Griff the natural

by BRK   

On a relaxing cross-country road trip, Griff can’t help but make a couple of sexy new friends. That’s just the way his life goes.

Griff let out a contented sigh and bent a sun-toned, athletic arm to lie across the top of the window-lowered driver’s side door, the air in his handsome face and riffling joyfully through his long, wavy mahogany-brown hair above his classic Ray-Bans like a bit of highway mane-tousling was all the restless, kinetic windforce of the earth ever wanted.

Griff didn’t blame it. Masculine pleasures aside, there were few things better than driving down the open road on a mild, sunny spring day with the windows all lowered, the top down, and nothing between you and the big blue sky—shirts included. Griff was blessed with smooth, perfect skin that browned gently and easily, making moments like this under the sky and sun a real gift.

Actually, it was a gift, in a manner of speaking. His slow-tan, UV-resistant skin and highlight-friendly hair were hereditary traits he was genuinely grateful for, like his casual muscularity and his innate ability to draw good-looking, well-hung men to him with a bit of eye contact and a sweet, disarming smile.

All the men in his family were born hunk-magnets. His dad, a bright-eyed seducer with high cheekbones and the most distracting lips Griff had ever seen on a man, had the killer looks and perfect head-to-toe proportions for a top-drawer model, if it weren’t for the fact that Corwin Reese was an active man and to him modeling seemed to involve more time posing than doing. He wanted men caressing him, not cameras, so he went into Formula 1 racing—where he ended up being photographed plenty anyway, often hooking up with the spellbound camera guys and his equally handsome track rivals afterward.

Come to think of it, Griff’s ex-Navy grandfather had been a male model back in the early 1980s, before converting his garage-tinkering hobby into a career and starting his own electronics research firm. Family legend had it that his fuzzy-chested, sly-smiling full-page ‘70s-throwback catalog spreads and provocative, nearly-unclothed in-store displays had been single-handedly responsible for moving enough ultracomfortable no-fly fashion briefs (with plenty of room in the pouch, or so the ad copy promised) and snugly designed, butt-rounding jockey shorts in various colors to keep one of the old 1930s-throwback mail-order retail elephants alive a good five years past the point at which it should have folded.

Griff gripped the wheel loosely with thin-leather fingerless driving gloves as his tires effortlessly ate up the early morning asphalt that lay between Chicago and Cheyenne, patting the door of his ride with his similarly gloved free hand the way a rider might pat a horse that was both beautiful and strong enough to take you anywhere you wanted to go. He loved driving, he loved his black ‘99 Mustang GT droptop, the Killers mixing with the wind as the aftermarket Bluetooth speakers provided an unobtrusive soundtrack, and most of all he loved being free and shirtless in the open air. Even the sparse hairs on his aesthetically firm, sculpted chest were dancing around happily on the steady breeze, to all appearances enjoying the moment just as much as he was.

All he needed was a little male gaze and his day would be complete.

Not that he tended to be on his own long, as a rule. He’d just left some new friends behind back in Iowa not long ago, a trio of young, randy farm-strong hitchhikers he’d picked up on a back road after their ride had broken down on the way to the Jasper County spring artisans’ fair. His dick plumped as he remembered the fun they’d had in front of a dog bakery booth piled high with special cakey treats for doggies of the four-legged variety. Though it had been carefully wiped away after, Griff could still almost feel the special “icing” they’d sprayed all over his naturally chiseled abs, and when his little pack of pups had reluctantly joined their wives and families working the various booths he’d known it wouldn’t be long before he found new friends to play with.

That was just the way it went. Guys liked him, he liked guys, and everyone liked cumming. It was the most normal thing there was. If Griff had his way everyone would just relax and find each other and cum all the time. Until then he was happy to live his easygoing, natural, man-attracting life as a kind of unofficial brand ambassador for beautiful, uninhibited shared orgasming.

Even as he thought about sharing his serenity with a guy or two, he noticed a red Jeep Grand Cherokee catching up to him in the left lane on the otherwise mostly empty highway. Griff smiled. Though not a convertible like the Mustang, the SUV had its windows down, and the honey-brown, well-muscled forearm protruding from the passenger side looked very promising in Griff’s rear-view mirror. His heavy cock, still chubbed from the nostalgic memories of the morning’s county fair shenanigans, thickened a little further in his jeans, creeping sneakily along the crease of his hip without any pesky underwear to get in the way.

He let off the accelerator slightly, not enough to make it obvious he was slowing down, and after a minute or two the Jeep pulled up alongside him, keeping pace with the Mustang. Griff grinned over at the occupants of the Jeep, liking what he saw, and the guys in the Jeep grinned back, already pulled into Griff’s orbit by his perfect, inborn allure.

The passenger Griff had already seen a bit of, and the rest of him was just as hot as his forearm. The rippling of his loose sky-blue tee shirt as it moved back and forth in the wind effectively delineated the chiseled, thickly-muscled body it was rippling against. Round, cannonball delts and meaty biceps and triceps complemented ponderous, protruding pecs that were just as perfectly proportioned to his heavier frame as Griff’s were to his lankier free-climber, power-swimmer physique. The man’s light-brown skin seemed to shine in the morning light, and his face and smile were stunning even to Griff, who’d had exceptionally attractive men in his eyeline most of his waking life (and in his dreams) for as long as he could remember.

Beyond him was the driver, currently doing his best to stare at Griff and keep the Jeep on the road at the same time. He was ordinary only by comparison. A good-looking, trim boy-next-door type in a white tee shirt, he had loose sandy hair and a matching well-defined one-day beard, a tight body, and a winning smile that Griff guessed came so easily to him his friends and family might not recognize him without it.

There was something missing, though, as Griff looked him over, and it took him a few beats to realize what it was: this boy absolutely needed to be wearing your classic, OG straw cowboy hat—the raffia kind you reshaped as necessary and kept with you every moment of your life until it gave up the ghost and you got a new one. Griff hoped the driver did indeed own such a hat and it was safe in the back seat or stowed in the trunk, because if not something was definitely wrong with the world.

There was an exit ramp coming up, and Griff already knew from previous signage that there was a fruit smoothie-themed eatery off this particular turnoff. With a quick wink at the boys he pulled ahead and eased his Mustang into the exit lane. Slowing as he took the ramp, he watched his rear-view mirror closely. It only took a moment for the red Jeep to slide into place a short ways behind him, the occupants visibly on edge with anticipation even in the mirror. He even caught the boyish driver licking his lips, probably unaware he was even doing it. Guys were drawn to Griff, and this seemed to be one of those times they felt it strong enough to unintentionally wear it written all over them. Griff wondered if one or both of them was already mostly hard, their tumescent cocks simmering with need and anticipation just like Griff’s.

Griff smiled to himself as he slowed to stop at the red light, the Jeep close behind. He was going to have some fun with these two, before they got to have their fun with him.

He’d barely pocketed his gloves and started working the fancy self-serve smoothie machine in the chilly roadside eatery before he felt the warmth of very masculine presences close to either side of him, as though their thin magnetic aura were brushing Griff’s bare-chested, naturally buff physique. (There had been a sign in the door about shirts and service, but no one ever seemed to bring such things up with Griff.)

That they were standing so close was hardly unusual. Griff had heard about “personal space” but had never really experienced it, at least not when it came to hot guys. It was like the men he drew to him wanted Griff to sense them just from their bodies being a bare inch or two away, their attractive faces only to be seen in intimate close-up.

Griff settled the large cup with the “green energizer” fruit-and-veg base into the mixer receptacle and set the machine quietly chugging and churning, then turned to the beefier of the two men on his right. He was standing close and radiating arousal, but his expression was more subdued and a slight line had appeared between his brows as he stared hard at Griff, as though he were trying to figure out what exactly they’d stumbled across out here on the open plains, the majestic Rockies only now starting to make the horizon excitingly blue and jagged to the west. Griff wanted to take an index finger and gently smooth the little crease, like he’d seen a guy on an old k-drama do once.

Griff gave the guy an easy smile. “Hi, I’m Griff,” he said, letting just a scosche of disarming back-home drawl into his speech.

The thick-set bruiser’s eyes seemed to darken on hearing Griff’s voice, though this only made that line between his brows deepen a bit further. “Wayne,” he said, low and smooth, and Griff’s cock thickened substantially in his jeans.

He smiled a little more warmly. “Nice,” he said. Strangely, Wayne seemed slightly closer now, as if his body wanted to be against Griff’s so much it shifted its coordinates a few microns nearer on the universal atomic map. Griff nodded his smooth, square chin toward the refrigerated cabinet next to the smoothie machine. “What can I get you, Wayne?”

Wayne blinked and looked over at the carry-out smoothie maker as though noticing it for the first time. Griff smiled, letting him make his choice, and turned to Wayne’s boyish friend, who started talking even before Griff’s head was fully turned his way.

“I’m East,” the lightly-bearded boy said, his blue eyes shining as they met Griff’s. He was looking at Griff with a kind of naked awe, like he’d encountered something wondrous beyond imagining. He seemed to want to say something but was holding himself back, though his resistance didn’t last long. “Why do I want to touch you, Griff?” he blurted out finally. Before he’d gotten the words out, East’s warm hand was splayed across the muscles of Griff’s lower back, making East shiver slightly. When Griff’s smile widened at the touch, East grinned back at him.

“It’s perfectly natural,” Griff explained, turning a little so he could use the back of his hand to caress the very obvious tube of rigid flesh pushing out East’s jeans, the blue of which perfectly matched his eyes. Said eyes rounded comically at the touch. “Masculine pleasure is the most normal thing in the world.”

East’s face was close enough Griff could feel his breaths on his cheek. He was maybe an inch or two taller than Griff, an angle Griff very much appreciated. “I haven’t ever wanted to touch a guy before,” East confessed. “Or… be touched by a guy.” His pale cheeks reddened slightly at the words, but his hand was upping the ante, breaking its frozen stillness and moving around Griff’s lower back in small, slow circles. His teeth were white and perfect, just like the rest of him. Griff made a mental note to find him that hat if at all possible—it went even better with his aw-shucks personality than he’d guessed.

“You like cock, though, right?” Griff said patiently. “You like your cock, don’t you?”

East’s moving hand stuttered, just for a second, and his blush deepened. “Well, yeah, of course,” he admitted.

“Well,” Griff said, his smile sliding into a smirk as he turned his hand and firmly gripped East’s hard-on through the denim, “I like your cock, too.” East gasped, already panting, his eyes locked on Griff’s with a kind of wide, wanton amazement. Meanwhile, another hand had found his back, his time further up along the shoulder-blades and upper flanks. These caresses were stronger and more deliberate, and Griff knew Wayne had been unable to resist joining in now that the touching had started.

“So you just do this? Wherever you go?” East asked a little wildly, his circles on Griff’s back mimicking the rhythm of Griff’s slow up-and-down stroking of East’s long, rigid tool.

“There’s nothing more natural than a guy getting hard,” he said, moving on for a gentle, sensuous kiss. When he pulled back he met East’s stare and added as if he hadn’t interrupted himself, “…and nothing more natural than a guy cumming his brains out all over himself and his buddies.” His well-practiced hands undid East’s jeans in a few deft moves and found his cock, enticingly unencumbered by underwear of any kind. He wrapped his and around the shaft and held its length, savoring the feel of easily-accessible dick he’d had delightfully within reach since he’d gone out into the world as a man.

East’s breath seemed to stop for a millisecond. As the blissful moment stretched Griff felt Wayne’s hand on his back become a whole body—specifically his thick, ponderous pecs against his shoulder blades and his groin, rigid, blunt cock and all, against Griff’s round, hypnotic muscle-butt. Impressively, he immediately noticed that Wayne’s thick-built chest was pushing bare skin against Griff’s naturally flared upper back, like he’d recognized his role as part of this three-hunk sandwich, pulled off his shirt, and silently got to work. For someone seemingly nonplussed by the draw Griff exerted on men like them, Wayne sure knew how to slide in place and get with the program.

Wayne’s pecs were so thick there was still room for East to keep stroking Griff’s lower back, though Griff could tell from the feel of it that he was letting his knuckles slide along Wayne’s brick-like abs as well.

East couldn’t have been more turned on, his heated gaze flicking between Griff’s eyes and his kiss-buzzed mouth as Griff stroked his confidently in front of the smoothie machine, and when he spoke again he barely seemed aware of what he was saying. “You really do… this?” he asked in a whisper.

Griff slid his free hand under East’s blinding white tee, and East drew in a quick breath, Behind him, Wayne moved closer, reaching out to slide a hand along the side of East’s glute a little lower down and grab a bit of ass. “You remind me of this really cute guy I met in Laguardia airport,” he said. “Tall, friendly, sexy as fuck. Curious, too, like you,” he said, a little teasingly.

East was using all his energy to pay attention as hands pleasured him from all directions. “What happened?” he rasped.

Griff smiled. “He sucked my dick right there in the terminal waiting area,” he said, shoving his hand down abruptly and squeezing the base of East’s dick for two still beats before resuming his stroking. “Don’t worry,” he added, leaning in to nuzzle East’s soft, short beard with his cheek. “I returned the favor on the plane in first class. Twice.” He slid his tongue along East’s jawline. “I always seem to get upgraded.”

East gasped, his body stiffening. “Griff, I’m—I’m—what about you?” he panted.

Griff was touched by his politeness and made a playful nibble at East’s neck, under his ear. East moaned. “I’m close, too, we all are,” he said. “There’s room for two,” he added, “if—”

He’d barely got the thought before Wayne’s other hand was snaking around between Griff and East, undoing Griff’s pants with only a little less finesse than Griff. Wayne pulled out Griff’s long, thick, hot-as-fuck cock and immediately had it wrapped in his meaty hand. Only a second of hesitation elapsed before he felt its upper half and messy, leaking head wrapped in the more nimble hand of his other new friend.

“There you go,” Griff said. “Nothing more normal—”

“—than a hot guy needing to cum,” East finished.

“Or three hot guys,” Wayne admitted as he set his and East’s hands stroking Griff’s prodigious cock.

It seemed like no more speech was necessary, so Griff slid his face around to meet East’s lips and started kissing him thoroughly, their tongues almost a distraction to the ultimate male pleasure below. Wayne rutted rhythmically against Griff’s ass, his hard cock burning between Griff’s cheeks despite the intervening denim, the cadence of their stroked on East’s and Griff’s long cock matching Wayne’s steady, undulating thrusts.

Griff hadn’t been lying when he’d said they were all close. In mere moments a spectacular orgasm exploded through all three of them, sending hot, euphoric cum gushing onto two sets of abs, a gently-tanned v-shaped back, and a sexy white tee shirt. The three collapsed into each other in a messy hug, enjoying the floaty feel of serious afterglow so much they didn’t notice the local dilf trying to reach around them and use the smoothy machine without disturbing the blissed-out trio.

Later, the three stood outside, sipping their smoothies. Wayne and Griff had wiped each other off with East’s tee shirt, which he now had rolled longways and tossed over his shoulder, exposing a deliciously tight upper body that, while not in any way gym-developed, held its own against Wayne’s more epic frame. Best of all, East was now sporting a well-bent straw cowboy hat, as god and nature intended—it had been in the back seat of the Jeep all along, and East had retrieved it along with the small beat-up satchel he had draped over the same shoulder as his shirt.

“So, I’m headed to Cheyenne for a family thing,” he told the guys, enjoying the feel of sexual connection still coursing between them. “What about you two?” He looked at Wayne.

“I got work,” Wayne said. “Regional sales. Might be transferring soon, though,” he added thoughtfully, eyeing Griff. “Heading west, maybe.”

Griff smiled and winked. “That sounds like a fun opportunity,” he said. He got out his phone and Wayne did the same, in sync with Griff as always. They traded numbers and pocketed their devices, and Griff turned to East.

East was trying to suppress a hopeful grin. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” he said, dripping his head. “I was just hitching for fun. You know, see the world… the plains, the Rockies…” he added, tilting his head up to look at Griff from under the brim of his hat. When he saw Griff’s brows lift in surprise he explained, “Oh, Wayne was just letting me drive. I love driving and seems like he hates it.”

“I really do,” Wayne agreed.

Griff looked at East, a kind of erotic fondness welling up in him. “You are not going to be driving the Mustang,” he told him.

East beamed incandescently at him, knowing what this affirmation meant, and Griff couldn’t help grinning back. Even Wayne was smiling. “Understood!” East said, and the three quickly finished their smoothies, tossing the cups in a nearby garbage can and heading for their vehicles, Wayne for the Jeep and Griff and East for the Mustang.

Griff opened the passenger door for him and East was happy to climb in. As Griff walked around to the driver’s side, tossing a wave at the departing, maybe soon-to-be-remet Wayne, he felt great contentment and a comfortable anticipation. East might like to drive, but he’d have other things to worry about in the days ahead.

Griff cruised down the nearly-empty interstate basking in the brilliant sun, purring happily in sync with his spirited, road-eating black Mustang convertible. He loved being out on the road—especially with a friend.

Everything was right with the world. He had his sunglasses on, his shirt off, the wind in his hair, a spectacle of nature before him. His hand was on the wheel, his arm rested on the driver’s side door, and his hard was cock out and thrumming with pleasure from the slow, contented stroking it was getting from his equally chill, sandy-stubbled passenger.

He glanced down, enjoying the view in his lap every bit as much as the ribbon of dark highway coursing through the endless grasslands into the expanse of distant western foothills ahead. He’d always liked the look of his tall, rigid, extra-wide cock from above. Of course, he’d seen it from all angles many times—some of the guys he lured into his orbit with the barest of efforts thanks to his natural magnetism tended to take pictures, usually after and sometimes during—but seeing it from this perspective really emphasized how stout and assertively present it was. He loved the way its considerable heft was concentrated a little forward of the line of diameter, the back bowing out (as he saw it) a tad less than the front, the whole thing like an asymmetric oval. The shape of it from this perspective was undeniably hot, even before you started picturing it sliding into things.

Like a dude’s willing fist, for example. Maybe Griff was reading into it because of how much pleasure it got that way, but the cross-section contours of his meaty tool looked perfectly molded to fit the human hand.

It certainly felt like his tool was meant for hands to pleasure it, just then, and the shape and girth were a big part of it.

From loads of experience (as it were) Griff knew his tool to be exactly the right thickness for the average guy to just reach around it, the thumb of the stroking hand barely brushing the tip of the second finger as they caressed the length of his pleasure-wallowing, granite-hard shaft, the fist only contracting naturally as it reached the messy cockhead before descending for another leisurely, freshly slickened stroke. His current companion, East—the sweet, boyish nomad he’d picked up at the smoothie shop five counties back—turned out to be serendipitously blessed with long, clever fingers, enough so that his grip on Griff’s cock was a little firmer and more masterful thanks to an extra bit of digital overlap. Griff’s dick still dominated the view, like a three-inch steel piston seen from above, its smooth, slick circumference ringed by a round, pink gasket meant to provide exactly the right kind of drag.

He smiled, glancing up at the highway and then down at his dick again. His slit was staring up at him, like it was waiting for the chance to blast his face with cum. That was the other thing he liked about the top-down view of his big, unslakable tool. He’d ogled plenty of men’s dicks over the years, enough to know that a hard-on so erect and so vertical its thickness pointed itself straight at your head was relatively rare. It was like a piece of fixed artillery, always aimed where it had first been set and rooted in concrete. As he watched East sliding his incrementally hand up, a thick bead of precum welled and the slit became all swimmy with clear, copious precum—a physical manifestation of the low-key shivers of pleasure his passenger’s steady, languidly serene handjob had been thrilling him with since the North Platte interchange.

After another glance ahead, he checked on East, who was looking so relaxed in the passenger seat he might as well have been the embodiment of bliss. Sunglasses covered his closed eyes, but Griff knew East was awake, lingering in that state of simple pleasure where everything was good and nothing was demanded of you. He’d kept his shirt off, letting Griff rub some sunscreen over his pale, perfectly defined torso at the last rest stop. (He’d let East reciprocate, not so much because Griff needed it than for the always-welcome sensation of slippery male hands moving over his casually muscular upper body.)

East had freed Griff’s cock from his loose jeans (no underwear to get in the way—his cock came out too often for that) quite a ways back, starting a rhythm in which he moved his fist over the immutable beast firmly but lazily, not really reaching for orgasm so much as just lolling in the primal mutual indulgence of one man stroking another, like it was the most essential and unquestionable activity a man could be engaged in.

Griff drew in a happy breath and let it out with a smile. Truly, there was nothing in life more natural than a hard prick being pleasured, and it warmed his carnal cockles to know that East, too, had found this elemental certitude. The guy had never even held another man’s cock; and now, like a student of a Socrates (in an alternate universe where sex was the teacher’s main concern), East had had the debris of his chimeric past brushed away, revealing the simplest, most basic truth there was.

East’s own cock was similarly rock-hard in his dark, new-looking jeans, making a long, delicious bulge along his hip as he lounged contentedly in the passenger seat. Griff found it impressive that East wasn’t tempted to gratify himself. Seemed like he was enjoying stroking Griff enough, there was no need for more than that just now. His sandy hair, shorter than Griff’s long, mahogany locks, riffled in the warm early-afternoon breeze, making a nice show. Sadly they’d stowed the straw cowboy hat in the back, neither of them wanting to risk East’s signature headgear being lost to the winds as they sped through the open plains of the heartland. Griff still kind of missed it—the hat would definitely complete the picture of the dissolute boy-next door, languidly getting his buddy off in the front seat of a GT drop-top, smoky sunglasses on and brim pulled down to hide his lust, plans for continued, unabated pleasure churning through his thoughts.

How to get him in that hat again? Maybe if they abandoned the interstate and took the scenic route down local country roads through the small towns and farmlands, they could get out the hat and—

Catching a motion in the rearview mirror, Griff noticed an eighteen-wheeler barreling toward them directly in line behind the Mustang. The juggernaut’s speed was clearly well past the speed-limit-plus-ten Griff’s powerful 4.6-liter V8 was smoothly maintaining. Before Griff could switch into the right lane and get out of his way, the semi slipped over and started roaring past them on the right. As it went by, Griff looked up to see the grumpy, reasonably handsome dark-haired trucker in the open window looking down at them—only for a look of impressed surprise to bloom across his face as he saw what was happening down in the little convertible. Instantly grinning, the trucker yanked his air horn twice in a quick toot-toot of approval before shooting past and down the road into the distance.

Griff laughed. East was chuckling, too. “Guess he liked the show,” East said, his rhythm uninterrupted as he worked his friend.

“Best seat in the house. Too bad he didn’t stay longer,” Griff added. “We could have gone for the big finale.”

East smiled over at him, stroking Griff a little more firmly for emphasis as he eyed him through his shades. “I kind of want to do it properly,” East said sagely. “And be a little closer to the owner of this beautiful dick while I do it.”

“Good plan,” Griff said. “We should get off for that, though. The highway, I mean,” he amended, smirking.

East looked over at the empty shoulder and the miles of grassland they were passing through as though scouting for a good spot. “Here?” he asked. Griff could hear the simmering eagerness in his tone, belying his outwardly relaxed demeanor.

“I have a better idea,” Griff said. He had seen a sign a ways back for a huge lake recreation area, including swimming, trails, water play, and more. He knew exactly where he wanted to pull off and unwind. “How do you feel about the beach?”

East snorted. “No way I’m lasting until California,” he said. The thick bulge in his pants jumped a little.

Griff grinned. Seeing the exit coming up, he slid over into the right lane. He was looking forward to a bit of sand and frolic with his new friend—and any other hotties who happened to want to join them.

The lake was massive, a clear blue expanse with wide, sandy beaches and crenelations set aside for swimming, boating, lakeside camping, barbecuing, and more. When packing for this trip back in Chicago, Griff had been expecting some picnicking once he got to Wyoming, so he had a big plaid blanket to lay out on the sand in one of the quieter spots where a few local guys were splashing in the sun-warmed water. Parking on the edge of the beach, they strode the few yards to a good sunny spot exactly as they were, shirtless and comfortably aroused, Griff with his pants open and naturally boned, East throbbing in his long-legged jeans. East had retrieved his hat, which Griff appreciated. They spread out the blanket, dropped the little canvas bag of supplies they’d brought with them next to it, and spread themselves out, ready to enjoy a low-key afternoon.

As soon as East was settled next to Griff, his hand snake out naturally for Griff’s cock, the knuckles skating along Griff’s tanned, lightly defined abs until it found its quarry. East sighed contentedly as he wrapped his hand around Griff’s cock like it belonged there. His slightly stained sexy white tee shirt was rolled up under his head as a pillow, and he had his straw cowboy hat angled over his brow and sunglasses as he lay back. This meant that most of what showed of his shadowed face was his smudgy, super-nuzzlable one-day beard and his sweet, wine-dark lips.

“Is it really this simple?” East mused contentedly. “Being aroused, making pleasure…”

Griff hummed in agreement, eyes closed behind his sunglasses as East stroked him. “Ready for some more sunscreen?” he asked after a moment.

“Only if you do my ass,” East answered.

Griff chuckled. He retrieved the big pump bottle from the bag and climbed atop East’s crotch, East stolidly keeping up his caressing of Griff’s dick the whole time. Griff had to admire his commitment. I may have to get used to this particular hand being there everywhere I go, he thought, amused. The idea was kind of hot, and his fat, rigid cock flexed excitedly in East’s grip as Griff pumped some lotion onto his palms and got to work on East’s tightly defined, sparsely haired chest.

It was a very nice chest, like the rest of him, and entirely the product of East having been born with premium blueprints for how he’d look as a man. Griff suspected that the genetic fairies had paid him more attention than the usual dude, dosing him with a few more grains of beauty dust in various strategic locations for that extra bit of all-over yummy allure. He wiggled his ass against East’s pulsing cock as his slid his hands appreciatively over East’s pecs and shoulders. East smiled luxuriously, bucking his hips ever so slightly against Griff’s behind.

As they worked each other, Griff became aware they had an audience. Two of the dudes they’d seen frolicking in the water had wandered up the beach and were standing nearby, arrested in fascination. Griff turned his chin and offered a smiled up to them as he pumped more lotion and started on East’s arms, feeling a little thrill as he watched them swiftly fall under his spell, their junk visibly moving in their swim trunks.

Griff never got tired of the rush he got from turning hot guys on, especially with how it happened so quickly. Context helped—he was always charismatic, but being actively pleasured by another dude upped the ante for any hot bystanders who happened by.

“That’s, uh, quite a technique you got there,” one of the guys said judiciously, eyeing the way East and Griff were handling each other with unconcealed interest. He was the darker-skinned of the two and completely ripped—not huge, but with every muscle delineated and built to the absolute perfect proportions, from the slablike pecs to the little chiseled-in intercostals to the separately developed muscles of his model-perfect quads. The guy was minimally dressed, sporting sharkskin-gray half-length board shorts with a zipper low on the side, a twisted leather-cord bracelet, and coral-toned flipflops below.

“Fuck yeah,” the other boomed in agreement. This one was a bit taller, with a deeper voice, and thickly muscled though not nearly as defined as his friend. He had a messy mop of dark curls and a two-day beard a few shades darker and rougher than East’s, and was kinda hairy down below, too, with a substantial amount of dark buzz covering his meaty frame from collarbone to ankle—not to the level of a gorilla, but very masculine in a TV-drama antihero sort of way. His trunks were shorter than his buddy’s, a solid dark blue affair with red strips and white ties at the waist. The feet were big and bare, and his eyes were round, locked onto the proceedings below.

“For two dudes,” he added, “that’s kinda hot.” His buddy slapped him lightly in the abs with the back of his hand, and he looked over at him in surprise. “What?”

Griff grinned at them. “If you like, we can show you how it’s done,” he offered cheekily. “You’ll have to do each other, though.”

Maybe it was the pervading heat of the sunny day and the fact that they were all shirtless and his cock was already out and being slowly, assiduously tended to, but to Griff the pull on these two seemed unusually intense. They were already raging hard in their trunks, both of them showing tantalizing bulges that suggested they were more than gifted in this department.

The buddies glanced at each other, gauging each other’s reactions to Griff’s proposition. The curly-haired bro seemed more than game despite the seemingly straight-vantaged remark, instinctively “getting” the intrinsic naturalness of guys being totally hard and openly enjoying the pleasure to be derived therefrom, all social and personal hindrance evaporating as meaningless silk-strands dissipating on the wind.

The ripped one, for his part, looked tempted but reticent, but the curly haired one slapped him on the abs with the back of his hand, mirroring his friend’s previous remonstration. “C’mon, dude! Screen me up!” Not waiting for a response, he got down on the blanket, settling in next to East like he sunbathed with guys getting jerked off every day. He beamed sunnily at Griff and East from his reclined position, raising a hand in greeting. “I’m Fred, by the way,” he said in his basso bro voice. Nodding at his still standing friend he added, “My slowpoke buddy there is called Meat.”

At this, “Meat” was startled out of his wavering. “I am not!” he exclaimed. Griff thought he was holding back a smile as he said it, like he wasn’t too mad.

Fred grinned, lifting his chin in the direction of the massive bulge in his buddy’s shorts, which Griff had to admit looked like a serious amount of solid, pleasure-seeking beef. It was straight and fat and persisted all the way to the elastic waistband, like one sudden move might let the glans peep out into the open for all to enjoy. “Evidence says otherwise, bro,” he said.

“Meat” huffed, pointing at Fred’s trunks. “You’re even bigger than I am!” he argued, though his lips definitely quirking now.

Griff and East looked over at the crotch in question. Sure enough, Fred was pretty blessed. Lying down, it looked like there was a mountain range in his shorts, looming over the flat expanse of his abs. Or maybe a small animal of some sort curled up in the lining of his trunks.

“Yeah, but mine’s all bent so you can’t tell,” Fred answered off-handedly. “C’mon, don’t leave me hanging! Screen me up!”

Reluctantly, “Meat” got down next to Griff, straddling his buddy. Fred, unabashedly delighted at this new beachside pastime, immediately started shoving his buddy’s trunks down and exposing a cannon of an uncut cock. This prompted a belated “Hey!” from “Meat” that Fred ignored as he hooked the elastic under “Meat”‘s hefty balls. Fred wrapped a big hand around his buddy’s huge, hard dick and sighed. “I’m totally calling you Meat from now on,” he said. “That is totally your name starting today.”

“Fuck you,” Meat said, though without heat. He took a quick look around the beach. A few guys were watching them, but more in interest than anything else. He sighed in resignation and looked at Griff and East. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Griff said, handing him the pump bottle as Fred stroked him. “I’m Griff, by the way.”

“I’m East.”

Fred turned his head to grin at East, watching their hands as they stroked their buddies’ massive, iron-hard pricks. “We should totally get in a rhythm bro,” he suggested.

East nodded. “Sure.”

Together, they eased their handjobs into an easy, synchronized up-and-down. Griff felt a flip of excitement in his belly as he enjoyed his and Meat’s tools being worked in harmony. Somehow the dual action added some extra intensity to the shared manual pleasure they were getting.

“Nice,” he said in a soft moan.

Meat had pumped a big dollop of sunscreen into his hand, setting aside the bottle. “Start with the pecs,” Griff said, demonstrating. “Like this.”

For a while the two couples worked each other. Griff and Meat worked their hands slowing over their partners’ torsos, the arousal building to almost palpable levels as the sun shone down on them and boats sped by in the distance. “Aw, this is what going to the beach should be like,” Fred mumbled, basking in the feel of hands on his body and a monster cock in his fist.

“Unh,” East agreed. “Griff,” he growled, giving the name a bit of extra grr that went straight to Griff’s balls. “You got me close. I’m getting close.”

“Me too,” the other three said almost at the same time. Meat looked adorable chagrined to have admitted something so intimate, but Griff and Fred just laughed. Griff slid a little down East’s thighs, staying within reach of East’s pumping fist, and Meat followed suit a half-second behind. Griff peeled open East’s jeans, exposing his hard prick; Meat, seemingly rationalizing that he was just following the process being given to him, mirrored the action and pulled down Fred’s trunks. Fred obligingly lifted his ass to allow them to be lowered properly. At first, the fabric caught on Fred’s heavy, clearly bent prick; Meat had to yank the trunks free before Fred’s red-tinged, adamantine cock was fully exposed.

They all paused to take in the sight of Fred’s cock for a minute as it twitched under the sun and human scrutiny, the four of them—Fred proudly included—marveling at its size and unusual configuration. Meat wasn’t joking when he said Fred was even bigger than he was, Griff thought, his arousal kicked up another notch. The thing was massive, as thick as Fred’s wrist and bent exactly like a PVC elbow pipe. The whole thing had at least six inches on either side of the 90-degree crook.

Griff whistled.

“That is one hefty prick,” East said.

Meat was gaping, his own cock bucking in Fred’s hand. “How do you even handle that thing?” he asked.

“Both hands, bro,” Fred said matter-of-factly. His lips curved in a half smile, revealing a dimple under his short beard. “Maybe a bit of tongue?” he added hopefully.

“Great idea,” Griff said. As if in demonstration, he immediately bent and swallowed the top half of East’s thick hard-on, East grunting with strained pleasure. At the same time he slid an arm around Meat’s back to guide him down with him.

Shaking his head, Meat did as instructed. Gamely he took the lower part of Fred’s mighty, contorted tool in both hands and angled to slide the head past his lips, his tongue extended to lathe the underside of Fred’s upper shaft as he pushed the slab deeper into his mouth.

“Fuck yeah fuck yeah fuck yeah,” Fred chanted. He found the back of Meat’s head with his free hand and held him in place, eyes rolling with pleasure. East, just as close to the edge, let out another Grrriff, and the two prone men moaned in unison.

Griff and Meat sucked harder, and after barely a minute of this sudden orgasm swept inevitably through the four of them like a chain reaction. Meat started cumming first, blasting his hot jizz all over Fred’s belly and his own chest. In response, Fred immediately erupted into his buddy’s mouth. The sight of Meat’s throat working as he swallowed Fred’s substantial load instantly sent Griff and East over the edge as well, the two of them rocketing more cum into and onto each other than either of them had a right to expect.

After a little while Griff and Meat straightened up, Meat looking flushed and sheepishly happy. Griff grinned at him, nodding his chin toward a trail of cum down the side of his chin. “Here, let me get that for you,” Griff said, leaning in to lick Meat’s chin with his broad tongue before moving into a friendly kiss, one that Meat willingly acceded to.

“Fuck yeh,” Fred and East said in unison, before turning to each other and chuckling, their buddies’ half-hard cocks still firmly gripped in their cum-covered hands.

Following a thorough cum-wipedown with East’s tee shirt (“I guess this is what this is for now,” he joked), Griff and Meat’s languid, afterglow-laced lotioning of their partners’ backs proceeded comparatively uneventfully. After that the four of them spread out on the big blanket, East and Fred on the bellies and Griff and Meat on their backs. They lay for a while enjoying the sun and the sporadic appearance of hot guys, either prowling the beach or waving to them from passing mini-yachts and motorboats further out in the lake beyond the swimming area.

Eventually the four of them decided to take a little walk in search of the barbecued-pork-on-a-stick sold at one of the food trucks, rumored to be the best in the state. They packed up the blanket, zipped up as necessary, and wandered down the beach as a foursome, chatting about their collective lack of plans and the welcome indolence of summer.

Soon the shirtless quartet was seated at a red-painted picnic table, enjoying the fabled skewered barbecue and the flirty looks from fellow customers and passers-by as the afternoon cooled.

“Where you guys headed after this?” Fred asked the two travelers, pulling a cube of the well-seasoned meat off the wooden skewer with his teeth and chowing down on it happily.

“Griff’s got a family reunion sort of thing over to Cheyenne,” East said. “I’m just tagging along.”

The two local boys exchanged a look, the others watching with interest as Fred’s uninhibited enthusiasm quickly eroded Meat’s innate indecision. Griff considered the pair, intrigued by their dynamic. Fred, he thought, might have deluded himself into thinking they were just bros; but from the look in his eyes his friend Meat was a lot more self-aware when it came to how bad they both had it for each other. Griff guessed there wasn’t much Meat wouldn’t do for his bud, and vice versa.

Fred, apparently oblivious to all the undercurrents, turned to beam at Griff. “So,” he said with a grin, his cute-as-fuck dimples on full display, “got room for two more?”

Griff slid the gas nozzle back into its fitted holster and screwed the Mustang’s gas cap in, enjoying the stillness of the air and the feel of the gentle Wyoming sun on his bare-’n’-brawny shoulders almost as much as he loved the easy thrill of side roads and open highways.

“Won’t be long now,” he announced as he slapped the refueling cover closed and looked up at his crew with a smile. “Just a bit past Cheyenne and—”

He stopped as he clocked East smirking up at him from the driver’s seat of Griff’s beloved 4.6-liter V8 droptop road machine. The starkly contrasting shadow cast over the upper half of his face by his straw cowboy hat, combined with the smoky sunglasses hiding his pretty eyes, really focused the attention on the cocky twist of that kissable, cocksucking mouth, the watermelon red of his taunting lips perfectly framed by that short, sandy beard. It was now close to two days in the making, pleasantly highlighting a narrow chin and sharp jawline Griff very much wanted to nuzzle with his big, easily-boned dick pretty much whenever he saw it. With the hat, the wide mouth, and the suede-soft swath of beard, he looked more “Aw, shucks” than ever, and Griff had to keep reminding himself under that boyish veneer he was more like Griff than he seemed, though he had his own special kind of brazen allure.

Griff crossed his arms over his thick, lightly hairy chest, giving East an appropriately stern look. Clearly, his traveling companion had slid over into the driver’s seat when Griff had his back turned paying for the gas, as though the privilege of operating his beloved GT operated on some kind of “finders keepers”-like principle. Self-insertion was clearly this boy’s modus operandi, not that he should be surprised at this point. The Mustang’s gas cap was on the driver’s side, too, which meant that East had had the audacity to shift over from the far side of the car to basically inches from Griff’s firm, round, jeans-clad ass, like someone stealing a bone from a dog in his own doghouse while the mutt was distracted by the moon or something. Maybe he just wanted to get closer to my butt, Griff thought, amused, though the adorably smug look on East’s half-concealed face made it clear what he really wanted: a chance at the controls of his sleek, purring beast.

It didn’t help that they both had a back-seat audience for this little power-play, composed of the two guys they’d picked up in Nebraska. (Evidently they’d come to the lake in someone else’s truck, and were more than happy to divert themselves into Griff’s more lascivious travels.) Fred was currently grinning up at Griff from under his mop of curls, clearly having seen East’s seat-switching maneuver and eating up the power-dynamic insurgency his oh-so-innocent-looking, aw-shucks front-seat passenger was perpetrating.

Fred’s buddy Meat, on the other hand, was picking up on Griff’s instinctive bristling at the idea of anyone else driving his drop-top baby. He was giving Griff a nervous look, like he might consider the two passive witnesses in back to be as culpable as the shameless, too-cute perpetrator—though there was more than a suggestion he liked drama-spectating as much as the next guy (and the next guy was Fred, who definitely liked a show).

Griff returned his hard stare to his unrepentant car thief, who winked and nodded toward the passenger seat. “Get in,” he said cheekily, milking the moment and flashing Griff a bright smile. As before, the rest of his face being hidden amplified its natural potency, and Griff felt his chub intensify, his hose of a cock shifting heavily against the denim of his loose, easily shucked jeans. This nervy behavior of East’s had been a turn-on from the moment he’d gotten close and started feeling him up right there in front of the smoothie machine. If anything, Griff’s responsiveness to East’s opportunistic uninhibitedness was only getting worse.

Still, there were principles here. No one drove the Mustang.

Griff was determined to stand his ground. He did his best to loom menacingly over the cocky shit, but Griff’s efforts at intimidation seemed to be sliding off East like water off a set of muscular, well-hydrated shoulders with small pores. East’s Teflon invulnerability to scowling amused Fred, who snickered, though when Griff looked sharply over at the back seat onlookers what he mainly noticed was Meat hungrily eyeing the self-repositioning bulge in Griff’s crotch.

He narrowed his eyes at East, holding his nerve. He does really love driving, he wavered inwardly, though he kept his face suitably stony. It was a weird attribute for a hitchhiker, to be sure, thumbing across the country hoping you can have a go driving the cars that picked you up; but it was totally East. Wayne let him drive his Cherokee, and they didn’t even know each other. He felt himself weakening, almost physically, which was a surprise in and of itself. Maybe East was a match for him, at least when it came to inhuman levels of charisma.

East puckered his lips at him in a teasing kissy face. “Come on, bubby,” he encouraged. “I’ll even give you an incentive.”

“Which is?”

East leaned toward him enticingly, as if imparting a big secret. Passengers get to do all the road-throating they want,” he stage-whispered. He nodded toward the seat next to him again, making it clear this special offer was ready and waiting to be snatched up, by anyone clever enough to do so.

Fred burst out laughing. “Road throat?” he repeated. “Is that what it’s called?”

“I dunno,” East whispered, turning to confess over his shoulder to Fred. “I heard it in a movie once.” He looked like he was about to start giggling.

“What movie, Transformers: Rise of the Gear Shift?”

“I thought it was called a car hummer,” Meat put in. By this point he’d shifted his heated stare from Griff’s junk to the armadillo-sized massif pushing out his buddy’s flimsy blue shorts.

The station was pretty busy, enough so that in the minute or so Griff had been engaging in this war of wills two cars had already pulled up behind them waiting to use the pump. The lead vehicle, a dusty Lincoln, gave a honk of annoyance, and Griff looked their way with a frown. Through the windshield, he could see the doughy, middle-aged driver was visibly frustrated that the hot black Mustang full of hot shirtless hunks hadn’t yet cleared the island and let their land yacht start gassing up.

With a glance at East, who was now back to smiling victoriously up at Griff (and clearly not moving from his coveted and intolerably usurped leather-upholstered throne), Griff gave in. Sighing inwardly, he tromped around the front of the car to the hoots and applause of his three merciless companions. They all grabbed his shoulders in happy cum-buddy validation as he slammed the door and strapped in, shaking him happily as if he and East had accomplished something great in the annals of sexy road-trip fuckery.

Griff looked over narrowly at East as he grinned, putting the car in gear and pulling out of the slot where the island was. “You’re one ballsy twunk, you know that?” Griff said, though he couldn’t help the quirk of his lips as he felt the rush of pleasure that came with a swelling, hardening, man-appreciating cock.

“‘Ballsy Twunk,’ you should get that on a tee shirt, E!” Fred chuckled.

“Who needs tee shirts?” East said breezily as he expertly merged onto the four-lane state highway and quickly got up to speed, synchronizing with the fast-moving light traffic. “Except to mop up cum with, of course,” he added cheerily to Griff.

He seems competent enough, at least, and he definitely knows what dicks are for better than most guys I meet. Griff relaxed a little and let his arousal dominate, welcoming the physical heat as its tendrils flickered through him. “We are so making good on that road throat thing,” he growled mischievously.

East laughed. “Bring it on! Carpe Mustangem!” he shouted, pumping both fists in the air, though his hands were back on the wheel with a grin before Griff could even lunge over to take control.

“Don’t do that!” Griff said, though he was so hard at this point he was sure the little adrenaline rush East had just given him had actually juiced his lust for East’s cocky maneuver even further. “Sexy fucker.”

The other three laughed as the Mustang sped down the highway toward their ultimate destination, Griff joining in as he casually reached over and got to work freeing the thick iron bar in East’s pants. A little open-air road throat was exactly what the four of them needed.

About an hour and a few highway swaps later, Griff roused himself from a lingering and very lazy afterglow to point at an approaching sign mounted off gthe shoulder of the sparsely-trafficked four-lane state road they were now on. Clearing his throat (it always felt pleasantly gooey after a deep, tonsil-bumping blow job), he said to East, “That’s what we’re looking for. Turn off for that.”

East frowned but merged into the right lane to take the turn, which apparently lay a quarter mile or so ahead. He read the sign out skeptically. “The Jim Beaver Beaver Dam? Sounds excessively hetero,” he joked.

Meat appeared suddenly in the back seat, sitting up and wiping his lips. He worked his jaw around as though he’d been giving it a workout. “Why’d you stop?” Fred asked him playfully, with a grin that said he was happy with what Meat had been up to and pretty darn proud of any extent to which he might have thrown Meat’s lower mandible out of whack. He was currently the picture of relaxation, the wind ruffling through his curls and his muscular arm stretched across the top of the back seat as if to demonstrate the relaxed positions of the major forelimb muscle groupings.

Ignoring him, Meat looked up at the roadside billboard as they passed, knitting his brows. “I know that name from somewhere,” he said. “Who the hell is Jim Beaver again?”

“It’s that guy that’s in everything,” Griff said offhandedly. “You know, like, I dunno, Deadwood, Justified, Supernatural, uh… Harper’s Island… The Boys…” He trailed off. Sometimes the things he showed up in were less than memorable. The others were looking at him blankly. “So, you know how if you make a raunchy sex comedy, Jennifer Coolidge will show up? Like that, but for noir western/sci-fi stuff. He’s always the sheriff, or the grumpy beardy guy, or—”

“Oh yeah. That guy,” Fred said.

“And there’s a beaver dam? Which we’re going to?” Meat asked as East slowed and turned off onto a county road that seemed to shoot off through the flat, amber-grassed ranchland into the middle of nowhere.

Griff snorted. “We’re meeting Shep, the cousin I’m staying with, there,” he said. “His spread is on the other side of the attraction, and Shep says it’s easier to find this place than it is hunting for the side road to his ranch.”

They found the place easily enough, and after East pulled in and parked they got out and started wandering through the little exhibits. The troupe of four well-built, shirtless, heftily equipped Adonises strolling confidently through the property might have made a sensation in a more crowded outdoor venue, but hardly anyone was at the place, just a couple of other knots of tourists picnicking in the dry grass across the property. One middle-aged couple was probably from the well-traveled Winnebago in the parking lot. The shortage of other patrons kept them blissfully anonymous, at least for the moment.

As it turned out, the attraction’s special conceit, apart from being named for an ex-Wyomingian character actor, was that everything was made of large numbers of rusted, decades-old tin cans—some supposedly sourced illicitly from local mining-era ghost towns. The exhibits included a crudely formed Chevy Impala (three-quarters-scale); a sculpted beast that was probably meant to be a horse; and the eponymous beaver dam. It zigzagged across a (dry) creek bed, and like the other installations it was made entirely out of respectable quantities of repurposed, fully oxidized tin-plated steel.

They found a bench—thankfully made of stone, not metal, rusty or otherwise—from which one might contemplate the dam, which was quite detailed and even had little metal beavers at work or off to the side supervising. Griff, Meat, and Fred settled onto it, Griff in the middle and the two muscle hunks to either side, ready to enjoy the clear, sunny afternoon. Seeing as the expanse of stone that formed the bench was about wide enough for three well-proportioned men, rather than squeezing between them East opted to plunk directly down onto Griff’s lap instead.

Griff smiled approvingly and slid an arm possessively around East’s tight waist, pulling him close. East hummed in approval, rubbing his shoulder blades into Griff’s heavy pecs and wriggling his butt against the almost-hard hard-on in Griff’s crotch that was rapidly completing his transition into iron-girder hardness. Fred and Meat looked on with lewd interest, perhaps considering a similar configuration.

“This is the right seat for you,” Griff confirmed comfortably, casually feeling up East’s tight, defined torso. He liked that East was just that little bit hairy over his chest and abs—it made East seem that much more real than the smooth, light-muscled pretty boys that made up a good proportion of the hot guys who were always drawn to him. He was all warm from the sun, too, as were the boys to either side of him, giving the three a presence in the air forming Griff’s personal space.

Griff brushed his scratchy chin against East’s lower neck, and East took in a breath. “It’s too bad you don’t have a convenient little slit in the back of your jeans so you can be seated properly on my very interested buttspike,” he muttered distractedly. He let his thick, hard cock flex hard into East’s butt-crevice through the unfortunate mediation of two layers of denim.

“Anybody got a pocketknife?” East asked immediately, looking over at Fred and then at Meat. The glint in his eyes suggested he was mostly joking, but wouldn’t mind a positive outcome.

“I do!” Meat said. He’d brought his small khaki knapsack with him, the others having their gear in the car. He unzipped and fished inside, Griff’s cock pulsing aggressively against East’s crack in anticipation. After a second or two, Meat pulled out his prize, as well as a little something extra: In addition to a decent-sized folding jackknife, the phenomenally ripped cock-convert handed Griff a convenient travel sachet of name-brand, nonpetroleum lubricant.

“You carry around lube? I thought we were you guys’ first guys,” East said, surprised.

Meat bit his lip, looking away. “Lube isn’t just for dude-fucking,” Fred remonstrated, coming to his rescue, though Griff wasn’t sure that was the whole story. “Let’s go, me and my big bent monster dick really want to see this.”

“I really want to feel it,” East seconded, palming the very stiff bulge pushing out his own crotch. “C’mon, Griff, make some access!” he whined, lifting his butt to show him the expanse of denim that needed to be breached.

Griff didn’t have to be told twice. His heart was pounding behind his thick chest—this was a new one even for him, and the thrill of it was heady. Handing the lube to Fred for a second, he unfolded the knife and, using his thumb to determine the exact place of incision, he gently poked the point of the knife through the cloth and proceeded to make a two-inch-long cut through the back of East’s jeans. He already knew East wasn’t wearing underwear—this opening was a direct entré to East’s tight, cock-loving hole. Knowing that already had Griff halfway to release before he’d even started.

“Unnhh, dude, you’re making a hole to fuck me through, that’s so hot,” East moaned, his tone urgent and needy.

“So hot,” Meat echoed. Griff realized he was already stroking his stiff, ramrod-straight tool, and Fred was doing the same with his huge, crooked beast. When had they gotten those out?

“Better catch up quick, senpai!” Fred said. He licked his lips, reminding him how big and long Fred’s tongue was, and impulsively he leaned over for quick, tongue-wrestling smooch before pulling back with a grin.

“C’mon c’mon c’mon,” East begged. Fuck, his hole is probably pulsing in eagerness to feel my hard dick pushing into him, Griff thought. With some difficulty, he got his zipper open—he was so hard he was straining the teeth, making it difficult to pull the the zip through—and his hefty, fat, incredibly hard cock burst free, eager give pleasure to fucker, fuckee, and fuck-loving spectators alike. Taking back the lube from Fred, he tore the corner and swiftly started lubing himself up, barely getting in a good, shaft-slicking stroke before pushing his raging prick forward with his knuckles to position it against the opening he’d made. Guiding the glans and a bit of shaft through, he grabbed East’s hips with his other hand and maneuvered them into full, blissful penetration.

“Ohhh yeahhhh,” East moaned as Griff slid into his near-virgin-tight channel inch by ass-spreading inch. He shifted the hand on East’s hip back up to feel East’s exquisite torso again. “Quick, undo me,” he said, redirecting the hand down to East’s crotch. Together they got the fly open, and Griff reached around with the other, slicked-up hand and started pumping East’s wide, rock-hard dick.

East let out a long, happy groan as more and more of Griff’s tool pushed into him. “Unh, Griff, your dick belongs in my ass,” he said, slurring the words very slightly in his budding euphoria.

For his part Griff was flooding head to toe with hot, goading pleasure. He grunted in pure, epic satisfaction as East finally seated himself on Griff’s long, huge dick, almost all of the impressive tool deep, deep inside him. Fuck, this is what being a guy is for, Griff thought. “I’ll have to get another one for your mouth, then,” he mumbled.

Fred jumped happily to his feet. “I’ll be proxy, this time,” he volunteered, moving in front of East and immediately aiming his contorted, messy-headed dick right at East’s mouth. East eagerly bent and engulfed the head, the new position additionally allowing him to rock up and down on Griff’s shaft as Griff felt up his chest and Fred gripped his shoulders. Meat watched avidly, stroking himself as though the other three were putting on a show just for him.

Griff was already close, the other three right there with him, when he heard his own name from somewhere nearby. Looking up, he saw a very tall, very good-looking gymnast-built man with the same cascading, mahogany hair and bright hazel eyes it seemed pretty much everyone in his family possessed. He was regarding their fuck-tableau with considerable surprise and several other emotions as well. His pinkened cheeks and the hefty bulge in his Levis suggested he liked what he saw, too, and the naked admiration pushed Griff to the point of riding the edge.

Beside the newcomer, and unashamedly holding his hand, was a slightly shorter and even more good-looking man. To Griff, the companion seemed to be evoking the bald, black bouncer trope, though this guy was so aesthetically sculpted under his tight black tee and matched black trousers, and so facially stunning and GQ handsome, were he actually cast as a bouncer in any TV plot he would still probably end up being an undercover agent, or a slumming billionaire, or a secret mafia prince in hiding from his evil, rapaciously greedy uncles.

“Oh, hey, Shep,” Griff panted, smiling at his cousin and his—friend? partner? “I’ll be with you in… a sec—oh oh fuck—!” he barked, breaking off the pleasantries as a huge orgasm exploded through him.

“Griff, fuck, yeah!” East screamed, loud enough to be heard in Laramie and possibly all the way in Yellowstone. Awareness of Shep and his friend melted away as white-hot release saturated every particle of Griff’s being, and he felt himself shooting immense gushers of cum into East’s ass, even as East’s rigid cock pulsed violently in his hand, shooting gouts of hot jizz on East. East himself was grunting happily as he tried to swallow all of the cum Fred was spraying his throat with. Meat, too, was right there with them spurting arcs of hot seed onto his chest and abs.

Ecstasy took him for a second, and when Griff could focus again he saw that Shep’s friend was now behind Shep and holding him closely against him, his hands splayed across his chest and lower abs—the latter position placing the mysterious, well-muscled newcomer within mere inches of grabbing the sizable tool tenting Shep’s tighter-than-necessary jeans.

Shep’s eyes were eating up every inch of the gooey, muscley scene before him as though storing it for later. The friend’s eyes were even more heated, as though taking notes for what might be possible to do with Shep. “I guess this is going to be a more interesting visit than I expected,” Shep said faintly.

Fred straightened, shoving his still mostly hard dick away in his shorts with some effort. “Darn tootin’!” he beamed, bending to give East, then Griff, then Meat a series of long, messy kisses that briefly made Griff forget about anything else, all over again,

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Three more giant guys by MegaMaker Three More Giant Guys is a follow-up to the collection titled “Three Giant Guys.” These are quick hot stories about guys becoming huge, hot, sexy giants. 3 parts 9,928 words Added Nov 2024 19k views 5.0 stars (4 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Ball Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Always Cumming•Hyper Cum•Public Orgasm•Multi-abs•Addiction•Getting Dumber•Other Mental Changes•Straight to Gay•Hyper Muscle•Pec Fucking•Hyper Strength•Immobility•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Muscle Worship•Always Shirtless•Public Nudity•Man Scent•Butt Growth•Increased Libido•Getting Handsomer•Gradual Change•Voice Deepening•Getting Taller•Giants•Forced Growth•Plausible Size Difference•Size Increase•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•Destruction/Violence•Dom/Sub•Nonconsensual change•Nonconsensual sex•Lycra/Spandex•Complete •M•M/M

Trouble in paradise by Mask When granted the power to make wishes a reality, filling your days with a replicating, multi-limbed muscle god boyfriend just comes naturally. But after a decade, is that really what you’d still want? 11k words Added Jun 2025 7,014 views 5.0 stars (13 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Huge Cock•Self-suck•Public Orgasm•Multicock•Multihead•Multiarm•Multileg•Multilimb•Replication•Straight to Gay•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Always Shirtless•Public Nudity•Retcon•Suggestion•Incest•Brothers•Selfcest•Immortality•Complete •M•M/M•M/M/M•M/M/M/...

One more drop by MegaMaker A college water polo player, Rain, is having trouble keeping up with expectations after a lackluster swim season. Afraid of getting cut from his team, he finds a mystery serum that improve his performance. To his surprise it works and his improved performance gets the approval of his entire team and his coach and really attracts the attention of his friend River. Will the attention go his head? Will his team and coach find out? And… will there be any side effects caused by the use of the serum? 16 parts 48k words (#91) Added Mar 2023 Updated 20 May 2023 95k views 4.9 stars (69 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Ball Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Always Cumming•Hyper Cum•Public Orgasm•Multi-abs•Addiction•Straight to Gay•Hyper Muscle•Hyper Strength•Immobility•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Muscle Worship•Always Shirtless•Public Nudity•Man Scent•Butt Growth•Increased Libido•Gradual Change•Voice Deepening•Getting Taller•Forced Growth•Plausible Size Difference•Size Increase•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•Lycra/Spandex•Complete •M/M

Body for bargain by MegaMaker Lance wants to get bigger and is willing to make a deal with the devil to make it happen, despite his best friend in the whole world, Jude, telling him that's him that's a terrible idea. 7,837 words Added Dec 2024 19k views 4.3 stars (9 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Ball Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Hyper Cum•Public Orgasm•Multi-abs•Other Mental Changes•Straight to Gay•Hyper Muscle•Pec Fucking•Hyper Strength•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Muscle Worship•Always Shirtless•Public Nudity•Man Scent•Butt Growth•Increased Libido•Getting Handsomer•Voice Deepening•Getting Taller•Forced Growth•Plausible Size Difference•Size Increase•Lycra/Spandex•Demons•Witch/Warlock/Wizard•Supernatural•Complete•College/University •M•M/M

Meta-mischief by BRK Detective Randy Trevino starts experiencing increasingly strange and embarrassingly sexy glitches in his morning routine, and he’s sure his precinct frenemy, the lean and handsome Detective Jake Rivers, is behind it. 3,548 words Added Apr 2024 14k views 4.9 stars (21 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Ball Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Hyper Cum•Nipple Emissions•Public Orgasm•Multicock•Muscle Growth•Always Shirtless•Getting Handsomer•Gradual Change•Getting Taller•Plausible Size Difference•Size Increase•App•Retcon•Nonconsensual change•Complete •M/M

The dudes by BRK The guys at school are really susceptible to suggestion—so much so that if you tell them something’s true, it turns out that it actually is true. (Slightly revised throughout as of May 2025.) 8 parts 22k words Added Mar 2010 Updated 17 May 2025 156k views 4.7 stars (61 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Ball Growth•Huge Cock•Self-suck•Hyper Cum•Public Orgasm•Multi-abs•Straight to Gay•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Public Nudity•Increased Libido•Getting Handsomer•Getting Taller•Plausible Size Difference•Size Increase•Tongue Growth•Retcon•Suggestion•Incest•Brothers•Hyper Pheromones•College/University •M/M•M/M/M•M/M/M/...

The real you 4 by MegaMaker Trevor, a mutant and proud thereof, thinks he’ll spend his evening soak in the gym hot tub alone. That’s until a sweet guy named Danny catches him rubbing one out. They have a heart-to-heart and Trevor finds out that Danny wants to become a mutant, too, to be seen as more manly. 7,405 words Added Oct 2024 13k views 5.0 stars (2 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Ball Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Always Cumming•Hyper Cum•Public Orgasm•Hyper Muscle•Hyper Strength•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Muscle Worship•Always Shirtless•Public Nudity•Man Scent•Voluptuous Men•Butt Growth•Increased Libido•Getting Handsomer•Voice Deepening•Getting Taller•Forced Growth•Size Increase•Lycra/Spandex•Shapeshifting •M•M/M

The second subject by MegaMaker A college kid named Angel is kidnapped and brought to a facility to become the next test subject for underground scientific advancements. 14 parts 33k words Added Dec 2024 Updated 1 Feb 2025 34k views 4.6 stars (14 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Cock Pumping•Huge Balls•Ball Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Cum Milking•Always Cumming•Hyper Cum•Multi-abs•Other Mental Changes•Straight to Gay•Hyper Muscle•Pec Fucking•Hyper Strength•Immobility•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Muscle Worship•Always Shirtless•Man Scent•Butt Growth•Increased Libido•Foot Growth•Getting Handsomer•Gradual Change•Voice Deepening•Getting Taller•Giants•Forced Growth•Plausible Size Difference•Size Increase•Age Difference•Destruction/Violence•Blood•Nonconsensual change•Nonconsensual sex•Restraints•Lycra/Spandex•Hyper Pheromones•Horror•Complete •M•M/M