The Philanthropist

Right. For the good of the recreation center, Kyle thought. But, as naturally as he could seem, he followed Colson down the hall to the men’s room.

Colson was at a urinal when Kyle came in. He had his dick out and was pissing into the urinal. Kyle sidled up beside him and unzipped. He didn’t bother to pull his shaft out, though, because he knew that wasn’t what they were doing there. Colson finished peeing, gave his meaty cock a couple of shakes, cupped it, and half turned it to Kyle, making sure that Kyle saw it. It was half hard. Kyle stared at it and took a deep breath.

“I’ve meant to ask if you enjoyed this the other night at the Jefferson. I had to leave before you woke up,” Colson said in a low, but strong voice.

“Yes. Of course I enjoyed it.” It’s been two weeks; I’m in agony for it, is what Kyle wanted to say, despite making me feel like a whore. But he didn’t say that. It was embarrassing for him to be this in thrall to an older man like this. He could have almost any top going through this facility. They were always after him. It’s just that this big, hairy bear of a man pushed all of Kyle’s buttons. “But the money. You didn’t have to leave the—”

“Most flexible body I’ve ever had. Sweetest hole. I loved doing you. Worth every penny. I want to see you again. I’ll give you $500 for another session in the sack.”

Out of that, “loved” and “see you again” is what resonated with Kyle. “When? But you know you don’t have to—”

“Today. This afternoon. Now. I’ll call and get a hotel room. I want to tie you in knots, lay you out, and spike you to the floor. I’m that hot for you. Haven’t thought about anything else for days—just putting you in a complete submissive position and fucking the shit out of you.”