Semua Bab INFINITE SHADES OF GAY: A Collection Of Raw MM Erotica : Bab 91 - Bab 100

I AND MY CELLMATE DOUBLES WARDEN WHO BEAT ME UP 1Let me tell you the story I never told anyone. About how my last night in the shithole prison ended with me balls-deep in the guard who’d just beaten the piss out of me.My name’s Ryder. Twenty-seven, three months down for a stupid possession charge I didn’t even commit, and tomorrow I was supposed to walk out a free man. Instead, Officer Kane decided to make my final evening memorable. He’d dragged me into the empty shower block after lights-out, shoved me against the tile, and laid into me with his baton and fists because he “didn’t like my attitude” about getting released. Bruises bloomed across my ribs and back. My lip was split. Blood mixed with the cold water still dripping from the showerhead.I lay on the floor gasping when he finally stepped back, breathing hard, sweat glistening on his buzz-cut head and thick neck. Kane was thirty-eight if I was right. Built like a tank — 6’4”, two hundred and twenty pounds of muscle, hairy

AS A FUCK BOY, I LET 12 STRANGERS RUIN ME 1I stood backstage in nothing but a thin black jockstrap, heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. My name is Harit. Twenty-one years old, slim but toned from years of dancing, smooth olive skin, a tight bubble ass that had gotten me into more trouble than I could count, and tonight I was the main attraction — the fuck boy. Twelve men had paid good money to ruin me on stage while an audience of forty or fifty watched every second. Some would jerk off openly. Others already had eager mouths wrapped around their cocks. And I was going to take every single one of them, one after the other, until my hole was a wrecked, gaping, cum-leaking mess.The stage lights dimmed. A low, dirty bass beat started thumping through the underground club. The MC’s voice crackled over the speakers.“Ladies and gentlemen… tonight’s main event. Our beautiful little fuck boy, Harit, is ready to be destroyed. Twelve hung studs. One after the other. No me

I WOKE UP AS A CHARACTER IN MY EROTICA STORY 1I woke up to the scent of expensive leather and the low, powerful hum of a Rolls-Royce engine.My eyes snapped open. This wasn’t my small, messy apartment in Seoul. There was no pile of half-finished webtoon pages on my desk, no empty ramen cups, no glowing monitor with Chapter 87 of “The Billionaire’s Insatiable Desires” still open. Instead, I was sitting in the driver’s seat of a luxurious car, wearing a perfectly tailored black uniform, white gloves on my hands, and a sleek earpiece in my right ear.My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought it might crack them.“What… the fuck?”I stared at my reflection in the rear-view mirror. It was my face, same sharp jaw, same dark eyes, same messy black hair I never bothered to style properly, but everything else was wrong. My body felt… different. Leaner. More toned. And the watch on my wrist cost more than everything I owned combined.I was Park Williams. Thirty-one years old. Modera

MY SON'S BEST FRIEND WANTS MY COCK 1 I’m forty-nine years old, a successful architect, married for twenty-two years, and I knew from the first moment I started having those thoughts, it was wrong. But still, Drake made it impossible to resist.My son’s best friend had been staying with us for the summer while his parents traveled. Drake was twenty-one — tall, lean-muscled, with messy dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and an easy, cocky smile that always lingered a second too long when he looked at me. He knew exactly what he was doing. He’d walk around the house in nothing but low-slung gray sweatpants, the waistband riding so low I could see the V of his hips and the faint trail of hair leading down. After swimming in our pool, he’d come inside dripping wet, the thin fabric clinging to his body, outlining the thick shape of his cock and the curve of his ass like he wanted me to stare.I told myself I was imagining it. I was straight. I had a wife. But every time I caught him in the hallw

ONCE A CAT BURGLAR, NOW A DON'S FUCK BOY 1I sat across the street in the shadow of a boarded-up café, cigarette pinched between my fingers. The cherry flared each time I inhaled, a small orange pulse against the night. At 2:17 a.m. the convoy appeared—three black SUVs rolling smooth and silent, followed by the long obsidian Rolls-Royce that seemed to drink the streetlights. Tinted glass reflected nothing back. The wrought-iron gates parted with a low, hydraulic sigh. Floodlights swept the driveway in slow arcs. I watched until the last taillight vanished inside the Rossi estate.Last night at the Penthouse Club, the necklace had hung against Vittorio Rossi’s throat like it weighed nothing. Diamonds the size of my thumbnail caught every flash of strobe, throwing shards of light across his jaw, his silver-threaded hair, the open collar of his shirt where tattoos disappeared into shadow. I stood three feet away, champagne flute forgotten in my hand, pulse thudding in my ears while my