Shit! I’m going to be late for my lunch date… I’d probably better call him and let him know that I’m a little backed up. I don’t want to cancel on the damn guy, but it’s going to be so hard to get out of the office today. The servers went down in the building some time overnight and IT has been working on it all morning. And my job as the Information Architect for the southern branch of one of the biggest insurance companies in the country means my phone has been ringing non-stop all morning. Why these people can’t use their phones to search for the answers on Google?- I don’t know. Why this company doesn’t have a backup server, I know even less. Hmmm… Maybe I’m not that great of an Information Architect, after all.

“Hey,” I said, picking up my briefcase and slamming it onto my desk.

The loud thump startled my co-worker, Shanice. Shanice is a Risk Manager, overseeing company expenditures, which helps to keep the company cost-effective. Because we work so well together, we share the last executive-style office on this floor.

“What?” Shanice asked, her head jumping up from her desk. “You scared the crap out of me.”

I laughed. “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for this too; I need you to cover for me while I’m at lunch.”

“No, no, no, no sir….”

“Please,” I begged. “I have to go, Shanice.”

“The way your phone has been ringing off the hook, you’re better off staying right here. I have some crackers for you to snack on while you work through your lunch hour.”

“I can’t, Shanice. This appointment is important. This one may be it; this may be my dream house. And besides, you’ve been listening to my calls all morning. I’ve said the same two phrases over and over. I doubt it’s going to be any harder than that.”

“I don’t know, Zay… They keep calling you about the policy changes, and I don’t know anything about that.”

“You didn’t read the blurb I emailed about all the policy changes last month?” I asked.

“No one did,” she shot back, scoffing. “That’s exactly why they keep calling you. And now, you see why I don’t want to be in your predicament.”

“Ughhhh…” I sighed.

She did too, feeling a little guilty. “You really think this is the house?”

“It’s what Malik told me. He even sent a video.”

I pulled out my phone and pulled up the video he’d sent a few hours before. Then, I handed my phone over to her.

“Here, look for yourself,” I said.

“Oooh, oooh, oooh- I’m looking.”

The ‘oooh-ooohs’ Shanice was howling had very little to do with the house. She was remarking toward my real estate agent, Malik Rockmore. Malik had that effect on all women. I’d never considered myself to be a bad-looking dude, but standing next to him, I tended to feel inferior. He had that effect on men.

Standing at 6’5, with a chiseled rock-hard body, he was a modern-day interpretation of Michaelangelo’s David. It was as if he sculpted himself that way. He was carmelized in skin tone, a bit broader in the shoulders and bigger in the chest, but he was every bit as statuesque. His face was a little hard, just as muscular as the rest of his body. He raised the bar and beauty standards for men in general. It made him perfect for a sales career. Anyone could get lost in his eyes. The man could sell Goodwill clothing to a boutique, and the boutique would think they came out on the better side of the deal.

In the video, Malik was holding his camera phone in front of his face, and you could see the elegant staircase in the view behind him. Then, he began to spin in a circle, showing the rest of the entryway to the home.

“It’s 4 bedrooms, 3 baths, 2 staircases, a side exit, and one of those master showers you said you wanted during our last walkthrough. I scored a private viewing for you. Show up anytime from 1:45 to 3 PM., Zay. And before you think of passing up on this opportunity, I want to let you know that you have not seen a deal this good since that house in SouthPark that you let slip through your fingers. You remember how pissed you were about that? Don’t let it happen again. Come get this house, bwoi!”

The breathtaking video ended. And no, I don’t just mean that the house views were breathtaking.

“Whew…” Shanice said. “If I wasn’t married…. If I wasn’t married… Shit, why did I get married?”

I chuckled. “Because you love your husband, Damien. He’s the father of your children, and you guys have been madly in love for 7 years.”

“Damn it, I can’t wait to become a widow.”

“Oh, stop it,” I grabbed the phone out of her hand.

“Alright, I will cover for you. But what do you need with all that house anyway? Isn’t it just you and your St. Bernard? You don’t need that house unless you’re putting a family together.”

“I have a family. My son and my daughter are coming back down here this Summer, and I’d love it if they didn’t have to share the guestroom of my apartment. I want them to have their own bedroom all year long, even when they’re back home. And I want them to have a house they can be proud of. Maybe when they become teens, they’ll want to stay down here. It’s warmer; it’s friendlier. It’s cheaper. They can get to know my roots just as well as they know their mother’s.”

“Awww, I didn’t even know you had kids. You are really tugging at the heartstrings so you can go see this little house, huh?” she asked.

“I looked at the house on Zillow after he sent me this video. Shanice, this is the one.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll cover for you under one condition.”

“Anything,” I agreed.

“I want to see some photos of those beautiful babies by the end of the week.”

I smiled. “You got it.”

“Alright, now go. Run along, so you can hurry back.”

“Awesome!” I lept up from my seat. Wrestling for my briefcase, I darted quickly out of the office. I was happy that I was going to make my appointment, but a little stressed over how the hell I was going to be able to find two kids to pose for pictures and pretend to be my children…

-&-

The drive out to this wonderful neighborhood where my dream house was located was only about 15 miles from the office. And in 5 O’clock traffic, it would probably be about 25 minutes. In that drive, I thought. What if this house was the real deal? What if this house was truly the one that I could see myself living in full-time? What if this was the house that I would grow old in? What if this was the house that my future son or daughter would be raised in? Hold on, I'm getting too far ahead of myself. I don't even have a wife yet. Hell, I don't even know if I want a wife. I've been bisexual my entire life, for as long as I can remember. When I envision myself with a family, I don't exactly know what my spouse looks like.

Even as I think about it right now, I have no idea where to start. My imagined spouse is faceless, formless, and boundless. I have no idea who or what I want from day to day. I love women, but I love men too. Committing to one over the other is hard when I don’t even have a valid prospect in front of me. I’ve always been more of a personality guy anyway. I’m more attracted to the vibe. If we can get along, we can get on. I like to think that I’m easygoing that way, although some people might see me differently

The neighborhood for this home was fairly new, part of a development they had been working on in this area for the last five years. As you turn to officially drive into the neighborhood, there’s a brick barrier fence that has the neighborhood’s name on it. Silver Echoes. Odd name for a development, but with the name excused, the neighborhood had something calming about it. It truly gave that ‘white picket fence, 2.5 children, with a dog and a cat’ American Dream that I’d been searching for. I wasn’t even at the house yet, but I knew that I was going to love it already.

Most of the homes were on the right side of Silver Echoes Lane, while the left side had a small golf park with more homes behind it. I wasn’t one for golf, but in a neighborhood so tame, maybe I’d take it up and see what all the fuss is about.

Ting…

The Bluetooth to my car went off; I’d just received a new text message. It was from Malik. “ETA?” he requested. It would take more time to pull my phone out and text him. I was literally around the corner; he’d see me pulling up in less than 30 seconds.

The houses on this block were gorgeous and homely without being flashy. They weren’t urban. They weren’t modern. These houses were easily straight out of the Leave It to Beaver television series. They were classic, reminiscent of a simpler time. No, the 1950s weren’t a great time period for black people; I’m not confused about that. I’m just referring to the aesthetic. Again, the American dream…

But this house?... As I’m looking at it for the first time, I realize that the pictures don’t do it justice. Its foundation was classic, its front patio was cozy, and its three-car garage was chic. I was so stunned at its appearance that I almost forgot to put the car in park after I pulled into the driveway.

I stepped out of my vehicle to get a better view, and the sight was even more breathtaking. And no, I’m not just looking at the house anymore but my gorgeous real estate agent as well. He opened the screen door and stepped out of the house to meet me.

“You made it!” he belted, a deep East Coast accent shooting from his lips.

“I got a little hung up at work, but I made it.”

“Good, yo.”

Malik began walking toward me. As he walked, the sun beamed down into his eyes, making him squint as he approached. He was in his work attire: a sleek gray suit with black patterned threading, a crisp white button-up, and a dark green belt that had a sterling silver belt buckle. The boy could dress. He always looked like the money he made. Malik was always well-groomed and well-manicured. You couldn’t catch him slipping, not at work anyway. We’ve probably had 11 different appointments this year, and I haven’t seen him wear the same thing twice.

Malik’s clothes weren’t the only stellar thing about him. The way the sun beamed down on him made that fat rock in his ear sparkle and the diamonds in his watch gleam. And let's be clear, even without the flashiness, the jewelry-inducing halo, or the high fashion catalog, the man would still be fine. I didn’t compare him to Michaelangelo’s David for no reason. He had short dark curls that tapered down into a fade and Disney villain eyebrows that peaked into his forehead much higher than most people.

As far as Malik’s body goes, the man was chiseled down. His chest and biceps were ready to bust out of that button-down, and his thighs were flexing the fuck out of his slacks. And with the angle of the sun forcing a shadow, it looked like my agent was sporting quite the bulge.

“Well, as I said,” he started. “We have the place until three. I took the time to get everything set up inside. There’s some champagne and a couple of mini-sandwiches in the kitchen, so you can eat something before you head back to work.”

“That’s considerate.”

“Ay, I’m taking care of my favorite client, here.”

“Sure, you are.”

He chuckled before gesturing toward the porch behind him. “You see the patio layout?”

“Yeah, I was just looking at that. I like that hanging bench.”

“I knew you would. When I tell you that this house was meant just for you, I mean it. You’re going to want to see the back balcony before you leave.”

“If you say so,” I surrendered.

“I do… Let’s go inside.’

-&-

­­­­­­

Malik had his goodies spread across the kitchen island. There were about four of those little bottles of water, 4 mini sub sandwiches, an apple, two flute glasses, and that promised bottle of Korbel champagne. He opened the bottle and began to pour one of the glasses. Then, he handed that glass to me, before pouring the second glass for himself.

I took a healthy sip, letting the drink fizz down my throat.

“Mmmm… It’s good,” I remarked.

“Yeah, it came with a recommendation from one of the other agents at the office. She said she always gifts a bottle to her favorite clients when they close.”

“Aw. Well, I hope it wasn’t expensive.”

“No. I got this bottle as a gift for Christmas last year. As I was leaving the house, I thought that I might bring it for you. If you like it, you could take it home.”

“Oh, I can’t accept this from you.”

“Nah, go ahead and take it,” Malik insisted. “Honestly, it’s been in my place collecting dust since the holiday season. I don’t have any friends that drink champagne, and I’m more of a scotch guy, myself. And now that it’s opened, I can’t gift it to anyone else.”

“Awww, Thanks, Malik.”

“No problem, Zay.

Malik was sparkling again, but we were inside now, so it couldn’t be blamed on the sun. His eyes seemed to twinkle when he winked in my direction. I took another sip from my glass, and he joined me by taking a sip from his own.

After I finished my second sip, I placed the glass back down on the island countertop.

“So give me the rundown, Malik. Could you ever envision yourself living in this house?” I asked.

“Yeah, but not anytime soon. I picture this as more the house I’d retire to. As for now, my current setup suits me well,” he explained. “I live in a loft right in the middle of the city, 3 miles away from work and 2 miles away from the Gym, with a shopping mall and any other store I could possibly need within a 4-mile radius. If I lived in this house or in this neighborhood, I’d have to get into traffic every time I wanted to do something fun.”

“Sure, talk yourself out of a sale, why don’t you?” I joked.

“I don’t think you have that problem though. You’re looking to get away from the city, but I love it. Sure, the rent is steep, but I’m only paying a third since I’m splitting it with my roommates.”

“Oh, you have roommates?”

“I… I do,” he halted in speech, reacting as if he’d said something wrong. “I’m sorry for that; I know you said you don’t want to talk about our personal lives and you don’t want to know much else about me-”

“No, that’s ok. I only said that before because it helps me keep myself guarded. It helps me keep the fantasy separated from reality,” I said, taking another sip from my glass.

“I understand.”

Gulp.

Hmmm… I finished that glass quicker than I thought I would. That was really good….

“More?” Malik offered.

“Ummm,” I hummed, setting the glass back down on the countertop. I walked over to him, closing the gap between us. “I probably better not get too tipsy. We only have until 3, right?”

A knowing smirk wiped across his lips as I got closer and closer to him.

“That’s right,” he confirmed.

“We probably better start with the tour then.”

That smirk turned into a full smile as he anticipated what was to come next. That bulge in his pants anticipated it just as well.

I kneeled down, placing his crotch right at eye level. Deep inside of me, there was a hunger for it, a burning ache that only his genitalia could soothe. I unzipped.

Vrrrrrrp…

I guess this is probably the best time to mention that I didn’t meet Malik through normal circumstances. I didn’t see an ad for the firm that he works for on a bus bench. I didn’t see his glowing skin in a Facebook advertisement. And no, I didn’t call his number from the Yellow Pages.

I met Malik three months ago on an exclusive underground hook-up site, called Top’d. It’s a discreet app, considered to be the upper echelon of gay meets. It promises Happy Ever Afters, or at the very least, discreet hookups. You have to be referred to join, and when you get accepted, you take a long compatibility test. This test is powered by AI and is supposed to help you navigate your compatibility with the app’s other users by highlighting certain traits that may work for or against you when you visit their profile. I was on it for about 2 1/2 months when Malik finally came along and started his free trial period.

We didn’t match. In fact, when I clicked on his profile, the Top’d app flashed a signal telling me that this guy wasn’t a match. His traits that triggered that signal were that he was a thrill-seeker, materialistic, shallow, and non-committal. For that reason, I bypassed his profile anytime it was online. I guess that was the app’s way of saving its users from bad experiences that would inevitably lead to bad reviews and tank the app’s success.

Although I haven’t had success with the app yet, I liked that red flag feature. It’s helped me steer away from guys who don’t deserve the time of day, and it’s helped me keep from lowering my standards. There’s something about data that proves you’re not supposed to be together that’s actually far more affirming than that nagging voice in my mind that would be doubting our compatibility from the jump.

But anyway, a couple of days after Malik joined, I received a message from him. He’d sent an entire paragraph worth of laughing emojis. I was intrigued. I wondered what exactly was he laughing about. Was I ugly? Had he seen me somewhere? I was in the middle of typing my reply when his second message came through.

“Yo, what red flags come up for you when you go to my profile?” he typed.

I relayed the list to him, and he posted another paragraph of laughing emojis. “This shit is wild!”

It was then that I realized he was laughing at my red flags. I’d never wondered exactly what red flags showed up whenever someone visited my profile. Sure, it was probably different for each new user, but I’d never even thought to ask. And since he did, I wanted to know what the app told him about why we weren’t compatible: Clingy, Type-A personality, Picky, and Virgo. That’s right, my zodiac sign was considered a red flag for his account. I can only assume that he typed, “No Virgos,” in his compatibility test because what the fuck? Malik is a Sagitarrius, by the way. And while everything I know about the zodiac tells me that Virgo and Sagiterrorists are, indeed, not compatible, why the fuck did it make it seem like I was the issue? Ugh…

So, while the app was telling us not to reach out to each other, we did anyway. We ignored those huge red flags and concentrated on the characteristics that could work in harmony. The biggest thing we had in common was that we were the only black men on the app within a 100-mile radius. The other things we had in common were our ambitious natures. The app claimed that we could be a great force of motivation for each other, even engaging in a little healthy competition every now and then. And then, of course, on a very basic level, there was the most obvious unifier. He was a Top… I was not.

And now, here I was, on my knees, fighting with his zipper so I could stuff my mouth full of his dick. Once he was unzipped, I could see that his underwear was a silky, chic fabric. They weren’t boxers or briefs, but some kind of bikini underwear. It was sexy to me, but I couldn’t be bothered to admire it for long. I yanked the band to the side so I could take him into my mouth properly. Malik wasn’t huge, but he was adequate. He packed a good 6 or 7 inches that were about 5 inches thick, perfectly fitting into my wet and velvety orifice. And in no time, I was already feeling his thick member juicing itself in my mouth. He was already so hard, so swollen, and so wet.

“Ssss…. Oooh, baby wait. Take my pants off, so we don’t mess them up,” Malik said.

He was right. His pants were fair in shade. Any wetness would appear easily. And any sperm residue would dry up and be just as visible as it was on Monica Lewinsky’s dress.

I followed Malik’s instruction, unbuckling his belt to free him.

“Awwww, but keep suckin’. That shit feels so good, bwoi!”

With that stamp of approval, I kept right on inhaling him, engulfing his dick down to the base of his zipper while I unfastened his slacks and slid them down his thick, muscled calves. As I was stripping him from the waist down, he helped me out by unbuttoning his shirt and setting it gently on the kitchen island so it wouldn’t develop extra creases. He still had a shirt on underneath, a white wife-beater tank top. He opted to leave it on for now.

“Awh, fuck! You hungry, ain’t you?”

Yes, I was. I was starving for the nourishment that his dick could provide. As I sucked it, I rubbed the silky fabric from his bikini, trailing the waistband with my fingers. Once I made it around to his backside, I realized how fleshy it was. Malik was completely assed-out. Ol’ boy wasn’t just wearing bikini underwear under his clothes. He was wearing a damn thong, and for some reason, that shit gassed me up even more.

Malik leaned back against the kitchen island, watching me go to work on stroking him with my mouth. He kicked off his loafers to make it easier for me to undress him. Once they were gone, his tight slacks peeled right off his legs, no longer confining his boundaries. With his newfound freedom from the fear of messing up his expensive slacks, he became more proactive in his actions. He fucked that 7-inch dick of his into my throat, forcing me to salivate more than I was doing already.

“Yurrrr… Did you miss this dick, nigga? Did you think about eating your daddy dick when I told you about this listing?” he said, relentlessly adjusting my head to and fro his pelvic bone.

“Mmmmhmmm,” I moaned, tears forming in my eyes from my gag reflexes being tested.

“Mouf’ wet as fuck!”

My hands grabbed and squeezed his fleshy backside, helping to thrust his weight toward me, so his dick would fly faster and further down my throat. My God, I loved using my lips to make love to his length. His smell and taste always seemed so amazing. As carefully groomed and scented as the rest of his body was, none of it compared to his lower region. His cologne left small faint traces on his thong, and his musk was a little potent seeing as how it was the afternoon. And his pre-ejaculate had a sweet-saltiness to it, an effect of his diet, no doubt. Whatever he was doing, I wanted him to keep it up.

“Mmmm…”

Malik adjusted himself, lifting from the floor to sit on the kitchen countertop. With his new elevated position, I had to elevate myself to meet him. I raised from my knees concurrently with him taking his seat on the counter. He kept me held in a mild headlock, holding my face at his groin while he explored the rest of my body with his hand. His strong hand found its way to my rear, sliding down the small of my back and into my pants. He rubbed at the crack of my ass, flicking the sensitive rosebud.

“Awww, did you clean them guts so I can fuck you? Huh?” he asked. “Did you deep clean that fuckhole like I told you to do last night?”

“Mmmmhmm,” I replied. It was all I could say with a mouthful of dick while also being muffled by his strong arm.

“Good. I already got the master bedroom all set up for you, baby.”

After shoving my pants down just below my rear, Malik flicked my asshole with the tip of his middle finger repeatedly. At one point, he withdrew his hand to spit into it. He placed that spit at my crevice and then returned to flicking it.

“Pull them pants off,” he demanded.

With his dick still lodged, I smacked my lips to keep a suction going while I followed his request. My pants and underwear dropped to the floor, my thirst to get naked propelling me to move quickly. Malik also disrobed further, pulling his tank off and setting it alongside his other shirt.

-&-

My elbows were planted on the kitchen island, allowing him to look down at my quivering and wanting hole.

"Shit, I've been waiting to get back in this since that house we looked at in South End," Malik groaned, peeling my ass cheeks apart. He let a glob of drool drip from his mouth right into the crack of my ass. Before it fell too far, he caught it with his fingers and began to work that spit into my hole. "Sssss... So what was wrong with that house?"

"Nothing, really. I just thought you could do better," I flirted.

"Oh, I did better. This joint right here is $25,000 less. The school district is better, the crime rate is a little lower, and there is a country club just around the corner. It's practically fucking Mayberry." When he said the last line, he jammed his fingers roughly into my hole.

"Aw shit," I groaned at his invasion, my knees bucking in place.

Malik followed the fingering up with a firm smack on my ass. "Fuckin' sweet ass, bwoi! I can’t wait to make that pussy leak."

"Ooh, I want you to."

"All in due time, but you got to do something for me first."

"And what is that?"

He paused for dramatic effect. Then, Malik spit it out. "Get back on yo’ knees and eat this ass, bruh.."

Malik adjusted me, when he placed his hand on my forehead and began to push me back down to my knees. Adjusting his own weight by leaning back on the kitchen island, Malik started to pull his underwear off to allow me to eat. But I stopped him.

"No," I said. "Leave these on. They're sexy."

"Ah, you like them?"

"I do. Do you wear thongs often?"

"Only when my pants are too thin. My boxers tend to bunch up. They make me look like I'm wearing a diaper," he smirked.

"Oh, well I like these. Here I was, thinking that you wore them just for me."

He smiled seductively. "If that's an official request, I can make it happen for all future meet-ups."

"Well, it’s an official request."

I cupped Malik's balls, squeezing and massaging them. While keeping him suspended in anticipation, I worked my thumb underneath the string of his thong. Pulling it to the side, my face went in, and I kissed his hairy hole. I tongued him with as much passion as he’d kissed me with just a minute earlier.

"Sss... ahhh, sss... ahhh," he moaned, feeling my tongue lap into his rectum. I smacked my thick lips against his fat muscle ass, working my taste buds into his exit. In trying to pull his thong further out of the way, I heard the fabric rip just a little. I certainly hope he had another pair. And if he didn't, I'd buy it for him.

As I snacked on his groceries, I became almost as audible as he normally is when he does his oral work. I groaned, moaned, and smacked as I inhaled his butt for nourishment.

"Fuck, you eating them cheeks!" Malik was really getting into it now, enjoying my rear door visit almost more than his blowjob. To give me more access, Malik grabbed the rear side of his thong and pulled it up and out of the way. "Yes!!! Eat my ass, nigga."

With his legs now lifted in the air, Malik could thoroughly enjoy getting his asshole washed over by me. And I thoroughly enjoyed bathing him. My hands pried his cheeks apart and gave him the proper rimming that he'd been waiting for. My tongue danced, slithering its way into his hole. He squirmed about on the kitchen counter, letting me know that he was enjoying this and encouraging me to keep going.

"Aw, you missed your daddy's asshole?" He asked.

"Yes, I did."

"Show him how much you've missed him."

"Yes, daddy."

-&-

So, I’m guessing you’re confused about how two men who know they’re incompatible started regularly hooking up with each other, right? Well, when we struck up our conversation on the Top’d app some months ago, we decided not to attempt a relationship. He wasn’t looking for one in the first place, but we both trusted the app's process. The bold red flags that appeared on our profiles were enough to ward us off of ever trying to date. He was a materialistic, non-committal playboy looking for discreet hookups. And I was a clingy, picky Virgo who was looking for my happily ever after. With the pressure of trying to date removed, our online conversations flowed so naturally. He was witty and exciting but also had this way of flirting that electrified me. We weren’t to be together, but I certainly enjoyed flirting with the idea of it.

In one of our many conversations, I let it be known that I was looking for a home. He informed me that he was in real estate and worked for one of the top 5 realty firms in the state. He claimed he could get me into homes that the general public wouldn’t even know were for sale yet. A lot of the best homes go quickly and quietly, especially in a big city like this. Malik assured me that his firm had exclusive perks that other firms couldn’t compare to.

The first time we met offline was at one of his open houses. The room was filled with other potential homebuyers but we could hardly keep our eyes off each other. My eyes were glued to him almost the entire time, watching his beauty as he worked. Little did I know, he was also infatuated. I was standing and viewing the back patio when I received a message from the Top’d app. I looked at my phone and saw the new message from him.

“Mmmm… Clingy looks good from the back,” the message read. Attached to the message was a photo of my backside on the patio, a picture he’d just taken from inside the home. I smirked to myself, turning to look back and seeing the grin on his face. He tried to play it off while he was talking to a potential buyer, but his eyes kept flicking in my direction.

I had his attention, so it was time to make the most of it. I typed back, “Easy, ‘thrill-seeker.’ This ride is probably too intense for you.”

In all of our time talking online, we hadn’t bartered images. Our conversations were mostly PG, occasionally venturing into more adult territory whenever we flirted, but that didn’t happen too terribly often. Turning things up a notch, I decided to show him a more explicit version of the photo he’d just taken. I sent him a saved selfie of my ass in the mirror.

Malik got pretty busy at the open house as the entire city seemed to flock in. He didn’t have the time to get back to his phone until after I’d left. So, it was sometime in the late evening when I finally received a response that read, “Let me hop on that roller coaster and I’ll let you cling to me all night.” He followed the DM up with a selfie image of himself. He was nude in a vaguely familiar bathroom, wearing an outfit that I could’ve sworn I’d seen him in before. That’s when it hit me; he’d taken this nude in the bathroom of that open house. That was the same bathroom I’d viewed, and the same tie he was wearing when I saw him earlier. Knowing that fact made the photo even hotter to me.

“Do you make a habit of getting naked in other people’s houses?” I typed.

“I thought you wanted to see mine after you showed me yours…”

“It is a nice piece.”

“So was yours… I wish you hadn’t left so early. I would’ve loved to pull you into this bathroom with me.”

My dick jumped in reaction to the possibilities that he lay in front of me.

“Don’t tell me you make a routine of sneaking off in and power driving into some poor boy in the middle of your open house events,” I replied.

“You’d be the first… would you like to be the first?” he asked.

Two and a half months later, we had 10 hookups under our belt. Each of them during one of his showcases. I’d never been much of a thrill seeker, but engaging in this with him made me want to start. Not only was sex with him great but doing it in someone else’s home while they were away, was the cherry on top. I could get addicted to this feeling…