It started as a chance encounter, a shared elevator ride that lasted no more than forty-five seconds, but it changed the outcome of the evening for the two men involved.
The hotel was packed, of course; while the crowd at LFF—LeatherFetishFest—was tiny compared with that of, IML or Southern Decadence, there was still plenty of action to be had over the three-day weekend and the hospitality suites on the top floor were continually busy.
That was where David was coming from. It was the last night of the con and he’d been scoping out the hot manmeat in the party suites. Now it was after midnight, and even though the rooms were still packed, David was ready to go. He took a last tour around the rooms, pausing to watch two dudes fuck in the far corner. One guy with a leather mask over his face was bent over with his jeans down around his knees; he was taking it up the ass from a mohawked stud in solid rubber that adhered to his fit body like paint. A number of guys among the admiring crowd were recording the action on their phones.
It was hot as fuck, and it was making David hard. That was a bad sign; usually his self-control was stronger. It had to be; he didn’t play at these events. It was too public; these days, there were security cameras everywhere. Every time he entered and left the hotel, it was recorded somewhere. So he got horned up and inspired, but saved his playtime for when he got home.
At home, he knew where to hide the bodies.
And it wasn’t as if David was easy to miss. Tall, broad, furry and very muscular, he’d had attracted attention in any gay gathering—in fact, the fags clustered around him like moths to a flame—but in his gear, he was the hottest dude in the room, no matter what room it was.
At the moment, his magnificent physique was well-displayed in a pair of quilted leather jeans. The diamond-stitched quilting stretched tightly around his powerful legs and his groin, which was kept sealed by a pair of zippers, one on each side of the massive bulge in his crotch; when both were unzipped, the front of the crotch opened like a flap.
He’d worn it during playtime at home and had found it handy; he wore it now, imagining the looks on some of the boys in the room, if they knew what he was imagining doing to their tender, defenseless bodies…
The leather jeans highlighted David’s thighs; below that, he sported a pair of glossy, knee-high Wesco harness boots. He used these at home, too; the thick soles were perfect for grinding into homo faces.
The only new item of gear he wore was the plain leather vest he wore open over his bare, hairy chest. He’d bought it specifically for LFF; the front was cut so that it was too wide to close—it hung open so wide that the rigid erectness of David’s large dark nipples were visible to everyone.
As he left the hospitality suite, he stopped and checked himself at a large mirror near the door, well aware of the eyes focused on him. It wasn’t unusual; he’d had many offers to appear in porn—but he didn’t want his face to be that recognizable. And it would have been; it was striking. Wavy hair so black it glittered above a wide, open brow and large emerald eyes lined with long lashes, his face alone was enough to cause an erection. The wiry, jet-black goatee surrounding his full lips and covering his dimpled chin, with a faint but discernible scruff on his cheeks, completed the effect.
It was a look to fall in love with—right down to the thin gloves on his hands, encasing them in black leather so tight it looked painted on. It was a look to die for—as some had found out too late.
Catching a glimpse of several lust-struck admirers in the mirror, David sneered at them and left the suite. Prettyboys, all of them; he coulda had any one of them to fuck however he wanted, but for David, fucking was never enough. And none of these sluts were worth the trouble of cleaning up afterwards.
The hotel was large and pricey; the long corridors were plush with predominant colors of white and gold. The elevators were around the corner in a bay like a miniature temple, picked out in marble and onyx. David sauntered leisurely down the hallway, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting.
Soundlessly, he turned right at the corner and took an immediate left for the elevators—and that was when he saw The Boy.
And The Boy saw him.
They stared at each other, silently, for a long, long time, their eyes saying all that needed to be said.
The kid looked like he was in his early twenties, about ten years younger than David. Under spiked brown hair, his face was handsome and haughty, his dark eyes arrogantly aware of his own physical beauty. His body was perfect, slender and lithe but toned and well-defined. Standing shirtless—but for an over-the-shoulder strap that part of his leather belt—the skin of his lean, muscled torso was smooth and silky-looking, with small dark nipples. The belt was around the waist of a pair of skin-tight leather jeans; unlike David’s, the youth’s pair was smooth and not quite glossy, but they clung erotically to his thick, firm thighs and emphasized the massive bulge in the crotch well enough. The jeans were slightly too long; the hems were bunched into the boy’s laced but untied black and white DC skate shoes. The ensemble was completed with a two-inch-wide leather wristband on the right arm and silver bracelet inset with turquoise on the left.
After a brief, intense struggle, David’s self-control gave up the fight. He had to have this one. As if on cue, the kid spoke up.
“Damn,” he said with a cocky grin, “Where you been? I haven’t seen you before; I’d’a remembered a stud like you.”
“I been around, boy,” David drawled.
“Name’s Kirk,” the kid replied. “I’d given up hope of gettin’ laid tonight, but damn, dude, you can stick that rod as far inside me as ya want.” He nodded towards David’s groin, which was swelling visibly.
David grinned. “How old are ya, boy?”
“I’m twenty-two. And I got my own room here.”
Exactly ten years younger than David himself. “Yeah? This place is expensive as fuck—how’s a kid like you afford it? You here alone?”
It was Kirk’s turn to grin. “I got a daddy. He paid for the room; he thinks it’s a seminar to help get me get a better job. He’ll believe whatever I tell him; he’s kinda stupid that way, so he let me come here alone.”
David grunted. That explained a lot of the cockiness. Little fuck could get anything he wanted—and with a body like that, anyone. He’d be willing to bet “daddy” was loaded, and probably expected that his boy was lying but was willing to keep paying and playing just to keep the slut coming back home.
“So, anyway, wanna fuck me?” Kirk asked and David burst into a huge smile; he’d made up his mind. The slut wasn’t coming back home, not this time.
“Sure,” he said slowly. “Where’s your room?”
“Third floor, in the front,” Kirk replied, pressing the call button for the elevator. “Got a great view of the street party from there. Stood in front of the window and waved my dick at a bunch of boys out there this morning; they loved it. Man, I’m having the time of my fuckin’ life here.”
“Yeah, I bet,” David said, letting a slight hint of contempt slip into his tone, “But I’m gonna fuck ya so hard you’ll remember it for the rest of your life.”
“Ooh, you big, tough man,” Kirk jeered teasingly, stepping forward and running his hands over the older man’s biceps, “Lessee if you can live up to that promise.”
Just then the elevator arrived, the ping of the signal echoing in the marble lobby. The doors opened silently and both leather-clad males stepped in. “Oh, I can fucking guarantee it,” David said quietly as the door closed and the descent started.
The ride was brief, but long enough for Kirk to reach out and fondle David’s thick shaft through the tight leather. David smiled beatifically and leaned against the rear of the cab, letting the hot boy run one hand over his groin and another over his chest. The alpha closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure—he was gonna be able to release tonight; he wasn’t gonna hafta wait to get home to drain his aching balls…
The elevator slowed, and Kirk stood up. When the doors opened, he grabbed David by the hand and steered him around the corner and down the hall. Even from this angle, the older, larger stud could see the young punk’s cock, straining violently in the confines of his groin. The boy wanted the older man just as badly as David wanted him.
This was gonna be so fuckin’ fun.
The boy opened a door on the left side of the hall and turned on the lights. His lean, shirtless torso glistened with sweat in the warm room; it was reflected in the broad expanse of glass in the wide picture window overlooking the street. There was a chair and side table in front of the window; Kirk pushed them aside. “C’m’ere, dude,” he said eagerly, “Lookit this shit.”
David strode to the far end of the room, noting the elegant dresser/mirror/TV stand on one side and the huge king-sized bed on the other, the latter with the bedding twisted in a knot and the expensive pale green Egyptian linen fitted sheet stiff with cum. Reaching the window, he looked down into the huge crowds of men, wrapped in various degrees of leather, still partying out on the street. It wasn’t even one in the morning; they’d be out there for hours.
Without bidding, Kirk reached up and slipped David’s vest off, tossing it onto the bed. Embracing the older stud, he turned to that their backlit silhouette was clearly visible to the power fags milling on the street below and started sucking on the muscular alpha’s thick, hard nipples. David groaned erotically, feeling the boy’s tongue fluttering of the painfully stiff knot of flesh.
Lifting his head, Kirk looked David in the eyes, his young face flush and intense with lust. “Fuck me here, stud. Fuck me in the window. I want ‘em to see. I want ‘em all to watch me gettin’ plowed by a fuckin’ god like you.”
David grinned his charming, adorable grin that made Kirk feel faint. “Ya like guys to watch ya get banged, huh? Fuck yeah, bitch, I can do that. I can fuck ya in public.”
Immediately, Kirk whirled around and bent over, bracing himself with one hand on the windowsill. “There’s an opening,” he gasped excitedly.
Reaching down, David found it was true. In the deep depression separating the firm leather-covered globes of the kid’s ass, there was a series of snaps securing built-in access to the wearer’s ass. One swift motion—and a rapid-fire popping of the snaps—and Kirk’s pink, pulsing fuckhole was exposed to open air. “Stick it in me, fucker!” he cried.
“Not yet, faggot,” David barked. “Ya want my cock? Then come get it, motherfucker. Get back here and free my tool.”
The boy whipped around obediently and grabbed the double zipper in David’s crotch. He pulled both down simultaneously but the hulking top’s shaft was too long to be released without some help; tenderly, Kirk reached in and grasped the thick, hot, throbbing tube of manmeat, pulling it out from its musky leather confinement.
“C’mere, pup,” David commanded. “Over here in the window. No! Stay down, bitch. On yer knees, punk, get over here on yer knees.” As Kirk crept the few feet to the window, the older stud glanced out onto the street and smirked. “Let’s give the boys a show.”
As Kirk knelt in front of him, David started dickslapping him, the alpha’s thick, meaty shaft splattering precum across the youth’s model-perfect face. Kirk blinked as the salty fluid spattered over his eyes and gripped the top’s powerful legs, feeling his thick thigh muscles flex under the tight quilted leather.
Brandishing his cock like a club, David grabbed a hank of the kid’s hair, feeling the spiking gel crunch in his hand. As he beat the boy’s face with his engorged rod, he looked out the window, noticing that a large crowd had gathered around. Three stories up and lit from behind, David knew that the action was clearly visible from the street without any identifying details being revealed.
And the audience seemed to be extremely appreciative of the performance so far.
The older leatherstud gave Kirk one more strong smack with his weapon-like dick, this one hard enough to knock the boy’s head sideways and make him grunt. It did nothing to dampen the horny young punk’s enthusiasm, though.
“Suck my cock, faggot,” David demanded and Kirk responded eagerly, running his tongue over the swollen, purple head, greedily lapping up the precum still oozing from the pulsating piss-slit. David was not pleased and let the disobedient pup know. “I said suck it, motherfucker, not lick it,” he snapped, slapping Kirk in the face.
The boy gasped and pulled back; the blow had been soft, almost gentle, but it was unexpected. He rose up straight, but remained on his knees. David looked down at him angrily—and laughed.
“Fuck, you little leather pig, I knew ya’d like that—lookit that fuckin’ tentpole yer sportin’! Pull that bad boy out, slut, or yer gonna tear them hot fuckin’ pants.”
Kirk blushed, realizing it was true; his dick was so hard it hurt. He hurriedly unbuttoned his fly, freeing his aching hog from its constricting leather prison. Like the alpha, his rod was seeping pre-ejaculate in a steady stream; it splashed out as his cock popped out of his crotch like an erotic jack-in-the-box, leaving large drops of the viscous, transparent fluid smeared across David’s knee-high Wescos.
“Get back on my shaft,” David barked. “You ain’t a pup, you’re a pig. So choke on my cock like a pig.”
Kirk paused as if to object, then, leaning forward and opening his mouth wide, he tried to swallow the older man’s tool. He could only get the massive tube of throbbing manflesh a few inches into his mouth. He simply couldn’t open his jaw enough to suck the alpha’s cock and still be able to breathe.
David, on the other hand, didn’t have the same priorities. He ensured they were up against the window and visible to the mass of partying studs on the street below before wrapping his gloved hands around the kid’s head and slowly forced his enormous rod into Kirk’s throat. At first, the leather-clad punk accepted the thick tubesteak but within a few seconds, things had changed.
David’s dick had cut off his air.
Kirk heaved and gagged, shaking his head and trying to pull back—only to discover that David’s grip on his head as a firm as a vise. A sudden sharp fear rose in his breast, and he placed his hands on the power top’s thighs, feeling the quilted leather under his palms as he tried to push himself away.
He never noticed how his own cock had started to throb faster—but that was understandable; at that moment, David’s cock was also moving faster.
David could feel the boy struggle and gurgle on his shaft; it felt too good to ignore. The youth’s beautiful face was turned up to him, helpless and distressed, the large, dark, puppy-like eyes watering. “Fuck yeah, that’s my good little pig,” David grunted and started skullfucking Kirk brutally.
He rammed his dick down the kid’s throat with exaggerated thrusts that were obvious on the street outside. Even on the third floor, the roar of the crowd’s approval was audible to both men—with different effect. David was spurred to amp up the tempo of the facefuck while Kirk, his fingers scrabbling over the powerful stud’s boots, was still trying to find a way to break free long enough to inhale.
Kirk turned his seeking hands upwards, pawing at the top’s firm, furry belly. His tear-streaked eyes turned up to the alpha’s face. Looking down, David took pity—so to speak—on the horny but overwhelmed punk and pulled out of his throat.
Kirk bent over, coughing and gagging, spitting up foam on the floor between David’s boots. The buff older man smirked down at the incapacitated boy. “You ain’t done yet, pig,” he chuckled, “Stand up. NOW, faggot!”
The ringing tone of command in his voice shot through Kirk like a jolt of electricity; he instantly stood upright. His face was still red and slightly swollen, but the glint of lust was still visible in his eyes. David recognized it for what it was. “Turn around and bend over, cunt; I’m gonna fuck ya right here where everyone can see it,” he jeered. “Ya like that, fuckpig? Ya like havin’ an audience watchin’ you get plowed in the ass? Does that make ya hard, slut? Goddammit, cocksucker, I said bend over!”
Kirk’s obedience was immediate. Facing away from David he bent over and grabbed his knees, the opening in the ass of his leather jeans exposing his pulsating fuckhole. The muscled, leather-clothed top spit into his palm and lubed his cock with it—it was all the lube the lithe young boy was gonna get.
With no warning at all, David buried his shaft so deep in Kirk’s ass that his wiry pubic hair scratched the boy’s smooth asscheeks where the opening in the jeans was wide enough. The beautiful bottom squealed shrilly, to the accompaniment of a rising cheer from the street below.
“Fuck, man, yer killin’ me!” the punk yelled, jerking forward.
“Not yet,” David hissed, grabbing at Kirk’s shoulder strap. “Quit tryin’ to get away, fuckboy, we just got started. You don’t wanna disappoint yer fans down there, do ya?”
Kirk whimpered and moaned as the hard-bodied top ran his hands over the boy’s smooth back, slick with sweat, but the kid never lost his erection. Even from the third floor, Kirk’s thick dick could be seen clearly by the crowd of randy, drunk faggots on the street below, swinging and bobbing with each ramrod thrust up his ass.
“Unh-unh-unh,” the punk grunted repeatedly, his toes curling inside his skate shoes as he experienced every inch of David’s enormous, vein-wrapped shaft plunged into the depth of his colon. It wasn’t that he was inexperienced—he’d been gangbanged in this room the night before—but he’d never had anyone this large inside him before. Even though his sphincter had finally relaxed to the point that Kirk didn’t feel like he was shitting razor blades every time the alpha drove his rod in, some corner of the kid’s mind was wondering if he’d been damaged and what he’d have to say to Daddy if he ended up needing medical help.
But then that corner was flooded with the lust that washed over the rest of Kirk’s body. It was hard to focus on anything but how full he was of manmeat. The atmosphere was charged with sex, heavy with the scent of mansweat, testosterone and leather. The pain was receding and Kirk was slipping into his accustomed bottompig role, grinning with pleasure.
“Yeah, you fucker, give it to me!” he moaned ecstatically. “Ram it in me, man!”
“Fuckin’ homo cunt,” David sneered, “Ya like bein’ watched as ya ride my dick, huh? Shameless little whore, aintcha? Take it, bitch, take the D. Lemme hear how much ya want it.”
He was pounding the boy so hard Kirk was having trouble maintaining his balance. He tried grabbing the windowsill, but it was nothing more than a strip of metal an inch wide; his hand kept slipping. David was holding him up with the leather shoulder strap. The intensity of the fuck was obvious; from outside, both could hear a faint cry arise from the street, “Oh hell yeah, breed that bitch!”
They were getting carried away. David decided it was time for a change of pace. Keeping his cock buried deep in Kirk’s guts, he stopped pumping and pulled the boy’s torso back so that they were both standing upright, Kirk’s back pressed against David’s heaving, furry chest. He slid a hand down towards the kid’s groin, and for a moment Kirk thought David might be trying to jack him off—but the muscled alpha unfastened the shoulder strap at the point where it attached to the belt in front. Immediately afterwards, he’d freed it from the connection in the back, too.
Still in his tight leather jeans, Kirk was now nude from the waist up. He felt David loop it around his throat, letting it hang down his back. He had no idea what the stud was gonna do next.
What David did next was wrap his muscular arms around the boy’s lean torso, holding him in a tight embrace. Kirk sighed happily, nestling back against the top’s chest. David began fucking the kid again, starting slowly. Simultaneously, he bent his head forward, letting his face scruff scrape Kirk’s smooth cheek. Swamped with lust, the punk moaned shudderingly and reached up, running his hands through David’s hair.
The gathering on the street outside had gotten larger; dozens of dude were straining their eyes for a better view of the third-floor sex scene—and straining the crotches of their pants as well. Even if no facial details could be discerned, the silhouetted forms framed in the window were perfectly clear. So was what happened next.
Wrapping one arm around Kirk’s waist, David pressed his other hand between the bitchboy’s shoulder blades, bending the kid forward. Spreading his skate kicks wide, Kirk gripped his own knees for support. Then he felt the strap around his throat tighten—not unbearably, but enough to establish control.
Suddenly, with no warning, David began plowing his massive cock back into Kirk’s ass with mind-numbing speed and force, powerfucking the slim, buff youth mercilessly. The aggressive alpha was holding the strap in both hands, pulling back on it like reins. It wasn’t enough to choke the kid, but it was more than enough to dominate him. His lean, lithe form bent backwards as he barked out short cries in the same tempo as David’s thrusts.
“Yeah, faggot,” David jeered, “That’s what it feel like to get banged by a real man. Ya feelin’ me, cunt? Ya like ridin’ genuine rock-hard manmeat, dontcha, ya little homo leatherpig? Fuck, boy, take it—take my fuckin’ cock!”
The furry, well-built top was pounding the leatherboy’s ass so hard that his hips seemed to move in a blur. Kirk cried out inarticulately in both pleasure and pain; his fuckhole had never withstood this amount of abuse before; it hurt so bad—and it hurt so good. He was afraid he was gonna be injured but his own dick was so hard it hurt; even the gradually-increasing tightness of the strap around his throat was erotic as all fuck…
At that point, a chant that had started outside had finally grown loud enough for the heaving, interlocked men to hear: “Money shot! Money shot!” Above this, a single voice yelled “Finish ‘im off!”
“He’s right,” David chuckled, “It is time to finish you off. Free show’s over—get on the bed, cunt.” Quickly reversing the strap so that it hung down the front, the hulking top pulled out, feeling his log-like cock smack against the quilted leather on his thigh. He shoved Kirk at the bed.
The boy scrambled to the center of the king-sized mattress, shoving the wadded, cum-stained bedding to one side. His soft leather jeans slid smoothly over the expensive, high-thread-count fitted sheet. He crouched in the center of the bed with his ass point up.
“Naw, bitch, on yer back,” David demanded and Kirk eagerly rolled over and spread his legs. The leather pants swelled as the kid’s thick thighs and well-developed calves bulged under the strain of keeping his legs hefted into the air—but he didn’t use his hands.
And it wasn’t as if he needed to keep them up long—David was on him, and in him again, with surprising suddenness. Kirk wrapped his legs around David’s waist, leather on leather, and embraced the muscled top as the latter once again probed the depths of his guts with his enormous rod.
Kirk looked up into David’s handsome, scruffy face, inches from his, and fell in instant love; the alpha seemed to be so happy fucking him. “Are you rich?” he whispered. “Daddy’s rich, but he can’t—”
David grabbed Kirk’s jaw, the scent of his leather glove wafting into Kirk’s nose as the older man squeezed the punk’s mouth painfully. “Shaddup and take my dick, fag,” he sneered. Increasing the pressure of his grip, he forced the youth’s mouth open and spit in it.
Despite himself, the young boyslut was turned on by this; David, of course, knew it right away—the naïve little faggot thought he was tough, but his dick had swollen and throbbed. Pressed as it was against David’s hard, ripped belly, the alpha had gotten the message.
He responded with a backhand across Kirk’s face. This one had a little kick to it.
Slightly stunned, the boy grabbed his face, turning his dark eyes, wide and hurt, to the older man. “What—why—”
David slapped him hard, again. The glove seemed to make it sting even worse.
“Why? Ya wanna know why?” David growled down at the bewildered youth, “Cause you’re pain pig, cunt. See, when I hurt ya like that, it made yer ass muscle clench. Just a little, though. You must be one fuck of a slut, boy, yer ass is all worn out. But see, now I know what it takes to make you milk my shaft.”
As a bruise slowly started to darken on Kirk’s left cheek, a blemish that somehow added to his youthful beauty, the kid lifted his head, his confusion obvious. “Wha—I still—I don’t—”
“For fuck’s sake, you stupid sack of shit,” David snarled, “I’m gonna waste yer worthless ass. Your butthole is gonna spasm as you die, and that’s gonna jack me off. Got it, you stupid little fuckwad? Good. Time to die, cocksucker.”
Gathering the ends of the strap in his hands, he crossed them in front of Kirk’s neck, then wrapped them once around his palms to ensure a better grip. He spit in the youth’s terrified face one more time. “Dumbass piece of fuckmeat,” he muttered contemptuously, then jerked the strap tight.
This time, the strap around his throat was enforcing considerably more control over Kirk.
The sudden cessation of air induced instant panic. Kirk’s mind was aflame; he’d never imagined anything like this happening to him, even within the limited range of his intellect. Even the consequences were difficult to visualize—but David helped him there.
“They’re gonna find you here, ya know,” he taunted. “Fucked and strangled. Poor Daddy; havin’ to be told his hard-workin’ boy got himself filled with cum and snuffed at a fetish con.”
Despite the deafening pounding of his pulse, Kirk heard and understood the words. His embrace of his perfect lover had morphed into a frantic struggle with his killer; his hands were clawing desperately at the point where the crossed ends of the strap were digging into his neck—excruciatingly, it was right on his larynx, slowly crushing his voicebox—as the heels of his kicks drummed relentlessly on David’s taut ass; the quilted leather came in handy here.
As he felt the dying boy’s colon writhing around his swollen shaft, some cold, detached corner of the killer’s mind wondered about that. This was the first time he was doing something like this; usually he waited till he got home and offed some cheap rentboy or whatever other fuckmeat he could grab. It wasn’t as if he planned this—but it had all worked out so right. The beautiful boyslut with his own cum-splashed room—he was just begging to be snuffed.
David was more than happy to help. In fact, he was overjoyed. The pressure in Kirk’s head had increased to an agonizing extent; his dark eyes were bulging grotesquely—which meant he was unable to close them, to block out the sight of his killer towering over him, broad-shouldered with dark wiry fur in a triangle that stretched across both broad pecs, narrowing as it followed his torso down to his tapered waist—a triangle of body hair that pointed down to a dark line that led below the waistband of his leather pants to the dark tangled mass of his pubes.
And the face, the dark goatee, the rough scruff covering the cheeks, the glittering lash-lined emerald eyes—it was still a look to fall in love with. It was still a look to die for. Kirk was coming to accept that the two were not mutually exclusive.
The pain, though—that was something else. In all his pampered existence, Kirk had never known anything like this. The crushing, grinding pain in his throat, the vacuum-like pressure in his chest, the banging, pounding, screaming pain in his head…
…the straining, throbbing, pulsating pain in his cock…
“Hell yeah, cunt, now you’re learnin’,” David sneered, feeling the kid’s rectum contract as his swollen face darkened through purple into a frantic, livid black. Kirk’s lips, thick and blue, were forcibly parted by his dark protruding tongue.
Kirk’s dying brain heard the words but was too busy enjoying the fireworks show. Large areas of the boy’s field of vision were exploding into flares of blackness as blood vessels popped in the whites of his eyes, turning them red.
He was coming full circle, the fight for life slowly subsiding to a sensual dying caress of his killer. Kirk’s desperate flailing had slowed, his hands now gently stroking the sweaty, bulging biceps of the man who was killing him. The youth’s firm, leather-clad legs were wrapped tightly around the alpha’s waist, squeezing forcefully, as if to match the pressure on his neck.
As his ass fluttered and rippled on David’s tool, Kirk’s own rod continued to swell and throb at the tempo of the dying boy’s pulse—and his heart was slamming away its last few functional seconds before spasming into orgasmic arrhythmia.
“That’s it,” David whispered, “That’s a good little piggie. Shh, just let go. Die, motherfucker, let go and die. It won’t hurt anymore once you’re dead, cunt. Oh yeah, stop fuckin’ fightin’ it and die on my dick, fag.”
The pounding inside Kirk’s head had reached an overwhelming level; it dominated his entire universe—and then it seemed to falter. There was a an intense, knife-like pain in his chest—Kirk was unaware of it, but it was the moment his heart failed—and just at that moment of silence, David words made it through the cold haze of impending death.
And Kirk knew he still loved him. He died in convulsive agony on the dick of the greatest love he’d ever experienced.
His deathload was ample proof. Kirk was young, strong, and very physically fit; his death throes were correspondingly violent. Gripping his killer in an iron embrace, his body went through convulsions so intense, all David could do was hold on and allow his dick to be milked like a cow’s teat.
It was worth it. Snuffing at the con was worth it. This little fuck’s rectum was like a velvet glove sliding over his engorged, lubed head as it collapsed and spasmed along full length of manmeat buried in it. Their hard, sweaty bodies, locked together in a haze of pheromones and leatherscent, ground against each other and writhed on the mattress.
Kirk gave one last gagging gurgle as foam erupted from his lips and cascaded down his cheeks in messy white strands. Blood vessel continued to pop in his eyes. Then, with no warning, he clutched David tightly. A single last coughing gag sent a copious flow of drool down his face—and a violent spasm along the length of his dick.
Kirk shot a solid stream of cum out of his erect cock.
At the same time, his sphincter contracted like a cockring around the base of David’s dick. It was all the latter had been waiting for. With a loud, inarticulate cry, he unloaded his aching ballsack into the dead kid’s guts.
Kirk’s conscious brain was dead; his nervous system could only process physical sensations. It was still aware enough that when David jerked violently in orgasm, tightening the strap and crushing Kirk’s larynx to a mangled was of gristle, it was interpreted as pain. It was still enough of a stimulus to prompt a second geyser of semen to erupt from the fuckmeat.
Cold death, momentarily held at bay by an injection of boiling, life-giving manseed into his intestines—but it wasn’t enough. Shuddering, convulsing and cumming, the choked-out cumsack once known as Kirk sank into a painful and well-deserved death. David held on for a little while longer, though; his balls weren’t completely drained and the hard boycorpse went through an extended period of post-mortem convulsions.
Two hard, leather-clad bodies, shuddering together, one clutching the helpless, lifeless other.
Over the next fifteen minutes, David shot two more loads. On the first one, he grunted, stiffened, and shot a long steady stream into the corpse’s guts. The second one hurt; he cried out as he came, driving his fist into the youth’s grotesquely distorted face.
As he headed toward the bathroom, he glanced back. Kirk’s lithe, firm corpse was still quivering and kicking. His leather shoulder strap was embedded so deeply in his neck is was almost invisible.
Luckily, there were fresh towels in the bathroom; he was able to clean himself adequately afterwards.
David’s flight out was at noon, but he didn’t feel the need to sleep. He simply tucked his cock back into his leather pants, slipped the vest back on and left the room. Five minutes later, he was out mingling with the boys on the street. It was inevitable that the subject of the window show would come up at some point, although it took forty-five minutes for David to stumble onto a conversation about it.
“Nice boots,” a bear with a thick beard remarked. “Hey, didja see the shit that happened up there?” He nodded at Kirk’s third-floor window, now just an empty rectangle of light.
“I heard about it,” David replied.
“Man, that bottom was hot. Whaddaya think he’s doin’ right now? Maybe he’s just chillin’…”
“Yeah, I imagine he’s chillin’,” David returned, “He might even be downright cold by now.”