“I SUBMIT! I SUBMIT! I SUBMIT!”

“Say please.”

“PLEASE! PLEASE!”

“You done, boy, or do you want me to beat on you some more?”

“I’m done! I’m done!” his voice quivered.

I let go, gently dropping him down to the mattress. I flexed over him a few times as he lay there moaning. I got up and went over to my bag. I slipped on a condom and lubed it up before heading back over to where he lay.

I got between his legs and lifted his hips up over mine.

“You ready?”

He opened his eyes and smiled at me. “Fuck me, please, sir.”

I eased my cock into his tight little hole, and as I did, I glanced over and saw Allen still taping. His own trunks were down, and he was pulling at his own cock.

Erotic is only for private, I heard him say again as I forced my cock into my groaning boy.

How many times had Allen taped me fucking someone I’d just beaten?

How many times had Allen taped me being fucked after getting beat?

I leaned down and nibbled on one of the boy’s hard nipples. He moaned, his eyes closing as I slowly worked my cock all the way inside.

Oh, he was so tight on my cock, it felt so good.

I started to pull out slowly, gently. He began to writhe underneath me.

“Oh yeah,” he breathed, “fuck me, oh please fuck me, sir.”

I slammed all the way back inside him. His eyes rolled back in his head as a deep moan reverberated in his throat. Once inside, I ground against him and his entire body began to tremble.

I traced a finger from his throat down the valley between his pecs and along his abs.

I moved my hips back until all that was inside of him was the head of my cock.

He opened his eyes. “Yes, sir, that’s the way, that’s so nice.” He gasped, his eyes half closing as I moved deep inside of him, bit by bit, resisting as he arched up against me, trying to get me inside all at once.

He shuddered as I reached full penetration, rotating my hips in a circular motion to loosen him up some—and he let out a shout as he starting spewing cum out of his cock.

I pulled back out, stroking myself as he finished shooting.

The first time Allen had fucked me, I’d come almost immediately.

I was you once, I thought as the boy smiled back at me.

I peeled off the condom, going up on my knees and stroking. He sat up and started playing with my nipples—and in three strokes I was coating him with my own load.

“Wow,” he whispered, smiling at me.

Allen turned the camera off and set it down. “That was even hotter than I thought it would be.”

I unlaced my boots and slipped them off. I stood up. “I’m going to take a quick shower.” Without another word I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

As I washed the sweat and smell of the boy off me, memories flooded through my mind.

I’d fallen in love with Allen, and had always wanted to please him. Even now, fifteen years later, I was still trying to please him—even though he’d moved on to other wrestlers. It had hurt to realize that I wasn’t special; that I wasn’t even the first and I wasn’t going to be the last.

I thought about the Kid. I had, indeed, been him once, young and innocent, excited that an older guy wanted to make me a wrestler.

How many times had I shown up in a hotel room to wrestle Allen’s latest find, for his videotaping pleasure? How many times had I been the first guy to wrestle the new boy, other than Allen?

This is the last time.

I toweled off and walked back into the other room. The boy was sucking Allen’s dick. I closed my eyes and saw myself doing the same thing after getting beaten up and fucked by one of Allen’s friends.

I got dressed without saying anything. I put my gear back into my bag and hoisted it up onto my shoulder.

“You want to get dinner?” Allen asked. The boy smiled at me.

I shook my head no, and walked out of the room.

Once out in the hallway, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

This, I told myself, was the last time.

Giovanni

Logan Zachary

I stood in the doorway, uncertain of where to go or what to do. Remingtons was a male strip club in Toronto. The sign read “Cover Charge $5.00,” but no one was manning the front door. I pulled out an American five and looked around.

A man danced on the stage, wearing only a pair of white briefs and tennis shoes. The music blared around the semi-crowded room. It was still early. My gaze looked to the bartender, who was busy filling mugs of beer. My glance returned to the stage, and the man’s briefs were down around his ankles. All of his business stood semi-erect and danced in time with his pelvic thrusts.

Arms wrapped around my shoulders from behind and pulled me close. “Enjoying what you see?” a young voice asked in my ear.

I turned and saw a shirtless man with a smooth and pale chest. His torso looked sculpted from stone. His belly button was in and a thin triangle of fine dark hair disappeared into his surfing shorts. His black hair was cut short and spiked straight up.

My mouth was dry and I couldn’t swallow. “I just got here. Where…where do I pay the…” I waved my bill at the sign.

“Forget about that, spend it on what counts.” He winked at me. He stepped back so I could get a better look. No fat on this boy. Young and firm. Very nice-looking, but not my type, he looked barely nineteen.

My eyes caressed his form and I looked over his shoulder on stage. The dancer was showing himself in full glory. The audience had stopped talking and stared as the music ended.

“Give a hand to Dante. He’ll be walking around soon.” The man on the stage pulled on his underwear and descended the stairs. He walked to a back hallway and disappeared.

“Give it up for Chance,” the bartender said as a man strolled to the stage with a cowboy hat, chaps, and holster. His vest flapped open showing a six-pack to die for.

“I’m Carlos. I’ll be dancing soon.” The man next to me guided my attention back to him.

I smiled and nodded.

My confusion must have been easily read, since he continued. “Do you know how this place works?” He took my hand and ran it down his warm chest to where the fine hair began.

This was my first time here, I didn’t have a clue.

“All the dancers have a set on stage and then they walk and work the floor. We talk to the customers.” He ran his fingers through my blond curls and continued, “And if you like what you see, you can have a private dance.”

My eyes widened.

“Upstairs.” His eyes looked to the back of the bar. “There are private rooms there, so you can be alone with the dancer, and get a special dance.”

I swallowed hard, but that wasn’t the only thing hard.

“What are you drinking?” he asked.

My mind was spinning so alcohol was not a good idea right now. “Just a Coke.”

“I’ll be right back.” He started off and then returned. He took the five from my hand and walked to the bar. His tight shorts hugged his perfect butt.

“Keep the change,” I called. At least I hoped there would be change.

A thin blond wearing a wrestler’s singlet walked by. An olive-skinned man approached, paused, looked over my shoulder, and veered to the left.

What was wrong with me? Could they tell I was a tourist? Marked by Carlos? A warm breath blew across the back of my neck. Then I knew, someone was behind me.

Slowly, I turned and saw why everyone else made a wide berth. He even made my breath catch in my throat.

My five-year-old nephew collects Rescue Hero figures. Ones I have purchased for him for Christmas and his birthday. This was one of them, live and in the flesh. This was the one I wanted to play with. He wore a pair of Levi’s painted on his perfect body. A thick, black leather belt with two hooks surrounded his narrow waist. He wore big black leather boots on his feet and he had no shirt. Thank you.