“Come here,” I said. He walked to me slowly. It was breathtaking, just to watch him move. Even the simple act of walking he performed with animal grace, fluid and sexual.

He stopped a foot away, looming above me. I didn’t like his face being above mine. It wouldn’t be for long.

He raised his right hand to touch the leather band around my left biceps. “You have a beautiful body,” he said softly. He brought his hands to my chest and combed his fingers through the thick mat of blond hair. “Like Carl,” he whispered.

I grabbed his wrists and pushed his hands to my crotch.

“Take it out.”

He looked down as he unbuttoned my jeans, spread the flaps, and circled his fingers around the thick base of my cock. He had to use both hands to pull it out.

He held it tightly. I saw a strange smile on his downturned face. He weighed it in his hands.

“Yeah. Big and heavy. Just like Carl’s.”

“Then get on your knees and suck it. Just like you suck Carl’s cock.”

Michael knelt. In the mirrors to my left and right I saw his body, lean and sleek in profile. I watched the head of my cock slide between his lips and shuddered at the contact. In the mirror before me I saw his back-thrust ass inside the translucent briefs. I twisted the hair at the nape of his neck into a single cord and used it to hold his head in place.

His back was untouched. Maybe Carl didn’t want to see that ivory perfection marred by welts. Michael would find out soon enough where the comparisons ended between Carl and me.

I yanked his head forward and gave a sudden thrust with my hips, trying to catch him off guard. Start him off gagging. Get his saliva running. Make him take it my way from the very start.

But it slid down his throat without a hitch. I looked down at his upturned face. His eyes were shut; the long lashes flickered. His cheeks were drawn taut. His thick red lips circled the base of my shaft. His jaw was thrust sharply into my balls. His throat was distended, packed with a solid truncheon of flesh.

I fucked his face hard and deep, never pulling more than halfway out, watching his throat expand and contract as I pumped into him. The candlelight flashed on the trickles of spit that ran from the corners of his mouth onto his corded neck. I kept expecting him to protest and push me away, gasping for breath, but he seemed resigned to letting me fuck his face as long and as hard as I wanted.

I finally pulled his head back by a fistful of hair and emptied his throat with a jerk. Keep him cock-hungry, I thought. He leaned back, gasping. His mouth and chin were wet with spittle. His lips glistened in the firelight.