Big Bro dove into Bud’s hairy ass, parting the furry cheeks with his huge paws while his tongue sought the musk of Bud’s sex, the new center of his own joy. On his stomach, Bud felt the rough tongue pluming the depths of his fuck hole, and kneaded the carpet just as Big Bro’s paws were kneading his buttcheeks. Bud lost himself in the pleasure of the grooming, of the bearded face against his furry buttcheeks, in the need mounting in his own loins.
Bud was roughly turned over onto his back, his legs wrapping themselves over Big Bro’s broad, hirsute shoulders. Big Bro’s cock found its target and entered the snug cavern where so many men had spilled their spawn, but which would now make room only for Big Bro’s essence. He entered slowly, ever alert for whatever sensations were revealed in his lover’s face, as eager to please as to be pleased. Bud gasped, only partly from the pain of being split so roughly apart, and partly from anticipation of the coming ecstasy. He nodded, and Big Bro pushed forward, slowly sliding into the hairy hole, into the depths of Bud’s body and soul.
The scent of their pheromones thickened the air around them, adding to the urgency of their need to couple, to climax face-to-face, to know and share the agony of the coming climax. They kissed roughly as they fucked, their teeth clashing together while their tongues wrestled for control. Big Bro pushed forward as Bud met each thrust with his own, his cock arching high into the air as Big Bro’s manhood drove deeper and faster into Bud’s body.
They came together. Big Bro’s cock once again exploded, expanding and stretching the confines of Bud’s guts. With Big Bro’s final thrust, Bud’s body arched toward the ceiling as he ejaculated, covering them both with cum. What Big Bro couldn’t catch in his mouth, he licked from the matted hair on Bud’s body, even as Bud returned the favor by cleaning Big Bro’s sweaty body.
They slept that night curled together on the floor, their bodies intertwined for the comfort of each other’s company as much as for warmth in the now chilly room. When they awoke, Bud prepared their breakfast, after which they spent an hour grooming each other before a short nap. When Big Bro stretched his body, he found Bud at the window keenly watching high-flying birds race past the apartment. He nuzzled Bud from behind, his cock poking at its new home.
“How old are you, Big Bro?”
“Don’t know. Why? Do you know how old you are?”
“No. I never bothered to count.”
“Not to worry, little bro, Big Bro will look after you now. Big Bro will protect you and keep you safe, and Big Bro will never put you on a leash.”
Bud leaned his torso forward and pushed his butt back to find and engulf Big Bro’s cock. That was all he needed to know.
When the Bills woke up the next morning and found Bud had vanished, they wondered where he had gone, but didn’t worry at first. As the hours passed, they became frantic, showing his picture to everyone and anyone. Finally, on the morning of their departure, someone recognized Bud from the fuzzy image on the mobile phone.
“Yeah, a couple nights ago he went off with this guy, big ol’ lion of a guy.”
“Where did they go?”
The man shrugged his shoulders and nodded to the front door of the hotel.
On the flight home, the Bills comforted themselves with the thought that strays sometimes disappear.
MASS ASS
Robert Patrick
A boy at the baths
Opened legs thin as laths
To invite any dick up his ass.
We clustered to fuck
This divine piece of luck,
Ev’ry putz in the place hard as glass.
We had come off the streets
Hunting fuckable seats
Scorning bars and the park’s grubby groves,
Seeking nooky, not names
Or good spirits or games
Where hot crotches abounded in droves.
The baths was alive
As if drones in a hive
Had come crawling for all they could get.
We crowded the halls
With a buzz in our balls,
But no honey was coming as yet.
We dropped down to see
That the steam room was free.
There was no ass to catch unawares,
And none in the cool,
Under-used swimming pool.
We returned to the hall-hell upstairs.
There were pungent perfumes
From occasional rooms
But most doors were annoyingly shut
As their renters, like me,
Walked around cockily,
Rather randomly roaming in rut.
Every man there possessed
What the others liked best,
Whether asshole or hard-on or mouth,
But it looked like the nest
Never would come to rest,
And all hopes of connections went south.
Though the usual thing
At the baths was to fling
Your door open and get yourself some,
On a night like tonight
Everyone was uptight
And nobody was likely to cum.
Every mind in the dim,
Dreamy den was a-brim
With idyllic, ideal, unreal acts,
Which seemed to eclipse
Any real lips or hips
Ever coming to grips with bare facts.
So the corridors sludged
As we judged as we trudged
All around in the shadows in hordes,
And the testicles hung
In between our legs swung
Full of seed as a garden of gourds.
When the cute youth came in
Through the masses of men,
He was hot, clearly not there to swim,
For he stripped like a whore
In his wide-open door,
And we all caught the heat off of him.
To conceal our rude dowels,
We were wrapped in white towels
But the kid spread his out on his cot,
Then reclined on his back,
Plucked open his crack
And inserted K-Y up his twat.
Just a blond, bonny boy,
Not in any way coy,
Undulating gyrating crevasse,
Legs divided and bent
For to better present
Frontally, cuntily, ass.
The towel was to catch
Any leaks from his snatch,
All ejaculatory excess.
The thought of those drops
Seeping out of his chops
Escalated the hall’s horniness.
Then the kid closed his eyes,
Elevated his thighs,
And commanded all cocks in to cum.
Elders bruited around,
“There’s a butt wanting browned.
Better get into line and get some.”
Everybody had tongues.
Everybody had bungs.
Everybody bore seminal pods.
But the catamite’s blunt
Self-reduction to cunt
Ratified ev’rybody as rods.
So I felt myself swell
And I said, “What the hell,”
And got into the queue to give juice.
I stood with my hand
Underneath my towel, and
Pulled my pud to be ready for use.
Soon a long line had formed
And we heard the kid stormed
By the first fuck to enter his door.
How he moaned as the first
Of our company burst
In his lubricious tube like a boar.
Now the atmosphere was
Brash and bawdy, a-buzz
With the promise of pending release.
We were boys in a frat
Lucking out, looking at
A communal, anonymous piece.
We were sailors in port,
Self-advancers at court,
Soldiers eyeing
a drunk in a bunk,
Groaning drones servicing
A great, glistening queen
Amid sexual, insectual funk.
The kid was reduced
To a gap to get goosed
By our prods with explosive intent.
As our chargers got charged
His behind was enlarged
In our minds to a meat monument.
Race, religion, and class
Were dispelled by that ass
With its massive and passive reproof
That, divested of duds,
We were all silly studs,
Dumb containers for cum on the hoof.
Men who hardly would greet
If they passed on the street
In divisive, diverse uniforms
Here were stripped of disguise,
Bound as bulls by the rise
Of identical sensual storms.
In the backs of our brains
We discovered remains
Of religions remote as we played
In a crude, incondite
Eleusinian rite
That was once dignified and arrayed.
We were in Babylon,
Devotees duly drawn
Toward rolling, controlling white buns
Of a sexual slave
Cleft to show his dark cave
Where initiates got off their guns.
Deep in wells dug in rocks,
Persians cut off their cocks
And their balls to become temple whores.
So the boy in the room
Had become a huge womb
To seduce and reduce our gorged gores.
When such rites were proscribed,
Men were bullied and bribed
To enact them, defying the state.
In a dark alley-way,
An asshole in Pompeii
Scrawled the ritual Show hard, make date.
This religion, repressed,
Recrudesced and tumesced
Any time that men gathered with men,
And in barracks and ships
The hot hole in the hips
Was enjoyed as it always had been.
In Athenian heights
On particular nights
Men would drink not to think as they sprawled,
Then dishevel their robes
To reveal hairy globes
With a butthole that begged to be balled.
In Catullus’s Rome
With the Capitol’s dome
Hanging, clanging that butt was a vice,
Men ate asses in baths,
Flouting all aftermaths
Just to service each other’s sweet splice.
After pagan defeats,
In monastic retreats
Any pretty young novice was told
That he must grow a beard,
For the Fatherhood feared
That a fair face would get his ass poled.
In my southwestern land
Where the butthole was banned
As a joke not to be spoken of,
Cowboys wooed with the song,
“Nights are long, oh, so long.
Gotta get me somebody to love.”
All of us in that line
To defile the divine
Waiting wound that we heard being had
Had been taught we’d be burned
In hot Hell if we yearned
To deliver a load in a lad.
But the fever of youth
Told the tenderer truth
That the cock had to cum in the crack,
So despite gods and laws
We were lined up because
Gut was good and we wouldn’t turn back.
As engorgement peeled husks
Off the tips of our tusks,
Our sarongs bulged with prongs like pale fruits.
We all jerked uncontrolled
Through the waistband or fold
Of the towels that enshrouded our shoots.
We wankers in line,
Feeling phallic and fine,
Gaily joked as we stroked our taut tools.
Buggers worshiping butt,
Shuffling stallions in rut,
We all broke one of Everard’s rules
As we tugged off our towels
Among manly avowals
That the damned things were feeling too tight.
Uncontained cocks and balls
Sent their scents down the halls
As we waited for nooky that night.
All the bored employees.
Police-force retirees,
Saw us standing illicitly stripped
And were moved to object,
But retired from respect
Of the god by whom all goads were gripped.
A drunk coming in,
Gaped to see naked men
As he clawed with a key at his door,
And a dick brushed my butt
And my prick pushed a rut
As we jostled toward our hot whore.
For, oh, what a mass
Of assailable ass
Hung available there where we stood.
And oh, what a stock
Of respectable cock,
And we wondered if maybe we should…
So we played as we pleased
With the asses we squeezed
And the cocks that we teased in the gloom,
But we all knew we must
Hold our trophies in trust
For the priestess oiled up in her room.
The drunk stumbled out,
Waving hard-on about,
Looking funky and phallic and fine,
Then staggered to stand
Towel and tool in each hand
Like great droplets of dew
Or thick globules of goo,
Devotees shuffled forward like slaves
As the pricks who had spilled
Came out limp and fulfilled
Like the undead released from their graves.
When a man entered in
To that vaginal den,
Every aching erection would pulse,
Throbbing just on the verge
Of a seminal purge
As we heard each hot cocksman convulse.
Every brain in the chain
Fucked again and again
That vicarious, visualized slit.
Every act grew more quick
As each man felt his prick
Growing closer and closer to it.
How I swallowed a laugh,
Stimulating my staff
While forbidding my seed to disperse
In the glory and grief
Of suspended relief
Not unlike certain techniques of verse.
Then a fucker came out
Drooling cum from his spout,
And the cock before mine climbed the kid.
I ogled the mass
Of his big apple-ass
Slapping happily as he slip-slid.
My genitals got
So unbearably hot
That I let my hand slide to the tip,
For had I clutched the rod
I’d have shot out my wad
Watching that big behind grind and grip.
I felt what he felt
As he made his dick melt
In the ass that already was soaked,
And I wanted my stump
In his high-riding rump
Which made mean little mouths as he poked.
I was wildly aroused
By the thought of what housed
His exploring and goring extreme,
And I’d seen the huge knob
On his fat little lob,
Just the thing to give gut a good ream,
And his heaving, hot hole
Writhing out of control
Made my schlong long to ruin his rear,
And panting to pole
Someone in the male role
Had me feeling incredibly queer.
I twiddled my glans
And the next willing man’s,
While I watched all I saw of the fun:
Just my forefucker’s seat
And a pair of pale feet
On his shoulders as he got his gun.
My pulse muttered, “I
Could cram into that guy
To fuck him as he bucks in that bung,
And the next guy, you see,
Could get on and in me—”
But I just squeezed my meat where it hung.
Never, ever before,
As I eyed his back door,
Had I so longed to stuff a butt’s yawn.
I was me, I was him,
We were us, we were them
Who’d observe us in rut and climb on.
Universally male,
Universally hale,
Universally under cock’s curse,
Universally rapt,
Universally trapped,
Yawning yoni was our universe.
So I watched my prior priest
In the butt of the beast,
The upreared reliquary he raunched,
His desirable duff
Undulating to stuff
Where so many lewd loads had been launched.
I was flexing my thighs.