I Know Who You Did Last Summer
































 Art by Michael Kirwan 

 Story by Jay Starre


originally published in Torso Magazine - May, 1998 issue


Butt-punishing Boyfriend


I watched the hockey game from my usual seat at center ice. I had season tickets courtesy of Brad, who careened across the ice and smashed headlong into a huge player from the Vallejo Ice Devils. Both men went down, but Brad was up and after the puck without a moment's delay only to be smashed into the boards by an opposing defenseman definitely out for blood.

The crowd screamed in anger and bloodlust as Brad lay sprawled against the boards for an agonizing minute, then slowly rose, shaking his head and taking off after his opponents and the elusive black puck. Brad was soon on another collision course with the huge defenseman. Again, both men tumbled to the not-so-soft ice and crashed, against the net this time, upending the opposing goalie and stopping play.

I watched with little sympathy as Brad struggled to rise, my anger allowing me to take some pleasure from his obvious pain. He glanced up at me, catching my eye, but I stared coolly without acknowledgment. The crowds were shouting with enough encouragement, some screaming his nickname, "Bruiser Brad."

As he skated off the ice, I had a momentary flash of his naked body the last time we'd fucked, the way his eyes had squinted in pain and ecstasy as I drove my thick dick through the stretched ring of his tight asshole, the way he had moaned and cried my name and gripped my biceps. But the thought only made me angrier as I counted the weeks since that had happened on the last day of summer.

The rest of the game was no different than the first period. Brad continued his relentless checking of the other team, twice receiving a penalty. Although I felt he didn't deserve either penalty call, I smiled when he was sent off the ice.

After the game, I found Bruiser Brad in the locker room. As his personal trainer, it was my job to check up on him, and I did so, without smiling or uttering more than a few syllables. He was naked and still stinking of sweat from his game as I took his arm and turned him around, feeling his side and lower back for the bruised muscles I knew would be there. Passively, he allowed my touch, staring up into my eyes in mute pleading, wincing when I touched the tender places too roughly.

"Take a long shower and soak in the whirlpool before you come home," I ordered sternly. His beautiful green eyes bore into me, searching my brown eyes for a sign that things would go back to normal. I looked away.

"Okay, I'll see you later," he answered quietly.

I left him there, nodding with friendliness to the other players all except Leon, who I couldn't bear to even look at.

An hour later Brad was home. The house we shared bordered the river, which was iced over by then, like my heart. When he came in, I was doing some paperwork at the desk and pretended not to see him. He said nothing, rooted around in the kitchen and found the micro-ready meal I had left in the fridge for him. My anger couldn't prevent me from making sure he ate; it was my job to ensure he stayed in shape and in good health.

He watched television for a while. I noticed him out of the corner of my eye in our bedroom through the open door. His back was to me, and I turned to stare at him. He had undressed to a T and cotton boxers. The T-shirt stretched across his broad back, while the cotton shorts clung to the globes of his muscular ass, outlining the deep crack. He was rubbing some cream onto his face, and I could see it reflected in the mirror, one eye still black from the previous week, and a new cut on his cheekbone, still swollen and tender.

Staring at him I again was overwhelmed with disgust. It had been almost three weeks since he had confessed to me his infidelity with his teammate Leon. They had gotten drunk in the locker room after a game, and when alone, Leon had sucked Brad's cock and then fucked him. Brad had been contrite, confessing the experience the same night it had happened and begging me to forgive him, claiming it would never happen again.

Thinking of it, I gritted my teeth in bitterness, just as Brad caught me staring at him in the reflection of the minor. He turned and gazed at me without speaking, his powerful body half naked, hairy legs like tree trunks, massive forearms.

He came towards me, and I couldn't help but glance down at his cock, now thickening through the thin cotton boxers. It made me even angrier.

He stood before me, wanting to reach out and touch me, but reading my look easily. "Aren't you ever gonna forgive me, Derek? I said I'm sorry a thousand times. I'm tired, I'm sore, and I need you, don't make me beg," he said in a broken voice.

I could smell him, only a foot away as I sat at my desk, a clean scent but still that unmistakable odor of his body that always turned me on. I was annoyed with myself and wanted to hit him, which was so unlike me. I wasn't violent for a living should've been Bruiser Brad who'd be the domestic bully.

But he was a pussycat, and I knew it.

I stood suddenly and grabbed him by both arms. He made no resistance. While my teeth remained gritted in anger, I turned him around and dragged him to the couch, roughly pushing him down over the padded arm. He still made no move to resist me, and now his big, muscular ass was right before me, his head down on the cushion and his legs spread.


"You're sorry are you?" I whispered through clenched teeth. "I'll make you sorry!" And then I ripped the white shorts down his legs, spreading him wider as I did. He grunted, his face buried in the couch pillows. I stared down at the naked butt in front of me, white with downy hairs covering it, the crack itself hairless and smooth. I hastily pulled off my own shorts and laid my now hard-as-stone prick right up against his shaved crack.

"You can do whatever you want, fuck me, I don't care if it hurts," Brad muttered into the pillows of the couch.

I rubbed my cock up and down the smooth center of his ass, and with one part of my mind, I wanted to ram my hardness up his hole and make him scream. I slapped his butt hard, watching him jerk as his white globes quivered in aftershock. I slapped him again, and then pushed his T-shirt up to expose his back. I hesitated for a moment when I saw the new bruise that spread, evil and black, across one side but it didn't deter me for long.

I grabbed his short brown hair with one hand and pulled up his head.

"You say you're sorry, but how am I supposed to trust you now? Do you still want Leon's prick up your ass?" I spat, still pulling back his head by the hair, my cock planted right at the entrance to his ass.

"I don't want Leon, I was drunk, I want you, Derek," he answered, his face half turned to look back at me. The eye exposed was the bruised and black one, and the cut on his cheek was red from being rubbed against the couch.

"You want my cock?" I barked, staring down at his bruised face. Without waiting I drove my stiff rod right into the searing heat through the tight opening between Brad's fat butt cheeks.

"Aw, yeah, fuck me, Derek," he grunted, like an animal. Amazingly, he was pushing back against my steely prick and engulfing it to the root with the sheer strength of his tough ass muscles.

I still gripped his hair with one hand, and held him down with the other against his thick back. But instead of fucking him like I had wanted, he was fucking himself against my nine-inch tool, massaging it with his slick butthole, his ass cheeks shaking as he frantically worked my meat. His hole was so warm and tight plus I hadn't had sex for three weeks that I was on the verge of cumming. I pulled my cock out before I did, smacking the up-thrust butt that was still moving up and down in front of me. His broad athlete's cheeks had immediately crowded back together as soon as my cock had exited.

"Forgive me, Derek, fuck me, I need you, stick your cock back in my butt, ream me out," he begged, his face still turned and his eyes now welling up with tears from his need.

I slapped his butt again and again, and then dug my hand into his slick and sweaty crack, parting his cheeks and feeling for hole. Brad spread his legs wider as my fingers found his center, grunting out loud as two of them thrust through his spasming ring.

"Do anything you want, I need you, man," Brad whimpered.

I fucked him savagely with my fingers, spitting on them as they drove in and out, spreading his ass wider so I could watch the reddened hole as it was being violated. The big jock's thick legs tightened and tensed as he pressed back against my hand, again beginning to fuck himself wildly. I realized he must be as horny as I was, neither of us having slept together since he'd ass-swallowed Leon's uncut meat.

I roughly spread his legs even wider with one hand and squeezed Brad's fat balls. He obliged by humping upwards so I could get a better grasp. Then I reached farther and found his hard cock, stunned to realize it was covered with cum he had already blown a load while I was pounding him, yet was begging for more.

Turned on beyond anything I'd ever experienced, I removed my probing fingers and stabbed my hard dick back into his wet hole, fucking him as hard as I could while reaching up to slide my hands under his chest and pinch his taut nipples with violent power.

"Take it, Bruiser Brad, take it up the ass and don't cry like a little pussy. I never want to hear that fucking Leon's name again, and no cock will get inside this butt ever again except mine!" I shouted at him. I gasped for air as I piledrove my cock deep inside him.

Brad grunted and moaned, totally passive under my thrusts, unable to move with my heavy weight covering him. I revelled in the feel of his widespread butt and sloppy hole, now completely surrendered to my hard, pounding dick. I went beyond the usual orgasm, cumming without stopping my insistent fucking, my own jism becoming more lube as I continued ramming deep inside him.

"Yeah, do me, I deserve it, fuck me, I was a stupid cunt to get drunk and let Leon stick his prick up my hole, I want your big dick so bad, yeah, please," Brad grunted, babbling, slobbering against the pillow of the couch.

His bruised and battered body, huge and splayed out in surrender beneath me, slowly began to suck all the anger and violence out of me, and I found myself moving with less insistence and more tenderness. My hands that had pulled back his head by the hair now caressed his short brown curls. My dick was still hard, but was lingering long inside him, pulling out slowly to slide back in gently, making leisurely circles in his hole. I rose to stand behind him then, my hands massaging his back with care, my prick taking its time as it exited and entered the slick hole between his heat-flushed butt cheeks.

I gazed down at his face, the tears still there, along his strong, bruised cheekbone. He moaned beneath me, allowing me full entrance to his asshole, his legs limp and his ass mine to use. I stroked his sweating back and muscled butt cheeks while my cock dipped in and out of his used and gaping hole.

Neither of us had words, we only moaned and sighed as I filled him with long, sliding, slow-mo cock.

Finally, I withdrew and maneuverered his big body so it was prostrate on the couch, his face up and his chest and cock exposed. I masturbated over his mouth, sliding my own strong hands up and down my long prick beneath his nose while he lay staring up at me. I pulled one of his hands down to his own dripping prick and made him jack himself while I fingered his hot butthole, felt my cum inside him. He moaned and stuck out his tongue to lap at my cock, just in time for me to spurt the last of my hot cum over his nose and open lips. He came himself then, grunting and gasping, splashing jism all over his belly, his asshole clamping around my invading fingers.

I bent down and kissed his cum-covered face, my tongue entering his hot mouth, sucking and slurping as he allowed me in and sucked in turn.

When I lay down atop him, there was nothing left of my pain and hurt, and nothing of his, only two hearts beating against each other in a new rhythm. We kissed without speaking, our tongues thrusting, sucking and licking, our bodies limp in surrender and slaked lust. We fell asleep that way, our breaths still mingling, our bodies once again entwined as they used to be.


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They may not be: redistributed; sold; altered; enhanced; modified by artificial, digital or computer imaging;
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