Page 33 of Slay the Gay Away, Daddy

We spend another ten minutes opening him up for me before disaster strikes and I realize we don’t have any lube in the house. I usually just masturbate dry, trying to get it over as quickly as possible, keeping my mind blank, trying my hardest not to think of other men. If Darren has any, it’ll be back at his house, and I’m not sending him over there again. He may not know it yet, but he’s moving in, and I won’t hear another word on the matter.

Figuring my soul is already damned to Hell for what we’re doing, I throw caution to the wind. Hopping up from bed, I say a prayer to a God who probably isn’t too fond of me at the moment that this all goes well. I grab a small bottle of anointing oil from my writing desk and stare at the bottle.

Doing this will wreck any potential relationship with God in the future. It would be the ultimate slap in the face. Using a tool of spiritual awakening as a means of diving directly into sin probably won’t win me His favor, but then, I’ve never even had it to begin with. All my life, I’ve hurt. Every day I’ve ever lived has been a day lived in quiet, desperate devastation. Now, I’ve got my Dare. I’ve got Dare, and he tells me it’s all going to be fine, so I know it has to be true. He wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t tempt me with his forbidden fruit if he didn’t think that fruit was ripe and ready for plucking.

“I love you, Miles,” he says, pulling me out of my head. I look over my shoulder at him and force a smile.

“I love you too.”

“Are you sure about this?”

I nod, because, yeah, I think I am. My journey into redemption has been nothing but pure agony, and if I’m just going to burn for eternity, I might as well enjoy myself first.

Squeezing the oil into my palm, I coat my cock until it’s nice and shiny. Once I reach the bed, Darren stares at the bottle in my hand, swallowing thickly enough that his Adam’s apple bobs up and down like a fishing lure.

“I don’t know if this stuff is going to burn, but it’s all I’ve got. We don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want—”

He shakes his head, silencing me. “I want it. I want you, Miles. I don’t care if it rips me to shreds, just do it. Please?”

I exhale shakily before nodding. Taking my cock in my hand, I aim it at his entrance, then look into his eyes. “If it hurts, tell me. I won’t be happy if I find out you’re suffering just so I can enjoy myself. Pain means pause. Say it.”

“Yeah,” he promises. “Pain means pause. I’ll tell you if it starts to hurt.”

“Good boy,” I praise, slowly sinking in. Mary, mother of everything holy, I’ve never felt anything like this before in my life. Darren’s tight heat grips me like a vise, like my cock was form-fitted for his hole. It’s like learning to walk after crawling around for years. There’s a desire to give into my natural urges and sink all the way in at once, but that would hurt my boy, and I can’t let that happen, so I go slow, gently rocking inch after inch into him.

Once I finally bottom out, I pause, staring down into his eyes as I try to catch my breath. “I’m inside you,” I announce, stunned.

“And you feel so good,” he whimpers, wrapping a hand around his little cock before I slap it away and replace it with my own.

“Careful, baby. You’ve got a little loaded gun that’s ready to go off. You need someone to guide you. Someone to show you how to tend to your dick.” I lick my lips, loving the way he looks likehe’s hanging on my every word. “See, a cock this small needs special attention.”

“It’s five-and-a-half inches,” he moans, arching his back, driving his cock into my fist.

“It’s three. At best.”

“It’s five-and-a-fucking-half,” he growls. “I’ll measure it right here, right now if I have to.” He knows I hate that kind of language, and I can tell he knows I might pop him again, because he quickly adds, “Sorry. My mouth got away from me.”

“Good boy,” I praise. “I’m proud of you for owning up to your mistakes. That takes a strong moral compass.” I stare down at him, past his leaking shaft to the place where we’re connected. I pull out of him, only to slowly sink back in once I reach the edge. Each slow thrust is a declaration to my Dare. An unspoken promise that I’m his and he’s mine.

He bites his lip, failing to suppress a moan as he fucks my fist. I increase the speed of my thrusts, gasping each time I reach the end. His insides feel like they’ll never stop going, though, and it makes me wish my cock was even longer than its standard six inches, just so I could see how much more he could take. Because staring at his hole stretching around my cock is like looking at a masterpiece, and I want it to look even better. I wonder if he’d let us bring toys into the mix. His hole would look exquisite, stretching even wider.

“Fuck me,” he whispers, his eyes closed tightly. “I want it harder. Wanna feel you. Every thrust.”

What my boy wants, my boy is going to get.

I increase my thrust speed until the room is filled with the sound of our languid moans and skin slapping against skin. I’m so close I can practically see the finish line, and Darren must see it, too, because his eyes open and lock on mine.

“I think I’m going to come,” he says, sounding amazed by the revelation.

“That’s it, baby. Come for me. Make this pretty little cock explode all over me. Mark me.”

“Oh, fuck!” His head falls back and he tenses like he’s suffering from a full-body charley horse. The sounds he’s making don’t even sound human. They’re feral, like he’s been living in the wilds all his life and this is his first peek at civilization. If I had my way, it would be the only civilization Darren would ever know. Part of me wants to keep him locked in my bedroom at all times. Another part wants to look into elective surgery that would attach him to my hip. I want him with me. Always. No matter what.

“Shit. Dare, I’m about to—I’m gonna come.”

His fingers dig into my ass, and as if he’s trying to give me all the approval I need, he smashes his lips to mine, dragging me across the finish line. When I come, it feels like an explosion. Like a bomb going off inside my boy, covering his insides with sexual shrapnel.

“Mine,” I moan. “Oh, God. Mine, Dare.”

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