proceeded to go about our workouts but never straying too far from
one another. Later I saw him look at his watch and then to me. He nodded to
me again as if to say "See ya later" and made his way to the exit.

After a couple days of nods and awkward staring, finally I said hello. It
was a short "Hey. How's it goin?" and that broke the ice. Small talk
ensued. The next day more small talk and the next day full conversations. I
was an idiot and didn't notice for a week or so that he was working out at
the same time as I was every day. Stalking me? How was I supposed to know?
I just thought it was an innocent bromance. Mutual admiration. Our
conversations were usually about nutrition, fitness goals, gym talk,
typical guy stuff.

I started to get excited to see him every day. I made sure I was at the gym
at the same time every day, never late. I was still an idiot. I didn't get
what was happening to me. Once again, I assumed it was idol worship or
something. Here was an older guy, old enough to be my dad and his body put
most every other guy's body in that gym to shame...except mine, of
course. And he was damned handsome. I just wanted to be like him. No, I
wanted to be him. I sought his attention and admiration. I thought about
him all the time, what he was doing, where he was while I was on dates with
girls.

One day he suggested that since we were at the gym the same time every day
that we should lift together. I was psyched! We had the same goals, the
main one, obviously, to become even hotter than we were. He was a great
mentor. That's what I saw him as, I thought. He was older and more
experienced and he taught me things about lifting and nutrition that I'd
never known. What started off as two lifting partners motivating each other
to push harder, quickly became competing egos trying to out-lift the
other. Always lifting heavier, doing more cardio, comparing body fat
percentage. Everything was a contest. He was trying to kick my ass as much
as I was trying to kick his.

The more we competed the more I saw changes in my body. His too. Our
muscles became harder, tighter. We were becoming more cut and defined. I
spent way too much time naked in front of my mirror. Way too many shirtless
selfies. It became normal to shoot him a shirtless selfie and within
minutes he would do the same. Usually with some funny but demeaning comment
about my pic. But I knew he was impressed by my gains. I could tell be the
way he looked at me sometimes when he thought I wasn't paying attention. I
was more confident, as if I needed any more confidence. I felt more
superior to other guys around me than I did before, except him.

I started to become a little aroused when he started to show off and wear
compression gear, showing off his gains, the gear challenging me to look at
his progress every day and know that everyone else in the gym could see it
too. It wasn't long until I sported the same compression gear.  The first
time I showed up in my new Underarmour gear, he just shook his head and
laughed. "Couldn't help yourself, could ya?" He said. "I'm not letting you
get all the attention, old man," I jabbed back. The attention we received
was fucking euphoric. Some guys thought we were father and son which just
made me proud that someone would assume that. It meant that we were alike
in more ways than I thought. This was when he started to become more "hands
on?"

He had never been shy about touching. He was always patting me on the
shoulder or my back. Sometimes a playful squeeze of the back of my neck. He
liked to roughly grip my biceps and tell me big they were or arm days. He
always told me I looked good or I was getting great gains. Lots of
compliments the more time passed. By this time, we had become like best
friends, not a dad/son relationship that most thought we had but more of a
big brother/little brother. We talked about normal stuff during our
workouts; his wife and kid, my dates, my classes, his work. I met his wife
a few times when I would come over to hang out and watch a game with him or
play some video games.  His kid was a shit, a teenage version of his dad,
that's why he was cocky and arrogant like his dad but then what do you
expect from a 16-year-old who has the genetics of this guy. The wife never
questioned why her husband was hanging out with a guy half his age because
we had so much in common. She always said I was born 20 years too late. It
was always funny when I came over, she'd answer the door and yell back,
"Honey! You're boyfriend's here!" That always got me to blush.

After a few months, he started working gay innuendoes into his playful
banter. He gave me a nickname, Pretty Boy. He liked to refer to me as his
bitch around other guys at the gym.  He'd make jokes whenever we saw a gay
guy working out, "that one's hot, bet he wants to fuck you," and commenting
on what a nice ass I had...for a guy.

The one that really got my attention was when we were drunk. He'd say shit
like "if we were gay, I'd fuck you." I always laughed it off but it began
to really turn me on. He said it all the time whenever the beer
flowed. Hell, I would be the luckiest gay guy in the world to have him fuck
me. He always joked that I would be the bottom in the relationship. At
first it was uncomfortable for a guy like me to even consider being fucked,
let alone gay. After a few times hearing it though, I grew to like it.  It
made me feel warm inside.

As the innuendos became more prevalent, I started to feel like a boyfriend
more than a brother or even a son. He treated me like one and I let him. He
liked to shop with me and pick out my clothes. He picked out my workout
gear, making me try on every item and modeling it for him. He was very
adamant about telling me if he didn't like something and I shouldn't buy
it. He always made sure I was on time for class with texts because he had
learned my class schedule. He gave his opinion on the girls I dated,
usually bad opinions. He'd text me to make sure I got home ok after my
dates. He'd pay for movies, dinners, game tickets. He wouldn't let me drive
when we went out even if we were taking my car. He was becoming more
possessive and controlling but for some reason, I didn't care. I liked
it. I craved his approval.

Then the strangest thing happened. We were once mistaken to be a gay couple
one night when we stumbled across a gay pride beer garden while out
drinking one night. We didn't even know we were in a gay bar for about five
minutes until we saw a couple of dudes kissing each other. We were
trashed. I remember seeing dudes kissing and turned to him and asked,
"Dude, are we in a gay bar?"

He laughed, put his arm around me, his breath reeking of beer and said, "I
think we are, pretty-boy. Don't worry. If anyone tries anything, tell them
you're with me."

I laughed. "With you? You mean like my boyfriend?"

He pulled me in closer. "Fuck yeah, baby! You know we would be. You know
you're my bottom boy," he laughed.

I laughed again and pushed him away as he playfully punched me in the
shoulder. Every guy in that bar turned and looked at us, whispering,
pointing.

"Hey. Nice ass," said a voice from a sea of faces.

"No shit. I'd like ten minutes alone with those two," I heard another voice
say.

"I bet the older one is the bottom," another guy said with a low gravelly
voice.

My best buddy stopped and turned. He put his arm around my shoulder.

"Sorry boys. You'll have to settle for look but don't touch," he flirted,
"but this one..." he pointed at me, "this one loves it hard and
rough. Don't ya pretty boy." He winked at me.

"Fuck off, asshole," I laughed as I punched him in the shoulder. "You
wish."



He winked again as we made our way towards the bar.

"What was that all about, you dick? Why would you tell them something like
that?" I asked.

"Uh, because they loved it. We're hot. Look around. We're the hottest dudes
in here." he slurred.

"But we're not gay," I said confused.

"They don't care, pretty-boy. They know we're straight. A gay dude likes
nothing more than to think he can turn a hot straight guy. Besides, a hole
is a hole."

I raised my eyebrows when he said that.

"What? Don't be so fucking uptight. Have some fun!" Then, suddenly, he gave
me a quick wet kiss on the cheek, "when in Rome!" and then shouted,
"SHOTS!" as he grabbed my hand and dragged me to the bar. His hand was warm
and big. I looked down at our hands intertwined as he pulled me through the
sea of men. I wasn't repulsed and I didn't want to let go.

We spent the rest of that night drinking shots, which we never had to pay
for. Dudes were paying for our drinks all night. I found myself shirtless
on the dance floor a few times, that was a surprise.

At one point, I lost track of him. He was gone for about fifteen
minutes. But some muscled up Hispanic dude kept me company while he was
gone. Nice guy. Name was Hector. Dude was fit as fuck. Big and masculine,
hunger in his eyes. Must be an alpha-gay if that's a thing. We played a
game of hunter/prey. I wasn't looking to hunt anyone but I didn't want him
to think I was prey. It was a lot of staring each other down, only I was
trying not to come off as gay. Hector on the other hand, he was making it
perfectly clear that he was gay and I was his next conquest. I tried to
keep myself at arm's distance but he just kept getting in my space.  I fed
off his masculine aura. It was like our energies were grazing and sending
electric shocks up into our bodies.  After ten minutes, I found myself
right up against him. He smelled like soap and musk. His hand made its way
to my lower back as we chatted. It was strange but at the same time,
erotic. Hector was a cool guy. Kept grabbing my ass though.

Finally, host shows up with some gay dude named Tyler or Taylor, or
whatever.  I asked him where he'd been. He evaded the question and just
mussed up my hair and drank my beer.  The kid was about my age and had a
very cut, solid body. Not as good looking as me but I could see why gay
dudes would like him.  Tyler was totally into the older guy and he was
definitely interested in me. More than a few times, Tyler tried to cop a
feel. Hector immediately gave him the stink-eye. We were all introduced and
we all hung out and drank, danced, goofed off. It was a surprisingly fun
night. Hector continued to try to get in my space all night but finally he
gave up and went off to find someone else to stalk.

The next morning, late, we met up to work out and we laughed and talked
about how fucked up we were the night before. Like I said, I'm an idiot. I
have no problem being ogled by gay dudes, it's flattering. He didn't have
an issue with it either. By the time I got home last night my thoughts
about the evening were far from uncomfortable. I had just spent the last
four hours in a gay bar with my best buddy, getting hit on by dudes,
letting them buy us drinks and ogle us and it was the best time I've had in
ages. I was hung over as fuck but I didn't care. All I wanted to do was get
here to the gym to see him again.

It was leg day. He liked leg days, he loved squats. It seemed like we did
an awful lot of them. I was squatting some insane amount of weight and he
decided I needed a spot. I thought it was odd since he had never spotted me
before while squatting. He stood behind me, his groin pressed to my ass,
hands on my waist and he shadowed me, ready to grab the bar if it became
too heavy for me. He was a little close to me during that spot but I didn't
say anything. I liked it. I'm a narcissist. Squat day was my favorite
because my ass had become a work of art since I started lifting with
him. High, tight and hard. Like I said, today he was much closer than
normal during a spot. He pressed his groin hard into my ass and continued
to do so throughout the whole movement. My dick became stiff.  I returned
the weight to the rack quickly since I may need to cover up the fact I was
getting stiff in spandex Nike tights.

That's when everything changed.

"Good boy. Ass is looking good, buddy," he said nonchalantly as he smacked
my left cheek. I flinched.

"Hey!" I yelled as I rubbed the spot here he slapped me with my hand.

His hand slapping against my compression tights was loud, echoed in the
room. His hand was cupped and I felt a slight squeezing pressure from his
hand. First, he's never told me my ass looks good except when he was
teasing me. Second, he grabbed my ass! Third, I fucking liked it.

"What? Those guys from last night were right," he said matter-of-factly.

He added weight and got into squat position. I assumed he wanted a spot so
I positioned myself behind him. That's when he stood up and turned.

"Whoa. What are you doing?" He asked defensively and pushed me back a step.

I was confused. "I'm spotting you."

He shook his head. "Oh, no you're not," he added defiantly.

"Huh? I spotted you yesterday on the bench press." I asked, still confused.

He looked me straight in the eye and quietly, forcefully replied, "Back
off, pretty-boy. I do not need spotting."

"Why not? You spotted me." I threw him a look that said I was getting
pissed. "I was just trying to help."

"I can spot you on squat days." He pointed at me. "You don't spot me. Get
it?"

I was dumbstruck. He was dead serious and I was more confused than ever. I
was kind of intimidated.

"I... I... Ok," I stammered.

I watched him squat his set. He had perfect form. His powerful quads flexed
and his high and tight ass squeezed together at the top of the
movement. When he was done, I added more weight and returned to squat
position for my set. He took his place behind me again for a spot. I didn't
say anything and just ignored it. Again, he hugged my body close and put
both hands on my waist.

Quietly he said in my ear, "I got you. You can do this. Make me proud."
God, did I want to make him proud.

I squatted down to parallel, my bulbous muscled ass sticking out, his cock
pressed up against it, nestled in the cleft between my cheeks. I was losing
concentration as I tried to lift the weight to stand. He pressed harder.

"Come on. You got this. You're a fucking stud. You know that. I know that,"
he growled from behind while pressing harder into my ass. "Don't let
anything distract you. Up, up, up."

I pressed the weight up with a loud grunt, my face red and strained as I
came to the top, "Now, squeeze that fucking hot ass at the top of the
squat," he whispered. "Get it!"

I squeezed my plump cheeks together at the top. I felt his bulge caught in
between them like a nutcracker. I racked the weight and fell to my knees in
exhaustion.

He put his hands on my shoulders and squeezed. "Good boy. I knew you could
do it."

Out of breath, "Thanks," I reply panting. I stayed down, waiting for my
cock to soften. After a few minutes, I stand up slowly and lean against the
bar, looking at him in the mirror.

He stands behind me and looks around the room, it's mostly empty. He puts
one hand on my waist and the other on my ass. "I'd hit that...hard," he
said, looking at me through the mirror with a very sultry, sexy expression
on his handsome face. I must have looked scared or shocked or
something. "If I were gay," he added as he patted my ass. Oh, shit. I was
getting hard again.

"I got to piss," I say as I run to the locker room. I enter an empty
stall. I peel down my tights and my jock and grab my hard cock and jerked
it until I came all over the stall door. I cleaned it up with toilet paper
and open the stall door. I was surprised to find he was standing on the
other side.

"Everything ok?" He asked, arms crossed, slight smile.

"Yeah, fine." I reply.

"Good. I want to kick off early today. I think you've had enough
spotting...I mean, squatting."

I could feel myself blushing. "Uh, yeah. I'm ok with quitting early. My
legs are killing me."

"Your ass is killing me..." he said slyly and he turned towards the exit.

***

My phone buzzes that evening as I'm leaving my last class. It's a text from
him. My stomach flutters.

-HEY PICK YOU UP AT 9

                  *I got a date

-CANCEL IT

                  *Y?

-CUZ WE'RE GOING OUT TONIGHT

                  *We went out last night

-WHO FUCKING CARES

I stare at the phone. I find it difficult telling him no. Soon I was
thinking about how much more fun I would have hanging out with him than
her.

                  *Fine

-GOOD BOY SEE YOU AT 9

***

"Is that what you're wearing?" He asks, pushing me back into my room.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I ask as I look down at my shirt.

"Dude. No," he states as he crosses to my closet.

"Where are those jeans you got last week, the distressed ones?" He rummages
through the drawers.

"You mean the skinny jeans you made me buy? They strangled my junk."

 "Here they are."  He throws them on my bed.

He continues to rummage and toss things around in my closet. He's bent over
and I notice how amazing his ass looks in his tight jeans. Wow, those are
tight jeans.

"And here," he says and tosses me a t-shirt that hits me in the face. I
grab it and hold it out.

"No, man. This shirt is way too small. It was borderline too small even
when I bought it, before I got big."

"That's the point. Dude, you work hard for this body. Show it off. Don't be
a prude. I haven't made you do a million squats to not show off that ass,"
he says with a pat on the shoulder. And that's when I noticed his t-shirt
was also way to tight. Not tight in a bad way. Tight in a sexy way. It
molded to his pecs and his triceps. His shoulders were crazy hot. His waist
flat and tiny. His back flared at the top and tapered at the bottom.

"Where are we going?" I asked as I stripped down and squeezed my muscular
thighs into the tight jeans.

"Where ever the night takes us!" He messes my hair.

"Don't you have a wife and kid at home?"

"Nope! Wife is out with girlfriends and kid is staying with a buddy."

"You know for a man your age, you sure don't act like it."

He laughs. "That's why I get to hang out with you." He grabs my small
t-shirt and throws it over my head and slides it down my torso. "Now
squeeze that booty into these insanely tight jeans and let's roll."



***

After a couple of hours of bar hopping, low and behold, we end up at the
same gay bar as last night.

"Again?" I ask, looking at him out of the corner of my eye. "What are you
up to?"

"What? Do you not like free alcohol?" He grinned.

I thought about it. Last night was really fun. I guess it wouldn't
hurt. Who doesn't like free beer and being told you're hot all night? Even
if it is from guys.

"Can't say no to a free beer." I patted him on the shoulder as we entered
the bar. "Wait. Can we say you're with ME tonight instead?" I ask as I put
my arm over his shoulder.

"Oh, no," he scoffed. "You're the bitch."

"Why am I always the bitch?" I slurred.

"Because, you're always the bitch when you're with me," he said with a
gravelly, sultry voice.

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks a lot. At least wear a condom," I say
sarcastically.

"Why? You can't get pregnant," he smirks as he grabs my hand and drags me
to the bar.

***

Guys were hitting on us left and right. The free beers were rolling in. He
was flirting up a storm with any hot dude who complimented him. I always
just gave a polite "thanks" whenever a guy hit on me. I was trashed but
still was aware of the attention I was receiving in the tightly packed
space was from dudes. I was flattered but it's not their approval I
wanted. It was his.

My muscle-head Hispanic, Hector, from last night was back. I was very loose
and friendly after my fifth beer. I must say, Hector was looking
jacked. Skin-tight t-shirt. Painted on jeans. Great traps on him. Great
triceps. He sported a red ball cap that framed his square jaw and put a
slight shadow over his chocolate eyes.  He chatted me up and bought me a
beer.

"Hey, big guy. Good to see you're back. Not too many straight boys like you
make an appearance in a fag-bar two nights in a row." He winked as he shook
my hand and handed me the beer. His eyes lingered on my crotch and then on
my ass as he took my shoulder and slowly turned me around in a
circle. "Damn, bro. You paint those jeans on?"

I laughed. "They feel like it."

"You're here alone, I see. Now, I wonder why a hot straight boy would come
to a gay bar alone?" Hector grinned.

"Oh, no. I'm here with my buddy from last night."

"And?"

"And, uh... just hanging out, drinking, partying."

"Yeah? Where is he? Left you all alone, bro. That can be a dangerous thing
to do with guys like me around."

I smiled uncomfortably. I stood on my tip-toes and looked over the crowd. I
saw him surrounded by a small group of guys, some feeling his biceps as he
flexed for them.

"He's over there by the back door talking to some guys," I pointed.

Hector stretched his neck up to look over the sea of men. "He's over there
with those skinny twinks when he has a hot jacked dude like you over here?"

I turn and looked at Hector, confused. "Oh no, it's not like
that. Remember, we're straight, bro."

"It's fucked up is what it is. If I were him, I'd never let that sweet ass
out of my sight, straight or not." Hector winked a deep brown eye at
me. His dark brown smooth skin was vascular and his shirt barely could
contain his arms. The seams of his tight jeans struggled to hold in his
monster quads, not to mention his bowling ball ass. "Take a walk on the
dark side, big guy. You might like it."

 Soon Hector was becoming very handsy but for some reason I didn't
care. His warm hands were attached to my ass and I could tell how powerful
his hands were from his grip. He helped himself to my bubbled ass and
didn't apologize for it.

"Damn, baby." Hector growled in my ear. "That is one beautiful fat ass."

I gave him a drunken cocky smile. "I know, right?" I flirted. I admit it
felt good and I liked knowing this attractive dude thought I was hot. I
liked the fact that my beautiful ass made another dude want to touch it. He
knew I loved the attention. When a hot gay dude says, you have a hot ass,
you have a hot ass.

Hector handed me a whiskey shot, of course, I downed it. Over the next few
minutes the guy was getting closer and closer, rubbing my lower back then
down to my ass again. I could feel his breath on my neck.

"Sorry, straight boy, if I'm getting a little touchy feely. Can't keep my
hands off this cannon ball ass, big guy." He drew closer to my ear. "But
then, you're not complaining too much."

I flinched when I realized the hunky Latino was pushing his index finger
against my hole through my jeans. I grabbed his hand the first few times
and laughed it off.  'Uh uh, bro. Watch where you put that finger." I
slurred.

Hector gave me another shot. I was really fucking hammered by now. I liked
it that he thought my ass was so hot. I think he knew it. He began to be
more forceful, more aggressive. He struggled to slide his hand down the
back of my painted-on jeans, into my underwear, his warm fingers rubbing my
ass. I was frozen. Is this happening? Is this dude trying to finger me? Why
was I letting him do this to me? Nah, I'm just drunk, imaging things or
some shit. His hard, round pecs were pressed against my arm, his cock
pressed into my thigh. His muscles were rock hard. My adrenaline kick up a
notch and I lost my breath for a second as I felt his chest flex against my
tricep. His finger grazed my hole. He was taking what he wanted. I
respected that. He gently wiggled his finger on my bud. What the fuck? That
feels so good! I decided to just let him play for a while. While he
fingered the opening of my hole, I looked at Hector, my face serious,
barely able to stand and he knew it. Dude was taking full advantage of
me. Our eye contact was intense. His face became stern. His finger pushed
in a little bit more.

"Tight pussy," he whispered seductively into my ear. I swallowed hard as
the mix of alcohol and anal stimulation took over my better judgment.

 My ass tensed and I flinched again. I couldn't stop staring at him as he
slowly made me feel what he wanted. It was brazen and he loved my reaction
which was to stand there stiff and shocked and let it happen. Me, six-foot
tall, built like a mountain, tough guy was letting another dude have his
way with me. With glazed eyes, bloodshot, I continued to take in his
dominance. Damn, this dude was stacked. I knew he could see I was scanning
his ripped torso. I couldn't help it. He was doing the same to me. He
grabbed my bicep with his other hand and squeezed. He pulled his hand out
of my pants. He took a shot glass of whiskey and dipped his finger in
it. Staring into my eyes, he once again slid his hand into my pants and the
wet finger found my hole. I felt his thick digit pop through and slowly
slide in up to the first knuckle. My eyes exploded open, my lungs sucked in
air with a loud gasp. My mouth wide open. A tingle shot up my spine. I
stood there and just took it.

Hector leaned into me. "Ditch your daddy. We're leaving," Hector said
bluntly.

"What?" I slurred, not quite knowing what was happening.

Hector sneered at me, his voice became forceful and deep.

"You heard me." Hector jiggled his finger in my hole. My eyes rolled back
in my head as I gasped again.

Hector sneered. "That's it, bro. I'm going to put a baby in you by the end
of the night," he growled as he buried his finger as far as he could go.

I reached behind and pulled his hand out of my jeans. I suddenly felt
nervous, anxious, cornered "That's not going to happen." I laughed it off
uncomfortably. I was sloppy drunk but still knew a red flag when I saw one.

Hector squeezed the back of my neck. Gently at first, massaging but then
his grasp became tighter. "Listen you fucking cock-tease. We can do this
the easy way or the hard way. Trust me, I can take you. Personally, I enjoy
the hard way. Taking guys like you down is my fucking expertise. Love to
see big muscle boys like you try to fight me off only to end up on your
back and legs spread like a whore begging form my DNA. You think you can
say no to me but you don't want to. You want this just as much as I
do. Fucking cooperate and I swear you will never forget this
night. Alright, big guy?"

Hector got a little more forceful and grabbed my forearm and tried to pull
me away.

 I grabbed Hector's hand that was holding my arm. I cocked my elbow up,
fist tight and ready to strike. I'm about to lay Hector out when out of
nowhere a hand shoots out and grabbed Hector's arm.

"He's with me," came a low roar from behind.

My buddy must have been watching me and saw that Hector was bothering me.

Hector looked him up and down, sizing him up and then got in his
face. "Nah, old man. He's with me tonight. You're not even paying attention
to him. Left this sweet, sweet muscle pussy alone and out in the open? You
had your chance. The confused straight boy is mine."

"I said, he's with me and I'm always paying attention to him," he growled
as he pushed Hector back away. My best friend was drunk and slurring his
words.

I got between them and put my hand on his chest. My other hand on Hector's
chest keeping them apart. A slight tingle rang through me as I felt each of
their heaving pillow-like chests under my hands. I wanted to squeeze.

"I can take care of myself. Chill the fuck out you two idiots! Everything
is ok."

"No, it's not ok. This guy thinks he can just fucking take what's mine?"
His eyes were seething as he stared down the young Hispanic stud.

I turned to him. "Wait, I'm sorry, what?" I asked shocked.

He lashes forward, pointing a finger at Hector as I held him back. "If
anyone will be fucking him tonight, it will be me, cocksucker!"

Again, I'm shocked but, yet turned on.

Hector sneers at him. "Oh, so, not so straight and narrow after all?  Why
would he let an old man like you fuck an ass like this when he can have all
of this cock?" Hector pointed to his own crotch. "Besides, I'm not shooting
blanks," Hector said as he smacked my ass.

I turned to Hector and gave him a hostile look.

"Because he needs an old man like me who has the experience to fuck him
like he needs it, asshole. Trust me, I'm not shooting blanks."

"Really? I've been knuckle-deep in his pussy for the last ten minutes with
no complaints from him, old man," Hector bragged with a cocky sneer.

He shot a look at me. "What?"

My jaw dropped. I looked to each of them.  "What?... No!... Huh?" I was
speechless. I was trying to play stupid. I was also a terrible liar. I did
let Hector mess around with my pussy...I mean my hole. Oh, geez. I didn't
say anything. I just let him do it.

I looked at my best friend. His bloodshot eyes pierced mine. He pointed his
finger into my chest. "You let this douche-bag touch you?"

I stood back. "Wait. Ok, I think I'm too fucked up. I'm not sure what the
fuck is happening right now and in fact, I feel a little sick." I started
to head for the restroom. He grabbed my bicep and held me in place. He
pulled me into him until our noses were inches apart. I could smell
him. His breath was laced with beer, his eyes were watery. He clean shaven
square jaw was clenched.

Slow and deliberate he says, "Did. You. Let. Him. Touch. YOU?" His face was
red. His jaw still clenched. He was visibly trembling. I didn't know
whether to be scared or turned on.

"Yes. I mean no! I...uh...maybe... dude, I'm really fucked up right
now. Can we just go, please?"

Hector stepped forward and took my hand and began leading me away towards
the door. "I'll take care of him. Why don't you go on home and I'll make
sure I feed him breakfast after I load up his gut. He'll be eating for
two." I staggered behind Hector as I was being pulled with great
force. What the fuck? What is going on? I'm never drinking this much again.

He scowled at Hector. His face turning more red, veins popping out on his
forehead. He followed us and grabbed my other hand and held it in his
own. I felt like I was being torn apart like a wishbone. I thought fists
were going to start flying. I'm watching them exchange jabs and talking
about who was going to be fucking me tonight and I am in disbelief that
this is even happening. It was hot to have these two hot alpha guys fight
over me. It was even hotter to hear him talk about our sex life like it
really is a thing. Apparently, I'm a slutty muscle-bottom who likes it hard
and rough?

"Tell him how I fuck you!" he turns and says to me.

I look at him confused. "Tell him what?"

"Tell this meat-head how much you like it when I fuck you!"

Whoa! What the fuck is going on here? I pull away from Hector and turn to
my protector, almost falling over in the process. Alcohol has taken over my
motor functions.

I pull him aside, "Dude? What the fuck are you doing? You can stop with the
role play bullshit. The guy is an asshole." I stop for a moment, my head
starts spinning. "I feel like shit. Let's just leave," I plead. I put my
hands on his shoulders and lean into him. "Let's go, man.  I'm trashed."

"NO!" He yells in my face. "He can't come in here and take what's mine!"

"And he won't! I'm not letting him take me. Dude, you know what I am
capable of. I can kick his ass all over this bar."

"Don't care," he spat as he talked. "You'll never have to kick anyone's ass
again as long as I'm around. I'll fucking kill him if he touches you
again," he directs his words to Hector. Then he becomes still. He slowly
turns back to me. "What the fuck are you thinking letting another dude
touch you?"

"Ok, I think you are taking this fake boyfriend thing a little too far," I
said with a fake smile.

He gripped my bicep hard. "What were you fucking thinking? You let an
asshole like him defile you like that? After all I've done for you? This is
how you repay me? Giving up your pussy to any jacked-up muscle-head that
comes along?" His grip got tighter and he gave a slight jerk to my arm for
emphasis.

Hector laughed. "Yeah. He was."

"What?! NO! I'm not fucking queer! Let me go before I clock you," I growl
at my drunk buddy.

"You were going to let him cum inside you? So, is that what you want? A guy
who just uses you as a cum-dump? Is that it? Huh? Because I'll fucking use
you like a cum-dump if that's what it takes. You want your pussy full of my
cum? Because that's what's going to happen anyway." He almost sounded like
he was blubbering.

I must have looked like a complete idiot standing there frozen to the spot,
speechless. Watching for some sign of a punchline, that this is all a
joke. I looked around at the two muscle gods in front of me. I just shook
my head, my confused brain whirling.

"This is fucking bullshit. I'm leaving with or without you." I jerked my
arm away from him.

"Wait!" he shouted.

I turned. "What?"

He stared into my eyes. He looked towards Hector and then back to me. "I'm
the only guy who fucks you," he states, his eyes bloodshot. His jaw is
clenched. "You're mine...and you know it! Fuck it! Just fucking leave with
him. It's what you want." He pushes me away and heads toward the bathroom.

Hector steps over to me. "Whatever dude. If you want that old man dick in
your pussy than fine with me. Funny. I could have sworn you were two
closeted straight guys looking for cock when you came in here last
night. Both of you. Guess I was wrong. Here I thought I was gonna turn some
fresh confused straight-boy pussy...but it looks like HE wants to." And he
walked away.

A few minutes later, he came out of the bathroom and grabbed my hand. He
pulled me onto the dance floor.

"Let's dance," he grinned. He was suddenly in a much better mood. Note to
self, he's an angry drunk.

"I'm not fucking dancing! Let's get out of here. I'm done with you tonight,
dude." I'm pissed. I start to leave.

He whips off his tight shirt and then grabs mine as I'm walking away. He
yanks me back and pulls it over my head. I stop in my tracks and take in
that amazing body. Wow. Damn. Why do I get this way around him? Does he
really want to get with me? Do I want to get with HIM? What the fuck? I'm
not gay. He's not gay. Is he? Confusion coursed through my head.

He pulled me in closer and began dancing. Damn, he's a fucking great
dancer. Every muscle flexing as he moves his body, gyrating and
thrusting. He smiles at me. I laugh at him, not sure what is happening or
what I should do.

He pulls me closer, face to face. His eyes piercing mine. His hands roam up
my biceps to my shoulders. I hypnotically move closer, nose to nose. His
sky-blue eyes are like mirrors, hypnotizing me. I find my hands settling on
his waist. Do I want to kiss him? I don't know what I'm doing but I want to
kiss him. Nope. I can't. I can't do this. I cannot fucking do this.

But before I can pull away, his hand is on the back of my head and he pulls
me in and plants his lips on mine. I close my eyes and then open them,
hoping this is all a bad dream. But it's not. He pushes me back. We just
stare at each other for what seems like minutes. His eyes are telling me to
keep going. He wants this. I want this. I want him. Our lips crash back
together and suddenly we can't get enough of each other. His tongue invades
my throat. I suck on it as we feverishly kiss. Our hands are moving over
our sweaty muscular bodies, finally getting to touch what we've both longed
for, for months. We make out for song after song. Both rock hard.

He moves around behind me, spoons me and I can feel his hard cock encased
in his tight jeans pressing into my ass. He holds me around the waist and
hugs me tight as he thrusts against me. He pulls my head back against his
shoulder, turns my head and kisses me. He's so forceful, so powerful, so
dominate. I fucking want him. I want him in the worst way. I already know
what he wants from me. What do I want from him? I want to please him. I
want him to take pleasure from my body. I want to do anything he wants me
to do so he can get off and be satisfied and satiated. I feel him thrust
his cock against my ass again as he grunts into my ear.

His hand slides down into my underwear and I feel his fingertip on my
hole. "Mine." He grunts.

My heart drops into my stomach. I lay my head back on his shoulder and turn
my head towards him.

"Are you going to fuck me?" I'm panting. I gave in. I said the words. I
wanted nothing but to be with him. And I wanted him inside me.

He spins me around and kisses me again. He looks at me and presses his
forehead to mine.

"Yes."

He's calm, our foreheads touching. Sweat rolling down our faces. My cock is
aching so much it hurts. I reach down and feel his cock, stroke it. It's
thick. We're both breathing hard.

"So, I guess I AM with you tonight."

"You always have been."

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