NOVEMBER 2017 | BEN:

    When I first moved to London with my good looks and American outgoingness, I quickly got used to being the center of attention wherever I went. My modeling career took off faster than I could've hoped for. My agent was a genius and she got me into all of the best parties and networking events. Even now that I was 34 (a Methuselah in modeling years) I still got steady, quality gigs all over Europe.

    So, it wasn't often that I got to attend an event where I felt invisible. Tonight was one of those rare occasions. I was in one of Soho's poshest venues – a regular hangout of mine, but even the staff here barely looked my way. Tonight was all about Peter Davies. Peter Davies and his "outstanding achievement." Peter Davies, the first openly-gay player in the Premier League.

    I never cared about soccer, and the only thing that'd changed since moving to Britain was that I started calling it "football." Up until three months ago, I'd never heard the name Peter Davies. Now, he seemed to be everywhere I turned. 

    Earlier this year, there was a homophobic attack of a teenager up in Liverpool, which left the poor boy dead. The incident made major news, especially since the kid was only 17. As it happens, the attack took place in the very same area where Peter Davies grew up. So one night, a grief-stricken Peter got drunk and recorded a video in his two-million-pound mansion. In it, he admitted through tears that he was gay. He apologized for keeping it a secret for so long, and for actively lying about it (Peter was one of those footballers who always kept the company of WAGs – the beautiful trophy wives and girlfriends of high-profile sportsmen). "It is time for a change in society. It is time for a change in football," an inebriated Peter concluded in his video, giving the newspapers a tagline to run with for days and days.

    That is how Peter Davies became the most talked-about person in Britain. PR teams scrambled to come out with statements. Peter's London-based football team came out "in full support" of their player, solidifying the major shift of public attitude when it came to homosexuality. Nike and Adidas got into a bidding war to sign Peter up as their honorary spokesman. (Adidas won.) His veneered smile flashed on every magazine cover. His ex-girlfriend, who Peter had a son with, started making appearances on chat shows, saying Peter will always have a special place in her heart. 

    Tonight's event was organized by the nation's largest gay-rights advocacy group. Yet another award was being bestowed upon Peter for his "remarkable bravery." I'd landed an invitation thanks to my well-connected agent, who insisted everyone who was anyone would be here – and she wasn't lying! I half-expected to bump into the Queen on my way to the men's room. Instead, I bumped into the man of the hour himself.

    Peter Davies was the only person in the restroom when I went in there for a bump of coke. He was only a few weeks younger than me, and if he hadn't opted for football he could've enjoyed a successful career in modeling as well. I greeted him with a smile and a head nod, and received a "You alright, mate?" in his Scouse accent. After all of the hand-shaking and fake-smiling I expected him to be sick of interacting with people, but he seemed as friendly as ever.

    "Want some?" I asked, laying out a line of cocaine on the counter after wiping it down with one of the fluffy towels left by the sink. This was London, and especially in rich circles, coke was even more popular than booze. I figured there's no point in hiding it.

    "Sure," said Peter. I did him the honor and let him bend down and take the first line. In the brief moment while he snorted, I checked out Peter's ass; taut from decades of running around on the pitch. Regretfully, he was wearing a suit rather than his football uniform, which would've been more revealing. I wondered… In the hundreds of interviews he'd done, not one journalist thought to ask Peter if he was a top or bottom, which was the main question I had in mind while looking at that tight ass of his.

    When Peter was done, I did a line myself and we hung out in the bathroom for a couple of moments, chatting and waiting for the drugs to kick in. I would've been more than happy to spend the rest of the night talking to Peter in the men's room, but a few more guys came in, infringing on our privacy. We returned to the bar, where Peter was immediately accosted by admirers and I went back to my table. I was feeling horny (especially after checking out Peter's ass) so I pulled out my phone to see if there was anyone hot on Grindr. I texted a couple of guys and just as I was about to leave the bar, someone's hand was on my shoulder pulling me back.

    "Oi, mate. You never told me your name," said Peter. He looked winded, like he'd fought his way through the crowd when he saw me about to leave the venue.

    "Ben. Ben Turner," I replied with a smile. Peter shook my hand and told me his name, which was completely unnecessary.

    "So, Ben Turner, where're ya headed?" Peter asked me. 

    "Nowhere special," I replied. Two blocks away, there was a hot guy with the flat to himself, waiting to get his ass fucked by me. But my night would go in a different direction.

    "Well, if you've got nowhere special to go, what do you say we go back to my place?" suggested Peter Davies, and I smiled even broader.

 

ADRIAN:

    I knew that I was gay since I was very little, but I never told anyone. With my father being a professional athlete, I often found myself surrounded by fit blokes. Some of my earliest memories were from locker rooms, with Dad's teammates undressing in front of me. Even then, I knew that it was wrong to stare, yet I admired all of the different bodies and willies on display in front of me. Over time, as I realised that it felt good to rub my own willy, I always fantasised about my dad's mates while having a wank. 

    I had easy access to porn, since neither one of my parents could be arsed to block it. It didn't take me long to start watching gay porn and imagining my father's hot friends fucking my arse just like the men in those videos. Now that I was 16, I was finally ready to come out… until my dad went ahead and completely spoiled it for me.

    While the rest of the world fawned over my father and his brave coming-out, I felt shocked and mortified. I never had any suspicions that Dad was gay as well! After all, he fucked my mum, and – I assumed – the slew of girls he always had swarming around him like flies. I was used to my father being a celebrity, but not THIS level of celebrity. For a while, it felt like the entire fucking country's attention was on our family. I preferred to stay at home as much as possible, hiding from the paparazzi, which was no easy feat.

    My father, on the other hand, was busier than ever, out every night, collecting an award or giving a speech or saving the world or whatever. Tonight, it was an event in Soho in his honour. Tomorrow, probably a medal from the Queen or some shit.

    To kill time, I stayed in my room and wanked until my dick got raw. Today was no exception. I had school in the morning and it was already 2 AM, so I knew I should go to sleep, but the internet was too addictive and I was home alone, with no pushy parent telling me what to do. Not for long, though.

    I was just about to cum, one hand on my uncut cock and the other one on my laptop with gay porn playing, when I heard someone coming into the house. I assumed it was my father which wouldn't have been unusual at this hour of the night. This time, however, there were two voices. Dad had brought someone along, which was very unusual.

    Feeling curious, I let go of my cock and got out of bed. I'd been edging for hours so my balls were begging for release, but instead of blowing a load, I tiptoed towards the door. I opened it quietly and listened in on the voices talking downstairs in the living room. Dad was… with another man. They were laughing, probably drinking. They were talking quite loudly; they were probably drunk and didn't even realise how noisy they were being.

    "He's upstairs, but I'm sure he's sound asleep by now," I heard my dad say, undoubtedly talking about me.

    "You sure? Cuz he just found out his father's gay," an unknown voice said with an American accent. "You don't want him walking in on you getting your ass fucked already."

    What the fuck?!! Were they talking about… what I think they were talking about?

    "We won't get caught. Fuck me right here," Dad replied in a tone of voice I'd never quite heard from him before. He was begging the stranger to fuck him in the living room! My cock, which still hadn't gone down, throbbed between my legs and oozed out a large drop of precum, dripping onto the hardwood floor.

    I heard what could only be the sound of two people making out. Guided by my dick rather than by good reason, I left my room and naked as I was, I proceeded to stealthily climb down the stairs. I felt like I'd been hypnotised; I KNEW this was a bad idea, yet I couldn't fight the temptation. I just had to get a look of the scene in the living room. And when I finally did, it blew my mind.

    My father was shirtless, with his trousers and underwear pulled down around his ankles. He was leaning his chest against the wall and his legs were spread open as wide as his trousers would allow. His forehead was pressed up against the wall as well so he couldn't see me, and neither could the other man in the room. The reason for that was that the unknown man had his face buried between my father's arsecheeks, licking his hole in a way that I'd only ever seen in porn. 

    I'd seen my father naked countless times, but it obviously never came close to this. The most I'd ever seen was somebody's cock get half-hard in the locker room, which happened very infrequently yet it remained permanently carved in my brain when it did. There was always a lot of sex talk amongst my dad's mates, but it always involved girls so I didn't get off on it. And now this: another man, a handsome American, eating my father's arse right in front of me. I could tell he was beautiful even with his face hidden between my dad's cheeks, expertly rimming my father's hairy arsehole.

    Even though I was in the midst of puberty, I sported very little body hair. My dad, on the other hand, had always been on the hairier side, although even he couldn't compare to some of the furrier lads on his team. I always knew that my father's arsecheeks were covered in fine hair, extending all the way to his crack and presumably his hole. Now, with this stranger spreading Dad's cheeks open in front of me, I could see that I'd been right about the state of my parent's hole. The man rimming him didn't seem to mind the hairiness, however; I clearly saw his talented tongue darting in and out of Dad's arsehole as they both moaned loudly. 

    "Fuck," I whispered quietly, unable to believe the hotness of the scene in front of me. I hid behind the corner, spying into the brightly-lit living room. I wanted to wrap my hand around my boner but it was throbbing so intensely that I worried that I might cum if I touched myself even for a second. 

    As my father got his arse eaten, I observed his muscular back and all of the tattoos that ran down his back and arms. I'd seen them all before, of course, but tonight I was seeing my parent in a whole new light. For the first time I realised my dad was… fucking fit! He looked proper good, like. Yes, I'd always known that in a way, and I was happy to take after him in the looks department even though I was nowhere near as athletic. But now, I was also looking at him in a sexual way. I wondered if over the years, some of those men he brought around the house were more than just mates of his. I'd never walked in on him doing anything sexual, so tonight was a huge change to the status quo.

    Feeling the heat, the handsome rimmer pulled off his shirt. In the brief moment that I could see his face, I noticed that he was even more striking than I'd imagined him. He went back to eating my father's arse for what felt like an hour, even though it couldn't have been that long. I had no track of time, with no watch and my phone up in my room. I just watched and enjoyed the show, dripping so much precum until there was a proper puddle on the floor. 

    "When's the last time this hole's been fucked?" the American asked my father suddenly. His tongue was no longer in Dad's hole, replaced by the man's thumb which was now poking back and forth inside my dad's stretched-out arse.

    "Mmm, last night," my father moaned. His answer surprised me.

    "Yeah? I bet you get a lot of action these days," the stranger said, inserting another finger in my dad's arsehole.

    "Mm, let's just say I get around," Dad continued to moan. I don't know why this was such a surprise to me. Back when I thought my father was straight, I assumed he was fucking a different girl every evening, like any successful sportsman. Now that he was gay, however, him hooking up with multiple men felt… different somehow. More taboo, yet even hotter. 

    "Did they cum inside of you? Cuz I think I can taste some cum in your ass," the hot stranger said to my dad.

    "Aha. Yes, they did," Dad nodded against the wall.

    "How many were there, last night?"

    "Three guys. We had a little party," my father replied casually.

    "And they all bred your hole? You fucking slut," the man barked, single-handedly unbuttoning his pants and taking his cock out, which I unfortunately couldn't see from where I was standing.

    "Yeah. And I want you to breed me right now as well," my father begged. Once again, his voice was NOTHING like I'd ever heard it. He sounded… desperate. Desperate for cum, apparently. 

    "Fuck yeah, man, let's go," the other man said, pulling his fingers out of my dad's arse and quickly getting up on his feet. The whole thing happened so quickly that I was stunned. I wanted to move to a better vantage point, but there was nowhere to go and no time to move. Before I knew it, the unknown man was shoving his dick up my father's arse. Just like that, no lube, no nothing. 

    "Ah, fuck!" my father swore. He was in pain, I could tell; he sounded like this when he fell on the field and got an injury. However, the pain didn't seem to last very long at all. Within seconds, Dad was back to moaning in pleasure, asking the man to go deeper and fuck him harder.

    The stranger obliged him. He began thrusting his hips; his own trousers wrapped around his ankles just like Dad's. If Dad's arse was good, this man's was PHENOMENAL! It was almost unnaturally smooth for a grown man, and his glutes were so perfectly shaped that they looked photoshopped. It made me reach back and grab onto my own hairless arsecheeks, wondering how they felt in comparison. Although my glutes weren't as muscular, I still had a bubble butt I was proud of. I massaged my cheeks while watching the stranger's arse flexing as he fucked my dad. I focused on him so hard that I could see the sweat dripping down his spine, collecting in his arse crack and dripping onto the floor, just like my precum. 

    Then, I saw my dad's right hand reach around to his front. He was jerking off, unmistakably, but alas I couldn't see. He began thrusting his hips back and forth as well until he and the stranger were moving in synchronicity. It was like a beautiful dance; the man kissing the back of my father's neck and making him moan louder and louder with each thrust. Even if I'd been upstairs in my room with the door closed, I would've certainly been able to hear them. The two men didn't seem to care. Enveloped in their passion, they ignored the world around them, which worked perfectly to my advantage. 

    "Fuck," I whispered to myself again, letting go of my arsecheeks and finally reaching for my cock instead. With one hand around my hard prick and another tugging on my balls, I watched the fuck fest taking place in front of me. It didn't take long. Just a couple of minutes later I was ready to cum. As if connected to me in a mysterious way, I heard the unknown man say,

    "I'm about to breed your ass."

    "Fuck yeah, mate. Cum inside me. Cum inside my arse," Dad begged. My strokes intensified as I listened to his pleas. "Fucking breed my arse, mate, do it!"

    The American's glutes flexed and squeezed together. He arched his back, thrusting forward as far as possible, and loudly shouted, "AAAAAH, YESSSS!!!"

    He was cumming. He was cumming inside my father's arsehole. I was watching a man shoot his load up my dad's guts right in front of me, and it pushed me over the edge. After hours and hours of edging, and witnessing this sexy scene, I experienced the most intense orgasm of my young life. It was a good thing that Dad and the man were both moaning out in ecstasy that they drowned out the sound of my cum hitting the floor. My cumshot was so strong that it made a loud noise as it whiplashed against the polished hardwood.

    "Ah fuck. Ah fuck. I'm cumming!" my father moaned, blowing his own load against the wall in front of him. Hearing his orgasm intensified my own, and I continued to spit out cum like a fucking fountain. Amazed by the size of my load, I let out a "whoa!" which thankfully went unnoticed as well.

    Finally, we were done. Everyone's movement slowed down, and I started to freak out. I'd shot my load all over the floor, and I had nothing to clean it up with! I looked around and thankfully, I spotted a scarf nearby. Quietly, I reached for it and knelt down on the floor, wiping the cum off and retreating upstairs just as the handsome man pulled his dick out of my father's freshly-fucked arsehole.

    The following morning, I woke up to the headline: "PETE'S PARAMOUR? The Premier League star spotted leaving Soho with American fashion model Ben Turner. Is the lusty Yank Pete's first boyfriend since his revolutionary coming-out video?" Underneath the byline was a blurry photo of my father and the man who'd cum inside his arse several hours ago.​