Ok, so I have a confession. I am not much of a bottom, but sometimes special occasions get me in the mood. On Sunday, I hit a milestone on Substack followers and decided to take a page out of Kai’s book and do something messy.

So I got online, started typing a new note that would hopefully be worthy of this milestone.

“Gemini Fox calling all Texas Subscribers. Cumdump Saturday night. My place.”

With 30 minutes left, I turned down the lights in my room and lit some scented candles. Lavender. Vanilla. Something subtle. The aroma filled the air and with a deep breath I unrolled a black towel. Smoothing out any creases. Wondering who these people were going to be showing up. Should I think of them as guests or just strangers here for one purpose.

I sighed as I set out a bottle of lube and a marker, laying them in a small fabric-lined basket next to the bed. Martha Stewart would be so proud. Maybe I should put a bow on them. No, that is stupid.

Ten minutes left I slid on a black jock I had just bought, snapping the sides a couple of times, and looked in the mirror.

Checking myself out.

I might not be a bottom, but Fox has an ass, I said, jiggling it in admiration.

Then my phone dinged.

5 minutes left and the first guy, Thomas34303, pinged me saying he was parking.

Shit. Guess this is happening. I turned off the lights and put on the blindfold after giving one last set of instructions.

After running around and getting ready, the silence was deafening.

I could hear my ears ringing as I strained to hear any sound of him approaching.

Breathing in. Then out slowly.

Trying to control my breathing.

Then nothing.

I sighed. Where is he??

Then I heard the doorknob rattle. Slowly turn.

And click open.

The door was followed by more silence.

Then a creak. And another creak of him walking up the stairs.

I realized at this moment. What he looked like. Did he have a criminal record?

The only thing I knew was that this person was here to use me.

And had read my stories. Every single one.

Thanks Tom. #TheGeminiFox. Subscribe below.

As I sat there, exposed, naked except for the jock, I heard him reach the top of the stairs. Could feel him standing in the doorway watching. Part of me said run. This isn’t safe.

Another part, the dark side of me that always took over in these situations, said stay. You don’t want to go anywhere. It’s time to submit.

I swallowed hard as I heard Tom moan as he observed my ass.

Then the sound of a metal buckle. And pants unbuttoning.

Time stopped. What should have been minutes felt like hours as he walked over to me.

Then his cold, large hands grabbed my ass.

“L-lube’s on the table,” I said.

No words. Just movement.

I could hear him curse under his breath trying to open the lube container. I had forgotten to open it. God, he’s going to think I am such an amateur. I wanted to apologize but it would kill the mood.

I was forgetting my own rules: No talking. No names. Just cum.

I heard the top finally pop open. A wet sound on his flesh as it sounded like he was lubing himself up. Then a cold hand applied some on the outside of my hole. Slapping it on gently before applying some with a finger.

A larger, thick finger.

It probed me, feeling that I was ready enough, and then pushed his cock against me. I could feel his thickness throbbing. And the head felt huge.

Gliding up my crack, I could feel he wasn’t that long. Thank God for short dicks! This was the perfect starter dick for the night.

I put my head down on top of my hands that were clasped together. Praying to whatever god you pray to before you get railed.

Then he pushed in, somehow already out of breath.

I could smell his cologne or aftershave. Whatever it was he smelled older. Much older than I was.

The thought of not knowing what he looked like made my hole relax and take all of him inside easily.

That wasn’t too bad, I said as he bottomed out. His belly hitting my backside.

Hey there, big boy, I thought as I felt his pubes brush against my ass. He held it there. I was still tight but this was manageable. Then he started thrusting in and out and my body relaxed.

Two things stood out: how hard he was fucking me and how with each thrust his belly jammed against my ass. Hugging it like a blanket.

He was soon going in and out pretty fast. Doing that jackrabbit thing that bottoms sometimes complain about.

I see why.

It was fast, felt ok, but not enough to hit my insides in all the right places.

I was inexperienced at bottoming, he was inexperienced at being a good top.

I didn’t care. I wasn’t there for my pleasure. Just to make him happy.

Take his load.

He pumped harder. In. Out. His breathing became rasping and quick.

God, please don’t last long, I thought.

And he didn’t. He held my hips as he went even faster. Breathing harder still.

Then grunted louder as he pulled me close. His stomach pushing into my ass and unloading deep inside.

He held it there, probably admiring his work painting my insides, as he stepped back.

Me trying to hold every drop in for the next guy to use.

Then the forgiving silence.

Followed by a pen cap. He was moving closer, almost feeling his breath. Then the cold, wet tip of a permanent marker as he made a notch on my back.

He grabbed my ass, feeling it one last time before he stumbled back to his pants.

His impatient sighs and heavy breathing acting as a bad remix live in my bedroom. Dubbed with the beats of him bumping into my furniture three times as he finished getting dressed.

Then hearing creaking as he went down. As he left, I heard conversation at the door.

“How was he,” a voice. A much younger voice said.

“Not bad, better than his writing.”

Fuck you, Tom.

“Perfect, been 4 days,” I heard the new guy say as the front door closed and he quickly made his way up the stairs. Too quickly.

While the other guy undressed by the door, this one was dressed for efficiency.

His footsteps stopped and it was followed by the waistband of his shorts popping.

Releasing his cock by the sound of a meaty thud.

Uh oh. It sounded big.

Please don’t be big. Please don’t be big. Again praying to the bottom gods.

Then I felt him slap it against my crack. It wasn’t big. It was huge, 9+ if I had to guess.

Bigger than I had ever taken. I moved my ass away from him as my legs started shaking.

“Yeah Fox...going to give that to you. You want it, don’t you,” he said, his sparse mustache brushing my ear.

No. I don’t. Rearranging my insides was not on the list for tonight.

His hands moved my right leg back, then the left.

“Move over to the right.

More.

Left.

Arch your back more. I like it when a guy spreads his legs more.” Just constant instruction.

Fuck, I thought. This had to be DarylUtah23423 from the comments. Always telling me how to write the stories.

He was pushy.

In the chat I hated it.

Here it made my body feel warm, shake harder in anticipation with each command.

I could feel his tip hit my taint as he started lining up.

Leaking a bit of the first guy’s load from before.

“Fuck, dude, that’s hot,” he said as he used the tip of his dick to scoop up the cum and lube up his tip before sliding it inside.

FUCK, he was thick and long. I moved a pillow under me, biting it in anticipation even before the first touch. Bracing as I felt him push harder.

“More lube please,” I begged, pointing to the basket. Buying myself some time.

He applied a healthy amount before he was back on my hole, adding pressure. I was pushing down, trying to accept him, but my ass was fighting me.

I breathed in and then a longer exhale. Thinking of anything but the monster cock trying to enter me.

Then he breached inside me. Sliding halfway down, not stopping. Me pushing off him slightly. He was even thicker halfway down.

I was crying. Wanting to scream.

He had to be younger, early twenties, based on his impatience.

I felt like I was being stretched and torn open. He didn’t hold back. Not a second. Kept inching his way into me. His body heat was nowhere to be found and that meant one thing.

He wasn’t all the way in yet.

I tried breathing. Relaxing. But he had other plans.

He pushed all the way in to the hilt.

FUCCCCK, I screamed as he kissed between my shoulder blades.

Then bit. Hard.

UGH, I said, his cock invading me deeper. This guy hurt so bad.

Then my ass stopped hurting. Relaxed and adjusted as he kept buried in me.

Then I felt it. A need for more.

Without thinking I found myself sliding up and down his cock.

Tears replaced by determination as his cock started to meet my thrusts.

Then WHACK, stinging on my ass as he slapped me.

Causing me to scream in pleasure.

Again. Please again. I thought as I bit my lower lip and smiled.

He did not. Just used his cock to give me the pain his hand took away.

He slammed into me, all the way out then back in. Harder. Faster. Could feel his hip bones hit my ass.

A skinny boy with a thick cock.

A thick hot cock.

“Sir. Your ass feels amazing!!”

SIR?!

His thin fingers pulled my hair back as he licked my neck.

I moaned as every bony thrust was pure pleasure. Hitting my prostate by sheer size, not technique.

Bringing me close to orgasm.

Then without warning or sound he dove deep. Felt warmth spread inside me. Much bigger than the one before.

His 4-day load filled me up. Then he collapsed. Feeling his lean body on top of me. Sweating.

Then as quickly as he came, he got up, went to the marker and added his tally to my back.

After he left, there was nothing. Quiet again. Except a dull ache as I waited. The sound of crickets outside judging me and laughing.

Another suitor messaged me saying “we’ll be there in two minutes.”

Wait, did he say we?

So I was going from being an inexperienced bottom to having two guys use me at the same time.

I really am a whore. I put back the blindfold and got back into position. Waiting for the two guys to come.

I heard them struggle with the doorknob for a moment and they pushed the door open.

I could hear the weight of them as they ascended the stairs. The boards creaking under them.

I could feel both of them reach my bed. Smelling like booze and cigarettes. This should be fun.

“Fuck man, look at that,” he said, meaning my ass.

“Fuck, he’s gaped open, someone must have just used him,” one of them said.

“Hot...you go first, it’s your birthday.” TimTx454423 had a birthday today. So that must be him.

Hopefully they would be gentle. I was starting to feel tender already and I wasn’t halfway done.

I didn’t have to wait long as Tim slid inside me. All the way, not waiting. I could feel my hole was stretched but Tim had a long thin cock. It poked but didn’t hurt.

He started sliding in and out.

“He’s so loose, man. This is hot.”

“Yeah? Let me watch.”

I could feel them moving around, giving one a better angle. Tim was sliding in and out faster. He didn’t really feel like much except when he went in too deep and direct.

“Hey, let me try something,” and I felt the other climb on the bed, getting on top of me, mounting me while his friend was already deep inside.

Then the thrusting stopped and the head of the other guy tried to enter me. Finding me at rest.

“Fuck, not sure he can take this.”

No shit, it’s two dicks.

I felt my hole continue to resist but then it started slowly to give way. Not by much. He struggled, then it popped. Pushing in alongside his friend.

“Fuck, he’s taking it.”

I started screaming into the darkness. Could hear Tim and his friend coaxing me into taking more.

Then finally he slid in alongside his friend.

Double penetration. I really do take my work seriously.

Tim was long and thin. His friend was thick and short. Together it felt like a beer can wrecking me.

The combo of both of them was beyond anything.

Neither waited for me to adjust. Just thrusting in and out, gliding against each other.

I could hear them making out. Cheering each other on.

All while my ass was being ripped apart with each thrust.

I started seeing stars. Feeling like I might pass out with the intensity.

When I became more focused, both were pushing, cheering each other on. Thrusting deeper with a steady rhythm.

“Oh fuck, dude, about to unload,” Tim said, fucking hard and intense.

“Yeah, add his load to the others,” the other said, his thickness starting to push against my prostate. Getting me close. But I didn’t want to nut. Not yet.

“OMG, John...about to nut.”

“Do it...do it, bro,” he said as he leaned in and kissed my neck. His scruff rubbing against me causing my toes to curl.

Tim let out a loud dramatic groan as he came inside me. This set off his friend, who flooded every centimeter of my insides before collapsing. Tim sliding off and laughing on the floor.

“Look, dude, at all that cum,” they said. Me no longer holding it all in.

The other just grabbed my ass, opened me up, and I could feel his face close to my hole.

I heard them laughing as they saw me leaking out. Grabbing the marker, first one, then the other, making their mark on my back.

“Thanks Fox,” John said, patting my ass like a gentleman before they left. Could make out the sound of a high five on the staircase as they descended.

Another satisfied subscriber, I thought.

Then again silence. For just a moment. Then as soon as I started to relax, the door opened downstairs with a knock.

“HELLO,” a man called out. That sounded somewhat familiar.

He had a sexy voice. My hole tingled as he walked up the stairs. “Hello??!”

God, people don’t follow instructions.

“Up here,” I said, sounding irritated but hinting at the pain I was starting to feel.

He got to the top of the stairs and stopped suddenly.

“What the...” he said, not finishing.

Something was off.

I removed the blindfold to see not a stranger. At all. But my neighbor Dave.

Dave had moved in maybe a month ago and was here in a hoodie, sweatpants...and a look of horror.

“Whoa, Dave...what are you doing here.”

“I...uh....uh....heard a lot of screaming...people coming in and out.....”

He slowly backed up. Hitting the wall in his nervous attempted retreat. Pushing his glasses up his nose. Looking adorably shy as always.

Neither of us talked. All I could do was bunch up the sheets trying to cover myself in some sort of modesty as cum was leaking out of me.

Then I saw it. Through his sweats.

He was growing hard. His outline growing in his pants.

A wicked smirk came across my face and I felt heat grow under my neck and radiate up to my face.

He just stood there, frozen, as I lay on my back. Having him entranced by my predicament.

Dave just stared as I started to play with my hole.

First one finger.

Then two. Finally four. Sliding in and out.

No resistance, just sloppy wet teasing for Dave.

Still not one word from my neighbor.

I slid in and out faster, more intently. Watching his hand start to stroke his cock in a rhythm that matched mine.

His body took a step toward me but his eye was on the door.

Was he going to do this or run.

When he slid his cock out of his sweatpants, I knew where this would lead.

Walking closer, I just kept sliding. Feeling the wetness of four guys mix inside of me as my fingers moved in.

Moaning as I played with my spot.

On his face one thing became clear in an instant.

He couldn’t stop.

Didn’t want to stop.

Would not stop until he added himself to the mix.

He grabbed my ankles and put them up in the air like I had done to guys my whole life.

Resting them on his shoulders, making me submit to him. His body.

He pushed the head in and just stopped, staring at me. Like he was checking off a box in a fantasy before reaching down.

Kissing me. The only one that night.

Then as we made out he entered me. Tenderly. Completely.

I rubbed my legs against his body. The heat between us increasing.

Then used them to pull him deeper into me. His cock making me feel full.

The sheets under me I gripped. Hard. Trying to control my lust but then finally giving in with one deep sigh.

Moaning into his ear.

“Fuck me. I’ve wanted this so long.”

Whether that was true or not didn’t matter. It was what he would want to hear.

His rhythm started. Slow. Confident. Knowing how to hit everywhere it needed just right.

I could do this more often, fuck.

Each thrust was matched with a kiss. Either on my lips, my ears, or my neck.

It drove me wild.

“Please...harder...I need this.”

I said it and he just answered with his cock. Pounding me until I could hear him fucking the seed of four guys out of my hole.

The sloppiness, and what should have been shame, pounding harder. Sensual. A mix of making love and taking the unexpected.

He slowed down. Wanting to enjoy every last second. His eyes told me he could stay all night. Go to coffee if I wanted. Also something that would forever hold him back from that.

A blindfold. Me on all fours. The loads of men greeting him at the door.

That path was maybe closed, but the one of satisfaction was wide open and he was taking it.

Looking down, watching his body rock in and out. My cock was leaking. A mix of precum and what looked like cum oozing out slowly like he was milking me from the inside.

More coming out, then shooting out as he made me cum.

Fuck, never had that happen. The intensity made my body tremble. Tighten around him.

I heard him curse as he added himself inside me.

Then collapsing on top of me. Sweaty. Breathing. Lips on my collarbone.

Then stopped. Backed away as his mind and body got on the same page again. He looked at me, looked at my hole then back. Eyes wide and his innocence took back control.

“Could you...” I asked pointing to the marker. He nodded and grabbed the marker. He dropped the marker cap and left an unsteady mark with the others and backed away slowly.

He pulled his pants on quickly. Like he had been caught doing something bad.

And was out the door before he could process his panic.

Then silence.

I sat there leaking out onto the bed. Looking sweaty and totally used.

As I felt all my subscribers swimming inside me, I smiled.

I curled up into a ball and cuddled my pillow that smelled like a mix of Dave, Tim, Tim’s friend, Tom and Daryl, and fell asleep for a moment.

I woke up and 15 minutes felt like 8 hours. I rubbed my eyes and reached behind me, feeling the damage done. I was puffy, sore and leaking.

When I finally picked up my phone.

3 messages from 3 different guys asking if they should head over and one from Dave.

My fingers, slick with lube, slid off the screen as I tried to find his message. My eyes coming into focus from my slut-fueled slumber.

Dave: Hey sorry to bolt. I came over to check on you because I was worried.

Worried. I could feel my heart beating in my chest. I continued reading as I kicked my legs up like a teenage girl.

Dave: After that it feels silly to be shy. I have been trying to figure out a way to ask you to coffee and get to know each other. Hope this didn’t ruin my chances but worth a shot.

As I lay there in my cum-stained jock, tallies on my back, a tear caught my eye. This was the most romantic thing ever. Maybe not a story to tell the grandchildren...

As I put down the phone,

The tenderness subsiding as I massaged my entrance, I looked at the marker. Then the messages from 3 guys waiting for their turn

What was a cumdump to do...

Ahh Mother’s Day. Where needy mothers everywhere force their sons to stop what they are doing and celebrate the one time in your 23 years where they shot you out of a hole in a bloody mess and called it a miracle.

Ok I may sound a little down on my mother but she was a bit much on Mother’s Day. 9 years ago to the day I forgot to get her a card. It was a war crime that still has not been rectified as it is brought up as a stark reminder every year to make sure not to forget this momentous day.

I love my mother but this holiday is rigid with expectations and protocol.

The day usually starts with me bringing her tea and breakfast in bed. Why anyone would want 1) me to cook for them and 2) eat biscuits and pancakes in bed is beyond me.

So this Mother’s Day started just like that and I walked into the bedroom almost tripping over our cat Henry and giving her breakfast. The biscuits, the pancakes, the tea and of course one flower in a small vase. Then practically bowing and not turning my back to her royal highness as I left the room to go get ready for church.

I don’t need to go over that part of the day. Basically we go, sing a bit, listen to some hilarious story about an insecure and wrathful god trying to test some poor man’s faith by basically asking him to go full Shining on his son.

That was the entertaining part. The rest kept putting me to sleep. Luckily for me, my mom was on watch and anytime I dozed off she would slap my hand with a hymnal. Didn’t matter I had been up at 4am trying to make several test runs of her damn biscuits, but it ruined her perfect day.

Now dinner was always us going to the same steak restaurant every year and ordering the same thing. She the steak, well done, because who needs to taste the meat. At dinner I had ordered a glass of wine to take my edge off and this apparently set my mother off. She cried halfway through because she was afraid she raised a kid with an addiction and was responsible because she gave her son a sip of wine when he was 14.

I should point out this was the first drink I had since Christmas, so obviously not a problem, and I was 23.

Anyway after drying her tears and heading to the car and throwing her in the back like Miss Daisy. I drove off to a nice surprise I wanted to give her. My mother loved gardening. She found it was a great way to relax, unwind and avoid the family for most of the day and drink wine. And she worries I have a problem.

We got to Florence’s Garden Center off of Highway 73. It is an adorably tragic nursery with oversized gnomes outside, and acres of different plants, flowers, trees etc.

When we got there I told her that I wanted to get her a new flower bed and she practically wet herself on the spot. She smiled. I smiled. We hugged. She cried. I tried to cry. It was a touching moment that would have the Cleavers jealous.

As we walked around she took the time to tell me about every plant and its history. What is funny is I am pretty sure she was making things up. Like I am pretty sure that was a bluebonnet not blueberries but hey, this makes her happy.

When we were still in section 1 of 45 I saw a guy, about my age, organizing some small carnation plants in the corner. In the greenhouse, the light shined down and made his hair practically glow like an angel. See if he had been in church I would have stayed awake.

He looked up and caught me staring. I froze like one of the gnome statues outside. I wanted to move but I couldn’t. His stare had me locked in place. So I did what any self-respecting guy would do. I ducked. The problem is I did it quicker than I should have and there were no plants down there. So I am sure I looked completely unhinged as I hit the dirt.

I took a deep breath, happy I escaped any awkwardness and turned to make my escape. Though the problem with my plan was when I turned around he was there waiting for me. His hands on his hips and a smile that made me want to melt.

“Do you need help with something,” he said laughing and showing off some serious dimplage. Is that a word.

Well now it is.

He had amazing dimplage!

“No, just wanted to tie my shoe,” I said, lying confidently.

His eyes slowly made their way down my body, and I thought he was checking me out, starting to get a little tight in my pants. Not going to lie. Until they kept going down to my slip-on Vans. Catching me in a lie.

I looked down in panic and he patted me on the shoulder, his eyes lingering on mine giving me hope.

“Well if you need anything let me know,” he said.

“Will do,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Name’s James,” he said, giving me that dimplage again.

He walked off and I could almost swear he was laughing at me. I let out the biggest wtf breath I had ever made and went to find my mother. She was busy organizing azaleas by size and I almost thought she had gotten a job there if I hadn’t seen her already half-full buggy.

“Oh Daniel! Look at these azaleas, wouldn’t they look so lovely in our front yard.”

Ok this is one of the dangers with my mother. It seems like the obvious answer would be yes and make her happy. Ha, no. Nice try. Let’s show what she would say if I said yes.

She would first think a moment. Her finger tapping her cheek lost in thought. Then she would say.

“Daniel. You obviously don’t have gardening in your blood like me. The azaleas would overpower the front yard and completely throw off the layering in the back.”

Btw. I learned to BS from her. Not as good but almost there. So you can all thank her.

While we were walking around section 2 I kept seeing James in different areas working. I use that word loosely because every few minutes we kept making eye contact.

First it was over the orchids. Then the lilies. Followed by some small sunflowers. Each time longer and with more suggestive looks that made me hot all the way down to my roots.

Oh god. Being around all these plants is starting to affect me.

So as me and mom were heading into section 3, James nodded at me to follow him.

Holy Rose of Sharon, he decided to go to a bathroom! My heart skyrocketed in my chest and I could feel myself getting worked up in my pants.

I followed him along the path of Jasmine and Daisies. My hands running across the top of them as I matched his pace. Him looking back to make sure I was following him with a wicked smile.

Is he going to blow me? Want me to blow him? How does his ass feel? You know all the normal things you think about at a nursery.

As I walked into the restroom, I saw one stall didn’t have a door and the other an out of order sign. On top of that, there was no privacy for the urinals. Well that sucks. So this wasn’t going to be the hot steamy romp I had playing in my mind.

Still. I wanted to see where things went.

He smiled as I walked over to him and we stood facing each other. His dimplage returning and I could feel that heat that builds under your collar. He definitely had an effect on me. So in the restroom we were exposed, anyone could walk in, and I could see he was stroking himself and keeping his eye on the door.

I took mine out, but my nerves were keeping me from getting fully excited right there. Luckily I am a shower and a grower.

James was peering down, his eyes wide with appreciation.

“Soo,” he said, still keeping an eye on the door, “wanna fool around a bit?”

“I...I...here?” I said, not wanting to go to jail.

He just laughed at my silly nature. “No. There is a shed tucked away. We can, you know, if we are quick.”

I swallowed what felt like all my spit in one moment. Then choked very suave-like.

“But...my mom,” I said.

“I have an idea,” he responded with a gleam in his eye.

He zipped up sadly and we split up.

My mother was over by the roses, smelling each like they were testers for perfume. My heart was beating through my chest at this point knowing any moment I could be balls deep in the garden boy.

My mother was going on about why thorns had needles to help bees rest to help pollinate them. I rolled my eyes when a younger nursery assistant who was not James came over.

“HI THERE,” she said with more energy than I thought possible. My mother surprisingly matched her energy. The new girl, whose name tag said Jessica, said she saw my mother looking and that she had an eye for gardening. My mother gushed so much that I thought South Korea could hear my eyes roll to the back of my head.

Christ.

They volleyed back and forth about floral trivia and she offered to show my mother a special collection in the back they just got in. My mother accepted and I said I could use a break and get some water. Too much excitement, you know.

She left me, just like she did one summer in Target once. Left me in the store when I went to look at video games. It was 57 minutes until she came back looking crazed and blamed me for leaving without her child.

Mothers.

I ran off trying to find James with a look much like my mother’s that day in Target. I saw his blonde hair over by a shed, checking his cellphone and looking around.

“James!” I said, whisper-shouting, and he turned around and jerked his head around, his eyes searching for other people.

He nodded for me to follow.

We found a green shed that was just behind a trellis of ivy. It looked like it had seen better days. It was wooden, the paint bleached in the sun and the wood at the bottom looked like it had a year or two of life in it. All in all not the worst place I’ve done it in.

He opened the shed door and ushered me in until we were face to face in the dark. Just the light from the top of the door peeking in.

“My mom...not sure how long we have. She is talking to someone,” I said in some awkward verbal morse code.

“Yeah, Jessica is my best friend and her dad owns the store. I had her distract your mom while we,” he said, as he grabbed my crotch and rubbed me through my white shorts. Giving me a playful wink.

I was not hard yet again. The mix of my mother in close proximity and my nerves taking their toll.

James just looked at me with a look that made me want to let him do anything he wanted. His mouth pushed up against mine and our tongues found each other. I felt his body with my hands, sliding them up his Garden Center t-shirt and feeling his flat stomach and tight back muscles.

“We can’t be too long,” he warned before his mouth found my neck.

My neck is like the spot for me that sends me from 0 to 100 instantly. Once the tip of his tongue massaged the side of my neck I was no longer responsible for my actions.

I pushed him against the shed wall, causing a whole assortment of tools to bang, and him to hold up his finger to his mouth.

Reaching again for my crotch he noticed that I was at full mast. Finally.

He rummaged for my belt and unbuckled and undid my shorts, making them fall on top of the dead leaves littering the floor of the shed.

As he got to his knees he rubbed my legs, each hair that touched his hand sending a wave of pleasure through my body just as his mouth found my cock and slid down.

James was not new to this. His skill made me wonder how many times he had used this shed.

He made his way up and down, taking care of little Daniel with my mother only a few feet away.

How much longer could we do this.

Did I even care?

He removed his shirt, not wanting to get anything on his sacred Garden Center regalia. And removed his jeans. Standing naked. In all his beauty. OMG even his butt had dimplage!

I then heard my mother’s cackling. It was far but still piercing.

We had to move this along.

Looking back at those dimples, my lips curled and I spun him around and spread his cheeks open. His skin had this dusting of light blonde hairs that called to me.

I soon was burying my tongue in him. Deep.

I was good at being a son. Even better at eating out.

My tongue swirled inside him causing his hand to move around the shed, finding something to hold on to.

He was moaning, louder than we should have been with customers so close.

I have always been able to extend my tongue pretty far, which was unfortunate for James as this made him moan louder until he was practically biting his arm off trying to be quiet.

He pushed me off of him and looked me dead in the eye with all the seriousness of a bank heist.

“I need you to fuck me now before your mom comes back,” he said.

Ok, that sentence was half as long as it needed to be. We all know she can appear like Glinda in her bubble any moment. Let’s not ruin the moment.

I spat on myself, missing the first time then hitting it the second. James braced himself on a wooden beam in the shed before I pushed up against him.

The heat coming off his body and the tightness made my fingers press into him harder. Church. Her crying. All this plant bullshit finally paying off. I could feel his muscle starting to relax and accept my cock. I was throbbing as I entered him, and he pushed off the beam to take all of me inside.

“Hold still. You are kinda big,” he said, struggling to talk.

I didn’t dare move. I could hear a windchime close by and used it to keep me from overheating.

Then he pushed back and forth, rocking the shed slightly.

Each thrust made a slight creaking noise.

I looked around making sure it wouldn’t collapse on us.

James no longer seemed fazed. I could see him trying to glide down on me, but was struggling with my size.

He was making this whimper noise as he adjusted. He had tears in his innocent looking eyes, wanting me to be gentle.

Meanwhile I am back there, not having been with anyone in weeks and trying to jackhammer like I am trying to pay rent.

He finally relaxed and took me with ease. I must have been hitting his prostate because his moans were far from normal, switching from high to low.

While he is sounding like an angel being dropped into a blender, I felt myself getting closer.

I could feel the heat trapped in the shed getting warmer. Beads of sweat were pouring down our faces. Feeling dumb for making fun of his shirt earlier.

A wave of pleasure building and I knew we didn’t have much time.

“Daniel,” I swear I heard my mother’s voice far in the distance.

Fuck her, this is my day now, I thought while getting close to the edge.

Then James, always one step ahead, started to finish. I could feel him shake and saw his release from the corner of my eye. His body flexing around me as it dug in.

I put everything I had deep inside him and felt myself finish completely, dripping out as I pulled back.

Splat. Onto the floor.

We both were out of breath and covered in a thick disgusting layer of sweat.

Our torsos touching as we both made out shirtless. I wanted to get a taste of those dimples one last time. So I pushed him against the door.

When I did, the door hinge snapped with a quick and sudden breaking sound and the shed door came crashing down, us with it.

Me lying on top of him, both shirtless, my pants still undone, no mistake about what had happened.

And there, no more than 4 feet away, was my mother.

Clutching her pearls and me my dimplage.

And that was the day I ruined two things.

James’s butthole and Mother’s Day.

When Brett agreed to interview me, I knew it was a bad idea.

We had not dated in over 10 years. It had ended abruptly. Painfully. But we always said we would remain friends.

We were texting late one night last month and I said I needed someone to interview me. Brett immediately booked a plane ticket and headed to visit.

When he walked in, I had no idea how this would go.

“Hey everyone,” Brett said, leaning back in his chair. “When I got asked to do this, I’ll be honest, I had no idea what Substack was or what I was getting into.”

He looked over at me and threw up air quotes with that stupid smirk he always did.

“I was shocked that ‘Fox’…” he said. “Okay… this is weird for me. I’ve called you by your real name for over ten years, and now I have to call you ‘Fox.’ Why Fox?”

“Okay, I know you probably forgot,” I said, already laughing, “but the name The Gemini Fox comes from...”

“Okay, Gemini I get,” Brett interrupted. “You would never shut up about astrology, so that part is easy. But Fox? Because you like to be chased? I don’t get it.”

He took a sip of his coffee, which definitely had a touch of Baileys in it because Brett never did uncomfortable conversations completely sober.

“I always liked foxes,” I said. “They’re cunning...”

“It took you five and a half years to graduate college.”

“They are CUNNING,” I said louder. “Very adaptable. Independent. Flirty.”

I pointed at him.

“Also, I had a double major. And my parents got divorced.”

Brett rolled his eyes in fake annoyance, though he hated losing even a fake argument.

“Sure,” he said. “Well, they are cute. And you were cute when I met you.”

“Were?”

I leaned forward and stared at him.

“Wow. What does that mean?”

“Umm…” Brett said, immediately backtracking. “No comment. Yet.”

He pointed at me.

“So, you picked a pen name. I never knew you wrote. Or even liked writing.”

“When we met, I was still in college,” I said. “So if you had actually read my Substack, which I asked you to do, mind you, you would know I only started writing seriously about two months ago.”

“Sorry I didn’t drop everything I was doing to read sex stories from my ex-boyfriend.”

His nose crinkled, and I hated that I still found that endearing. It was the same expression that got me on our first date.

“Well,” I said, “see, I told you this already. I write sex stories, yes, but there’s also an MM romance.”

“With a lot of sex.”

“Well, yeah,” I said. “I mean… sex is an important part of relationships.”

He sat back in his chair, understanding exactly what I was hinting at.

“Ok, well so there is a lot of sex in it. So why are you a sex worker now?” he said, bringing his hand to his chin, faking he was the next Diane Sawyer. “Why the change? Why now?”

I sighed, exhausted by our banter already. I could feel this intense rush building in my body.

“I am not a sex worker.” I chuckled. “Let’s take a step back and I will answer this. So when I was about 17 I had a friend who loved romance novels.”

“Was this Anne?”

I nodded while taking a sip of my drink.

“She was reading these really trashy romance novels. You know the campy ones that use something like He fired his 21 gun salute and overusing loins. You know?” I asked, leaning forward with a smile lost in nostalgia.

“No. Not really.”

“Anyway, I was bored and took a notebook that leaned heavily into the camp and tried to really make it funny.”

“You can’t tell a joke though,” he said again, bringing back that smirk.

“It was funny.”

His eyes moved to the side in mock disbelief.

“So I wrote the story and we both laughed hysterically and so kept writing more. Long story short I had a collection of about 20 that she kept and shared with others in our theater group.”

“I forgot you were a theater kid...” he said, his voice trailing off with a hint of judgment.

“So then at some point our drama teacher turned one of my stories in to the counselor’s office who sat me down and questioned me.”

“This was back in Texas right?”

“Yeah.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah. So the school sat me down and was like, do your parents know this, you shouldn’t write, what would they think. Etc etc. She asked me to make sure that any of the stories were destroyed.”

“What did you do?”

“I ran to my friend. Who immediately said no they were too funny and was going to keep them.”

“Oh wow. She was like Miep Gies, the woman who hid Anne Frank. So brave,” he said, with dripping sarcasm.

“Shut up.”

“That is one sad origin story. I really hope they never write a movie about it.”

“Brett...”

“No really but....you never were a writer. Fuck, you can barely write a text. AND YOU HATED ENGLISH CLASS AS A KID,” he pointed out.

“So back to me.”

“We never left.”

“Two months ago I was reading a story on Nifty.org.”

“What’s that?”

“Never heard it?”

“No,” he said, sounding curious.

“It’s a site that has thousands of like erotic stories.”

“And you read these?”

“Yeah, since I was thirteen,” I said, shaking my head.

“But you barely read more than one to two books a year.”

“Even though you have dozens you show off.”

I looked at the camera and then back at him. Shifting in my seat.

“So there was a story on there that never was finished and I thought. I could just finish it as I really wanted to see where the characters went in my head. Then I was like, why don’t I just write my own story.”

Brett sat there, I could feel that familiar look as his eyes traced my body. My hands gripping the sides of the director’s chair and squeezing. Rubbing my thumb at the end of the arm.

He caught my hand moving. Smiled. Knowing for sure the effect his banter had on me.

“So what are you writing?”

“Right now my main series is Texas Heat. About two guys right out of college. Cody is all about Order. A good student. Athlete takes himself a bit too seriously and hasn’t had sex with a guy yet.”

His hand reached down, briefly onto mine. Then quickly returned it to his side.

“Texas heat...are they cowboys?” he said, touching his own hand without thinking.

“No...God no...Texas heat is that kind of heat that...It’s stepping outside at 9 p.m. and the air still feels like someone left the oven open. It clings to your skin, settles at the back of your neck, turns a small glance into something slower.”

Brett just sat there smiling at me.

“Sounds pretentious. Did you ever write about me?”

I swallowed hard, as my hand rushed to grab my water.

“Not exactly.”

“Meaning?”

“My stories are not based on actual events, but they are influenced by moments.”

“What was your favorite moment?”

I choked on my drink. Almost spitting it out.

“You said I could ask anything.”

I did, shaking my head in immediate regret. I leaned back, put my hands together and had a sly smile.

“So I would say it was right before I moved away. You were dating some guy and we met in your apartment bathroom. The one by the pool.” He sat uncomfortably in his seat.

“My husband now...”

“Oh is he. That was him? Well that is awkward,” I said. “Not awkward for me.”

Brett sat there, pulled his collar on his shirt. His fingers playing with the button a moment.

“You were moving away.

Might not see you again.”

He paused. I could see a slight tear.

“Wanted to feel you one last time.”

We both froze. Lost in the memory of that day and bleeding into the years we were together.

Brett cleared his throat.

“Did you ever cheat on me?”

“No. Well. No by our rules.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well. You wanted an open relationship.”

“Yeah and you were SUCH A PRUDE.”

“I wanted to be with one person. Just you.”

“But why limit yourself?”

“Why spread yourself thin and not give 100% to someone?”

He sighed, the same old fight entering the conversation that kept us miles apart.

“Look, everyone wants different things. I love sex but want one person. Anyway, you encouraged me to have sex and after months and months of pushing. I did. I went out in Houston, ended up dancing and making out with a guy. We both ended up....”

“Wait, did you fuck?” he said, with jealousy slipping off his tongue unexpectedly.

I paused.

“Are you sure you want the answer?”

“Yes.”

“No, we didn’t. We were both tops.”

Brett sighed, trying to hide his feelings like he always did when things got tense.

“Now, he took me to an after party where 5 of us ended up in a bed….”

His eyes widened. I could see him bending the cue cards with his finger.

“You are telling me you went from this chaste monk to being in the bed with 5 guys?”

“Ok...first of all I was not a monk. I loved having sex a lot. Just with you.”

“Yeah, just with me,” he said, reaching for his Baileys to take a large sip.

“I thought it was hot. Sex with you was always my fav.” I caught myself, tried to pull the words back in.

He looked up mid-sip, then leaned back, looking down smiling.

“Mine too.”

He just sat there lost in memory with a smile. Adjusting himself in his pants.

I could feel my body tense up.

“I never needed to date someone else.” I could feel the stinging wet feeling build behind my eyes.

The betrayal.

So long ago but still felt fresh.

“That still hurts you.”

“Yeah...”

“Why?”

“Because your argument for an open relationship. ‘Not about connection, just getting off.’” I looked down, shaking my head, and bit my lips.

“I’m sorry, babe.”

Those words from him. Felt sharp, cold. Definitely not warm.

“Sorry,” he backtracked.

He reached for the Baileys. It was empty.

“Umm. I think we should stop there,” Brett said, pushing the cue cards under his thigh.

“Yeah. We got enough content. I can edit this part out.”

I sighed and gave him a polite smile. His cologne may have changed, but the scent underneath had not. I lingered a moment, wanting to take a piece of him with me to remember.

“Fox?”

“Yeah?”

“Never mind,” he said as I walked out the door, closing it. Going to the green room to escape.

I sat there. Tired. Exhausted from this battle with him. With his memory.

In that silence I grabbed the sink. Gripping it as hard as I could as my shoulders fell.

Then a knock on the door.

Quiet. Unsure.

I rushed, ready for round two, grabbing my armor and shield, ready to take on whatever he had to dish out.

When I opened the door. It was just him.

The boy from the coffee shop with the crinkled nose. That taught me to cook. To explore abandoned homes.

Staring back at me. Me at him.

Our heavy breathing synchronized in our silence.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I said, adjusting my shirt.

“I know,” he said, as he took a step forward.

He reached down and grabbed the end of my shirt. Rubbing between his fingers.

“This shirt always looked good on you.”

“You gave it to me,” I said, moving toward him.

His mouth found me without words. With years of hunger finding me.

He pushed me from the threshold and into the green room, his lips never leaving mine.

We made out, his hands reaching for my face to take as much of me in.

Our breathing was labored as we tried to get every last moment we could, lost in each other’s mouths.

He stopped, his cheek rubbing against mine.

“My flight...we don’t have much time.”

I took half a step back and just looked at him before kissing again.

Him unbuttoning his shirt and me removing mine, dancing around our kiss until we laid there.

His body was so warm, still firm and pushing against mine.

The comfort even in this rush was not lost. My dick was firm, harder than it had been in years. My cock against his. Him moaning into my mouth as his hands felt my cock through my pants.

We stood there entranced with each other as he reached for his pants, undoing them and letting them fall behind him.

My pants falling right after, joining his on the floor.

He spit in his hands. That spit slicker than any lube I could ever find.

He applied it on me, smearing it on my dick. His hand lingering as if it had been too long since he touched me.

I stepped forward, without even thinking.

We had done this so often the last few years. It was muscle memory at this point.

My cock pushing against him, sliding home one last time. His familiar heat surrounding me, down to the root. I grunted, knowing he had prepared for this. Still dry. I pulled back out. His face close to mine, adding more spit without our eyes ever leaving each other.

I slid back in and he leaned forward against the wall.

Pushing his ass out giving me full access like I still owned it.

My hands gripped his sides, the touch of his skin giving me flashbacks of our greatest hits.

His small crappy college apartment. His friend’s hot tub. Bathroom at a zoo. His sister’s wedding.

When I came back, I was thrusting deep and hard. Trying to fuck every complicated memory away from us.

He thrust back, always enjoying how my cock stretched him open.

I didn’t want to hurry. He could just pick another flight.

The danger in that thought scared me.

I pushed into him, feeling the pleasure build. I needed to end this to get him out.

I could feel him spasm around me as he finished on the black tile floor, his load pouring out of his cock.

“Cum in me.” His only words this whole time.

I erupted like I hadn’t shot in weeks. The pleasure almost caused me to black out. The kind where my legs wanted to give out after running a marathon.

I reached down and kissed his neck.

Neither of us breaking our embrace.

As I stepped back he reached behind himself, greedy for the last of me, smiling up at me with that crinkled nose.

As I buttoned my pants and checked myself for stains, he stood there with his back to me. Not turning around once.

“How’s Michael?” I asked as we got dressed. Him freezing at the name.

“Fine,” he said quickly.

“Alex?”

“Good. Traveling. As always.”

We couldn’t force any more pleasantries as we just stood there.

He grabbed my hand like he wanted to say something.

I brushed his hair away from his eyes and fixed it the way he had worn it for years.

I walked him to the door with my hand on his lower back. Before I could grab the door he turned around.

His hand pressed flat against my chest. Both standing in silence.

I kissed his cheek and he took a half step to leave, then turned around.

“Hey, why don’t we chat next week.”

I just nodded with a slight smile as he left to grab his bags and leave.

We always said this.

We never did.

Too risky.

One call could ruin both our lives in this perpetual lie we called love.

One call my body still wanted me to make.