Excerpts

Taken Bi Love
Chapter One

Brian craned back his neck.

Brown hair flopped, hanging limp like beagle ears. Overhead water
spurted, and his eyes shut from the barrage as air momentarily caught
in his chest. He forced himself to breathe as the water cascaded over
his nose making rivulets down his chin and over his throat.

Skin, shaved nearly free of hair from the night before, glistened
with residue body oil still clogging his pores. Water mixed with oil,
causing pools of vanilla bourbon to stain the water swirling at his feet.

Heat reactivated the oil, and his thoughts retreated back to the night
before and the serious manhandling session; soreness still radiated
outward from his butt hole.

Brian forced open his eyes; long curling lashes weighed down with
water. Drops hit his eyes, forcing his thoughts back into the present.
He despised it when clients invaded his shower space. They paid for
his ass and dick in bed. No one, no one, got his shower time.

All verbal contracts firmly stipulated shower scenes as off limits
and non–negotiable. Showers were serene, pure, clean, solitary
endeavors. Some people meditated; Brian showered. Concept was
the same but results differed. His cleanliness was physically present
in the now, not an ephemeral state of consciousness.

People seriously underrated showers. With water turned on full
power, sounds outside his meditation chamber disappeared leaving
him gloriously alone to the sanctity of soap and scalding water.
Turning up the temperature, he burned off the touch of last night.
Meaty hands from a college football player, number Seventeen in
specific, were all over him, particularly the lower half.

Seventeen had shown no interest in Brian’s hair or youthful body.
Instead, Seventeen had paid for a very intimate long petting, fondling,
and thrashing session with his ass and cock. Evidently the local cheer
leading squad couldn’t quite satisfy Seventeen’s need for dick and ass
simultaneously. A cheerleader with a strap on performed quite
differently from a swollen cock yanked mercilessly from the body
while the ass was drilled for oil.

Brian looked down at his groin hoping there was no physical
bruising or abrasions to hide. None. He was in the clear. His dick
hung firm, not a centimeter smaller than at its most engorged – handy
oddity for his side job. The perpetual 3-D lines of his groin helped
nail potential clients without the need for fancy clothes or winning
commentary. In a strange way, his crotch meant he had a very quiet
job when it came to actual talk. And he liked it that way. He was all
about the silence.

Taking ample soap, he lathered antiseptic gel around his cock and
balls. Studying about contagious diseases alongside his work, meant
showering was not only meditative but schizophrenic to a manic level,
a dichotomy of forces that only water could balance. Showers were
not over until his skin was wrinkled like a walnut shell and clean
enough to use as a surgical surface. Silence and cleanliness. He was
a monk with an interesting way of making the world a better and
happier place.

Cupping each ball, he massaged in the soap filling valleys and
ridges of his pleated scrotum with microbe eating suds. Brain could
switch between dominant or submissive in bed, but when it came to
his genitalia he personally pulverized the soap into them. Call it his
personal fetish. While it certainly did go towards his goal of being
clean, it also felt damn good to be the one squeezing his own balls.

Clasping each sack, he kneaded his fingers, digging deep to hidden
testicles waiting to be stirred back to action. Hard wired, his balls
rose to the stimulation, elevating towards his shaft for active duty.
Prodding and poking he shook each fistful like a cat trying to break
the neck of a soft furry animal.

Juggling them, he let the shower rain over the soap tingling skin to
jump alive with a hundred nerve endings sparking in response. His
skin stretched hoping for continuation.

Tugging his sack in towards his tight stomach, he exposed his shaft
and ran his fingers up and down, forming a ring between pointer and
thumb. Soap trailed over the ridge and onto his reddening head.
Massaging the tip, he spread himself to let soapy water bubble around
his urethral opening. Despite all lube used, friction had worn him down from hand to shaft combat, and the soap found every sensitive
spot from the tug-o-war game Seventeen had begged him to play as
Seventeen charged into his ass calling out orders on how to tug or
pummel.

From the heat and soap, his cock didn’t so much swell as rise up in
hopes of finding an orifice to insert tab A into any slot. Brian
whacked it for its impertinence at suggesting it felt needs after
Seventeen’s slaughter, but the cock didn’t care. Seventeen was history
and it had been hours.

Holding his piece by the tip, he bent it towards his perfectly
triangular patch of pubic hair, the apex of the triangle pointing
downward suggestively. Clients really had no need for graphical
maps, but if eyes were going to travel down they might as well have
something to look at.

Brian scratched at his ridge, playing with the scar where once a flap
had been. Grooves from his nails filled with soap, and his teeth
gritted automatically. His neck extended, spine popping from being
hunched over all evening and now finally allowed to straighten out.

He bounced his cock against his palm considering the possibilities,
but he had a ways to go before such thoughts could be entertained.
His ass itched in a burning way. Seventeen had probably torn his
flesh digging in with coarse fingers seeking to imitate art; his own
personal Goatsee picture burned onto his retina for late night replay.

Gingerly, he worked the soap down under his cock, past the
perineum, and around to counteract the itchiness that had woken him
up from orgasmic drugged sleep. Using his finger as a cleaning
plunger, he worked his butthole open and corkscrewed his finger in to
get all the nooks and crannies. Taking a pumice stone, he attacked his
butt cheeks.

“Man, you really take showering seriously.”

Brian levitated into the shower stream, dropping the pumice stone
on his foot. “Fuck Jed. What the hell are you doing in here?”

Jed slid the bathroom door the rest of the way open, pushing the
mirrored surface into the wall groove. “Can’t hold it any longer.”
“You’ve been in here forever.” He moved his large form into the small
space between shower and doorway, positioning himself by the toilet.

Brian yanked the shower curtain around him, spraying water
outside the shower confines. “Now? You have to go now? Couldn’t
you have waited a bit longer or knocked?” Brian’s head peeped out
from behind the curtain.

“You didn’t hear me with all that water. You’re such a prude. It’s
not like I’m going in the shower with you. I’ve seen it all anyway.”
Jed turned sideways to face the toilet and yanked up the Hello Kitty
apron he was wearing as his only clothing. From under Hello Kitty’s
smiling face, a warm jet stream of yellow liquid churned into the
toilet.

“Jesus.” Brian’s head whipped behind the shower curtain.

“I can hear you, and you shouldn’t curse.” Jed finished up and
lowered Hello Kitty to graze the top of his thighs. His ass was
completely exposed in the back under the apron strings.

“Then fucking don’t burst into my bathroom.”

“Our bathroom and if you didn’t spend hours scraping off your
work I wouldn’t have to.” Jed looked at the plastic wrapped Brian.

“Why do you care anyway? I’ve seen you naked.” Jed washed his
hands and dried them slowly, making sure his fingernails were
squeaky clean.

“But not in the bathroom and not when I’m showering. It’s
different.” Brian kicked the faucet with his foot to shut off the water.

“Why?” Jed’s six foot three inches was doing a good job of making
the bathroom shrink precariously.

“Because it is.” Brian’s hand darted out trying to reach a towel.

“I hope you don’t sound like such a baby when you’re working. No
wonder you need me.”

“Get out of here.”

“But you’re done. I’ll get you a clean towel.”

“Out. Now. And don’t you dare hand me a towel.” Brian balled up
his fist.

Jed rolled his eyes and shuffled out, sliding the door closed with a
thud.

Brian stepped out of the shower, and yanked down a clean towel
waiting on the shelf above the toilet. Jeez the man hotel rolled their
towels and then had the audacity to act like Brian was weird one for
wanting to hang a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the bathroom door.

By the time Brian stepped out of the bathroom with a towel cinched
around his waist, Jed was back in the kitchen pretending to ignore him
as he elegantly flipped pancakes back onto the griddle for the final
browning touch.

Brian slunk into one of the two chairs pushed under their table. He
noticed the textbooks he’d tossed down were now neatly piled with a
note taped to them saying ‘Please find me a proper home’. Jesus, Jed’s
a nutcase.

Brian realized the spatula had stopped hovering in mid-air and was
now sliding pancakes onto plates already trimmed with sausage and
eggs. Food shoveling stopped, but Jed still kept his back to him.
Fucking A. Who was being the baby now? Brian’s stomach growled,
demanding he cave in.

“Sorry I yelled at you, but you surprised me.” Brian rolled his eyes
at Jed’s back.

Jed stayed facing the stove. “Putting a ‘but’ on the end of an
apology nullifies it.”

Brian’s stomach erupted in a litany of growls. Goddamn it. “Sorry
I’m a slob?”

Jed was silent, but delivered heavy plates to the table.

Brian eyed the food. “Am I allowed to eat your food, then?”

“Like I could stop you.” Jed’s chair creaked under a mass of bones
and muscles as he sat down, shielding his eyes as Brian savagely
undid the pristine arrangement of food items and began a conveyor
belt of food to mouth.

“True.”

“Stop talking with your mouth open. It’s grotesque.” Jed cut his
pancakes into bite-sized pieces and put easy to swallow amounts on
his fork.

“Sorry.”

“You said that already,” Jed swallowed each piece before spearing
another.

Brian dug his thighs into the edge of the chair. “Why do we always
fight the morning after?”

“We aren’t fighting.”

“Good to know.” Brian waited for Jed to look then rolled his eyes.

“Last night was cocky.” Jed pushed a sausage around in circles.
Brian broke his hand to mouth highway system. “He tried
something?”

“Hell no, not with me around. S’why I’m here. But he swaggered
out of here like he had your goods and not that little thing hanging
between his legs.” Jed stood the sausage on its end then let it fall.

“You weren’t in the bedroom with us. You don’t know what he was
heaving,” Brian hurried through his sentence so he could get more
food in his mouth.

“Could tell. Besides you deserve better than that attitude.”

“Let me get this straight, we’re fighting because you’re ticked off at
him?” Brian finished his food and eyed the cooling nutrients still on
Jed’s plate. He tentatively tried forking one of Jed’s pancakes. Jed
hissed, but it didn’t stop Brian from snagging it and swallowing it
nearly whole.

“Pig.”

“You’re the one to blame for making good food.” Brian was angling
his fork to steal more when the plate was shoved in his direction.

“Thanks.”

“I just think you deserve better.” Jed patted his mouth on a napkin.

“He better have paid up.”

“We have the next year’s book money no problem.” Brian ate
quickly enough that the food mixed in his mouth into a breakfast
slurpy.

“Better be clean money.”

“And you call me the prude. Want me to iron the bills?” Brian used
his finger to lick up the last crumbs before pushing his plates back
towards Jed.

“Wouldn’t hurt you to bruise a finger and put those dishes in the
sink you know.” Jed looked askance at the plates.

“See this is what I mean. We’re fighting. You know if I did that
you’d yell at me for putting them in the wrong way. You’re setting me
up.” Brian winked and stood up. “I need to get dressed.”

“Don’t expect me to strip your sheets and make your bed.” Jed
yelled after Brian’s retreating back.

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