The old bait and switch—when the guy opens his door to reveal a self completely different from the photos he’s sent. Maybe the photos are ten, fifteen years out of date. Maybe he’s gained a hundred pounds. Maybe years of partying has added sags and wrinkles or an unhealthy pallor to a once-handsome face.
The last time it happened to me was about three years ago, when a guy on Adam4Adam lured me to his remote cottage using some photos of a young, worked-out, furry body only to show up at the door in a woman’s lacy robe with all the physical fitness of a late-day Ron Jeremy. I balked on the front stoop, and it showed; the guy had to physically grab my wrists and yank me over the threshold to get me into his home. Even then, after I asserted that I was very disappointed he felt the need to lie so blatantly about his build and age, he couldn’t believe I was leaving without fucking. “But you wouldn’t have come if you’d know I looked like this!” was his yelled backwards logic, as I returned down the driveway to my car.
The shirtless fellow who answers the door of the Provincetown hotel room, late this Tuesday night, though—he looks like his photos. Exactly like, in fact. Short, lean, muscular, with a furry chest and a treasure trail that leads down into his cargo shorts, between a pair of obliques that obscenely slant to the goods below. A beard of light brown fur covers his face; his eyes are big, brown, and sparkling. The dude is hot enough to be some kind of porn star, frankly. I’m itching to get inside him.
“Glad you could come,” he says in a deep and masculine voice.
“My pleasure,” I say, trying to match his bass.
“Glenn,” he says, holding out his hand. I tell him my name, and let him give me a strong and manly shake.
Well, I’m thinking to myself. I’ve lucked out with this furry little fucker. He is going to feel mighty good slicked up and wrapped around my dick. I’m practically licking my chops at the sight of his buns bouncing in those oversized shorts as I follow him down the short passage from door to bed. And then, once I step from the shadows into the bedroom’s light, I stop short. There’s another man on the bed I hadn’t known about. Naked, sitting on the sheets with the duvet pooled around the foot of the mattress.
“Oh, this is my boyfriend, Mark,” says Glenn. Casual-like. As if the presence of a nude third is nothing to write home about.
“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend with you,” I say, keeping my voice level.
“No? You sure?” says Glenn, sounding all the world like he was one hundred percent certain he’d mentioned it. He hadn’t.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m sure.”
“I don’t mind three-ways.” The guy on the bed is maybe in his late twenties. He’s got a pair of barbell piercings in his nipples and a smooth boyish chest. A shock of blond hair spills over his forehead and into his eyes, which dart back and forth as he follows the conversation. There’s something about the way he wrinkles his forehead and the amount of concentration he’s exerting that makes me think maybe English isn’t his first language . . . but I might just be spitballing that idea in my head. “I’ll fuck you both.”
“Oh,” says Glenn, looking kind of blank. He gestures at the blond. “It’s him I want you to fuck.”
“You said,” and in my mind I’m thinking and I quote, “’I need your big thick cock up my ass, buddy.’”
Glenn seems absolutely flabbergasted that I could’ve interpreted such a message to mean that he needed my big thick cock up his ass, buddy. “He’s the one who needs a fucking.” He points to the blond kid, then crosses his arms. And waits.
I interpret the stance to mean a challenge. Put up, or shut up and get out. Inwardly I’m kicking myself, though. Fucking bait and switch. And I walked right into it, too. I could just walk the fuck out—and I should, just to show them.
On the other hand, the kid is pretty sexy. I would definitely have fucked him if he’d approached on his own. And I enjoy having an audience. So without saying a word more, I kick off my sandals, unbutton my jeans. Glenn nods with approval and moves over to my side to help me off with my t-shirt.
The kid, in the meantime, digs into the mattress with his heels and scooches himself over to the mattress’ edge. His feet clutch the edge of the bed like a monkey’s as he bends his neck and dives for my cock. I feel his fingers scrabbling in the edge of my shorts to yank them down, and then the sensation of wet warmth around my dick. He brings me to hardness quickly. Any resentments I might have about the situation evaporate when I see his blue eyes looking up at me, craving praise for his performance. “Yeah,” I say, as I stroke that blond hair out of his eyes. “Good boy.”
“He’s good, huh?” asks Glenn. He’s shucked the cargo pants. There’s nothing beneath them save for a chrome cock ring. His fat little dick has a slight curve; it fits nicely in the palm of his hand. He takes a couple of steps and lands at the top of the bed with his back against the wall, where he starts masturbating as he watches. “Trained him myself.”
“Nice job,” I say, sparing him a quick glance. The sight of Glenn stroking his dick while he watches me is hot, but I’m enjoying watching Mark more. The kid knows how to suck. What’s more, he’s got a hunger for it. “He is a very good boy.” The praise has a narcotic effect on the kid. His muscles relax; his eyes close halfway. He loves hearing it. “He’s real pretty, too.”
“Fuck, don’t I know it,” said Glenn. He’s fisting his rod now; his hand is wrapped around that thing so tightly the head’s a dark beet red.
“How’s he fuck?” I ask, after a few more slurps.
“Spin the little cocksucker around and find out,” Glenn suggests.
I let my dick linger in the moist recesses of Mark’s mouth for a moment. Then I pull out and motion that he should change positions. The kid has been playing with his hole with one hand and using the other to position my cock, the entire time. Now he’s assuming the position like a champ—butt up, back nicely arched, legs spread at the perfect width. I spit on my fingers and spread it around his already-wet hole. It only takes a couple of fingers to judge that this hole is already well-stretched and much-fucked. My suspicions are confirmed when I shove in my cockhead and meet with zero resistance.
I slide in to the hilt. At the bottom I rest. He starts squeezing and milking me almost immediately. “Fuck,” I say. It’s not voluntary—just sheer reaction.
“Told ya,” says Glenn.
He seems content just to sit there, bating away as he watches. From time to time as I fuck he’ll reach up and squeeze one of his nipples. Once he reaches over to the bedstand and from the litter of bottles retrieves a container of poppers that he holds to his nose and inhales from, deeply. He holds it out to me with raised eyebrows. I shake my head.
“Sniff,” Glenn says to his boyfriend. The kid’s neck cranes out to reach the bottle. He takes a whiff, but Glenn grabs the top of his head like a basketball and forces it down against the brown glass neck for a sustained period of time. He gives Mark a moment to recuperate, then repeats the ritual once more with the other nostril. When Mark inhales the vapors, his ass blossoms around me; his hole becomes softer. Wetter. Slicker. More fuckable. I haven’t inhaled a fucking thing and already the aphrodisiac is working for me.
I’ve got one foot up on the mattress and the other planted on the carpet as I plow in and out of this boy’s open hole. Even though we’ve only used spit for lube, the pubes around the base of my cock are matted and wet, like they’ve been soaked. The kid’s producing his own lube. Some guys are better about that than others, that’s for sure. I can see my dick’s nearly as red and flushed as Glenn’s, as he beats away at the top of the bed.
“I’m gonna breed him,” I say at last.
It’s not a question. I’m not asking for permission. Glenn knows. He nods. “That’s what he’s for, buddy,” he says. Then, to his boyfriend he adds, “Wanna get bred by the nice man? Want your hole seeded by this total stranger?”
“Yes,” says Mark in a strangled sob. It’s the first word he’s said. Like I suspected, there’s a Germanic tinge to his accent. “I want to be bred.”
“Do it, then.” Glenn’s voice has an edge now. He’s close, I can tell. “Breed the little fucker.”
He gets himself off with his own words. Cum shoots out of his dick an onto his fur. There’s a string of them up and down his chest, all the way up to his neck, each one the color of pearl. “Fuck,” he exclaims, still shuddering. “Fuck!”
I’m too lost in the flow of my own orgasm to reply. It washes over me in waves, each stronger than the previous. I’m drowning in the sensation of it, unable for a few moments even to see. Then the waves ebb and I’m left panting with my dick half-out of the kid’s asshole. It flops out completely when he crawls forward to lick the semen from his boyfriend’s chest. Then he lays prone, limbs sprawled, with his head between Glenn’s inner thighs.
It’s a pretty tableau. I watch Glenn stroke his boyfriend’s hair for a moment. Then I reach for my tee, ready to head out.
“Hey hey hey,” says Glenn. His eyes meet mine, but they drop down to the pendulous weapon between my legs. It’s softened somewhat, but not completely. “I don’t think you’re done.”
I raise my eyebrows. “It’s kinda late. . . .”
There’s an awkward moment while Glenn attempts to untangle himself from Mark’s limbs. But finally he detaches himself from the limp shell of his boyfriend and stands. He struts over, stands directly in front of me, and uses his hand to pull my face to his. Our lips wrestle in a rough kiss. “You don’t have to go.”
“I’ve gotta. . . .”
“You don’t have to go,” he repeats. “Not yet.” He stares me in the eye, then turns around. His knees connect with the edge of the mattress. He spreads them wide, lowers his chest, and arches his back. His round ass parts to reveal a hole surrounded by fur. “Get the lube,” he orders his boyfriend.
My cock comes back to life, rising to meet the challenge. He’s right. I don’t have to go. Not yet.
Bait and switch. Fuck yes.