The following story is a work of fiction set in the format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature, and is not meant to accurately reflect persons in towns, cities, or governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If sexual scenes involving male to male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states and countries, you are not allowed to read this by law. This is fiction. Don't forget, in real life, to think about 'sexual safety matters'.
"Long Distance Love" 08 (M/M oral) WriTtenby T. Chase McPhee
%
"So I see that you like the attention of my flogger, eh boy?'
"Y-y-yes, sir," Marc Ambergini finally got out, much to the delight of Amir, the thirty-four old captor.
Up until now, Marc had been 'playing the game' Amir presented to him, thoroughly enjoying the dominant messing with his pain-pleasure spots.
"Now we will see how you perform without the restraints."
Amir unbuckled Marc's ankles and wrists. After rubbing all four spots, Amir backed away so that Marc could sit on the edge of the table.
"Yes, now on your knees before me, boy."
Still into playing 'boy games', Marc fell to his knees. Amir spent about five minutes drilling him on the position of sitting high onto his knees and then straightening his shoulders, with his arms drawn up into the middle of his back. He gently sway his flogger from shoulder to shoulder or across Marc's pecs.
"Good, now you will rise and place yourself in that chair over there."
Marc looked to the direction of a chair in front of what looked to be an ordinary wooden chair. He didn't see anything tricky about it. Not until he approached and saw a round cutout in the seat, almost resembling a toilet bowl.
"Sit, boy."
He sat. Amir pulled some on wheels over in front of him.
"Stocks?"
"Yes. I thought you would like. Now, will you indulge me and put your head in the middle and arms at the sides?"
Not seeing anything wrong in their play, plus loving the idea of utilizing the dungeon furniture, he complied.
"Nice. Now a couple of more things and we'll continue our play."
Amir brought over a table that perfectly matched the height of the stocks. So attuned to the match of the two objects that both hands fell perfectly to resting on top of the table.
"Excellent for my purposes."
Marc heard something behind him, like that snapping of wood. Amir did something to his chair. He tried turning to watch, but his head had become lodged in the stocks.
"Next and then we'll be all ready."
"What's this Amir?"
"Don't tell me you don't recognize your own checkbook, boy!"
Sure enough, in front of him, under his right hand lay his checkbook, his name and address printed on the blue, watermarked paper.
"But this is written out for five hundred thousand dollars!"
"Smart boy and now all I need is your signature to cash it!"
"Fuck that!"
The thirty-five year old received no warning as he sensed something being inserted under the chair he sat in; a dry tipped buttplug!
"Sorry, but I couldn't find any lube, boy! Haa ha ha haaa!"
Marc's winces turned to fullscale screams, as the thick object pressed into his anal cavity. The absence of lube around the buttplug caused it to tear the ass chute, as it became forced torture. The pain never fully disappeared. Only dulled. Marc wondered what he got himself into. It's not as if Wheeler hadn't mentioned that something like this might happen!
"Now sign and maybe I'll think about taking it out, hee heee."
Amir could see the red face of anger, but picked up a flogger much like the one he had, except longer, with more tails.
"Not signing, I see?"
Looking forward to that type of action, Amir knew that after a hundred or so lashes across Marc's white back, he would be thinking about signing his first check.
%
"Zair? Sabah? This is John Wheeler and Mick McCormick."
The nineteen and twenty year old pair stood there in clothes that relatively looked natural, being of Milton's wardrobe. A bit tighting fitting, the sweatshirts seemed odd-fitting of their well built shoulders.
After standing to shake each of their hands, John began saying, "Boys, we need your help."
"Our help. What hell is that?"
"Listen, Sabah..."
"I am Zair. Oh, pardon me. Yes, Zair. Well Zair, first of all we know you are in this country illegally."
Right then and there, Milton began a protestation of knowledge of the immigration facts.
"Milton, calm down... keep your shirt on."
Although Mick thought maybe he'd like to view Milton, as well and Zair and Sabah without any shirts!
"How would you boys like to become US citizens real quick?"
"You trick us?" Zair replied to Wheeler.
"No tricks boys. We're going to call it an even exchange. Your testimony for your freedom to become citizens. From there, we'll fix you up with college money, later on a good job...."
"Amir trick us. How we know you don't?"
This is where Milton got on his soapbox. "Boys, I have a feeling that Mr. Wheeler and Mr. McCormick are here for your best interests. Yes, they want something from you, but in the long run, this will put you on your way to where you want to be in life."
The two gravitated towards Mick. Possibly because he looked more friendly, could've been his youthful age of twenty-eight, compared to Wheeler's forty-five years old. Whatever the case, Zair and Saban approached the table edge where Mick sat, completely ignoring John Wheeler.
"What do you want for us to do, Mr. M'Cormick?"
"Sign here. These papers will show your voluntary information, asserting the facts that you will give testimony on your own accord, to the best of your knowledge and in a truthful sense."
Milton busts in with, "In other words, Zair and Saban, you are agreeing to tell the truth of the matters concerning Amir and what you know about him. What he promised you, your treatment, how you came to deal with him. You boys came asking for my trust, now I ask you to trust them and sign."
Saban first took the pen from Mick and leaned to the table to draw the characters of his first and last name. Zair followed.
"Okay, make the call, John," Mick called out.
When the two FBLO officers arrived on the scene, it seemed Wheeler had been the head honcho in charge. Now it's Mick that called the shots. At this very moment, Wheeler's call set off a chain reaction of telephone conversations between agents. A series of knocks at doors, sent agents of the FBLO into hotel rooms, homes, businesses and even shopping malls, to approach those gay young men who have been coerced out of their home lives, lured by promises of a better life. For some it would prove years too late, their lives already incarcerated in the slave trade. Some would have the opportunity to be rescued, others plucked out of their lives before they would ever reach the master's hand.
%
"Who are you?" Dario called out.
Jack spoke, before the gentlemen in their suits, "These men are from the government, Dario and would like to speak with Shaheen."
One of the men pretended to look straight ahead, deep into the room, but Dario could feel the other man's eyes scanning his buff bod. Shaheen came out of the bedroom and stood next to him. What a feast for Jack's eyes and one of the men who came to talk.
"What do they want, Dario?"
"To talk with Shaheen," the unfriendly of the two spoke, with precise meaning. The supposedly 'straight' FBLO agent reinforced the word, 'alone'.
"What you say to me, you say to Dario," Shaheen more or less told the guy.
"Maybe you better handle this, Jake," he told his partner, bowing out of the room.
"Don't mind him," Jake informed the two, shutting the door behind him, as his partner and Jack walked out, "not everybody is gay-friendly."
Dario hits Jake with, "And how gay-friendly are you Jake?"
"Gay, which makes me about as gay-friendly as you can get."
"Then you don't mind if we stay undressed like this?"
"Well, Dario, it could detract from our business at hand. I mean you boys are quite a sight for my older eyes."
"You be twenty-four, twenty-five years old?" Shaheen tries his hand at age guessing.
"Twenty-six."
"Then you look like us. Make it even for us to look!"
Dario thought to himself that it's been less than twenty-four hours and already he was rubbing off on Shaheen.
"Ahem! Uh, I don't think so."
Dario coaxes, "Taking off your jacket wouldn't hurt, Jake."
"Why do I get this feeling that you two are trying to seduce me?"
Shaheen says, "You cute!" Then retracts his feelings, with a blushed look on his face.
"Hmm, okay."
Jake stands, removes his jacket, then sits down at the table, placing his briefcase on top of the chipped stone surface.
"Want to take a seat around the table, men?"
"Yeah, one second."
Dario and Shaheen go into the bedroom.
Jake yells, "You boys aren't hightailing it out the jon window, are you?"
He doesn't hear anything, so goes to the bedroom door that's closed. Suddenly it pops open. Dario and Shaheen exit, in tee shirts and jeans.
"You think we leave you, stud?" Shaheen says to Jake.
He smiles as the two brush by him, purposely mussing up his tie that's hanging down his chest and stomach. As Jake watches the two report to the table, he wishes this wasn't 'business as usual'!
%
"Um, Rafi?"
"Yes, Michael?"
"These gentlemen are here to see you and Sihr."
"Why?"
"I'm not sure, but I think you better hear them out."
"If you say so, Michael," Sihr confides in him.
Rafi says, "We trust you."
"Okay, well Jason and I will be in the other rooom if..."
"No, you be here with us."
One of the two FBLO officers acknowledges the okay for Michael and Jason to remain.
Throughout the US, thousands of boys get the call from FBLO agents, all for the same purpose and reasoning.
%
"I think you're doing the right thing, Shaheen."
"If you think it is okay, Dario, then I sign my name."
"You're doing the right thing," Jake says. "Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to sway you or anything. I'm here just to provide the facts."
"I trust you too, Jake."
Dario confides, "We both do."
So after all of the business is out of the way the three sit back to talk.
"How about breakfast out by the pool, Jake."
"Sure. Sounds nice."
Dario wonders something.
"Why?"
"Why what Dario?"
"How can you say yes? This is supposed to be business for you, Jake. You're not supposed to frat with us."
"Normally, no. In fact if it wasn't for my destiny after this case is wrapped up, I probably would have been out of here by now."
"What that mean, Jake?" Shaheen asks.
"Well, I'm young and don't want to be tied down to the FBLO, so I'm getting out. Hee heeee," Jake grins, "fact of the matter is I let myself come on to you guys."
"You like us?"
"Yeah, Shaheen. You and Dario seem to be my type of guys. Hey, don't get me wrong. I'm not here to infringe on your relationship, but being in this line of work there's not much room for long term friendships. If you're not interested, I'll mind my own business, but after the investigation is wrapped up, I'd like to take you guys out for dinner."
"That's fine with me," Dario states, his mind always on saving a buck.
Shaheen smiles and agrees.
"Well, okay. Well, I better get Taylor going on these papers."
"I know this funny question," Shaheen asks, "You gay, Jake?"
"All the way, my friend. I figured I already made that clear."
"You check up on us. We make sure we check up on you, Jake."
That brings double smiles in Jake's direction. Dario really likes the guy, so much like himself, a hot Latino. Though seven years older, would make a nice friend.
"So, let me get these papers going and then I can join you for breakfast. Do you have an extra Speedo by chance?"
"Si," Dario replies to Jake, "under your briefs!"
Opening the door to the Junior Suite, Jake hands the brief case to the FBLO officer that accompanied him. "Here!"
After the other guy takes it, Jake replies to him, "Can't say it's been nice knowing you Ferguson. Maybe someday you'll get that homophobic chip off your shoulder!"
"Fuck you, Contreras."
With the door shut, Dario asks, "No love lost, huh Jake?"
"I kind of feel sorry for the guy, but then again nothing like having a homophobic agent work on a gay case, having to defend gays, much to his personal disgust."
Shaheen asks, "And he do for gay guys?"
"It's his job. Personally, he hated doing it, but he can't be biased if he wants to stay in the job he does. Now, what's for breakfast?"
As Dario goes for the phone, Shaheen and he watch as Jake removes his tie, and lays it on the table.
"Ooooh, it feels so good to remove that tie. Last time I'll be wearing it."
"Wait, you not going to be secret agent anymore?" Shaheen asks.
"Nope!" Jake chuckles at the coined phrase, "As soon as I handed that case over with your signatures enclosed, Shaheen, that's the last time I would be dealing with the FBLO."
"That muy bueno!" Shaheen replies.
"It sure is, Shaheen!"
Soon there is a knock at the door.
"Ah, that must be him."
Dario and Shaheen have the shock of their life.
"George?"
"Keoki?"
To Jake, the greeting is, 'baby', as he kisses George, giving him the biggest hug.
"Breakfast will be baking by poolside if we don't hurry."
"Breakfast? I'm as hungry as a dog!" George replies.
"We have millions of questions for you, Keoki!"
"Sorry about that, Shaheen."
George and Shaheen stood facing each other.
"You should tell me truth. Who are you?"
"I'll explain in awhile. I don't like my bagel too crisp!"
Before long, the paired couples are lounging poolside, enjoying their breakfast feast.
"So, why you trick me, Keoki?"
Dario is getting to know Jake, half listening to Keoki's explanation.
"Oooh, Shaheen, I never meant to trick you, nor anyone. Let's call it leading you in the right direction."
"As Dario say, how's that go?"
"Okay, here's the facts. A rich boy, gone bad, turned model, with acting skills, gets approached by government, gets off the hook for DWI, in exchange for services, then retires from government job, turns back to model, actor, part time playboy, but later decides to shack up with former government agent."
"Hee hee heeee," Jake laughs, "Keoki, I think you have Shaheen more confused than before!"
Dario, on a whim, takes the linguistic approach, uttering the whole scenario in Spanish to Shaheen.
Keoki asks Shaheen, "You get all Dario just said?"
"Si!"
They all laugh. The actual explanation seems to play no relevance in anyone's mind, at this time.
"More coffee?"
"Oh my," Jake replies, "I think I've died and gone to gay heaven!"
"Hey, Evan, meet Jake and Keoki," Dario offers the introductions for his and Shaheen's latest acquisition of friendship, "and well, looks like Evan's boyfriend, Seth."
"Yeah," Evan explains, "last night Seth and I got kinda tight."
There the two stand, Evan with a carafe of hot coffee in his hand and his arm around Seth's shoulder, his lips exiting Seth's left cheek. Jake and Keoki are trying like hell not to move their hands to their crotches, beholding the sight of the eighteen and nineteen year olds, like them, stripped to the buff.
"Ahem!"
"Oh, buenas dias, Senor Clay, Senor Chiz..." Dario stands and then begins the new round of introductions.
Clay says, "That bum looks familiar," directing his comments to Keoki.
"George, Keoki, is really a good guy, Clay."
"That has yet to be seen."
"Hey, Clay! What the fuck you doing?" Chiz complains.
"Well, I figured if he let me kiss him, he can't be all that bad!"
If Clay hadn't been standing on the pool's edge, he wouldn't have received such a rude awakening.
splash!
"Ooooh you're gonna get it now, buddy!"
Clay hopped out and chased Chiz down the way, around the side of the building. The guys laughed when they heard a giant cannonball, near one of the northern side pools.
"Looks like Clay got even!" Dario calls out.
At nine in the a.m., the sun already started it's blistery ascent in the sky. Jack oversaw two guys, decked out in bowties and speedos, deliver a cart of breakfast foods; eggs, bacon, toast, fruit, poolside.
"Hey, Jack, I'm supposed to be doing that!"
"No, I've decided that for now you're on 'guest' status, Evan."
"But..."
"No but's or I've be kickin' butt!" Jack replied with a wink.
Seth waited while Evan chatted with Jack. After a long hug, Jack took his leave.
"What was that about, Evan?"
"Well, you see, there's more to all this than meets the eye. I didn't exactly mention everything to you, Seth."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Yeah, later, after our shopping trip?"
"The way our friendships keep building, Evan, I doubt five grand will be going very far!"
"Well, at this point, Seth, for me it's not the money that counts."
The couples had more or less broken into their respective groupings. Dario and Shaheen lay in the shallow end of the pool, the Latino feeding his sultan grapes. Keoki and Jake half-lounged in long chairs, plates of food above their navels, picking at the eggs as they talked about how they were going to live the rest of their lives. Clay and Chiz returned to the in crowd, to do so laps back and forth across the pool. Two challengers, swamped at their grapefeeding session, joined in the race. Seth and Evan parked nearby and enjoyed the spectacle.
"Hmm, how come you guys are having fun without us?"
"Adaaaaam!" Clay called out, rising out of the pool. He immediately clasped his wet body around him.
"You fuck, Clay. Now I'm all wet!"
"Correction, almost all wet, Adam!"
Clay wrestled Adam to the edge of the pool. For the next two or three minutes they wrestled on top of and under the waves. Chiz hoisted himself out of the water. He made the rounds with Lucas, introducing him to Evan, Jake and Keoki, telling the dirty, dastard deeds of the latter and or his part in helping Shaheen. Of course, Jake and Keoki didn't lay the whole tale on Chiz, so the version he told Lucas, had much of the action left for wondering.
"Evan?"
"Yeah, Seth?"
"I was thinking something."
While the rest of the gang played in the pool, Seth and Evan retreated to the smalled pool, aerated with tiny bubbles.
"Oh? What's on your mind, babe?"
Seth smiled when Evan used the personal greeting.
"Y'know, I really don't have any plans and well, I thought maybe I would think about staying here in Palm Springs. Do you think Jack could use another hand around here?"
Evan giggled. Seth asked him the meaning.
"I'm glad you made that decision, babe, because I hated like hell to leave here."
"Huh?"
Getting closer, which required Evan placing his leg over Seth's crotch and both arms hugging him, he explained, "Seth, I like you a lot and well, truth is, I like it here, but like you more than staying here."
"Evan, are you saying that you would give up something you like for me?"
"Heeeey! You said it better than me!"
"Hee heeee... I didn't mean to, Evan."
"Doesn't matter Seth. All that really does matter is...."
Rather than flub up on any more words, Evan's palm focused Seth's cheek in the direction of his lips. His back leaned against the side of the bubble tub as he pulled Seth's chest to his, in a loving embrace.
"I'd say that's a love affair in the making," Jake relayed to Keoki, his head nodding in Evan's and Seth's direction.
"And what about us?"
"Tonight, my love!" Jake replied, his hand rubbing up and down Keoki's arm.
"Are you finished with your plate, sir?"
Clay and Chiz laughed their asses off as the two young guys in their bowties and speedos, made too much of an effort to remove the empty plates from Keoki's and Jake's bellies. The two busboys, used their naked palms to wipe the residue from their bare bodies!
"Oooooh man, I could go for this service everyday!"
%
"That about wraps it up from this end. What do you think, John, has Ambergini taken enough punishment?"
"Oh fuck! I forgot about Marc, in the dungeon!" Milton addresses the issue with cause for alarm.
"Dungeon?" Zair questions.
"Hold it, Milton! We'll take it from here."
Creeping down the stairs, John and Mick, revolvers drawn, approach the basement annex. With Milton trailing, they open the metal door rapidly, rushing.
"Hold it right there, Amir!"
The three are totally surprised out of their gourds!
"He's not here!"
No, that be the case. Instead, Tied eagle-spread, is Marc Ambergini, the thirty-five year old benefactor of 'Long Distance Love'. Most noticeable are the weights hanging from his hairy balls, far below the dripping, seven and half inches of rigid, cut meat. From his hairy chest, a chain with sharp-toothed clamps drag down his nips with small balls with hooks. Marc's face, sinks to his chest, his chin buried in the fuzz, as he slacks in the leather cuffs. Holding his body up, a long, black cone acts as a buffer in his ass, all his weight implanted on it. To top the whole torturous ordeal, stripes cross his chest, stomach, back and ass.
"Oh fuck!"
"The poor tortured soul!"
"Better get an ambulance here!"
"I'm on it!"
While Milton listens to the FBLO officers' words of concern, in reality he knows Marc Ambergini is still in the reverie of the hottest bdsm sessions he's ever imagined! If anything but for the fact, then why would there have been a rather large puddle of cum on the cement in front of him. Fuck! Milton wanted so bad to release his own pent up load from the sight of such awesome dimensions!
"Um, gentlemen?"
"Yeah, Milton?" John Wheeler asks, following the lead Milton points to.
"I think this may be the reason Amir didn't stick around."
Sure enough, lying on the floor is Marc's checkbook, complete with pen.
"Don't touch it, Milton!"
Soon the midmorning hours are filled with sirens, police, ambulance and others flocking to the rescue. John has instructed Mick to get Zair, Saban and Milton out the back before too many questions need to be answered.
"Um, I didn't give you my answer yet on t'whether I wanted to become involved, Mick."
"A little too late for the Milton!" Mick replies sarcastically.
Turning out of the back yard and down the road a piece, they happen upon a community soccer field. A helicopter awaits their departure.
"Don't I even get to pack a toothbrush, Mick?"
"Sorry about that Milton, but in a month's time the contents of your home will be delivered to you."
"What do you mean the contents of my home?"
"Milton, how well do you think you will adapt to a hot climate?"
"Ooooh noooo... I never agreed to this... I have my job in New York... my career... my..."
"And ya got me, pops!" Mick slaps the forty year old hard on the ass.
"You? What do you mean by that, Mick?" Milton asks the twenty-eight year old.
"Hey, you don't think it's coincidental that I got your case out of the thousands offered me, do you?"
"I still don't follow you, Mick."
The two mideastern boys do. All too clearly.
Saban explains, "Mick like you Milton."
"Yes, he want you," Zair confirms the truth.
"Me? Why would you want an old fart like me?"
"Just get in the chopper and I'll explain it when we get to our destination."
Farfetched as it seems, Milton never made it to 'Long Distance Lover' that night. In fact, unlike the saying goes, 'the showmust go on', it didn't. Outside the marquis, a sign read, 'show closed indefinitely'. The crew reported, finding envelopes with each of their names on it. Inside they found their pay for the rest of the season, plus complimentary tickets for a party to be held in St. Thomas, Virgin Islands, completely with all expense paid cruise. The few orchestra members, given the buy out, with options to moving to Las Vegas for the new opening of 'Long Distance Lover', without the cuts.
"I can't believe it, Fess."
"Me neither, Rob. Michael, what about all this?"
"I'm not sure, Rob."
"I thought 'Long Distance Love' had been a winner."
"Suppose we all thought that the case."
"Excuse me, are you Michael Fabreve?"
"Yes and who the hell are you?"
"The name is Herschel West. I've been given instructions to accomodate you, Jason Perry, Robert Palmieri and Fess Aineislis to the airport."
"Sure, after you tell us what the fuck this is all about? A successful show just doesn't fold up like this."
"I'm sorry Mr. Fabreve, but all of your questions will be answered in time."
"And what happens if we refuse?"
There, the epitomy of John Wayne's character actor stood. Hands on hips, ready to withdraw the revolver to protect his rights, Michael Fabreve stood on his guard. However, when a couple of fingers tapped him on the shoulders, he began to relinquish his territory.
"I'd highly suggest that you comply, Mr. Fabreve."
"Oh yeah? And who the hell are you?"
"FBLO."
"Yeah? well getting your Fucking ass down there and give me a BLO job!"
That's all Michael needed. A hand went around the crook in his elbow and the theater stage became alive with action. The poor guy behind him didn't stand a chance, being swung around, a fist to the gut, then a resulting sore jaw.
As the guy in front went to help his FBLO bud, Rob swung into action, pulling him around by the arm.
"Hey, wait right there, asshole!"
When Rob took a fist to the gut, Fess didn't take kindly to that matter.
"Bastard!" Fess called out, just about choking the agent to death, throwing him in between the curtain ropes, tangling his neck up.
Seems that sooner than later, a free for all broke out, as more FBLO agents appeared, then counteracted by the stage crew. The finale came, as the original instigator sat on the saggy sofa. Michael had the guy's arms over the back of the sofa, his jacket pulled back, restraining the agent's arms. He leaned the toe of his boot on the FBLO officer's crotch and pulled on his necktie. The guy winced through his battered lips.
"Now, are you going to call off your dogs?"
After some coercion on Michael's booted bondage, the leader of the pack gave in, shouting out words that brought the melee to a halt.
"Call your men front and center."
"Do as he says!" the agent called out, still feeling the pressure on his balls growing.
"Okay, now. Hmmm... isn't this an interesting scene."
Michael decided, for his crew's benefit, to provide some entertainment.
"Tell them to line up."
"What tha fuck?"
"Do it?"
"Arrrrghhh..." the pressure of boot-to-balls grew. "Line up!" the order from the head honcho came.
Michael leaned into the agents ear, applying pressure, then relayed a soft message to their fearless leader.
"Do it!" Michael called out, stomping deeper into the agent's crotch.
"Arrrrghhhh alright.... alright.... strip, men!"
The twenty or so men, ranging in age from twentysomething to fortysomething, gasped, questioning the directive.
Fess says, in his faint Irish brogue, "I'd suggest you make it soon?"
The young guy, looking about twenty-eight, blond, brushed Fess' hand away from his jacket lapel. With assorted grumpy attitudes, jackets slid from shoulders and ties loosened.
Fess got a shock when the blond smirked at him!
Somebody backstage pressed a disco CD into the system and cranked it up. Barechested, the smooth blond, extended his hand to Fess and bowed, suggesting the old time mannerisms for asking to dance. The agent next to him, cringed at the sight. However, Fess lightened up, starting to switch his hips to and fro, getting into the disco beat. Rob, feeling a bit left out, sighted a dark haired hunk that had begun to gyrate his torso and took him on, but stripped his own shirt on the way.
"Nice briefs," Rob complimented him.
"The name's Jeff and they're FBLO regulation briefs," the agent replied, before applying his chest to Rob's hairy mass.
Seems that Jason became interested in helping the head man get out of his clothes and the three began having their own little orgy on the sofa. Michael lifted his boot to remove from the leader's crotch, but he took Michael's boot and asked him to leave it there!
Rob migrated towards Fess and then cut in, pairing off the blond with his dancing partner. The straight guys got down to their tee shirts, but weren't pressed to strip further. In fact, seeing their fearless leader with a cock stuffed in his gullet, they began to dissipate in numbers, calling him, the appropriate, 'cocksucker'!
%
continued.........
Copyright 2005 T. Chase McPhee All Rights Reserved.
www.assgm.net
www.nifty.org
Permission is NOT granted to publish
this story to any PAY site, nor any site
that is not listed above, without the
author's prior consent.