Content warning: This story contains references to or depictions of consensual sex between adults and minors. The story is entirely fictional.

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He Can Take It

By Zane B. Hawk ➧
zanebhawk@protonmail.com

Part 5

Mark was on the balcony of his hotel room. In less than 12 hours his vacation would be over and he would be driving home. He was still naked from his session with Mason. Still in a sex daze. His ball were still full and at this point they were beginning to ache for release. He massaged his dick with one hand and wondered whether he should get a load out now or hope Mason would come back or check out one of the apps for a quick release with somebody close by.

His phone pinged the familiar sound of a hookup app. Maybe that decided it for me, he thought.

"I'm sorry. Mom wanted to get ice cream. I'm going to try to come back after."

The profile picture was Mason's torso, no mistaking it.

"It's ok boy. How long do you think?"

"Idk. Dad wants to drive to some spot to see the moon or something."

The eye roll emoji emphasized Mason's age. Mark's balls ached anew.

Another message from Mason: "I think I want to try getting fucked..."

"You're gonna make me shoot right now if you keep talking like that. How much have you done with your ass?"

"I know it's a lot. I only used dad's dildo. And you're fucking huge. But I want to try it so bad. You seem like a really good teacher."

Mark's heart was pounding now and the kiss face emoji after "teacher" had him utter an audible, "Oof" to himself.

Mark casually squeezed and stroked as he chatted with Mason. He needed to know about the dildo, about why Gil would approve of them hooking up.

One of Mason's first hookups -- over a year ago, he was 14 -- was the father of a girl in his school. He met him on an app, lied about his age, and went to suck his dick. The guy hesitated when he saw Mason, but not much. They hooked up a few more times, only oral, and when the guy learned Mason's full name, realized he went to the same school as his daughter, he started to ghost.

Then, one day when there was a half day for teacher meetings at school. Mason came home and found his dad sucking the same guy's dick on their living room sofa.

Mark was outright stroking now and his dick was leaking steadily.

"All kinds of DRAMA from that," Mason typed. The guy left in a panic, Gil was in a panic, Mason didn't know what to say.

They talked after they calmed down, and Gil confessed to being bi. Begged him not to tell Jess. Mason confided that he was gay, and said he wouldn't turn him in.

He told his dad, after insistent prompting, that he had blown a couple of guys. His dad asked if it was anyone he knew. "That guy who just left," was Mason's answer.

"My dad grabbed his dick after I said that. I don't know if he even knew he did it. But I could tell he liked that we both sucked the same guy. I couldn't stop thinking about it later when I was jerking off and stuff. I guess that's weird."

"Everything about sex is weird if you let it get to you. As long as you're not hurting anybody, do what you want," Mark was being that good teacher. And he hoped to be the teaching the boy how to ride his dick very soon. The details were pushing him past the limits of horniness. His cock was leaving a puddle on the seat between his legs.

"I'm going to tell you something but you can't tell anybody," Mason wrote.

"Who would I tell?" Mark was giving the head of his dick short squeezed strokes. Any this point just ten of these strokes would bring him to the edge then he had to back off. If it weren't dark out he would be putting on an impressive show on his balcony. He wanted Mason back in his room now.

"One time we went to the guy's house together. Dad wasn't even in the same room when I blew the guy. But I guess he just kinda wanted to be close, you know?"

"Was that okay with you?"

"It was fucking hot. I mean I don't want my dad but it was so wrong that he was in the next room listening. Like right there while I sucked this daddy's dick. I honestly loved it."

"You're driving me crazy, kid."

"We're at the ice cream place now. Chat later."

Mark put the phone down. Regardless of whether Mason would be coming back later, Mark needed release now. There would be plenty left for later too. He scooped up the precum from the underside of his cock, where it had run all the way to his balls, and he smeared it around his head and shaft. Closed his eyes, leaned back, straightened and tensed his legs. An exhale. A moan. Right hand to left nipple.

Then there was a knock at his door.

"Goddamn it," he said aloud and stood. He opened the sliding glass between the balcony and his room, stepped into the cool air. He reached for the cutoff sweatpant shorts from the bed. He noticed a spot at the edge of the mattress saturated with Mason's saliva. He stretched the waistband over his straining dick and a long strand of clear precum released itself, making an obvious dark mark on the gray fabric.

Fuck it, he thought. Maybe it will scare them off.

At the door was Jonah with a tall glass in each hand.

"You like gin and tonic? I swiped these from the bar."

A little surprised by Jonah's sudden appearance and his obvious assumption that he was going to be invited in, Mark stood with his arm braced on the door frame making an implied barrier between Jonah and the room. He was used to people reading these signals from him and complying. Jonah just smiled at him and said, "So, how was it? Can I come in?"

How was it? repeated Mark in his mind. There was no way Mark could close the door now without finding out how Jonah knew something had gone on with Mason.

"Yeah, come in," he said with resignation. Jonah stepped in and looked down at the growing wet spot and obscene bulge in Mark's shorts.

"Is that thing ever soft?"

"I was in the middle of something." Mark said it with a flat, frank tone. A little annoyed at being denied -- for the second time in an hour -- the orgasm he needed so badly. But he was trying not to let the hormone rage make him hostile.

They returned to the balcony. The wind had shifted and the smell of the ocean lifted to them. It blew through the imported palm trees, whose tops were at the level of Mark's room. Their fronds arched up and curled downward in a horn-like spiral from the twisting breeze. The sound of waves incessantly surging was clear, but only their dimly highlighted lines of spume were visible in the moonlight.

"So, how was it?" he asked again and sipped his drink.

"How was what?"

Jonah lifted an eyebrow. "I told you some serious stories on the beach. You don't have anything for me?"

Mark, still annoyed at his orgasm being stolen yet again, gave just the basics. "He wanted to come in. He wanted to suck my dick, so I let him. But then his mom called and he left." Mark sipped.

"Yeah, they went to get ice cream."

"How did you know?"

"Gil told me. He was sucking my dick when Jess called him to go get ice cream." That smile.

"Mother fucker," Mark's dick wasn't going down.

"Au contraire," Jonah said. "Father fucker. And son fucker." He raised his glass.

Mark had to chuckle. And he had a moment of realization -- this adventure, this thing that was happening right now, this was how he would clear the slate. This was getting the years of sexless misery behind him. He felt himself choosing it. Pleasure. At least just for tonight.

"Hey, you have that vape on you?" Mark asked as he downed the last swallow of his drink.

"You know it."

Mark took a hit. He didn't smoke weed often, but if ever there was a time to do it, now seemed right. He needed to relax, let himself fall easily into the pleasure that hopefully would be coming when ice cream time was over.

"Gil could read the signals between you and Mason as easy as I could." Jonah took a hit as well. "And he totally got off on me telling him what I thought you two might be up to in here while he was gagging on my cock. You should have heard the noises he was making. And the size of the puddle he left in my room. Poor cleaning lady."

Mark's head was simultaneously screaming This is fucking crazy and This is exactly what I need. He took an enormous hit that swam into his brain fast.

"What did you tell him?" The question was driven by pure horniness. Mark squeezed his dick through his shorts, felt his balls tender as his hand made contact with them. The reality that he had been so close to cumming in one of the hottest sexual experiences of his life, only to have the wave cut off seconds before sinking a massive load into the boy -- this became a physical reality that generated a very real and urgent need in his body.

Jonah explained what he had narrated to Gil, and he had gotten many of the details right. The cock sucking, the attempt at deep throating, Mason's hesitation about anal.

"And why do you think all of that?" Mark asked. He didn't want to reveal his surprise at just how right Jonah had been, but he wanted to know how Jonah knew so much. And, just as motivating, Mark was starting to feel high, loose, still horny, and he wanted to relive the session.

"Honestly, it's all right there. I know from Gil that Mason likes older guys. I could see how he was looking at you. Gil told me tonight that he had sent Mason down to the water to watch you and that cub messing around. That was pretty fucking hot, I thought." Mark squeezed the head and more precum oozed out beneath the gray fabric. "Besides, Mason definitely wanted you. And you wanted him." Jonah looked down at Mark's impressive hardon in his shorts. He continued, "So what's a horny boy going to do if he has a chance with the older beefcake of his dreams? He's going to drop to his knees and suck a dick." Jonah took another hit, passed the vape to Mark.

"And you don't think I fucked him huh?"

"No, I don't think you fucked him. Gil says he doesn't think he has all that much experience. And," Jonah nodded toward Mark's dick, "dude, you're big. He's not going to take that in the thirty minutes between dinner with Mom and Dad and going out for an ice cream cone."

Going out for a damn ice cream cone! The kid might as well be in school uniform shorts and wearing a Spongebob backpack. Mark's cock lifted from his thigh, picked up the gray fabric of the shorts with it.

"And as far as knowing that you didn't cum, well..." He nodded once again toward Mark's jumping dick a shrugged an isn't it obvious?

The weed was hitting Mark harder now. He had intense focus on thoughts and details, but the focus was myopic and had him linger on images and ideas for either a second that felt like a minute or a minute that felt like a second. Everything was connected -- his conversation here on the balcony, the experience of the boy on his bed gagging around his cock, other throats he had fucked, boys he had seen and wanted, his sexless ex, the beach's naked bodies, Jonah the elemental creator of pleasure -- rather than a linear timeline it was all together in one overlapped collage.

"You left out the part where he told me his dad gave him a dildo to use. And how sucked the same cock his dad had sucked, while his dad was in the next room listening."

"No shit? Damn. That's hot. Gil is a real perv. I mean I can tell he cares about the kid and isn't going to damage him or anything. But he's a horny fucker, and that boy getting cock turns him on more than him getting cock himself. No matter how filthy I talked about his son while he was sucking me, it just turned him on more. I told him he'd have to give his son an enema, coach him on how to take your massive dick in his little hole. He slid my whole dick right down his throat when I said that. And he always made sure that wedding ring was on display, right where we could both see it. Hot fucking perv."

"I need to cum." Mark hadn't even meant to say it.

"My cum is in Gil's stomach right now so I'm okay for a little bit. But, yeah, you need to cum. He's coming back right?"

"He said he wants to. I let him take a room key. He wants to try getting fucked."

"No shit? Is he the youngest you've had?"

"Yeah, by years. I've always been careful."

"And that, my good man, is your exact problem." Jonah stood. From Mark's seat Jonah's form seemed warped into a caricature of a taller shape, noble and thin, upright. Jonah leaned over the balcony railing. His neck turned and he looked back toward Mark. "I think you're going to chicken out when it comes down to actually doing it."Jonah reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial with a squeeze dropper lid. He was above Mark, silhouetted against the sky whose haze was dimly lit in gray from the moon behind it and iridescing multicolored lights from the street below. "This is something different. It does a great job of letting you just go with it, getting you out of your own head. Lets you just enjoy the ride. That whole thing about dreaming things into reality -- this helps you connect those two worlds together."

"What is it?" Mark was looking up at Jonah, whose expression was kind, guiding, empathetic.

"I make it myself. It's nothing crazy. You only need a couple drops under your tongue."

Mark's phone pinged. Mason sent: "Dad says we'll be at the hotel in 30 min. I told him about you when Mom went to the bathroom. He said he'll make sure Mom doesn't bother us."

Mark felt his face burn and the inside of his body go cold with anxiety. What if Gil was going to turn him in? What if Jess had overheard? What if he was being set up for some tv show and his life was over? Not all of this was sensible, but when everything is connected and everything is possible, no danger feels absurd.

Another message: "He said he has something so I can be clean for you before I come back daddy. That's why I was so scared before tbh. I would die if things weren't clean."

Jonah was offering the vial. It was at Mark's eye level. Mark's attention was on the infinity tattoo on the web of Jonah's hand. The same tattoo that had annoyed him on the beach now fascinated him. It appeared to be animated, snaking around the figure eight form without beginning or end. He looked up saw Jonah in faceless in silhouette, tall frame against the Stygian sky. Jonah stepped toward him, which aligned the outline of his head with two of the spiraling arches of the palm trees. They looked like an extension of him.

"Okay, yeah." Mark said to the vial. His heart was racing.

"Open your mouth. Lift your tongue."

Two drops. Licorice and metal.

That'll help

How long

Calm

Absolution

Permission

Now.

Mark began to speak at some point. "I fucked a guy in a bar bathroom once. I pushed his head into the urinal. A bunch of guys stood next to him and pissed on him while I destroyed his hole." Mark didn't know why he said it and didn't know if it was a fantasy or memory. He saw two lines of men on either side of a prone body, cocks in hands, a centipede of arms and legs and dicks with horns of piss arching down onto the body and soaking it.

He could feel the exhilaration of fear felt by the man who had asked him to break in to his house, drag him from the sofa to the bedroom, break him and never stop. And the hand puppet in his basement no longer human, babbling in tongues with Mark's hand inside, half way to his chest. Small mouths with tight gripping fingers instructed across generations of need.

From somewhere Jonah said, "That seems about right. I knew you had stories too. Don't worry. You're fine."

Mark was naked now. He might have seen his shorts falling from the balcony to the ground far below. He was standing. He was aware of himself walking into the room. Hand on the door. For a very logical reason he chose not to slide it closed. Something to do with sweat. That reason is lost as soon as it arrives. On the bed and jerking off. Precum flowed like lava without stop. Eyes not open. From somewhere else Jonah said, "That seems about right. Don't worry. You're fine." He felt more than fine. He was face down on the bed now. He was face down and he could see himself face down, humping the mattress with no shame over his need for release. It was transcendent.

"This is all part of it. Things will get clearer."

Things got darker and things were going only by feeling now. So much better than anything. At the center of the room's-- the building's-- the world's maelstrom of sex, the eye of the storm from which everything came and where everything was going, was Mark's engorged cock and balls. It was a lighting rod, a divining rod, a monument to sex, an altar to perversion, and then Mark fell asleep, thanking Jonah as the comfort sucked him in absolutely.

But then, now or hours from now, the door opened with light and Jonah stepped out or in. Alone or with one or two or a hundred. Then Mark saw himself in church as a child. Communion in his mouth and him administering it. It was his cum. He saw his cum splat onto the face of an undeserving and bruised face beneath him in a bathroom stall. He was thirteen, jerking off at the third grade neighbor boy outside his window and saw his cum spray nearly to the ceiling. Mark was sitting upright now. The hotel room door closed them in, and it closed the world out.

Mark heard his own voice say, "I'm gonna treat your little throat like a cunt that needs to get knocked up." And Mason's voice replied, "Okay, Daddy."

While lucid dreaming we can will things to happen.

Warm velvet butterfly wings wrapped around Mark's dick. He reached down and placed both hands on the head bobbing up and down. It was Mason's head. Mason was eager, trying to take as much dick into his throat as Mark had given him earlier. With each gag Mason would pause, not backing off, allow the flow of throat mucus to slide down the bottom half of Mark's shaft, down his balls, puddling on the mattress below, and then he would push himself farther.

"That's a very good boy," Mark said as the throat opened more, took more of him in. He allowed himself to picture Mason in his own bed, not yet with the broad shoulders, dick smaller, less hair, naked and stroking. Mason was touching his own ass out in pleasure instinct. Then Mark saw Mason's leg flex against the football team bed spread, his face turning red. The first watery orgasm of his life, just a few spurts from that adorable uncut pecker. Mason looking down at himself open-mouthed in amazement and ecstasy. Wet tummy, wet hand, wet boycock.

Mark took charge of the head between his hands and guided it up and down his shaft for several strokes, finding limits, then easing off and letting Mason take over once again. Mason looked up at him, "Daddy, can I touch myself?"

"Don't cum," was Mark's reply.

Mason reached down between his legs and started stroking and went back to work on Mark's cock.

In Mark's head, Jonah's voice said, "This is fucking hot man. Fuck. Look how much he loves it."

Mark was aware of Mason's ass in the air, pointed away from him. He needed to see the fresh virgin hole, hairless, winking and hungry.

He pulled Mason off his dick again. It seemed to slide out of his throat forever, like a magic trick, and then his face was glazed with slobber. Deep panting breaths. The look on his face asking for instruction on what to do next.

"Come up here. Sit your pussy on my face. Face away from me."

His inexperience had him turn and get into position awkwardly. He lowered himself down. His balls were drooping at Mark's face and his cock arched up. In his squat his tummy dipped. Mark accepted it as an offering: Mason sacrificing his insecurities to the gods of pleasure. Opening his whole self without reservation.

The balls came close to his mouth first and Mark tasted them. Salty. Never shaved but nearly hairless. His nose was just behind them, inhaling the young scent of nervousness and excitement.

His perineum was covered in soft, short, blond vellus hairs. Barely noticeable. There was a strawberry seam running from Mason's scrotum to his hole. Mark reached up both hands to Mason's hips, slid him forward to move his tongue from the balls to the area where he had pressed his fist earlier. He pulled Mason's hips down, forcing more than his body weight into Mark's face and tongue. He licked with a broad and forceful tongue pressing into the boy's taint.

Mason's breath changed from shallow huffs to deep draws of air. His hands went to Mark's hips to brace himself.

As Mark lapped at the boy he inched farther back with each lick. It was the smell of salt water taffy. Brie. Baking bread. From a distance he heard again, "Fuck. Look how much he loves it."

Mark could see the hole now. The pink seam terminated in a pink dot disappearing and appearing with the rhythm of Mason's breath. Three more thick-tongued laps and he made contact. Looking up between ass cheeks he saw Mason's back move upright, hands removed from Mark's hips, full weight descending on his tongue. Mason's thick back muscles pulled his chest open, head falling back.

Mark pushed and it relaxed around his tongue, hugging it.

Mason made a sound, like a child whining for something he wanted badly but had been denied. He made the sound again when Mark pushed his tongue farther.

Mark heard, "Grind on him," in a voice that sounded like his own, but even in this state of ecstatic derangement and dream he understood he could not speak with his tongue embedded in this ass.

Mason began grinding, pushing himself down. Mark knew in this moment, feeling this for the first time, Mason cared nothing about how he looked, sounded, who saw, who heard. Consequences didn't exist.

Hands began stroking Mark's cock. Two hands working slowly and matching the ebb and flow of Mason's hips. His cock was slick from the lube provided by Mason's throat. Just don't cum yet Mark reminded himself. At the thought he was aware he hadn't experienced a wet dream since he was Mason's age.

Another vision of the third grade boy in the pool next door. Mark soaking his childhood bedroom wall with cum.

Mason's breathing was noticeably fast and shallow again and brought Mark back. Each breath was punctuated with a word from the young voice: this--feels--so--good.

Hands were on Mason's back, a gold ring, soothing, guiding the gyration in a looping figure eight. Mark saw or pictured an infinity symbol.

Mason was given water to drink. In the dim haze of the room and his mind, the cup caught a reflection through the open balcony doors and gave the impression of a golden chalice. He swallowed, swallowed swallowed, breathed, pushed his ass back down on Mark's face.

Mark was settled in to eating this perfect ass and having his cock stroked for the rest of the night. This could be the rest of his life. Then he heard Jonah's voice close to his ear. "He needs more than your tongue."

"Is this real?" Mark said to the lean man.

"Dream big or dream small. Let's see what that mind of yours can produce," he answered.

The boy was face down now with his ass, alabaster cream and rose, arched upwards. Mark tongue was still imbedded deeply and squirming inside the boy. Mason pushed back on his face. His moaning was loud now, going out the balcony door into the night.

The deeper Mark probed the more tang electrified his tongue. At the entrance there was soap, freshly cleaned, with a hint of sour lemon. When he worked it open there was the shock of a penny rolling around on a wet tongue. When he Mason relaxed and his tongue when deep it the chute, it was as though is tongue touched a battery. Mason uttered, "Oh my Gooood," with no sense of shame at who might be hearing him or seeing what a slut he had become for this man.

Mark grabbed Mason's hips and pulled his ass backwards and onto his Mark's mouth, pushed his tongue in even farther. He wanted to be deeper into this boy. He wanted to be the first to open him. He wanted to reach inside and plant a seed in him -- life -- a venom that the child would never be able to remove from his mind. Ruined for any other man.

"This is part of it. Things will get clearer."

And then they did.

Mason was on his back. He was being given more water. Told to drink as much as possible. His ass was near the bed's edge and his feet planted wide. A man stood at either side of the boy. Mark stood between his open legs. It looked like a birthing ritual, but in reverse.

"Oh, Daddy," Mason said. He was red in the face, across the chest and shoulders. His lips were engorged and puffy. He was panting.

Marked asked one of the men, "Is he your son?"

"He's yours. I'm giving him to you. Take him."