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Authors: Mickey Erlach

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BOOK: Lover Boys Forever
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He began fumbling with my belt and soon had my trousers down around my knees, working on my cock through the thin material of my briefs.

I opened my eyes. His arresting brown orbs and the broad cheeky grin, which was spread across his handsome features, captured them immediately.

I grinned back and in that moment when I was off-guard he launched his attack. He pushed away from the table and grabbing my hips, swung me around so that I was leaning against the table.

Before I could catch my breath, he was pressing against me, his hand still holding my hips. I was trapped between the hard plastic of the cold table and the hard flesh of his hot cock, which I could feel, pressed firmly against my thigh.

He smiled that disarming grin and slowly lowered his lips to mine, kissing me hard on the mouth. It occurred to me that anyone could walk in at any minute, but after a second’s doubt, I returned his kiss, slipping my tongue between his lips and Frenching him for all I was worth.

He pushed his tongue deep into my throat, moving like a live thing in my mouth. His crotch was pressed hard against me
, and I could feel the throbbing of his thick dick as he ground it against mine.

I ripped off his shirt as I introduced myself. “I’m Luke, by the way.”

“Sean,” he said, his voice muffled through the material as his shirt went over his head.

I undid his belt and yanked his trousers down. In a matter of seconds
, he was almost naked; his trousers and a pair of skimpy Versace briefs gathered at his knees.

His cock slapped his stomach as it was released from the confines of the thin material
, and I caught a quick glance of it before he began dry-humping my stomach. It was at least eight inches in length, long enough to reach his belly button with ease, and so thick a horse would have been proud of it. The meaty shaft was crossed with thick veins, pulsing with blood, but by far, the most intriguing part of his rod, was his cockhead. Large and wide it almost looked out of place on the end of his brown shaft. It was an angry, purple-red as more and more blood diffused through his uncut swollen member. Gaping wide, like a fish, was his cum-slit which led all the way back to his heavy, low hanging balls complete with their dense foliage of blond hair.

Sean grabbed my own erection, placed it against his in his large paw of a hand, and began pumping up and down, wanking us off together. I could feel the heat coming from his elongated weapon, hot enough to melt the Polar ice caps and speed up global warming by a century.

Sean abruptly broke away from me leaving me feeling lost and devoid of his warmth. The dismay I felt must have shown on my face because he smiled his cheeky grin trying to reassure me.

He stretched over to a locker, opened the door and reached in. He rummaged about for a few minutes, playing with his cock as he did so, keeping his pulsing beast hard and solid. When he pulled his hand from the locker, he brought with him a condom and a tube of lube.

“You do the honors,” he said, tossing the items to me.

I desperately wanted him to fuck me
, so I wasted no time in tearing open the condom packet and rolling the thin latex over his huge dick meat and smearing a good amount of lube over his hard shaft. It felt good to be holding his cock. It was different from how I’d imagined it to be. I thought it would be rock hard, but it was quite malleable but with an inner core of strength, like a steel girder which had been wrapped in duvets.

He kissed me once again and then, without another word, spun me around and threw me over the table, trapping my cock between my stomach and the hard, unyielding plastic.

I spread my legs wide offering him my aching hole. He rubbed the tight valley between my ass cheeks with his thick, eight inches, his cockhead stroking my pucker tentatively, sending a shiver like pure lightening up my spine.

Suddenly there was a searing pain as he plunged in, his eight inches of solid meat tearing through my ring and traveling up my chute with the speed of Concorde. I yelped loudly. “For Christ’s sake take it easy,” I snapped over my shoulder.

“Relax,” was all he said as I felt his hairy balls slap my ass. “Christ, you’ve got the tightest butthole I’ve fucked in ages.” I could feel his desire hammering through his long shaft, the thick, sleek skin conveying his message clearly.

“Fuck, it hurts!” I said, sucking in air, trying to accommodate the pain.

Sean laughed and flexed his pelvic muscles causing his manhood to grow even harder in my hot, warm chute. Curiously, the pain began to subside and along with it the fear that he was going to rip me in two. For that, I was glad. It meant I could enjoy the feel of his dick embedded in my butt and the ride that was to come.

His hips began pumping with a quick, fierce rhythm, his cock driving between the mounds of my twitching buttocks. Time and again
, Sean pulled out until only his cockhead remained in me and then his powerful hips would thrust forward, his latex sheathed sword plowing into my heaving gut.

I sighed and yelped and squealed and moaned and cried out in sheer ecstasy as Sean buried his rigid, pulsating shaft into me. Sometimes
, he would leave his dick impaled in me and grind his hips. That felt so good! I would squeeze my ass tight, making him sigh with pleasure.

My cock trapped painfully between my stomach and the unrelenting plastic of the table was rock hard and oozing amounts of pre
cum so copious as to outdo Niagara. I could feel his muscular chest rubbing against my back, his hairs tickling me, the friction causing the sexual heat between us to rise to greater heights.

Every time Sean rammed his cock into me, his hairy balls would slap my a
ss cheeks and he would let out a groan, which slowly turned into one continuous moan. His manhood hammered my tortured rectum and as his dick tightened it set off the chain of reactions that led to me blowing one of the biggest wads I’d ever dropped.

My jizz blasted from my cum-slit and having nowhere to go pooled beneath me on the table. I could feel the heat coming from the wet liquid as the smell of man
sex rose to pervade the air.

As I came, I tightened my a
ss muscles, and that was enough to set Sean off. With a roar a lion would have been proud, he held me tight as his cock filled the rubber with his thick man cream.

I could feel his dick spasm in my a
ss chute as he continued to pump, his hips powerfully thrusting his manhood into me, my ass muscles squeezing tightly, milking him for all he was worth.

Sean collapsed onto me as his orgasm subsided. He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight as he whispered breathlessly, “That was fucking amazing!”

His cock squirmed in my gut as he softly kissed the back of my neck. My body felt weak as he vacated my throbbing hole.

“Feeling better?” he asked as I stood up and turned around, his cheeky grin plastered on his face.

My knees trembled with the effort of standing up and I slumped into one of the nearby seats, the plastic cold on my hot, well-used ass.

“You bet!”

# # # # #

Two weeks later Sean moved in with me
, and we began a relationship that was to last eight long, happy and joyous years. We shared in each other’s hopes and aspirations, lived our dreams to the fullest, experienced all that we wanted to and generally lived life – milking the marrow out of life as one of our friends said.

It was a Monday morning then as well
, and Sean was in work. I had gone in to the restaurant as I did every morning when he was working early.

I was sitting at my usual table eating my usual order of hash browns when a deep voice said, “You al’right?” I grinned recogni
zing his voice immediately.

I looked up straight into his gentle caring eyes and smiled.

“We’ve been invited to Tom and Zak’s tonight,” he started, “I told them we’ll be there at ... “

I never did find out what time we would be there. It happened so suddenly. One minute he was standing there, smiling at me, telling me of the plans he had made for us, the next minute he turned ghostly white and grabbed his chest. His eyes rolled back
, and he fell to the floor.

The rest of the staff were running
toward us as I knelt by his writhing body, calling for a doctor.

In the ambulance, I held his hand tightly. “Hold on,
Babe,” I said time and again, repeating it like a mantra. “We’re almost there now. Stay with me, Sean.”

The paramedics worked frantically trying to save him. I was horrified at his appearance. Ten minutes earlier he had been laughing. Now he was blue and had seemed to age perceptibly. The features I knew so well had distorted into that of an old man.

“Sean ... Sean?”

His eyelids parted and a ghost of a smile passed over his lips. His soft eyes flashed as he looked at me and filled with warmth.

His smile grew stronger. “I ... love ... you,” he said between labored breaths. His examined my face as if trying to memorize every detail. Then they closed, and he sighed.

The paramedic who had been working on him, fighting so hard to keep him breathing, lowered his head.

“Is he …?” I barely whispered. He nodded.

The church on the day of the funeral was packed. It seemed as if everyone Sean had ever known had come to pay their respects.

Six close friends of Sean’s, all members of the rugby team he played for, carried his casket into the hallowed building, I and members of his family following behind.

I waited until everyone had passed his c
asket. Finally, I stood there staring down at him, tall and muscular, alone with my thoughts.

He looked strange to me, not like my Sean at all. He was wearing a suit I had rarely seen him in and the shirt was a color I know he would have hated. He looked unnatural. His face looked like peach parchment and was devoid of the merriment and spark of life that made everyone he knew love him.

I reached into the coffin and held his hands for the last time. “Goodbye, my love,” I whispered. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I saw his mouth twitch in a brief smile of recognition.

I no longer go to his restaurant in the city anymore; the memories are still too painful. Instead, I spend my time sitting at the river in all winds and weather wondering why the only good thing in my life was taken away from me so suddenly.

BROTHER SIMON’S HABIT
By Michael Turner

I have sinned! Oh, God forgive me, I have sinned! I have sinned against His most glorious Name!

Guilt fills and wracks me. Guilt courses through my veins, flowing through every organ and every limb of my being. Guilt exudes from every pore and surrounds me, a halo of obscene presence around my body.

My heart aches – heavy and overwrought as I am.

How could I? How could I have perpetrated such a heinous crime against man and against my God?

I am guilty. I am doomed to Hellfire everlasting. My body will burn in the Devil’s fire, his nymphs and satyrs cavorting around me in a parody of my sins. My flesh and bones will roast on the Devil’s spit and wither away; my soul shall be ripped open and tormented for time everlasting, my entire being: my body, my soul, my mind, all will be tortured beyond endurance
, and still the tortures will go on.

Yet shall I have deserved my punishment?

The Holy Gospels say it right, the realm’s laws say it right, the abbot say it right and mine own family, should they know, would say it right.

Yet is it right? I think it harsh. Yet when I took my vows did I not agree to abide by God’s laws, to obey the Holy Word?

I am only human after all. The mind may be strong, but the flesh is weak. There are so many earthly temptations the Devil can choose and pick his weapons ... and there is only one defense ... Faith.

That is the nub of my problem
... Faith ... I don’t have enough ... My faith is not strong enough.

Recently I have found myself doubting every aspect, wondering if it’s all true. That is how it all started.

Wandering in the fields and the woods surrounding the abbey alone with my thoughts, my mind wandered to my time up north.

Three years ago, I was a monk in a large northern abbey. The abbey had controlled many acres; its grounds providing employment to many of the local people. It had been through Brother James, the Supervisor of the Granges that my fall from grace had began.

When I had seen him lift up his habit, tucking it in his belt, his thick thighs visible to all, in order to join the peasant people in the river helping them regain their drifting boat, I had lost my heart. With the lower folds of his habit tucked into his girdle he had waded out like a water god of old, the cool-looking river water splashing his sturdy thighs.

I smiled as I recalled the scene. Two weeks after that first idea of attraction had entered my mind
, we became lovers in the full sense of the word. We would spend all our free time together.

Brother James found an old abandoned hut near the edge of the woods that surrounded one of the abbey’s granges, which we made our own. It was there the abbot himself caught us.

Three days later, James was heading further north to an abbey, and I was heading south to this abbey. I hadn’t seen him since.

That was three years ago. Since then I’ve been a model of behavior. My current abbot knows of my past indiscretion and as such keeps a close eye on me. But to reward my good behavior
, he has recently made me Supervisor of the Granges – the exact same position my James held.

As such, I am now required to travel the local area checking on the granges, which belong to the abbey. Granges are small farms, which are managed by the lay brothers and overseen by one of the full brothers.

It was on one of these granges I met Ripley. He was overseeing the gathering of the harvest on the Batstock Grange about an hour’s ride to the west of the abbey.

I’d set out at dawn in order to be early and had come upon the field where they were working as the sun burst over the tree-tops of the nearby wood.

The light illuminated the field, bathing it in soft, early morning sunshine and silhouetting the shapes of the workers. At first, I couldn’t tell who was in charge. All I could see were groups of men standing about drinking from earthenware jugs.

As I rode into the field through the open five-bar gate, one of the men detached himself from the nearest group and approached me. “Morning, Brother.”

“Good morning,” I responded as I climbed down off my horse. As I turned to meet the man, my breath caught in my throat and I began coughing.

“You all right?” he asked stepping forward. I nodded. If only he knew it was h
e who had caused my coughing fit? I felt my cock stirring within the confines of my loose robe and prayed when, not if, I become erect it wouldn’t be too obvious.

The man before me was striking, his body stunning. He was about six feet two and looked to have seen thirty-three summers, with a shock of hair black as the deepest night, parted on the right sweeping down over his left brow, the ends teasing his dark eyebrows. His light brown eyes complemented his dark hair perfectly and twinkled at me. They seemed so full of innocence
that I wondered if he knew the power he possessed.

His face had fine bone structure, high and noble cheekbones setting off his powerfully chiseled jaw that, even at this time in the morning, had a dark growth of hair. His lips were full and red and reminded me so much of James I wanted to grab him and kiss him there and then in full view of everyone.

As my coughing subsided, the man stuck out his hand and introduced himself. “Ripley.”

“Brother Simon,” I replied taking his hand and shaking it. He had a firm grip
, and as I looked, I could see the muscles in his forearm, which was covered in fine dark hairs, ripple underneath his taut skin. “And you are?”

“I run this grange, Brother.”

“Then you are a lay brother?” I enquired for he certainly didn’t look like a lay brother, and I had never set eyes on him at prayers. I would have remembered. He was wearing a pair of old leggings, which stopped just short of his ankles and were held up with a piece of rope tied tight around his narrow waist. The upper half of his body was covered in a coarse short-sleeved top, open at the neck revealing an amount of bare flesh for me to look at.

“No, Brother,” he began softly, his voice rich and deep. “The Abbot put me in charge two years back as a trial like.” I must have looked confused for he raised his eyes skyward as if asking the Lord for help before he continued. “We work the land all year round and are as close to nature as you brothers are to God. He wanted to see if we could make them any more profitable if one of us were in charge.”

“And have you?”

“Aye, Brother Simon,” he said, a big smile breaking over his face, revealing a set of perfect white teeth rare for a peasant, and transforming it into one the angels would have been proud of. “Doubled this grange’s income last year. Abbot was very pleased.”

That smile was beautiful. It was a beam of pure light and joy. A signal to the heavens and mankind that God’s creation can be, if not ideal, then almost perfect. I nodded and, because of his smile, knew I had lost the battle to control my erection.

It was at this point, as my stiffened member was at full mast beginning to tent my habit that Ripley glanced down. To this day, I know not what caused to him to look
, but I was glad he did.

The change was sudden and all the more remarkable for it. The gentle twinkle in his light brown eyes changed and became a glint laced with wickedness. He turned and quickly looked at the other men in the field who were returning to work and, seeing no one looking, turned back to me, a wide smile parting his sensual lips.

Ripley lowered his head, his shock of hair hiding his face. Then he raised it slightly, the hair parting, so I could see his eyes and their wicked, evil yet delightful gleam. In this way, he looked at me; coy, bashful and shy, like a youth just learning of his devastating good looks. Once again, he broke into a huge grin and slowly reached for his groin.

His grin changed to a smirk as he saw my shock. Grinning up at me from beneath his falling hair, he smoothed his stomach and then massaged his groin, the heel of his hand kneading into his recesses as if he was making bread.

I stood transfixed, watching as he cupped his growing flesh in his hand, pressing and caressing himself in front of me, unconcerned with anyone else seeing us.

Brazenly, he reached out and grabbed my erection, his fingers wrapping around my hardened member trapping it between his hand and my habit using his body to shield his actions from anyone glancing our way. I could feel the heat from his hand penetrating the material as he gently squeezed me, putting pressure on my hardened manhood.

Breathing deeply, my eyes closed with the pleasure he was creating. I could feel the desire radiate from my extended and hardened muscle, coursing through my veins filling my body with lust – another carnal sin, which deep down as a monk sworn to chastity I knew I must resist.

I’d broken my vows once and had been absolved, this time I knew there would be no forgiveness – if I were caught. My decision had been made in a split second. I was going to sin again. I had decided to give myself to him.

And then, he suddenly stopped. He released my member, stopped manipulating himself and raised his head. “Shall I show you the sights of the grange?” he asked, a boyish, cheeky smile on his face.

Naturally, I agreed.

Ripley led me around the edge of the field toward the woods, which grew on the far side. As I followed behind, I tried to make out his body but the looseness of his clothing hid everything from sight. I did know he had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, but that was all.

The cool interior of the woods was a welcome relief from the sun that had been getting progressively hotter as we had talked. All around us stood trees with trunks so thick and gnarled, they must have been old when the Romans walked the country. The undergrowth of this ancient, yet living forest was tangled and overgrown, the paths and tracks strewn with leaves and sticks, twigs and fungi.

Ripley led me down little used tracks and paths, the overgrown scrub catching at my habit as if some force of good was trying to hold me back from the sin I was about to commit ... again.

I gasped as we broke from the dappled shade of the trees into a small clearing, the sunlight lighting the far side of the lush green grass.

Ripley turned to me. “So Brother, do you prefer to sodomize or be sodomized?” Ripley looked at me intently.

To tell the truth I’d always liked it when James filled me; I preferred it to filling him. But I especially liked it when James pulled apart my cheeks and filled me
... and then rode me hard.

My face must have betrayed my thoughts because Ripley stepped forward and grinning, grabbed my hand. “Feel this, Brother,” he said, placing my hand against his groin, his warm brown eyes holding mine, “this is going to split you apart and fill you up.”

I groaned as my fingers tightened around his erect member. “That’s it, Brother,” said Ripley, “squeeze it, feel it. Feel the core of inner strength,” his fingers tightened on my shoulders as he whispered, “Feel the muscle that’s going to rip you apart.”

His firm lips found mine, pressing hard, forcing open my mouth
, so he could invade with his tongue. I returned Ripley’s kiss just as passionately as he offered it. I felt his hands grab my buttocks and followed his example. To my delight, I found two mounds of superb tight muscle. I probed deeper into Ripley’s mouth as I pulled him hard against me, his stiff member pressing hard against my own.

After a while, Ripley pushed me away and made me sit on a nearby fallen log. “Ready for some fun, Brother?”

Without waiting for an answer, Ripley began taking off his clothes. Once again, the superb beauty of the man took my breath away. As he stood before me topless, his hands on his hips, he looked exquisite, like one of Michelangelo’s sculptures.

Ripley’s shoulders were broad and wide. Bunched with muscle
, they looked powerful enough to lift me and bend me to his will. His upper arms were as wide as one of the surrounding tree’s branches and crossed with veins as blue and as winding as a river. His fingers, where they splayed on his hips, were long and fine and looked to be very supple.

His expansive chest was formed from two slabs of square, heavy muscle topped with two of the most suck-able nipples I’d ever seen. It was smooth, not a hair in sight. The deep depression between his broad plateaux of muscle led down to his flat well-developed stomach, the ridges looking like a small mountain range.

Ripley flashed his cheeky, boyish grin once again and started to undo the rope holding his leggings up. I watched avidly – waiting for the moment when he would drop the material and would reveal himself to me.

I didn’t have long to wait. He turned his back on me and slowly started to lower his trousers, wriggling his butt as I imagined would a whore.

I watched in great anticipation as he slowly lowered the material, the tops of his ass mounds coming into view.

All of a sudden, Ripley let the material go, his leggings falling to the floor in a heap around his ankles. And there it was. One of the best sights I’d ever seen
– Ripley’s ass faced me.

The tight mounds, which I had earlier held in my hands, glared openly at me. Two melon-sized spheres formed the collection of hard looking muscle, lightly covered in soft brown downy hair.

Ripley’s taut peach of a bum astounded me. Those finely rounded butt cheeks hid his tight manhole from view, guarding the entrance to his virtue the way Cerebus guards the way to Hades – where no doubt I would soon be going.

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