When Tim left for the library the next afternoon, Riley sat down at his desk and got out the card Andres had given him the night they’d met.
“Autumn Jones,” said the crisp female voice that answered after the third ring.
“Hi, this is Riley Blackpoole.” Riley tapped the edge of the card against the desk. “I’m a friend of Andres Cardona?”
“Yes, Riley, hi,” Autumn said, much warmer now. “I’d been wondering if you would call. Just give me a minute to go somewhere more private.” There came the sound of footsteps and a door closing, and then she said, “How much has Andres told you about us?”
Autumn laughed. “That sounds like Andres; he’s hyper-conscious about biasing potential members. All right. We call ourselves Boston Safe Sane and Consensual – BSSC for short. Our formal membership is limited, and strictly invite-only, but we host occasional programs that draw a much wider audience from the metropolitan area.”
“So you’re a club in an organizational sense?” Riley asked. “Not like a nightclub?”
“Well, I own a shop that has a private space for play parties, so we have that element as well. But we put just as much emphasis on support and education, if not more.”
Riley rested his elbows on his desk, intrigued. His explorations of the scene in D.C. had never been so formal; no club like the kind Autumn ran would have accepted him below the age of eighteen. He’d relied on word of mouth to find Doms to play with privately. “Okay.”
“We’re open to all sexual orientations and gender expressions, and we don’t make any assumptions,” said Autumn. “Obviously, we take privacy and confidentiality very seriously, which is one of the reasons our membership rules are so strict. Nobody in the club has to know your real name except me, and that’s only so I can process your dues.”
“You have dues?”
“Yes, on a sliding scale. There’s a lot more to go over, but I think it’s most important to see if you’re compatible with the group and if this is something you’d even be interested in. We’re having a munch this Wednesday at six – just a casual social dinner. Would you like to join us?”
“Sure.” Riley nudged his mouse to wake up his laptop and opened his schedule.
“Great.” Over a rustling noise in the background, Autumn said, “We’re going to Antico Forno; it’s an Italian restaurant in the North End. Have you ever been there?”
“No, but I can find it.”
“Everyone pays for their own food, but we pay on one check to make it easier on the servers, so bring enough cash to cover your meal and the tip. Street clothes only, of course, and any scene talk needs to be discreet. No sex. This is just a chance to get to know people. If you decide you’d like to pursue this further, then you and I will have a longer talk. All right?”
There was no doubt that Autumn was a Dom, through and through. Her firm, confident instructions gave Riley a pleasant thrill – nothing sexual, just a buzzy sense of warmth and calm.
“Yes,” he said, and closed his mouth before he could add ma’am, since he didn’t want to risk offending her by the presumption. He typed the details into his schedule. Wednesday was a relatively slow day for him; he wouldn’t have any trouble getting to the North End by six.
“We’ll see you on Wednesday, then,” Autumn said. “Just tell them you’re with the Jones party, though you really can’t miss this crew.”
“Thanks, Ms. Jones.”
“No problem, honey. I’ve heard good things about you.”
Riley and Andres continued to text back and forth over the next few days. Andres delighted in catching Riley off-guard with filthy messages sent at the oddest times, so Riley retaliated in kind – texting Andres about how he’d just fingered himself in the shower, or his musings over whether Andres had what it took to make him come hands-free. The only subject he avoided was the other guys he fooled around with. They’d agreed that they were in no way exclusive, but Riley didn’t know Andres well enough yet to gauge his likely reaction to hearing about Riley’s other hookups.
Though Andres was pleased that Riley was coming to the munch, he didn’t offer to pick him up, and Riley didn’t ask. He was already apprehensive about how Andres would treat him in front of the others, and whether he would try to stake some kind of claim. So on Wednesday, Riley made his way to the North End by T and entered the restaurant alone.
Antico Forno was a small restaurant, loud but homey, and played up its Italian roots with rustic furniture, a wall mural of the Tuscan countryside, and an old-school wood-burning brick oven. Riley told the hostess he was with the Jones party, but Autumn had been right – he’d pegged them as soon as he’d walked inside. A group of about two dozen people took up an entire side of the restaurant, some sitting at the pushed-together tables and others milling around, laughing and chatting amongst themselves. Andres stood near the head of the arrangement, talking to two women, one black and one white.
Riley approached the crowd, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He enjoyed meeting new people, and he’d never had trouble making friends, but being the only stranger in a tight-knit group was a daunting prospect for even the most hardcore extrovert.
“Hey,” Andres said, catching sight of him. He bent down to kiss Riley’s cheek. “Riley, this is Autumn,” he said, gesturing to the black woman first, “and her wife Megan.”
Autumn wore her hair in dozens of long braids, her curves flattered by a body-conscious knit dress and kitten heels. Megan was dressed more casually in jeans and a flannel shirt, her blonde hair cut in a short pixie style. Both women welcomed him with friendly smiles.
“Nice to meet you,” Riley said, shaking their hands.
Stepping forward to link her arm with his, Autumn said, “Come on, I’ll introduce you around.”
The group was startlingly diverse in terms of race and socioeconomic class, though most seemed to be in their twenties through forties. There was a pretty balanced gender split, and a couple of non-binary people introduced themselves with gender-neutral names. Everyone greeted Riley warmly as he and Autumn made a brief circuit of the table.
“Don’t worry about remembering everyone’s names,” Autumn said when they’d returned to where they’d started. “They’ll click eventually. This is only about half our membership, anyway.”
Most of the group had sat down by then, and a couple of servers were taking drink orders. Autumn sat at the head of the table, with Megan to her left and Andres to her right. Riley ended up taking the empty seat between Andres and a gruff, heavyset biker named Frank; across the table were a married couple who’d introduced themselves as Tom and Jiao.
Conversation flowed freely up and down the long table as everyone settled in. Conscious of his status as the only newcomer, Riley just listened at first, getting a feel for the group dynamics. People chatted about their jobs and current events, inquired after each other’s families, laughed at inside jokes – no different from any other group of friends. A random passerby would never know that kink had been the thing to draw all these people together.
“So, Riley, I hear you’re a student at Harvard?” Tom asked after a while. He’d been checking Riley out all evening – though not in a creepy way – but Jiao didn’t seem to mind. From what Riley had picked up, the two of them were even wealthier than he’d first assumed from their appearance; Tom was a corporate lawyer, Jiao an investment banker, and they’d made a passing reference to living on Beacon Hill.
“Yeah, it’s my first semester,” said Riley.
“Uh-oh.” Jiao pointed her fork at Riley in mock challenge. “Then you and I are gonna have a problem, kid, because I’m a Yale alum myself.”
Riley grinned. “In that case, I may have to leave.”
That drew a good-natured laugh from everyone nearby. “Do you have a major yet?” Megan said.
“Not officially.” Riley didn’t correct her use of the word major when Harvard called them concentrations – that was a quick way to get labeled as a snotty little prick. “We don’t declare until sophomore year. But I’m pretty sure I’m going with Human Developmental and Regenerative Biology.”
“Damn, that’s a mouthful. Thinking about med school?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Oh, God, I have secondhand anxiety just imagining that,” said Andres, who had proven all of Riley’s concerns to be unfounded. He hadn’t once touched Riley in a sexual manner, nor made a single comment referring to their sexual relationship; he wasn’t treating Riley differently from anyone else. “That’s what, eight years of school and at least a three-year residency? I barely made it through my Bachelor’s at UMass.”
“You graduated with a 3.7 GPA,” Autumn said, smiling over her wine glass.
“Yeah, but I hated every single minute of it.” Andres nudged Riley’s shoulder. “Good thing some people are into that stuff, or we’d all be screwed.”
Riley shook his head in amusement and turned to Frank, planning to ask him to pass the water pitcher so he could refill his empty glass – only to find Frank already doing it for him.
“Thanks,” Riley said, surprised.
“No problem,” said Frank. His bushy black beard twitched with what was probably a smile.
The food was fantastic, the company very pleasant, and the hours flew by. After they’d paid the bill, while people were either shrugging into their coats or lingering over dessert, Autumn pulled Riley aside.
“What do you think?” she asked. “Interested in going further?”
“We’re having a play party at my shop on November first – think of it as kind of a trial run. There’s no obligation to participate in any way, of course, but you can if you want. In the meantime, I’ll email you a copy of our membership policies and house rules, and you can either call or email me with any questions. Sound good?”
Riley nodded and gave her his email address – his personal email, not the Harvard-assigned one – which Autumn scribbled onto the back of one of her own business cards. Andres joined them a moment later.
“You want a ride home?” he said to Riley.
“Sure, thanks,” Riley said, no longer worried that Andres was going to turn out to be the possessive type.
They said their goodbyes, bundled up against the chill, and headed out to Andres’ car. “I told you you’d fit in well,” Andres said once they were on the road to Cambridge.
“Everyone was really nice. What’s the story with Tom and Jiao, though? They’re not monogamous?”
“They’re romantically monogamous, but they’re both Doms, so they have an arrangement that lets them scene with subs of the same sex. They’re two of the club’s original members, so I assume it works well for them.”
Andres shared similar tidbits about the club’s other members as they drove – nothing too personal, just a basic review of sexual orientations and Dom/sub preferences. That was still enough to turn Riley on, though, and by the time they pulled up to Harvard Yard, he was shifting around in his seat. He couldn’t invite Andres up; this late on a Wednesday, Tim and their suitemates would already be home.
Putting the car in park, Andres said, “We still on for Sunday night?”
“Yep,” said Riley. Andres was working Friday and Saturday nights, but since Riley had Monday off for Columbus Day, the timing had worked out anyway.
“You sure you don’t want to come over earlier, watch the Pats with everyone?”
“No, thanks.” Riley wasn’t in any rush to meet Andres’ cop buddies, and especially not during a Patriots game.
Andres didn’t make a move, so Riley leaned in first, pulling him into a kiss over the gearshift. Once their mouths met, Andres took the lead. He cupped Riley’s face with both hands and kissed him deeply, reducing Riley to a squirming puddle of goo within moments.
Riley had been aiming for a goodbye kiss, maybe a bit of tongue and a quick grope – but five minutes later found him half in Andres’ lap, both of them hard as rock, Riley’s lips sore from how hard Andres was kissing him. Only when Riley dropped his hand between Andres’ legs to squeeze his cock did Andres pull back with a dazed, “Wait, wait.”
“What’s wrong?” Panting for breath, Riley wriggled around so the gearshift wasn’t digging so hard into his leg.
“We’re in public.”
Riley blinked. “You fucked me in a public bathroom the first night we met.”
“That was in a club where that sort of thing is tacitly acknowledged as acceptable,” Andres said. He wiped his hand over his mouth, then gently manhandled Riley back into his seat. “We’re in a parked car on a college campus in full view of anyone who happens to walk by. I’m a cop, Riley. I’m not looking to get busted by HUPD for public indecency.”
“Okay,” said Riley. The exposure didn’t bother him, but he wasn’t going to pressure Andres into anything. He breathed out and adjusted his erection inside his jeans.
Andres’ hand settled on Riley’s thigh. “You gonna jerk off when you go inside?”
“That’s really not helping,” Riley said. “But yeah.”
“Mmm. I know you’ve got at least one plug, but do you have a dildo?”
Riley’s hips bucked off the seat. He nodded, his eyes wide.
“Enough privacy to use it?” Andres asked.
“I have to – to take it into the shower with me.”
Andres frowned. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?”
“It’s got a suction cup. I stick it to the wall – ”
Andres’ hand tightened convulsively on Riley’s thigh, his eyes burning. “You,” he said, voice heavy with desire, “are the sluttiest fucking bottom I have ever met.”
“Please,” Riley said, helpless, arching his back in an attempt to get Andres’ hand on his aching cock.
Releasing Riley’s leg, Andres grasped the back of his neck instead, squeezing until Riley had calmed down a bit. “Here’s what you’re going to do,” Andres said. “You’re going to go inside, bring your dildo into the shower, and fuck yourself on it, and you’re going to think of me while you do. When you’re done, you’re going to text me and tell me all about it. Understand?”
Riley’s head lolled in Andres’ grip. “Yes, sir.”
Andres let go and kissed his cheek. “If I don’t hear from you in… let’s say an hour and a half… you’re going to be punished the next time I see you.”
Thrilling to his words, Riley clutched the edges of his seat. He nodded his understanding, then fumbled drunkenly out of the car and stumbled towards Matthews Hall, pulling his jacket into place to conceal his erection.
In the common room of his dorm, Tim was playing Call of Duty with one of their suitemates, Amir. Riley had collected himself well enough during the short walk to manage a few minutes of normal conversation before heading into his and Tim’s bedroom. He retrieved his dildo from its hiding place, rolled it up inside a towel, and grabbed his toiletry kit and robe on his way to the showers.
The dildo had to be attached to a dry wall, so Riley found a shower stall that hadn’t been used recently and pulled the curtain shut. He’d done this a few times since the semester had begun, and knew exactly how high to place the dildo for the most comfortable angle. Once it was securely fastened, he shed his clothes and turned on the water, giving himself a few minutes to relax beneath the spray.
Riley kept a small bottle of waterproof lube tucked between his shampoo and conditioner. He fished it out, squeezing some slick over his fingers, and spread his legs to open himself up. Not too much, though – the dildo wasn’t as big as Andres, and he wanted to really feel the stretch.
The narrow stall had the perfect dimensions for Riley to brace his hands on one wall while backing his ass onto the dildo attached to the other, his body positioned under the stream of water cascading from the showerhead. Riley worked the dildo inside, biting his lip to stifle a moan. He rocked his hips to test its stability; when the dildo didn’t budge, he gave himself free reign, bouncing on the thick toy without restraint.
There were other guys in the bathroom – showering, pissing, greeting each other in passing as they walked in and out. If anyone heard him… if someone pulled back the curtain and saw what he was doing…
Riley groaned beneath his breath. The dildo was curved to aid prostate stimulation, and he alternated between riding that sweet spot against the head and coring himself with deep, grunting thrusts. Warm water streamed over his sensitive skin and soaked his hair, dripping over his closed eyes.
A couple of guys banged into the showers, noisy and rambunctious, and Riley’s pulse skyrocketed. He slammed his ass down on the dildo, his circling hips desperate and slutty. He imagined being caught like this, how fast word would spread, until every guy on his floor knew what a whore for cock he was –
It was a quick leap from there to fantasizing about Andres in place of the dildo, fucking him in the same position. He’d feel too good for Riley to stay quiet, and they’d get caught, a few guys clustering wide-eyed outside their stall. Andres wouldn’t care; he’d just keep on fucking Riley, showing the others how it was done right, and when he came bare – because why not – he’d make Riley show his creampie off to their audience.
But it wouldn’t stop there. Andres wasn’t a selfish man. He’d let the other guys have a turn, allow them to fuck Riley’s mouth and ass, watching them go and offering helpful tips on how to wring the most pleasure out of Riley’s helpless body. Riley would get fucked and fucked and fucked, until his jaw was sore and his hole was gaping, come sliding down his legs and covering his face, but Andres wouldn’t let him stop until he’d given everyone a ride.
Or maybe… maybe Andres wouldn’t just give him away for free. Maybe he’d charge the guys clamoring to fuck Riley in the shower. Nothing crazy, just five bucks for his mouth and ten for his ass, just enough to make it worth his while. He wouldn’t give Riley any say in how many cocks he took, and he wouldn’t give Riley a cut of the money, either…
Chewing the inside of his cheek bloody to keep quiet, Riley impaled himself on the dildo, taking one hand off the wall to jerk his cock. Though he only got in a few strokes before he shot off, he continued fucking himself, drawing out the aftershocks. He didn’t stop until his battered prostate shrieked for mercy.
Riley eased himself off the dildo and slumped against the opposite wall, resting his forehead against the tile, his body trembling as water sluiced down his back.
Cleaned up and dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants, everything back in its proper place, Riley settled on his bed with his Life Sciences textbook and his cell phone. I’m done, he texted to Andres.
The response was immediate. Did you fuck yourself until you came?
Try that again.
Shit. Yes, sir. Sorry.
Good boy. Tell me what you looked like.
Riley described the way he’d set himself up in the shower, how he’d fucked himself on the dildo, what it had felt like to fill his hungry hole just the way he needed it. Andres’ encouraging responses came at erratic intervals that grew longer and longer, until Riley finally asked, Are you jerking off?
Hell yeah I’m jerking off, Andres texted back. Sitting on my bed with my dick out, thinking about how good your cunt feels.
Riley crossed his legs, cast a glance to the closed door to the common room, and pulled his hefty textbook over his lap for good measure.
What did you think about while you were riding that dildo? Andres asked.
Thought about getting caught by the guys on my floor. Dropping his left hand into his lap to rub himself beneath the book, Riley texted the rest one-handed. Then about you fucking me and them walking in on us.
What did I do?
Let them watch.
Did that turn you on?
A full minute passed before Andres’ next text. What else?
After you finished, you let them all fuck me.
Fuck. Yeah. Were you as good a boy for them as you were for me? Taking all those cocks like a greedy little slut?
Riley had to close his eyes for a moment, squeezing his renewed erection through his sweatpants. I had to. You made me.
God. A long delay, and then, What made you come?
Riley hesitated. The truth was a gamble here, but he decided to risk it. Thought about you charging them to fuck me.
This time, several minutes passed with no reply, and Riley winced. He set his phone aside and stretched out his legs, intending to head back to the bathroom to take care of his hard-on.
His phone chirped. Holy shit, Andres had written, I just came so hard I think I might have had a stroke. That was so fucking hot.
Grinning, Riley picked the phone back up and texted, It was good for me too. My ass is still sore.
Wish I could see it.
You want to?
Are you serious? Andres said. You’d send me a picture?
Sure, as long as my face isn’t in it.
Fuck. Yes. Please.
Throwing on an oversized hoodie so he wouldn’t have to wander the halls with an obvious raging erection, Riley stashed his phone and a bottle of lube in his pockets and returned to the bathroom. Locking himself into one of the toilet stalls, he dropped his sweatpants to mid-thigh, slicked his hole with a bit more lube, and bent over, bracing one hand on the door.
It took a few tries to find the right angle, but Riley was pleased with the final result – a flattering view of his round, firm ass, his flushed hole gleaming with lube and gaping just a little, his full balls visible between his legs. He slapped a filter on it to even out the lighting and texted it to Andres.
Look at that gorgeous fucking cunt, baby, Andres texted back. You really went at yourself hard, didn’t you? Got that pretty pussy all swollen up.
After pulling his sweatpants back into place, Riley said, Your cock would have been better.
Sunday, Andres promised. I’ll give you all the cock you can handle and then some.
Riley put his phone in his pocket, smiling, and slid his hand into his sweatpants to jerk off for the second time that night.