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A few days after my loadswap with Bryan at the gym, Angel picks me up in his Jeep to go buy some gear. On the way to the leather store, I tell him all about my seeding adventure with Bryan in the gym storeroom. “I loved watching him cum while trying not to scream out,” I say. “I’m going to be replaying that moment in my mind for years. It was like a performance.” “As it should be,” says Angel. Angel pulls up in front of the leather store, the appropriately named Skin2Skin and parks. “I’m proud of you, Randy,” he says. “For breeding that stud in the store room at the gym, man, and taking his load, too. And thanks for letting me know that room is there. I might have to make use of it myself sometime.” “I want more,” I say. Angel turns to me and smiles. “A cum junkie is born,” he says, laughing. “Have you done this with other guys?” I wonder. “Done what?” he asks. “Taken them under your wing like this.” “Not like you,” he insists. “I’ve never propositioned a client at the computer store before, like I did to you. I try to keep it professional at work, believe it or not. But there was something about you. I thought you were hot, yeah, but it was more than that. I felt like it was my duty to corrupt you, that that was something that needed to happen.” Hearing all this makes me feel amazing. I give his beefy thigh a squeeze and start to move it up to his crotch. “Well, I’m glad you did.” “Now, let’s go, horny boy,” he says, pulling my hand away. “Ron’s expecting us.” “Does he know I watched you guys on cam?” I say, getting out of the jeep. “He knows all about you,” says Angel, leading me into the store. “He’s been looking forward to this.” I thought Ron was hot on the webcam. In person, he’s an absolute fucking knockout; blondish-brown shaggy hair, a little scruff, golden California tan, and a few well-placed tattoos. He’s dressed in leather pants with red stripes down the side and a crotch pouch that unsnaps and a zipper up the crack for easy access. The pants hug his muscled legs and ass perfectly. On top, he wears a zip-up leather vest that’s half unzipped, revealing a pair of hairy, juicy pumped up pecs and nipples that obviously like to be played with. Both bulging biceps sport black leather bands. “Hey Angel,” he says, his voice deep and rich with just a hint of a California Valley Boy. “Is this the man of the hour?” “I’m Randy,” I say offering my hand. Ron gives it a good, firm shake. “You got a little while?” he asks. “I do,” I say. “Good,” says Ron. “It takes a little time to find the perfect fit. You don’t want to rush it.” For the next hour or so, I try on all kind of gear; from leather pants, chaps and harnesses to Lycra wrestling singlets to assless rubber briefs. Each time I step out of the fitting room, Angel and Ron give me the thumbs up or thumbs down. If a look gets a thumbs up, they usually grope their crotches, too. I can see Angel’s delicious dick nearly poking off of the top his Puma gym shorts. Ron’s fucktool is snaking down the left leg of his leather pants and every time I come out, it’s at little bit further down. I narrow down the items I want to buy one pair of leather pants with laces up the side, one pair of rubber chaps, a maroon and white N2N wrestling singlet, a Nasty Pig jockstrap, and a leather harness that really frames my pecs. I know I shouldn’t be spending this kind of money but it’s all so sexy, and Angel and Ron gave me such positive sexy feedback, that I can’t resist. “So what’s the damage?” I say, pulling out my credit card. “That depends,” says Ron, running his hand over the leather pants that top my stack of gear. “Oh, this is going to be good,” says Angel with a smirk. “Retail, you’re looking at $680,” says Ron. I let out a heavy sigh. “But I’ll take 10 percent off for every minute you can go without shooting your load once you’re in my ass.” “What?” I say. “You heard me,” says Ron. I had a feeling things might be headed this way. Breeding seems to just happen when Angel’s around. My cock gets instantly hard in my shorts. “And I’m here to keep both you fuckers honest,” says Angel gesturing to his digital wristwatch. “In that case,” I say, trying to rise to the occasion and call their bluff, “I’d like to add a couple of items.” I walk to the T-shirt rack and pick out the muscle T that says “LOADING ZONE” and grab a leather cock ring from the display by the register and toss it on top of my stack. “Get leathered up, stud,” says Ron, walking to the front door and putting the closed sign in the window. “Let’s drain those nuts and break in some of that gear.” Angel pulls the chaps and harness from my stack of purchases and shoves them at my chest. “You heard the man,” he says. “He wants you to fuck your cum into him.” Once I’m all geared up, Ron beckons us through one door into a cramped, cluttered office then opens yet another door behind the desk. “Step in to my fuckden,” he says with an evil smirk. Angel and I follow him inside. The room’s about 15 feet by 15 feet. Three of the walls are covered with an erotic mural of men of different body types and races, some geared up, some naked, all hot as fuck and all engaged in the act of giving or receiving semen. “You finished it,” says Angel admiringly. “Not quite,” says Ron. “One more wall left.” “That’s you,” I say, pointing a hot stud in the middle of the tangle of men. “So it is,” says Angel who clearly hasn’t seen it before. “Do I really make that face when I unload?” “Oh yeah,” says Ron. “It’s awesome. And the veins in your neck pop out just like that.” I was so distracted by the mural that I didn’t see Ron get down on his knees. Before you know it my cock is down his throat. He pulls off it after a few strokes and looks up at me. “I was going to suck you hard but you’re already hard as fuck,” says Ron. “So fuck it,” he says, unzipping the zipper that goes up his crack and exposing his hot hole, “get it ready for my ass and let’s seal this transaction with a little DNA.” Ron climbs up onto the leather-covered bed and pulls his legs up by his shoulders, exposing his perfect hairy hole to me. “You’re not going to last 30 seconds,” taunts Angel. “I know, I’m probably not,” I laugh, squirting some Spunk lube on my cock. I climb up on the bed and place my throbbing cockhead at Ron’s hole. “Just a second, Randy,” says Angel, setting the stopwatch on his wristwatch. “I’m so horned up, I don’t even remember what the rules are,” I stammer. “10 percent off per minute you don’t blow,” says Ron. “Starting…NOW!” says Angel pushing my ass forward and slamming me into Ron’s sweet hole. “Unnnnnnngh!” groans Ron, taken aback by the sudden invasion. “Oh God. Fuck, you feel good.” “So do you,” I say, already feeling a tingle in my balls. “This is going to be harder than I thought.” “Wait till he starts talking dirty,” says Angel. “Thirty seconds.” “I’m really good at it.” I manage to give Ron a few long, solid ass-strokes without feeling too much stirring in my gonads. But then Ron looks starts talking. “I know how full your balls are, Randy. Every time you disappeared in that dressing room, I stole a look through the curtain and watched them bouncing around, knowing that what was inside them was going to be inside me.” “Oh fuck,” I groan. “You’re so fucking hot.” “I can’t wait to feel you shoot in me,” he says, punctuating his words with contractions in his ass muscles. Oh shit, the tingling in my balls intensifies with each contraction. “I think you can wait,” I say, shifting my hips from side to side so I can go at that hot hole from differing angles. “The longer I go, the more money you lose…but the more pleasure you get. You want me to last, too, because you’re loving this cock inside you.” “One minute,” says Angel. “Ten…fucking…percent…off!” I say, punctuating each word with a balls-deep thrust, the last of which nearly costs me the whole ball game. “Cum fucker,” says Ron. I freeze right where I am. “Not quite there yet,” I say. “You can stop moving,” says Ron, “but you can’t pull out for more than a split second. That’s the rule.” Holding still seems to curtail my cumming…at least until Ron starts working his ass muscles again. “You can hold perfectly still, Randy. I’m still going to get your load,” growls Ron. “You know it and I know it. And wouldn’t you rather breed me while you were actually fucking than just holding still like a scared pussy?” I roll over on my back, keeping Ron impaled on my cock and let him ride me for a while. I normally tend not to come as easily in this position, but I feel like with a fuckstud like Ron working on my cock, no position is safe. I look up at him as he rides me and see that gorgeous Marlboro Man face, his sexy scruff flecked with hints of blonde and gray, his suckable nipples poking out of his leather vest. Jesus, he’s a fucking fantasy come to life. “You’re the kind of man I would see in a magazine and jack off over,” I gush. “And we all know I’m going to breed you. It’s just a matter of when.” “One minute, thirty seconds,” says Angel. Ron starts really bouncing up and down on my cock, working his ass muscles to try and milk out my load. I close my eyes and try think of things that aren’t sexy at all; nuns, car crashes, tax audits, Republicans, but it’s no use. He just feels too good. “Look at me, fucker,” says Ron. “Open your eyes and look at how good you’re making me feel.” When I open my eyes, I see Ron is holding his hard dick in one hand and the other is pulling a strand of precum from the head of it with his index finger. He shoves the finger in my mouth. “Slurp me down, Randy,” he commands. I do. It makes a loud slurpy sound as it hits my taste buds. “Fuck, sweet,” I say. “Two minutes,” says Angel. I throw Ron over on his side and spoon him while my cock pistons in and out of his perfect fuckhole. My balls are still churning but I’m able to edge myself pretty well. I’ll make it to 3 minutes, at least, I’m sure of it. At least I am until Ron starts talking again. “I’m going to keep your seed in me the rest of my shift,” he says. “And if any of my customers make a face, like they smell something, I’ll say, ‘That’s Randy’s cum. He blew a ton of it up my ass during lunchtime and it’s slowly oozing out.’ Then I’m going to take my finger to my hole and pull a big glob of it up to my mouth and eat it, right in front of them.” “Okay, two can play at this talking game,” I say to him, then start rattling off the Pledge of Allegiance, nursery rhymes, anything I can think of that doesn’t make me want to unload my fuckjuice right up this stud’s hole. “I think we need to shut Randy up,” says Angel, before crawling upon the bed and shoving his hard, dripping cock into my sputtering mouth. I want to spit it out and carry on talking but it just tastes too fucking good. Angel’s cock fits so well down my throat. I’m powerless over Angel’s cock. “Three minutes,” says Angel. “All right, I can live with that,” I say, pulling off Angel’s oozing dick. “I can’t wait anymore. I gotta breed this stud’s cumhole.” “Fuck yeah,” groans Ron. “Do it!” Angel hops off the bed, and pulls Ron’s legs up on his shoulders, placing his perfect pucker right at the head of my drooling dick. “Get ready for the cumflood, fucker,” I say between gritted teeth and slide my dick balls deep again. This new position feels better than any of the previous ones. I’m going to have to settle for 30% off because the only way I’d be able to last another minute is if a semi-truck drove through the room and knocked us apart from each other. “Come on, Randy,” growls Ron. “Fill me up with your stud sperm. I’ve been craving it all day. Thinking about how good it would feel when your cockhead starting expanding in me and those ropes up cum exploded all the way up my guts.” “Oh God, Ron,” I say, my hips taking on a life of their own as I pound and pound Ron’s perfect ass into the fuck bed, hearing the sexy squeak of the leather with every downstroke. “Breed me, breed me, breed me,” chants Ron, throwing his head from side to side. As I feel the cum start to evacuate my balls and race up my pistoning shaft, the images of all the studs on my mural blasting their loads flash through my mind like a rapid fire slide show. “I’m cumming, Ron. I’m cumming in your ass. Take…my….breed! Unnnnnngghhh. Unnnngh. Unnngh. Unnnnggh.” I let out a deep groan with every spurt of jizz that shoots into Ron’s guts. It seems to go on forever. “That was incredible,” I say, collapsing on top of him. “You were incredible,” says Ron. I pull out of Ron, watching a glob of my hot cum ooze out around my cockhead. “Thank you,” I say to Ron, then look to Angel. I climb down off the bed, assuming that the party’s over and it’s time for Skin2Skin to reopen it’s doors. “Randy, you’re really forgetting your manners,” says Angel. “What?” I say, clueless. “There are two sets of balls in this room that haven’t unloaded,” he explains, “but I guess you’re just about you now.” Angel laughs but I do feel a bit embarrassed. “Oh, I assumed you had to open the store back up so we were done,” I stammer. “We can take a little more time,” says Ron. “Especially since you barely lasted three minutes.” “Get on your back and spread that hole, fucker,” Angel says to me. “Hold on a second,” says Ron, running out of the room. He returns a few minutes later holding a skimpy pair of royal blue vintage Adidas running shorts. “Do me a favor. Lose the chaps and put these on,” he says, tossing me the shorts. “They belonged to the first guy I was ever with, the guy who got me hooked on breeding. He was a jock in school and lifeguard at the pool in my hometown when I was teenager. Brandon. He was seventeen and I was fifteen. He used to walk around in these all summer and he looked so fucking hot.” I strip out of the chaps and start to slip into the shorts. “They’re are all cummed up,” I say, stroking the crusty fabric. “At the end of the summer, before he went away to college, he jacked off in them and gave them to me,” says Ron. “And you’re going to add to it while I’m fucking you,” says Ron. “Hot,” I say. “How many loads would you say have been shot in these?” I ask as I feel my cock harden against the crusty nylon. “I just found them a couple of weeks ago when I went home for a visit,” so not that many yet. “Maybe twelve, not quite one a day, plus Brandon’s original load. My goal is for there to be hundreds.” I climb up on the bed and Ron grabs my legs and slides me down to the end of the bed so he can pound me standing up. Ron pulls the leg of the flimsy high-cut shorts to the side so can get at my hole then slides his 8-incher up and down my crack. Angel squirts lube onto Ron’s cock, then onto my ass and then next thing you know, Ron’s inside me. “Fuck, that feels incredible,” I say. “Good,” says Ron before sliding his dick completely out of my ass and then all the way back in. “Got a big load for you, too. I was in the middle of rubbing one out last night, maybe 20 seconds from cumming, when Angel called and said you were coming in today. So I thought, ‘I’m gonna save my juice for the newbie,’ and I stuck my cock back in my shorts and went to sleep.” “Fuck, yeah,” I say, stroking my cock in the shorts. “You gonna be able to cum again, Randy?” asks Angel. “He wants your load in those shorts.” “I’m already leaking,” I say, between groans. I see Angel disappear from my sightline. Soon enough, I feel his tongue on my ass right below where Ron’s dick is sliding in and out. “I wanna taste the tip,” says Angel. Ron pulls his dick from my ass and without missing a stroke, slides it down Angel’s throat. “Uuummmmm,” says Angel. Then it goes back in my ass, then back in Angel’s throat, ass, throat, ass throat, without missing a beat for at least a minute. Finally, Ron’s dick goes deep and stays deep and I hear Angel slurping at Ron’s ass, the ass I just flooded with my spunk a few minutes ago. “You tasting my spunk, Angel?” I ask. “Mmmm-hmmm,” he says, between slurps. “I gonna soup you up soon,” says Ron. “But I want you to soak those shorts before I cum or at the same time. You close?” “Getting there,” I say, jerking my cock against the sexy nylon. Angel moves on from his ass-to-mouth duty and climbs up on top of me, placing his hole right on my face. God, I love his hole. It’s just fucking perfect. I start darting my tongue in and out of his pucker while Ron starts picking up the pace. “Come on, fucker. You’re gonna take my breed,” he says, “and you’re going to spunk up those shorts for me. I know you got more cum in you. I know it.” “I wasn’t sure at first if I could,” I admit, pulling off Angel’s hole for a beat, “but now I know that I’m going to. You’re going to fuck it out of me.” “Get used to that idea, Randy,” says Angel, stroking his cock. “There have been times at Shudder where I was sure I was all cummed out and I ended up shooting like three more loads. You’re going to surprise yourself.” “Cum for me, fucker,” says Ron. “Just imagine the load I’m about to shoot into you is shooting right up your dick and out into those shorts.” “Oh God,” I say, feeling my sacs start to churn with the second cum, which is always more intense than the first. “It’s happening. Fuck me, Ron. Give me your fucking cum, stud.” Just then I feel Angel stick is hard dick next to mine in the shorts and start stroking them together. “Oh fuck,” he says, “looks like I’m going to be first. Oh fuck, I’m fucking shooting my spunk. Unnngh. Unnngh.” I feel Angel’s manload splatter all over my dick and hand inside the shorts. It’s hot and thick and chunky and it sends me over right the edge with him. “I’m fucking shooting, too!” I shout, this second orgasm even more intense that when I bred Ron. “Oh fuck…breed me, Ron…breed it out of me….fuckkkkkkkk!” “Here it comes, sexy,” says Ron, pulling his dick nearly all the way out, so I can feel the first spurt on my asslips, then sliding balls deep to unload the rest of his heavy fuckwad. “Feel that? It’s all going inside you. Every…last…fucking…. drop! Unghhhh. Unghhhh. Unghhhh!” Angel falls back on top of me, pressing my face against his heaving back muscles. A few minutes later, the three of us come back to earth. I feel Ron’s prick snake out of my ass. He pokes it into the shorts and adds the last dribbles of his spunk to mine and Angel’s. “Fuck, man,” says Ron, patting my cheeks. “That ass.” “Did I tell you?” laughs Angel. Holy shit, they’ve been talking about my ass behind my back. “Thanks, man,” I say, coolly. Damn, I always dreamed of being this kind of fuckstud, who has incredible cum drenched sex with superstuds all the fucking time, but I always thought it was just a fantasy. Now, thanks to Angel and my own fucking courage, I’m living it. As we untangle and start to get dress, I see Angel checking out a video on his iPhone. “Did you film some of that?” I ask. “Just the minute or so when you were breeding Ron,” he says. “We wanted to capture what you look like when you’re flooding a hot ass.” “For the mural,” explains Ron. I just smile.

We lie there together on the spooge-stained mattress for a while, then untangle ourselves and reluctantly slip back into our clothes. Before I leave the building, I turn around and look at the empty space and imagine it full of sweaty, primal man-fuckers. The thought of it makes me throb, even after I’ve dumped a huge load. Angel walks me out to the parking lot. “If you want some special gear to wear to the party, I can go with you to shop for it,” he says. “Like what?” “Chaps, a harness, a jock, some briefs with no ass, whatever you want,” he explains. “I get a discount. I have a friend who works at a place.” “A friend?” I say, cocking an eyebrow. “Yeah, a friend,” he says, “like you and I are friends. We hang out, we have fun, we swap things…stories…recipes…spunk.” “Let’s go in a couple of days,” I say. “I might not be able to walk tomorrow.” “I’m going to take that as a compliment,” smirks Angel. “Hold on, I got something in my car I want to give to you.” As Angel runs to his car, it notice the denim around his asscrack is darker than the fabric surrounding it. Could that be my fuckload? Is my manseed slowly leaking out of him? “Here,” he says, handing me a CD with no label. “What’s this?” “You’re probably going to want to work out extra hard before Shudder, not that you’re body’s not hot as fuck as it is. This is to help inspire you. Load it into your iPod and listen to it as you work out,” he advises me. “You probably won’t want to play it at any children’s birthday parties.” “Got it,” I say. “And don’t—I repeat, don’t--play it in your car on the way home,” he says. “I want you to be in a gym full of sweaty, pumped muscle fuckers when you hear it for the first time.” Angel laughs, imagining the moment. “Then text and tell me about it.” With that, he pushes me against my car and kisses me. I can still taste cum on his lips. “You did good today, Randy,” he says sweetly. “I can see it in your eyes. You’ve changed; there’s a confidence there, a kind of power. I’m proud of you.” “Thank you,” I say. I’m proud of me, too, because I’m not just dreaming it now. I’m living it. On the drive home, I get stuck behind an accident but I’m too blissfully worn out to care. To pass the time, I let some globs of cum seep out of my ass, reach into my sweats from the front, scoop it up and bring it to my lips. Each time I do this, my cock’s a little harder as my hand grazes past it. If other drivers notice, I don’t fucking care. The next morning, I wake up and for a few minutes, I wonder if everything that happened yesterday—the warehouse, the mattress, the marathon flip-fuck cum-swap with Angel—was just a dirty dream. But when I rise to walk to the bathroom, the sweet, hard-earned ache in my asshole says to me, “It happened, Randy. You fucking did it. It’s real.” I dress for the gym in a royal blue fitted Nike dry-fit tank and black nylon shorts that are cut a bit high to show off my cycler’s quads. I consider going commando but after what Angel said about the CD, I’m a little afraid not to. I load the disc Angel gave me into my Powerbook, that trusty, gleaming gadget that led me to my debauched destiny. The CD has ten tracks on it: 1) Where Do You Think I Want You to Shoot It? 2) Drop It Deep 3) Fuel Injected 4) Overflow / Lick It Up 5) Snowballer’s Chance in Hell 6) (Riding in on a) Carpet of Cum 7) How Many So Far? 8) Churn 9) Second Ring of Heaven 10) Deep Seeded Need I fight the temptation to listen and just transfer the tracks to my iPhone. I drive to the gym, check in and put my bag in a locker. I slip my earbuds in, check my appearance in the mirror—I look good. There’s a swagger there, I didn’t have before. From the back, I see my hard-earned V leading down to my glutes, which seem extra perky today. Could my butt be more toned from one breeding? I step onto the treadmill and lift my right foot on the sidebar, to stretch my hamstring before I jog my two-mile warm up. This stretch is another not-so-gentle reminder that my asshole is still deliciously sore from Angel. I press ‘Play,’ and wait. A warm synth pad fills my ears, then a tribal drumbeat kicks in on top of it. I’m thinking ‘Big deal, this is just a typical dance track,’ but then the vocal track kicks in. We’re not talking Rihanna or Ke$ha or some other dance diva of the moment. These vocals are pure testosterone. It’s men; full-throated, deep-voiced men, who were clearly recorded while in the act of fucking or getting fucked…or maybe fucking and getting fucked. My cock gets rockhard in my jock. It’s all so fucking loud and vulgar and hot that I quickly scan the gym floor to make sure know one else can hear it, that this is my little secret. I switch legs and keep listening to the cacophony of grunts and groans and moans and sighs, all artfully edited and looped together to form rhythm patterns and even melodies. Occasionally a word or phrase will pop out, like, “In me, fucker, in me,” “Breed it, baby,” or “Where do you think I want you to shoot it?” which is the title of this particular track. “What the fuck is on this CD?” I text Angel. I’m into my second mile, my cock so hard in my jock it hurts, when Angel texts me back. ‘Actual audio from Shudder parties.’ I imagine some hot teamster type running around the warehouse with a boom mic and a leaking dick hanging out of his cargo pants. ‘Genius,’ I text back. ‘Who put it together?’ ‘Oscar.’ ‘Who?’ ‘Bred me on cam for you.’ ‘Oh. Man of many talents.’ Have you gotten to ‘How Many So Far?’ It’s like Beyonce’s countdown song, but w/ loads. LOL.’ ‘Dick too hard to run. Hope you’re happy.’ I get off the treadmill and head to the free weight area. My dick stays rock hard through my workout as the hits just keep on coming. “Flood me, fucker, flood me. I feel it, I feel it shooting. Beg for it, boy. Beg. For. Seed.” Between sets of curls, I reach into my shorts and adjust my dick, so it’s pointing diagonally up. The leaking head is nearly popping out but it’s much more comfortable than the previous position. A track or two later--as robotic stud voice says, “Sperm Me,” over and over in my ears--I’m doing lat pulldowns when a tattooed Polynesian hunk in head-to-toe Underarmour flashes me a smile. I’ve seen this stud here before but never interacting with him. He’s an avid swimmer and I’ve often enjoyed watching him get out of the pool in his old school blue Adidas Speedo and strut those granite butt cheeks to the locker room but he’s always struck me as straight or unavailable. But that wasn’t a very straight smile. Sperm me sperm me sperm me sperm me. “What are you listening to?” he asks, between tricep push-downs. “You seem like you’re in another world.” “Is it that obvious?” I say. He nods. “It’s a hot mix of some sexy dance tracks a friend of mine put together. Very unique, one-of-a-kind kind of stuff.” “You know Oscar,” he says, with a grin. He tilts his head down and stares into my eyes, while his bulging tris contract and release. Oh shit, I think, we’re gonna fuck. I know it…right then. It’s fucking on. I’m going to be one of those guys I’ve always heard about and envied, those guys who fuck and breed at the gym. Who knows? I may have to start allotting extra time into my workouts for buttfucking. I’m sure this kind of thing happens to Angel and his posse all the time, but it’s excitingly novel to me. A hungry smile, a loaded look and few carefully selected words are uttered and bam, it’s fucktime. “Well, actually, I haven’t met Oscar, face to face,” I say, straddling the bench for another set of pull-downs, “but a friend of mine is a good friend of his so you know…” “There’s some kind of DNA connection there,” he says. “Bingo,” I say. When I stand up from the bench, I feel cool air on my cockhead but I’m not sure if it’s real and my dick’s popping out or in my mind because I’m so boned. I’m afraid to look so I just walk over to the guy and offer him my gloved hand. “I’m Randy,” I say. “Bryan,” he says, taking my hand in his and giving it a long leather-to-leather squeeze, “with a Y.” “You’ve heard Oscar’s mixes, I take it?” “Actually, no,” says Bryan. “But I’ve heard of Oscar’s mixes. I’ve always wanted to check them out.” “Come do crunches with me in the aerobics studio. You can have one earbud, I’ll have the other.” “God, that’s so intimate,” he says, with a laugh. “I know,” I say. We walk together to the aerobics room and sit on the floor facing the mirror. I put one earbud up to his right ear. “I’m going in, okay?” I whisper. “Please,” he says. I insert his earbud, then put the other in my left ear. “We have to stay close together,” I say. “Okay,” he says. I scroll through the titles I haven’t heard yet and pick “Churn.” Side by side, Bryan and I do work our ab muscles and listen to a slow burn of a jam, like if Sade had a cock. It features a recurring sample of what sounds like a wet, sloppy used asshole getting reamed for the umpteenth time. That’s probably exactly what that is. Turned on beyond words, we pour our libidos into our workouts and try to out sweat each other, matching each crunch to the beat as the track reaches it’s bellowing climax with a chorus of deep-voiced studs chanting, “Seed him! Seed him! Seed him! Seed him! Seed him! Seed him!” and then a lucky top groaning, “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuucckkk!” We fall back onto our backs and look up at the ceiling, which has a mirror on it that I’ve never noticed before. “Oh my God,” I gasp. “I think I was actually at that party,” remarks Bryan. “I think I was was one of the chanting guys. I don’t know whether I should sue or be flattered.” My eyes are glued to Bryan’s crotch in the mirror. His Underarmour tights look like they’re about to burst. Fuck, he’s packing. He does a series of small pelvic pumps, like a jackhammer then turns his head to face me. “Go move that curtain to the right,” he says, gesturing with his dimpled chin to a long piece of fabric that covers one of the side walls. “I would but I can’t get up. You know why.” “You think I can?” I ask. “At least you have regular shorts,” he says. “If I stand up, I could be arrested for public indecency.” I jump up and pull the curtain to reveal a door I’d never known was there. “See if it’s open,” he says. I do and it is. I look inside and discover a storeroom used for yoga mats, blocks, steps, etc. I look back and raise my eyebrows. “There’s a class in here in ten minutes,” he says. “If we go in, we can’t come out for at least an hour.” I think about the conference call I have for work in 45 minutes. Screw it. “I don’t have anywhere to be,” I say. “Except in those tights.” In one fluid movement, Bryan rises and darts into the storeroom, pulling me in with him and closing the door behind us. “Come over here,” he says, leading me to the corner where two stacks of plastic, shoulder-height step-aerobics steps form a barricade between the back wall and the door we entered through. He pulls me behind them, brings us both down to our knees and smiles. “Hey, fucker.” “Hey,” I say. “But what if the next class is a step class and they take our wall away?” “It’s yoga.” “You really know all the ins and outs around here,” I remark. “I used to teach spinning here,” he says. “Explains the ass,” I say. I reach around and put my hand on his Spandex covered ass. He gently moves it up to his lower back. “Just kiss me for a while,” he says. “Only kiss.” “Why?” I ask. “You’ll see.” Just then, the door opens and I hear the voice of two women; one I assume to be the instructor and the other, a student. They make small talk and grab mats from the stack that’s just in front of our wall of steps. All the while, Bryan and I kiss soft and gentle, not noisy, for obvious reasons. More yogis come in and grab mats. More kissing, our crotch bulges gently brushing against each other, back and forth. Finally, some New Age-y music kicks in and we hear the class start. Bryan pulls my shorts and jock down. My raging hard-on pops up and smacks my stomach. Just then, the door opens again. We duck down and freeze. A last-minute student grabs a mat, runs out and closes the door behind her. “Fucking latecomers,” I whisper. Bryan looks down at my rock hard cock. He taps his index finger on my leaking dickhead, then pulls it to his mouth. It connects in one long strand then snaps. He kisses me and I can taste my pre-cum. He pulls my shorts back up but pulls my dick off to the side of my jock then stands back to look at me. “I have a gym gear fetish,” he whispers, “and I’ve been wondering what your pretty cock would look like up against that silky nylon with no jock. Fuck, that’s nice,” he says. “Take a picture, it lasts longer,” I say, willing my dick to bob up and down in my shorts. “Fine,” Bryan says, before grabbing my iPhone, snapping a few pics of me with my gym shorts hard-on, and a few with my cock fully out. “My face showing?” “Yeah,” he says. “That a problem?” I’ve taken naked pictures of myself before, a few, but never with the face showing. “It’s not a problem,” I say. “True breeding fuckstuds are totally unapologetic,” I remember Angel saying to me yesterday during the afterglow on that cum-matted mattress. “They don’t care if people think they’re reckless whores because they know that deep down inside, everyone wishes that they could be that kind of free.” Bryan puts my iPhone down and goes down on my knob in one gulp. I stifle a moan. The yoga music isn’t nearly loud enough to drown out the kind of sounds I want to make. Bryan pulls his head off my cock, stands up and kisses me, deep and wet. I turn him around and grind my cock against his nylon-clad ass, caressing those pumped pecs beneath that skintight red Underarmour shirt. Fuck, they feel hot. I start to inch my hand around his waist to feel his amazing bulge. I touch cock way before I’m expecting to as it’s snaking halfway around his waist like a belt. “Holy shit,” I say. “Shhhh,” he says, laughing. When I crouch down to inspect his ass, I feel the soreness of my own ass. God, that’s incredible, experiencing a physical reminder of a recent red-hot fuckfest just as you’re about to embark on another one. I realize in that moment that life is about fucking--breeding and getting bred--and everything else that happens to us is just window dressing. I rub my hands all over his glorious nylon clad ass, then peel his tights down to reveal his rock hard globes. I spread them apart with my hands, then dive right onto his hole, tongue first. God, he tastes good, clean and warm and sweaty. I can tell me wants to shout all manner of indecencies at me, but instead he just breathes. I stand up and press my fuckstick into his crack. “I want in,” I breathe, then think, ‘Angel would be soooo proud of me.’ “I want you in,” he replies. “Give me a sec.” He skitters across the room, tights around his knees to the First Aid kit on the wall, digs behind a box of Band-Aids and produces a small tube of Wet. “From when I used to work here,” he explains. “It’s kind of old but who cares?” “Not me,” I say. Bryan gets my dick ready, being mindful not to use up all the lube. I’m guessing he wants us to flip but damn, my ass is sore. He removes the top few rows of steps so he can lay flat on the stack. I aim my cock at his sweet ass, touch the tip to his hole, then pause. “Hold on,” I say. “Were there any rubbers stashed in there?” “I didn’t see any,” he says, with a boyish shrug. “Oh well,” I say, then go balls deep in one long, slow stroke. Bryan lets out the loudest sound either of us has made since we entered the room, but it’s still not loud enough to be heard over the Enya playing in the next room. At least, I hope it’s not. It doesn’t take him long to get used to my dick. After a few slow strokes in and out, I bury it all the way in then slowly wiggle my hips back and forth, exploring every inch of his fuck chute. “God, you feel good,” he whispers. “Pound me.” I do just that, in long deliberate strokes, building up steam and then pulling back when I feel my balls start to pull up. Then when the need to seed dies down, I go back at it. I’m honing my skills with every fuck, I think. The mix of having control during sex and losing control during sex, the dance of that, is incredibly exciting to me. I want to be the kind of fucker who can masterfully take a partner and myself to the edge and over it—conscious of every stroke and caress—and also someone who is constantly surprised by new sensations and savage mindfucks. I want to develop mad-skills as a cocksman and still get taken to other worlds by a great fuck. After a solid few minutes of pounding, Bryan stands up, arches back and whispers, “You’re about to fuck the cum out of me and all over this equipment.” “And the problem with that is?” I whisper back. “It’s not where I want it to go,” he says. He wants to breed me, too. I had a feeling he wanted to. That’s what I want, too. My ass is still so tender from yesterday but man, this stud is beautiful and I really want his fuckload. Besides, when I recount this story to Angel and say, “Yeah, he wanted to breed me, too, but then I pussied out,” it would not go over well at all. “I was hoping you’d say that,” I say, pushing in balls deep again. “So take your hands off your cock so you don’t shoot. I’m going to pound till I breed and then you’re going to knock me up, too.” “Do it,” he says, laying his sweaty, humpy pecs down on the steps. Bam, bam, bam, bam. The only sounds in the room are the slapping of my churning balls on his ass, our breathing and the Middle-Eastern flavored music coming from the class outside. Bam, bam, bam, bam. I feel my nut coming on…less than ten bams from now. Oh, fuck, make that five. “Take it,” I say, so faintly that I’m not sure Bryan can even hear me. “Take my flood of cum.” I collapse down on top of his back, our sweat soaked nylon tops rubbing together. “It felt like about seven jets,” I whisper to Bryan, my mouth right next to his ear. “How many did you feel?” He turns his head so we’re nose to nose, looking into each other’s eyes. “Fifty,” he says. “Now it’s your turn.” “I want to on my back,” I say. “I want to look up at your hot chest…your sexy fucking face.” “Well, there’s one mat left,” he remarks. “How convenient.” I pull off my shorts and jock, lie down on the last yoga mat and lift my legs in the air. Bryan pulls the front of his tight tank over his head, so it’s stretched across his broad shoulders. His small brown nipples jut out from the mountains of his pecs. God, what a man. He pulls his tights up, so his cock is out but his ass is covered in spandex and looks down at me. “We got fifteen minutes, tops,” he says. “You want me to eat you or just fuck?” “Just fuck,” I say. “I think that’s for the best,” he says. “I just got back from a trip with my sister, where we shared a room. No privacy. I haven’t unloaded in a week.” “Oh fuck,” I sigh, imagining the monster load I’m going to be walking out of here with. Bryan grabs my iPhone, tosses one earbud at my face and puts the other in his ear. “We might not be able to be loud,” he whispers, “but they can.” I stick my ear bud in. He places the phone on my abs and presses play. The final 10-minutes track of Oscar’s megamix kicks in: “Deep Seeded Need” just as Bryan shoves his cock in me. A stud growling, “Seed me, I need it,” in a gravelly voice is sampled and replayed over and over. It becomes like a mantra as Bryan fucks me, carefully to never pull too far away so as not to disconnect us from the music. He leans down and shoves his tongue in my throat as the track builds. Seed me, I need it. Seed me, I need it. Seed me, I need it. When a fucker on the track warns, “You’re gonna get it, boy!” Bryan pulls back, nods his head up and down frantically, then hammers his 7-day jizzload straight into my guts, every rope seeming to spray out on the downbeat. A warmth spreads all over my insides, but I’m not sure if it’s literal or just in my mind. I’ve read other barebackers online describing the “jizzjoy” that comes with being a breeding hole. Now I know what they’re talking about. Bryan’s cum-shudder seems to go on for minutes. If we had fifteen minutes for that fuck, it’s like he knew to allot five for his orgasm. While watching him twitch and convulse, I understand something else about the Shudder philosophy. The men of this tribe know how to truly savor the breed. They make a show of it for whoever’s lucky enough to be on the receiving end of your load or in the room cheering you on or on the other end of that webcam with their own spurting dick in their hand. The party’s called Shudder so if you want to cum quietly, without making a spectacle of yourself, well, you’ve got the wrong party. The feeling of Bryan’s cummy cock snaking out of me is pure fucking heaven. Cumscent permeates the room. I could smell my load when I was getting fucked, but I thought it might have just been in my mind, part of the whole fuck frenzy. Now that we’ve both inseminated and we’re back on earth, the smell is undeniable. “Smells like fuckloads,” Bryan says, taking a big, sweet whiff. “Yeah,” I say. “About fifty of them.” At the same time, we both realize that it’s gone silent in the yoga room. “Oh no,” I whisper. Then we hear a chorus of “Namastes” followed by some light applause for the teacher. “Shit,” Bryan says. His cock bounces against his thighs leaving cum streaks as we scramble to get the steps stacked back up and then disappear behind them. The door opens just as we duck down. The class members stream in to dump their yoga mats. I notice a cum drop catch the light on our fuckmat just before the first class member’s mat plops down on top of it. I’m relieved it doesn’t make a squelching sound. As Bryan and I wait for the parade of yogis to end, we finger each other’s cum-slick assholes, lick our fingers, kiss each other and wallow in our own cumneed. “That class was really special for some reason,” one of the students says to the teacher. “There was a connectedness to it, a real fluidity.” ‘We’ve got your fluidity right here,’ I think to myself and smile at Bryan. “Thanks, Tami,” says the teacher, before shutting off the light. The last thing she says before shutting the door and leaving the studio is, “Does it smell like bleach in here to you?” Bryan and I cover each other’s cum-slick mouths to keep from cracking up. I lean back on the wall just so I can watch him pull all that Lycra back over himself. He’s not the only one with a gym gear fetish. I’m sure his cockhead is going to leave a cumstain on the front of his tights. Bryan knows that, too, and he doesn’t care. The pride, the exhibitionism, the flaunting of one’s sexual needs and desires is something that sets the Shudder crowd apart. They just fucking own it. I’m sure if the DMV let them, they’d all have customized license plates: “SPUNKSWAP,” “CUMMMMNME,” “JIZZTKR, “NVRWRAP’D.” And I’m on my way to being one of them. TO BE CONTINUED