My Pride Prize - Teaser

My Pride Prize

A Real-Life Experience by: Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica, Part 1

© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

All Characters are 18+

Names of identifiable individuals have been changed to protect the innocent. 😂 Image isn't the real boy either. He wouldn't pose for a pic!

In reality, condoms were used but for flow and fun, this story is condom-free. Make your own choices about protection and PrEP; I don’t judge.

Pride has always been a special experience for me. I met my first real boyfriend a few days before Pride weekend. We went on our first date at some lame chain restaurant. We had an awesome time. A few days later, we went to the Pride parade together and spent most of the day making out so hard our lips were red and swollen in all the pictures our friends took of us that day. We were going at it so hot and hard, we didn’t even notice when some guy slipped a piece of paper between us with a phone number and the words “Cock Hole Andy” written on it. His friend had to show it to us and explain what had happened.

That was my first Pride. I spent most of it with a hard cock in my shorts. After the parade, my new boyfriend and I took the subway back up to the suburbs, where we both still lived with our parents, and sucked each other off in my car until we’d each cum twice, relieving the pressure that had built up all day on the streets of Toronto.

After that year, I attended Pride annually, pretty much without fail. I always loved the pounding beats, the shirtless hotties, and the never-ending weirdness that took over the city, especially during the final weekend of the festival.

A few years after I started attending, one of the local community centres launched a new event called “Green Space.” They closed off a little parkette next to the building and turned it into a massive outdoor dance space with two huge stages and a few beer tents spread around the area. It quickly became one of the hottest spots in the village with the party starting at 11am and carrying on until well after midnight, under the beautiful skies amidst the different decorative trees that had been planted around the park.

Within a few years, there were even line ups to get in on occasion and the park would be filled with the hottest men, dancing away to the best music or watching performances from some of the top DJs or contestants from RuPaul’s Drag Race or whatever happened to be going on at the moment. I’d sometimes open my balcony doors just to take in the fire music coming from the Green Space during the day before I wandered over there to dance my ass off later on.

It wasn’t long before I became a Green Space volunteer, I believed in what they did and I had bartending skills, so I served up drinks, then took off my volunteer shirt, had a few drinks of my own and danced the night away under the stars. It became a yearly ritual, even after I became a lawyer and moved out of the village that when I went to Pride, I’d hit up the Green Space as my number 1 venue.

That brings me to this past weekend, where I found myself dancing at the Green Space again with a friend of mine who almost always comes with me. I didn’t have anything special planned; I was just there to dance and cut loose after a long stressful month. It was mid afternoon and the weather was perfect. The sun was shining through the leaves of the trees casting a dappled light over the park that, combined with the music and the energy of the crowd, made everything feel a little surreal.

We’d been dancing for about an hour and a half and I was lost in my space — eyes closed, feeling the music, dancing like I was the only person in the room — when I decided it was time to lose my shirt. Everyone else was doing it, but, more importantly, I was starting to get sweaty and I didn’t have another shirt.

I pulled my tee off and tucked it into my shorts and when I looked up, I saw him staring at me. I’m not sure how long he’d been staring, but it was clear his attention hadn’t been aroused just by my shirt coming off.

I wasn’t looking, but this boy was exactly my type. If you’ve been reading my stories, you already know I like blonds, and this one had that pure-as-snow, painted-by-an-artist kind of color. He had his shirt off too and his body was already doing things to me as well. Not quite a twink, definitely not a muscle boy — he was equal parts soft and masculine. Just the kind of guy I like to ruin in bed.

Okay, he was worth a second look. I might not have been there for that, but everyone else was, and in a field of hot young men, this boy stood out like a ruby in a rice bowl.

I gave my shirt another firm push to make sure it was secured in my stitch-pattern shorts, then glanced back in the twink’s direction.

He was still staring.

Excellent. I’m more a face guy than anything else and I wanted to keep looking at that stunning, pretty little face.

I turned to my friend — let’s call him Mark for anonymity — quickly and flicked my head in the boy’s direction. Mark immediately caught on, and after tracing the laser beams the twink was practically shooting at me, he gave me an approving smile. I shifted our dancing positions to get a better view of my admirer and returned his look — more intense now — letting him know I was looking back.

The little fucker smiled and winked at me.

Cocky.

I didn’t mind though. That snarky little smile made him look even sexier… and sluttier.

Little fucker and I kept dancing, our eyes never really breaking contact.

This was getting more involved than I planned, but he was so fucking cute, I couldn’t help myself.

I decided to exercise some of my famous self-control and focus on Mark, who was still waiting for his own fuck-boy, Javier, to show up. I turned away from my target and spoke to Mark over the blaring music.

“Sorry,” I said. “That guy was giving me the eyes and I couldn’t stop myself.”

Mark, easygoing as ever, just said, “No problem, bro. That dude is hot as fuck.”

He laughed easily and then reached out to turn my head back in the direction of my new, favourite twink.

But he was gone.

Fuck.

Oh well.

I turned back to Mark, who had also realized what happened, shrugged my shoulders and we resumed our dance, memories of that sexy, blond boy already receding into the fringes of my memory.

At this point we’d been dancing for a little over two hours so I asked Mark to see when Javier was due so we could figure out our next move. If we wanted to get seats anywhere other than the bar I used to work at we’d need to line up early.

Mark dove into his pocket and started checking his phone. I stood still, taking my first breather in two hours while I waited for his response

A second later, the twink appeared in the periphery of my vision accompanied by two other boys, also lookers but nowhere near as hot as my boy — in my opinion. He hadn’t disappeared, he’d ducked through the massive crowd, weaving through the dancing bears and muscle bods to find his way to me.

Cocky and bold.

He walked right up to me and said the sexiest thing I’d heard in weeks: “Hi!”

He hadn’t said enough for me to place the accent, but I could tell right away he wasn’t a local. Definitely not Québécois. Some kind of European — probably visiting for Pride.

Slightly taken aback by his forwardness — but certainly not overwhelmed — I stepped in closer, looking down at him from six foot one to his maybe five foot nine.

“Well, hello there,” I said, cheekily, impressed by this boy’s confidence.

“Wanna dance?” he asked, innocent, but with a tone that told me he wanted a lot more than just dancing under the trees.

“Sure,” I said, quickly abandoning my plans to leave for drinks.

Mark shot me a conspiratorial grin, mouthed “go for it,” then turned back to his phone, texting furiously, presumably to Javier.

I turned back to my twink companion and gave him some of my best moves. I’m a really good dancer, too. His friends sorta tried to join us in a little circle, but it quickly became obvious they weren’t part of the party and they started their own little groove while blondie and I created an electric circuit between us.

I thought my twink had run out of surprises, but he wasn’t done yet. A few minutes after we lost the company and I’d started to sweat again, his arm shot out. He ran his slutty little index finger slowly, seductively down the line between my pecs, following the trail of sweat crawling toward my abs, then kept going down to my shorts.

He tried to push that naughty, sweaty little finger farther, right down into my pants. I caught his wrist with a strong grip and gave him a look that said both “No” and “Oh, you dirty fucking thing — not here, not now, but I’m going to destroy you...”

Still holding his wrist firmly, I pulled him in, bringing his ear close to my mouth.

“Are you staying in a hotel nearby?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m in the Holiday Inn,” he responded.

I knew the hotel. It was much closer than my place, a quick walk from the Green Space and clean enough that I wouldn’t have to worry about burning my clothes afterwards. Perfect.   

“Let’s go,” I growled into his ear.

He didn’t hesitate. He grabbed one friend by the shoulder, said something I’d later learn was Norwegian, got a clap on the back from the other, and then we set off.

I knew Mark would be good once Javier showed up. After drinks, Mark had plans to turn Javi inside out — he’d be just fine.

As the little hottie and I walked away from the thrum of the music, we started talking a bit. He told me his name was Christen, that he was visiting from Norway for Pride, and that it was his first time in Toronto. I impressed him with my knowledge of Norse mythology and he impressed me right back with how much Norwegians actually appreciate their history and culture.

We reached the hotel, rushed through the lobby to the elevators, and caught the first one going up. Somehow, despite the crowds, we got an elevator to ourselves. The second the doors closed, Christen was all over me — hands, mouth, everything. He couldn’t control himself. He wanted kisses, but I was already hungry. Figuring the hotel was full of gay men who’d probably get a kick out of the scene if the elevator doors opened on us like this, I pushed Christen to his knees instead.

Christen behaved exactly how I hoped, offering not even the slightest resistance as he sank to his knees like the horny little bitch he was.

I grabbed the back of his head, running my fingers through his luscious blond hair for the first time, torn between the twin desires to stroke it and yank it back and force him to look me in the eyes.

Instead, I just used my big hand to grab his skull like a basketball and forced his face into my sweaty crotch.  I pressed his nose and mouth into my junk, giving the little slut exactly what he’d been lusting over since the moment he set eyes on me in the park a few hours ago. I didn’t even have to help him, he started rubbing his pretty, precious little cheeks and lips all over my junk like he wanted to paint himself with my essence.

I was getting hard, and I knew he was about to get even more excited when he realized I was a grower, not a shower. Four and a half inches quickly expanded to eight thick, girthy inches, snaking down my leg. The little whore followed every inch like there was a magnetic pull drawing his mouth toward the tip of my dick. I gave him a quick course correction with my hand, reminding him I had eight full inches for his sweet, soft cheeks to lavish attention on. Like the good boy he was, he mashed his prick pleaser up and down, back and forth — any way he could to make me happy.

After what felt like ten minutes, but was definitely only one or two, we reached the twentieth floor and the doors creaked open.

No spectators. Oh well.

Christen got up off his knees and I laughed to myself when I saw him struggling to adjust himself in those tight euro jeans. God bless them though. They showed off his sweet, fuckable ass so well.

He led me to his room with my hand on his plump treasure chest the whole way. I wasn’t waiting or hiding anything anymore.

Once we were in his room and the door was shut, he tried to kiss me again. I gave him a quick peck on the lips and then said, “Pants off first.” I’d waited long enough — I wanted to see what he was hiding under those faded jeans.

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone get naked so fast. Within seconds his jeans and underwear were off confirming that his ass was just as perfect and unblemished as his angelic face. I wasn’t super interested in his cock, but for those who are interested: it was just as beautiful. Uncut, five inches and cute like him. Straining, bobbing and shiny at the tip — all for me.

I walked over, grabbed him by the hair, pulled his head back more gently than I wanted to, and gave him the kiss he’d been waiting for. His mouth tasted like sugar and lust. This boy was basically sex in human form.

He reached down for my cock, but I caught him by the wrist again.

“You’ll get it when I say so,” I told him.

I could see the disappointment in his eyes but he was a good, willing little slut and he was ready to submit to whatever I had planned. He was my Pride prize, and I was going to unwrap him slowly and enjoy every fucking minute.

At this point the boy’s hot body and total willingness to surrender to my desires had unlocked me. My usual self-control and restraint were out the window and I didn’t fucking care. I knew this was going to be a one-time thing and every nerve in my body was telling me to consume this boy whole like the predator I am.

I grabbed Christen around the waist and spun him around roughly, eliciting a little moan that drove me even wilder. He hadn’t earned it — didn’t deserve it — but that moan pulled it out of me, and I slapped his ass as hard as I could.

Good, bad boy.

I led Christen to the nearest of the two beds, not caring which was actually his, and pushed him over it. Christen flew over the bed flopping down like the piece of meat he’d just become: bent in half just the way I wanted.

I didn’t waste a second. My hands were on his ass, spreading his cheeks so I could get a good look at the hole I was about to destroy with my big dick.

FUCK.

It was just as pretty as every other part of him. Do they only make boys like this in Norway? Seriously! I’m asking my European readers.

This boy was no virgin — he couldn’t have been, with the moves he’d pulled back at Green Space — but his hole looked like it could hold a flagpole upright. Not one of those bottoms whose hole looks like it’s breathing or trying to speak because it never fully closes, or one that looks like mashed potatoes. Just a perfect little, hairless, pink target.

The heat in me was still rising and I couldn’t control myself. Again, even though he didn’t do anything to deserve it, I curled my thumb into my palm, ordered him to spread his cheeks for me and then struck that sexy little hole four or five times with my other four fingers, spanking it for being so fucking naughty and making me so goddamn horny.

I started unbuckling my belt, and my beautiful boy turned, excited to finally see what was coming, but I was already too far gone, too unleashed for that. I reached forward and pushed his head down into the bed.

“Uh uh, boy,” I said. “You’ll see it when I let you see it.”

Christen let out a sexy little whimper that I’m pretty sure made my cock leak in my pants. The fucking slut. I smacked his ass again and finished taking off my shorts.

I’m usually the one getting rimmed when I have sex, but I told you this guy’s hole was one-of-a-kind. Besides, I didn’t see any lube around and I wasn’t going to look for it, so I dove in. He was a bit sweaty from all the dancing, but I didn’t fucking care. He tasted like ambrosia to me, and I pawed his cheeks and licked like an animal. Besides, I knew I’d be giving him just as good soon.

My little toy moaned and squirmed — the sounds driving me wild — and I slapped his ass again and again, punishing him for being so ridiculously, annoyingly, adorably erotic.

When I was satisfied that his hole was sufficiently lubed for my dick, or at least enough that it wasn’t going to be a problem, I stood up spat in my hand and started to stroke my eight inches furiously.

The little devil tried to steal a look again, but I was too quick. My hand found his head, holding it down while I got my cock ready for his tight twink hole.

He turned his face to the side and, with that sexy little accent — a bit out of breath — asked, “You don’t want me to suck you first?” Then he added, “I really want to suck your dick.” The way he said it — more like “deeck” — made him even hotter to me.

“Oh, you’ll get a chance to suck it,” I said. Then, without warning, I plunged the entire head of my dick straight through his sphincter, keeping his head pressed firmly into the bed. Right where I wanted it.

He didn’t yell; he moaned. The WHORE!

All of Part 1 is available to "Full Shaft" tier members, and Part 2 will be released tomorrow while my memory is still fresh. It might need a Part 3, I didn't think it would be as long as it is already.