tagGay MaleThe Collection

The Collection


PLEASE NOTE: This is not really a romantic read. It's more a smutty tale touching slightly on themes of submission and control. It is a collection of scenes from a novel I'm working on and have pieced them together to be a shorter erotic tale. I hope you like it.


Callum Bradshaw carried a box of beer under his arm as he pressed the doorbell to his best mate Garrick's home. It was Thursday evening which meant it was game night. An evening where games of all sorts were played; cards, darts, board games. It didn't matter what the game was as long as there was a winner and a loser to appease the competitive beast lurking within both Garrick and Callum. They may have been best mates but it didn't change the unsaid battle that went on constantly between most male friends; the animalistic instinct to be the more dominant male.

Garrick Masters lived in a two-story apartment along the waterfront—the best street in town. The executive pad was every bit as pretentious as its flashy owner. The white-painted complex with tinted floor-to-ceiling windows gave Garrick more than enough privacy to accompany the unrivalled views from the large deck jutting out from the lounge upstairs.

Callum got tired of waiting for Garrick so he pressed the doorbell again, adding a loud clamour of knocks to get his mate's attention. Thumping footsteps from inside, hurled down the stairs and Garrick opened the door, revealing himself to be wearing nothing but a white towel draped around his waist.

"Hey, Mr impatient," Garrick said with a beaming smile, beads of fresh water still dripping down his hairy chest.

"Sorry, mate. I didn't realise you were in the shower."

"Yeah, I try and make myself look pretty for you every games night," Garrick joked. He ran a hand through his wet black hair before scratching the dark stubble lining his jaw.

"Aww, lucky me." Callum rolled his eyes.

"Here, what do you think of my new cologne?" Garrick asked excitedly, raising his arm up, motioning for Callum to smell his new scent.

Callum lowered his face, keeping an appropriate distance. Garrick suddenly grabbed the back of his head, pushing Callum's face into his damp armpit.

Callum reeled his head back, laughing. "Gross. I don't want your hairy pits in my face."

"Fuck, your just too easy," Garrick said, smiling. "Anyway, come in." He walked ahead, leading the way upstairs to the living room.

Callum had a pang of envy as he watched Garrick climb the stairs with a masculine confidence he made look effortless, his defined back muscles and toned legs on full display in his minimal attire of a wet towel.

Once at the top of the stairs they turned left into the open plan kitchen and dining room. Callum went and took a seat at the large oval dinner table, placing his offering of beer in the centre.

Garrick scooped the box up and went and placed it in the fridge. He returned with two already-chilled bottles of beer, handing one across. "Here's one I prepared earlier for you," he said, just as his towel came loose and fell to the floor.

"Cheers for the eyeful," Callum teased, taking the beer.

"Better that than a mouthful." Garrick winked, placing the other beer down on the table.

Garrick didn't care if anyone saw him naked—he knew he looked good with or without clothes on. He went into the adjoining lounge where a pile of clothes sat on a leather settee. He raised up a pair of briefs, sniffed to see if they were clean, then proceeded to get dressed. He knelt over, shimmying the underwear up his legs, covering up his trimmed pubes and dangling cock.

Callum and his best mate may have shared the same height of five-feet-eleven inches but the similarities pretty much ended there. The dark-haired Garrick was only a couple shades away from being considered pale and had dark brown eyes that demanded your attention, whereas Callum was blond with icy-blue eyes and enjoyed the luxury of olive skin, gifting him a year-round summery tan.

Every inch of Garrick was athletic and muscled. Callum's body however was trim, only slightly toned. Their difference in looks was handy when going out drinking in bars. Both were good-looking in their own way and appealed to different tastes. As Garrick would often say, they were a dream team.

Garrick slipped on a pair of jeans then threw on a clean rumpled shirt. He came back in the dining room, proceeding to rummage through a cabinet drawer and retrieve a deck of cards. "So what game is it tonight, Mr Bradshaw?" he asked in a posh voice.

"You choose," Callum answered.

"Shall we do last card for a change? I'm sick of poker."

Garrick sat down across from him and began to deal out the cards.

Callum opened his beer, whetting his thirst. He gazed behind him, taking in Garrick's messy lounge. The large living area was decked out in plush furnishings and usually appeared immaculate but tonight it looked like a student flat with dinner plates scattered everywhere and laundry draped over the couch. "No offence, mate, but why does the place look like a fucking bombsite?"

Garrick laughed and put the pack of cards in the middle of the dining table before picking up his beer. "That would be because the cleaner quit."

Callum narrowed his eyes, giving his pal a suspicious look. "Quit... or had to quit?"

"The latter." Garrick slung him a mischievous grin. "Things got a little awkward after I got her to polish more than just the stair bannister, if you know what I mean?" He lowered his hand and groped his jeans-clad crotch.

"You just can't keep it in your pants can you."

"You saw her, didn't you? She was too fucking hot to not take the chance with. Or are you too old to take chances like that now." Garrick smirked. He liked to remind Callum about their meagre two-year age gap.

"Piss off. I'm twenty-eight, not eighty."

"Yep and I'm twenty-six. Still young, dumb and full of cum."

"Dumb I'd believe. This must be like the fourth cleaner you've gone through this year. And it's only bloody July." Callum laughed. "This town isn't big enough for you to fuck every cleaner who comes through your doors."

"They definitely come... multiple times."

"Classy guy," Callum groaned.

"You're right though. I think I'll employ an old crusty one next time so I'm not inclined to think with the little fella."

Thinking with the little fella was something Garrick excelled at.

Garrick reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through the screen, eventually flipping it 'round. "Introducing, Chantal. The latest addition to my collection."

Callum looked at the photo on the screen. A pretty young blonde girl sat in Garrick's king-sized bed with the covers pulled up over her cleavage as she shot him a sleepy morning smile. "I can't believe you manage to get photos of all these girls. Do they not get suspicious when they see you holding a phone up to take their picture?"

"Nar, mate. Just tell them how beautiful they look and how desperate I am for a picture to remind me of them." Garrick coughed out a laugh into his beer bottle.

"Do they know you show everybody?"

"You're the only one I ever show," Garrick replied defensively. "If I can't show my best mate, who can I show?"

Although Callum didn't approve of Garrick's dirty little hobby of taking photos, secretly he was in awe of it. Every woman that Garrick had ever been with was listed in what he called The Collection. A folder on his computer that housed photos of each of them in different states of undress. Most photos were similar to the one of young Chantal; sleepy morning photos of their face, clutching blankets to provide some modesty. Some photos though, were much more revealing; legs spread, tits out revealing.

Each girl had her own file within the filthy folder. Photos were accompanied with word documents listing the type of sex they'd had, giving them a mark out of ten. His absolute favourites were in a hall of shame-fame that gave them the dubious honour of being one of his screen savers.

"You should start your own collection, Callum. You've been single long enough. Its time you jump back on the wagon, buddy."

"True," Callum said, slumping his shoulders.

"Seriously. When did you last get your end away?"

"This morning if you must know." Callum grinned, shaking his wrist.

"Sorry, let me rephrase that. When did you last get your end away WITHOUT the help of your right hand."

"A little while ago." A little while ago actually meant a long while ago... four months to be exact. He had been in sexual hibernation since his girlfriend Misty broke up with him. Instead of going out and fucking the pain away, he had sat at home, licking his wounds and feeling sorry for himself. Not that he would tell Garrick this. It wasn't that Garrick wouldn't be sympathetic but Callum didn't want to show his mate any sign of weakness.

"You should let me find you someone. I know a girl at work—Lisa—who would be perfect for you."

"I can do without your sloppy seconds."

"She may be my seconds, but Lisa definitely isn't sloppy. I'd only ever pass on my best cuts to you, man."

"Said like a true man whore."

"That's me," Garrick said, patting his chest. "But for real, Callum. You gotta sort those blue balls out before you..." He puffed up his cheeks before blowing a popping hot breath out like an explosion.

Callum rolled his eyes.

"How much you betting?" Garrick asked.

Callum pulled out his wallet, fished out a twenty dollar note and threw it in the centre of the table.

Garrick eyed the crisp note then dove a hand in his pocket feeling around. "I'm sure I have a note in here somewhere." He pulled a funny face, fishing around. "Aha!" His hand reappeared, displaying fifty dollars.

"I don't have fifty on me," Callum said.

"That's okay, mate. You ain't gonna beat me anyway." Garrick hitched his eyebrows.

Callum laughed. "You're a cocky shit."

"Not cocky. Just self-assured."

They played the best of five rounds, talking shit and boozing their way through the evening. Garrick lost the first two games giving Callum a sniff of hope that he would take the winnings but in true Garrick style he won the final three games and took the seventy dollars sat in the centre of the table.

"Well, that's me cleaned out," Callum said.

"Already?" Garrick asked, surprised. "How come your so povo this week?"

"It's winter, so it's quiet at the café."

"True," Garrick said, nodding. "You should have done what I said and diversified the menu to cater for the colder months and start selling soups or something."

"I've done that already, Mr Business Advisor."

Garrick smiled. "I'm glad to see you take my advice. You should do so more often. I know what I am talking about"

"It has helped actually," Callum said. "But I had to take on a new staff member and that's taken down my profits a bit."

Garrick screwed his face up. "Why have you taken on someone new during the quieter trading time? That's just fucking mental."

"It's a favour for my sister."

"Julie's working two jobs now?"

"No, not her. It's for Nicky... Graham's son."

Graham was Julie's partner and so far she had defied everyone's expectations by sticking with him now for close to a year. He was completely different to every other guy she had dated. He wasn't a bad boy with model looks who treated her like shit, he was a forty-five-year-old accountant who worshiped the ground she walked on. Aside from Graham's age and his scorned ex-wife back in Auckland, he was probably the first good choice she had ever made when it came to dating.

Garrick's mouth curled to the side, displaying a look of confusion.

"Nicky is Graham's boy from his marriage. He moved up from Auckland to live with them a few weeks ago. He's just seventeen and can't find a job so Julie asked if I could take him on as a kitchen hand."

"Ahh, the beauty of family." Garrick smiled, taking a sip on his beer.

"Yeah. He isn't too bad. He is ten minutes early for every shift and seems genuinely interested to learn," Callum said.

"Good stuff." Garrick sniggered. "I can't believe Julie is a step mum."

Callum chuckled. "You could say it's a bit of a sore spot for her. I think she's worried if she tells people she has a seventeen-year-old step son, they'll think she's old."

"Your sister could never be old. Too bloody hot for that to happen." Garrick licked his lips.

"Okay, let's not break the 'I don't talk dirty about Callum's sister rule'"

"I didn't say anything dirty. Anyone would think I just told you about how I plan to lick her clit 'till it's as thick as a rose bud." He waggled his eyebrows.

Callum laughed, throwing the cap of his beer bottle across the table at his mate. "You're so fucking lucky you don't have a sister for me to be crude about."

"Any sister of mine would be waaay out of your league."

"Any sister of yours would be so easy it probably wouldn't matter."

"You're probably right." Garrick nodded, smiling. He started shuffling the cards again. "So another round?"

"I told you, I'm out of cash." Callum frowned. "Sorry."

"That's okay. You can try wining some of it back."

"Oh yeah... and what do you propose I put on the table to bet? An empty fucking beer bottle?"

Garrick looked around the room before slowly nodding. "How about offering your services as my cleaner. The place needs one badly."

Callum laughed. "Piss off. You have a tendency to fuck your cleaners. I think I'll pass."

Garrick leant over and patted Callum's chest. "Trust me, buddy, you'd need better tits for that wish to ever come true."

Callum faked looking offended. "The audacity to insult my cleavage, Garrick Masters."

"My apologies... A cup."

Callum laughed. "Okay then. How much are you putting on the table?"

"Another fifty," Garrick said flatly.

Callum nibbled on his lip, thinking it over. "Okay... and do I have to wear a maid's outfit for this cleaning job if I lose?"

"Nope. My housekeepers clean in the nude." He gave Callum a salacious wink.

Callum sniggered. "You're on, moneybags. Deal them cards and prepare to weep when I kick your ass."

It had been a long day at the café and Callum wanted nothing more to do than go home and go to bed. But he couldn't. He had a debt to pay. It turned out luck was not with him to win his money back the night before and he lost the card game in spectacular fashion, and had to put up with Garrick mocking him about being his cleaner.

All day at work, Callum's phone kept getting jovial texts from Garrick mocking him about coming around tonight to clean his festering lounge. After work, he drove straight to Garrick's townhouse, He figured it would be best to go clean the lounge tonight, wipe his debt, then he could go home and chill out and have an early night.. When he arrived, the door was unlocked and he climbed the stairs to find Garrick in the kitchen having a coffee.

"Hey, mate. How's my house bitch doing?" Garrick asked, sniggering.

"Your house bitch is thinking about punching the grin off ya face."

Garrick laughed. "Did you wanna coffee or rum or something before you start?"

"Nar. I'm all good thanks. Best I just get it over and done with. I wanna go home and have a shower and have an early night."

"You can have a shower here if you like?"

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I wouldn't offer if I wasn't serious."

"Cheers man." Callum nodded.

"Then you can come out and clean naked."

Callum's eyes bugged. "What?"

"Have a shower. Dry off and come back out in your birthday suit and clean?"

"Why the fuck would I be coming out naked?"

"Umm... maybe because that was the deal," Garrick said, throwing out a devilish grin.

"Piss off," Callum replied. He looked over and saw Garrick watching him gently. "You're actually serious?"

"I am. The deal was if you lost then you had to clean my lounge naked."

"You're taking the piss, right?" Callum grinned back at his friend.

Garrick shook his head solemnly. "A deal's a deal, buddy. A man should always stick to his word."

"So, you want me to clean your mess up butt fucking naked?"

Garrick nodded, smiling. "Yep. You lost remember?"

Callum stood still for several seconds, thinking out the logistics of what had been requested. "Fuck sake," he muttered under his breath. He knew this was Garrick's way of having a laugh at his expense.

"Don't be such a soft cock."

Callum hated being called that. "I'm not a soft cock."

"Then why are you being such a pussy and backing out?"

"I'm not backing out." Callum sighed. He wasn't going to give Garrick the satisfaction of seeing him chicken out. "I'll go have a shower and when I come back—naked—I'll clean your shit pit of a lounge."

"Good man." Garrick smirked.

Callum raised a finger, faking grumpiness. "And no looking at my cock, poofter."

"I don't have a magnifying glass on me so you should be fine." Garrick replied cheekily.

"Har, har," Callum sniggered. "At least put a fucking heater on in there or I'll freeze my nuts off otherwise."

Freshly cleaned from his shower, Callum wandered into the lounge where he discovered the room to be toasty and warm. Garrick had turned the heat pump on high, settling the room to summer levels, safe from the bitter winter air outside. If he was gonna spend the next hour cleaning naked then he may as well be comfortable, he thought.

It was fucking strange to be standing so exposed in front of his mate without a stitch of clothing on. A part of him wanted to flip the bird and call Garrick a cunt for cashing in on a part of the bet that Callum had assumed to be a joke. He knew better though. He couldn't let Garrick see his pissy resentment. That would only make Garrick feel like he had won some unspoken game. A game of nerve.

Garrick was sat at the dining room table; he let his eyes dance over Callum's nudity. He smirked. "I must say you're not the type of leggy blonde I usually have roaming around this place naked."

"Very funny, homo," Callum groaned. "So where do I start?"

Garrick took a sip of his drink before answering. He pointed to the piles of clothes strewn over the couch. "Probably best to start with folding the washing. You just might need to do a sniff test to make sure though." He curled his lips before laughing when he saw the look on Callum's face. "I'm joking. It's all clean, just fold it all up and chuck it in my room, would you?"

"Rightio, boss. What else did you want done?"

"Just the vacuuming. After that I'd say you've paid your debt off."

Callum nodded. "Good to know." He was relieved that it was just folding the washing and vacuuming the floor. He had thought Garrick would make him do the dishes and clean other rooms in the house. Maybe he wasn't being a bitter prick as much as Callum had thought.

He went over to the pile of clothes on the couch, trying to fold them neatly. He was fucking useless with folding washing but he did his best. He couldn't believe how much washing there was. It appeared Garrick was treating the lounge and couch like a sort of bedroom dresser, too lazy to put his stuff away. When he took the clothes to Garrick's room, he placed them nicely at the foot of his unmade bed. As he went to leave the room, he very nearly stood on a milky-filled rubber.

Fucking gross, Garrick, Callum said internally. Apparently Garrick had gotten his end away and never bothered to discard of the evidence. Like fuck Callum was picking up something that had been slapped on the end of his mate's cock. That was a job for Garrick's man whore fingers. Callum just hoped that by the next time his mate had a girl around he had the good sense to get rid of it.

As instructed, Callum moved onto vacuuming the floor straight after finishing with the washing. He lugged the vacuum around the lounge and ding area, sucking up all sorts of dust and crap off the floor. As the vacuum's suction whirled with noise, Garrick seemed unfazed as he sat reading a magazine at the table, completely disinterested in Callum's cleaning frenzy.

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bythatkiwiguy© 11 comments/ 47958 views/ 47 favorites

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